Childhood and Torture

I was reminded yesterday of a time when my cousin Michelle and I used to torture my sister. This was something that I was always up for no matter who my accomplice was. Being almost two years younger than her always gave me the motive to make her life miserable whenever possible. Everything Tina ever did was ammunition. The fact that she had discovered boys before myself just meant that I could tease her. Before I reveal the secrets of my torture, please note that I love my sister. She is family and I would die for her. Also, I want to thank Michelle for reminding me of this, so thank you Michelle, I love you.

About the time that Tina turned 14 she had really started to notice boys. Michelle was staying with us for a few days and we had made it our mission to terrorize her. We sat out to follow her on one of her many trips around the trailer court to impress a boy named John. Now John was a very handsome young man, he lived just a few trailers down and Tina just knew that this was the man of her dreams. She had spent the better part of the morning fixing her hair and spraying it down with auqua net to make sure it was as high as possible, she had checked and re-checked herself in the mirror to make sure that her perky little breast were as high as they should be and that her butt didn't look to big. The makeup was on and she was ready to start her journey. Michelle and myself were also ready.

We knew that she would be mad at us for what we were planning so we didn't let her know. We waