Photo Friday

Mark, working on the codpiece for his Halloween costume.
I am not sure what the rum is for.
I'll put up the finished product next week.

Video Thursday

When I went into the small dog room at the shelter, fourteen months ago, there was little Chandler the puppy sitting there all quiet with his tail wagging wildly. Meanwhile, all around him, bedlam reigned.

Bear Shit

I know that a lot of people who read this don't care about football, but damn it, I spend over three hundred dollars a year to get the NFL package just so I can watch the Chicago Bears, and I truly hate it that I'm not getting what I paid for. So far this year I have only had to watch the Bears on the NFL package twice. Four other times they have been on regular television. For me to feel like I'm getting my money's worth out of the NFL Ticket, I end up watching other teams who I don't really care about. This last Sunday I watched the Vikings, Steelers game, just so I could see Brett Farve lose (Yes I know he spells it Favre, but if he wants me to call him Farve, he needs to spell it that way). It's kind of like going to an all you can eat buffet. I always think that I have to eat a ton of food until I feel the restaurant has lost money on me. So like an all you can eat football buffet, I sit and watch as many football games as is humanly possible on Sunday before Mark starts bitching about it.

This past Sunday the Bears were on the NFL Ticket only, and I got myself all geared up for an exciting game. Unfortunately the Bears lost the game in the first quarter, giving up three touchdowns within minutes. I no sooner got settled with my beer and snacks, and it was twenty one to nothing. Once again, this is not what I thought I'd be seeing when I pay that huge DirecTV bill every month. I think Jay Cutler and Lovie Smith owe me some money.

Oh, and one more thing. I know that sports announcers aren't the sharpest tacks in the box, but at least they should be able to pronounce English words properly. Cincinnati does not have a football team called the Bangles, and Jacksonville does not have a team called the Jagwires.

Is That Al Bundy?

My favorite new comedy show on television is Modern Family. It has the guy from Married With Children, and a bunch of other people who I don't know. Often when I watch TV I don't know the actors, and many times I don't even know the characters names. It’s kind of the way my real life is.

Modern Family follows the three branches of a family, and includes a gay son, his husband, and their gayby. Once again because of this show, Mark has been reminded that he would like a baby. Thankfully the State of Florida has saved my ass by making it impossible for us to adopt. I know it’s not fair to the rest of the gay folks out there who would make great parents, but I’m just a bit selfish on this subject. Besides, seeing as how Mark does not walk the dog, clean up his poop or puke, doesn’t feed him, or the cats, nor does he clean out the kitty litter box, and vomits at the sight of a cat-hair ball on the floor, I know with certainty that a baby would mean I would do all the dirty work. If Mark can’t hold his stomach down when he gets a whiff of dog crap, I think his head would pop off if he had to deal with baby shit. Having grown up in a house where I lived through eight babies, I know that what’s in a baby's diaper can peel the paint off the wall, and burn right through the mucus membranes of your nose.

If Mark wants a baby so badly he should see my sister in-law. She has a doll store, and I’m sure that even though it’s in Florida, Mark would be allowed to adopt one. I would have only one rule if he did adopt a baby doll, and that is that he’d have to keep it out in the shed. Right where I’d make him keep the real baby if he could actually get one.

Too Good For Wal-Mart

I am in Target pushing around one of their new light weight shopping carts, and I am glad for that because I have had to cover ten times the distance I usually do when I shop here. Not only are these carts light weight, but they can hold almost twice as much crap as the old ones, and that has made Mark happy. The reason I have to cover so much extra ground on this shopping trip, is because overnight the nice people at Target have re-arranged the entire store. The result is that when I went to get Chandler a nice chewy toy, the dog and cat area wasn't there anymore. Instead of dog toys and kitty litter, there was a wall of televisions and video games. Despite getting directions to the pet department, I still ended up getting lost. You would think that Mark would be helping me with his innate ability to find his way around stores, but no, he disappeared within moments of entering the place, lured away by the adventure of exploring Target.After a long meandering hike, I finally found the pet department, and got Chandler something to chew on. You see Chandler has been a bad boy lately and has been chewing on things that aren't his. I figured if I got him a chew toy, he would stop chewing on the table legs, vacuum cleaner cord, and Mark. Unfortunately, because of the delay caused by getting lost in Target, Chandler had time to eat one of my shoe insoles. He didn't just chew it, he chewed, ate, and swallowed the thing, and I blame it all on Target. Maybe when he poops out pieces of the Doctor Scholl's gel insole later, I'll pick them up, and see if Target will let me return them.

Photo Friday

In relationships sometimes it's the little things that can cause problems, unless you can find a work-around for them. It's why I now insist on two toothpaste containers, one for Mark and one for me. Mine, on the left, isn't perfect but it sure beats that gloppy mess Mark leaves behind.

Video Thursday

Click on the picture to start the video starring,
The Lizard, Mark, Garet, Laura, and Alan

Thanks Syd

Put Some Tomatoes In That Stew

A few years ago my neighbor from around the corner, Gay Republican Mike, was on the local news because he found a large iguana with an arrow shot through it. At the time everyone was aghast that somebody would harm this beautiful lizard. GRM nursed the thing back to health and released it back into the neighborhood. I didn't think much about it at the time, it was just a curious news item about my neighborhood. A year or so later, the lady across the street complained about all the iguanas pooping in her swimming pool. Once again I didn't think much about it other than, she must be over reacting. How much poop could an iguana really make? Suddenly this past summer the iguana population exploded, and I found out how much poop they make. Where I would once in a great while spot an iguana near my house, I am now running into them all the time in my yard. They are hanging in the trees, swimming in the pool, and worst of all, they are eating Mark's garden. I know I have made fun of Mark's 'Auschwitz' for plants before, but at least he got a good number of tomatoes out of it before it shriveled up and died from neglect. This season he is getting nothing because the pretty green lizards are eating the tomatoes before they even have a chance to flower.

So this winter we will have no fresh tomatoes in our salads, no fried green tomatoes, and no tomatoes on my hamburgers. While I myself could not hurt them, I do understand now why that iguana had an arrow through it a few years ago.

Stew Recipe Here....

Injun Summer

Early Sunday morning the temperature fell below seventy degrees and I had to wear a jacket when I took Chandler for his walkies. In fact the temperature was fifty four degrees at seven thirty in the morning. I know for most of you who live elsewhere that doesn't seem like a momentous occasion, but it is the first time we have seen a temp in the sixties or less since late last April. I was able to turn off the air-conditioning for the first time in almost six months, and open the windows to get real air flowing through the house. Mark of course, began complaining about how cold it was. He is basically a bag of bones with skin stretched over them, and not even one layer of fat molecules to insulate him. He loves the hellish heat of summer down here. When Mark and I first started seeing each other almost thirteen years ago, I would have to call him an hour before going over to his house so that he could turn on the air-conditioner and cool it down for me. If I didn't, I would be walking into a steaming hot sweat box of an apartment, with Mark sitting there cool as could be.

This little cold front won't last long. In fact by the time you read this the temps will have started climbing back up towards the nineties, with the humidity building up right behind. Up north you guys call it Indian Summer when you get a cold spell in the fall followed by more warm weather. Here in South Florida we call it nature screwing with us.

Roofies

Okay, here's my opinion of the dad in Colorado who claimed his six year old son had stowed away on his Jiffy Pop balloon. He's an asshole, and his wife is an idiot. I don't know how she can even live with that crazy, egotistical, bastard. As for the kids, it must be like living in bizzarro Disneyland for them. They are having a good time now, but I'll bet they are all charter members of the Future Assholes of America club. It will be interesting to see where they all are in ten years.

I wouldn't have brought those people up, except I was sitting here in my office yesterday and I heard kids screaming and laughing from the house next door. When I looked out the window, I could see three little kids running back and forth on the roof of my neighbors house, the neighbors who I refer to as the 'Clampetts'. These kids are about eight years old, and I'm pretty sure their dad and mom were home. Of course we all know that just because mom and dad are home, it doesn't mean they are awake and sober. I was truly torn about going over there and knocking on the door to tell the parents what was going on, but I figured with all the commotion and stomping across the roof, they must have been aware. I also remembered that when I was a kid, my brothers, sisters, and I would climb up on top of our garage and play. If it was good enough for me as a kid, then what right do I have to ruin those kids good time. Besides, it is only a twelve foot drop, and except for the side with the concrete driveway, most of the perimeter has nice soft grass to break the fall.

Photo Friday

Burp!!

Video Thursday

Well I did the boobs earlier in the week. How about some pussy today?

See more fine pussycats at Abandoned Pet Rescue

Starvin Marvin

Somewhere in the world somebody is starving, and every time I see Mark cooking I wish we could invite that person over for dinner. Today Mark is preparing a mound of lasagna, and by mound I mean like a baseball pitchers mound. The thing is huge, and the kicker is that we still have frozen left-over lasagna in the freezer from last time. "Just throw that stuff out," Mark informed me a little while ago when I challenged him on the pasta mountain he is preparing for dinner tonight.

When it comes time to sit down and eat the thing, Mark will pile it on my plate, and put half as much on his, which I don't think is fair. Like the good son that I am, I will proceed to eat all that is on my plate just like my mom taught me. Mark however, will pick at his food, rearrange it on the plate, and then when I'm not looking because I am too busy shoveling the stuff into my face, he will disappear from the table. A starving African family of ten could literally live on the food I scrape off Mark's plate into the garbage every night. Of course not all of it goes into the garbage, it is the one big reason Chandler is on his way to doggy obesity. At least tonight we have invited a couple of friends over to help consume the thing. I hope they are wearing their expandable pants, and are very hungry.

Do You Like Boobs A Lot?

In just a couple of months I have a momentous birthday coming. It seems like just yesterday I thought people who were thirty were so damn old, and now as I race towards twice that age, I'd sell my soul to be thirty again. The problem with growing old is that things on your body start breaking faster than you can get the last bad part fixed. Last week my doctor informed me that some of my man parts were broken, and they weren't producing enough testosterone. What? I still feel masculine, I still like football, I spit a lot and scratch myself. How much more manly do I need to be? The doctor explained that it might be why I developed man-boobs, and have very low energy levels, hell I might as well blame my bad bowling on it also. He told me that if I wanted to rectify the problem, he would give me a prescription. So now, every morning I have to smear a disgusting, sticky, gooey, nasty smelling, gel all over my shoulders and arms. The doctor says it contains testosterone, and it will soak right in through my skin, restoring my manhood. I'll give it a try for a month, and see what happens. Hopefully I won't grow hair on my shoulders, and go into 'roid rages like Lou Ferrigno. Though it would be nice if I could get my manzier down to a B cup.

We 'B' Things

Often shopping with Mark can end up in embarrassing situations. this time we are standing in Toys 'r' Us, arguing with the lady at the checkout about whether the coupon we brought for the 'Snow White' DVD is valid. We had followed the instructions in the Toys 'r' Us flier, and printed out the coupon online, but the lady said no, she couldn't take it because it was a fake. After explaining to her about computers, the internet, and online coupons, she still refused, convinced that somehow we were trying to put one over on her. Okay I thought, I'll just step back and let Mark do his magic. After a few words back and forth, Mark demanded to see the manager, perhaps a little louder than he should have. Within a minute the manager came out, and I figured a level headed toy store manager would iron everything out and we'd be done with it. Almost immediately he said, "We don't accept reproduction coupons, and if you don't leave the store I'll call the police." How it jumped from our wanting to buy a children's movie, to calling the cops that fast, I can't figure out, but it pissed me off and for once it was Mark who was trying to stop me from embarrassing him. I let loose with a string of profanity. The manager was an asshole, the store was run by assholes, Geoffrey the giraffe was an asshole, I called everyone within sight an asshole. The filth continued to fly out of my mouth as Mark hustled me out of the store.

I don't know exactly what Mark did after we got home. I could hear him squawking into the phone at someone, and then he left the house, returning a while later with a 'Snow White' DVD in his hand. Later I got a phone call from Toys 'r' Us headquarters asking for Mark. "Could you please have him call us back when he gets in?" the pleasant voice at the other end said.

See, that's the difference between Mark and me. Mark squawks, and squeaks, and insults, until he gets what he wants. I just start cursing, and end up looking like a crazy old man who nobody wants to even talk to.

Photo Friday

Out of all the cars I have owned over the years, the one I am most sorry that I let get away was this one. It is a 1962 Studebaker GT Hawk. I bought this car in Oakland California, and drove it across country to Chicago in December 1978. It had a 289 V8 (Studebaker not Ford), factory bucket seats, factory Hurst four speed shifter, and I hit 110 mph on I-80 in Nevada. It wasn't the fastest car I ever had, but I just loved it.

So what car do you wish you had back?

Video Thursday

For over twelve years I have been shushing and hushing Mark during movies and television shows, to no avail. Here for your viewing pleasure is how I have been watching movies and television for years now. Mark was so hyper during this movie, he almost forgot that I had ruined the ending for him a few days ago, almost.

Law and Order in Florida

There apparently is a real law on the books here in Florida that you can't have sex with a porcupine.

(Link to Story)

From Russia Today

The law in the US state of Florida specifically forbids having sex with a porcupine, and for a good reason, as two tourists from Russia discovered while trying to break it.

The Sunshine State is rather restrictive on what you can do between the sheets. No doing it if you are not married; no kissing your wife’s breast; no oral sex; no indulging in Kama Sutra; and absolutely NO SEX WITH PORCUPINES!

However two tourists from St Petersburg, Russia, decided to defy the wise instruction of Florida’s legal system and engage in lewd activity with the spiked beast, reports Tvoy Den tabloid.

The idea came to Anton, 32, and Evgeny, 30, after a long party with a lot of booze. A guideline into weird and outwardly dumb laws of different American states was its centrepiece, and the one about porcupines apparently caught the friends’ imagination.

“We’re here to have as much fun as we can,” decided Anton after a brief discussion, and the whole company went out into the Floridian woods in search of illegal pleasures. Unfortunately for them they found one.

The newspaper didn’t go into technical details about what happened next, but the next day both men, who spent the night taking a flight to Los Angeles, had to go to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. The diagnosis was hardly unexpected: porcupine needles in the genitals.

The damage caused by the porcupine fighting for its honor was horrific. Both Anton and Evgeny had severe inflammation and nearly lost their private parts. At least they didn’t have to answer to the law, having left Florida before seeking medical help.

Warning: Spoiler Alert!

Mark has been whining today, and the funny thing about it is that he's been whining about wine. You see he and I have different views about what the wine in the wine rack is for. Mark sees the bottles of wine as his for use in cooking spectacular meals, and I see the bottles of wine as something for me to drink, so I drink them. Earlier Mark was storming around the kitchen bitching and moaning about my drinking his wine. Funny, but I never stomp around the house complaining about Mark using my electricity, or watching my satellite television, I just pay the bill and shut up. It's shit like this that makes me need all that wine.

This evening I was watching a movie I had recorded a couple of months ago. It was called 'Vanishing Point' and was actually a very crappy movie, filled with nothing but stereotypes of Blacks, gays, rednecks, cops, and women. Apparently, Mark was still harboring some resentment from earlier in the evening over the wine thing, so he came into the living room, sat down, and said "I saw this movie three times when I was in high school. Do you want to know how it ends?" Before I could say no, he proceeded to tell me that the 'hero' just vanishes into the horizon as the credits roll. I was furious that he had ruined the ending for me, and what happened next might have been the wrong thing for me to do, but I had to get even. Mark has been going on and on all week about seeing an upcoming movie called 'Trick R Treat', so I went to the internet, and looked up the spoiler ending to that movie. I then went back to Mark and told him the ending to his movie of the week. Boy was he pissed. Especially since he was just kidding about the end of 'Vanishing Point'. Turns out the hero doesn't just vanish, and now I'm the asshole. I guess I'll just grab a bottle of wine and hide out until this all blows over.

Anna Nicole Smith and My Drinking Money, Died Here

I have been inside a gambling casino maybe three times in my life, and I have never understood the allure. One time was in Las Vegas when I was still under age. I managed to win about a dollar in nickels before security chased me out. Another time was in a goofy little riverboat casino in Iowa, whose entire patronage consisted of fat assed farmers and their even fatter wives, who after engorging on the all you could eat buffet of fried everything, proceeded to plant those fat asses in front of all the slot machines. It wasn't pretty. Despite those experiences, I have been intrigued lately because more than one of my friends has mentioned how lucky they have been at the local Indian casinos here. So when I saw that Abandoned Pet Rescue was going to do a 'Meet and Greet' (When we bring a few dogs and cats out for the public to see) at a nearby casino, I was first on the list to volunteer. I figured I would help get some of the little darlings adopted, then go try my hand at a little gambling when we were done.

The part where we sat around introducing dogs and cats to the people was great, and I think we might have adopted out a few. The part where I ventured into the casino afterwards was another matter. I might as well have taken a couple of twenty-dollar bills and put them through my paper shredder at home. Apparently, the science of casino design has reached a point where they can lure you in, get you lost among the machines, and then totally disorient you with cacophony until your wallet is empty, and they can do this in less than five minutes. I walked out of that place feeling as if I had been pantsed and thrown out into the street naked. I still don't know where the fun part of gambling is, unless all those people plunging their money into the machines are just total masochists. As for my friends who brag about how much money they have won in the casinos, I think they lie. I think they are full of shit, but the next time I see them you can be sure I will let them know that I walked away hundreds of dollars ahead, and had a fabulous time.

Photo Friday

Click on cartoon to enlarge
(Thank you Syd)
make your own here

Video Thursday

I am so sorry that I have posted another lizard video. It is the third in a row, but we seem to be over run by the little bastards. It was after midnight, and suddenly Chandler jumped up on the bed and started trampling me and whining. A lizard was scampering around on the wall above my head.

At least they aren't rats.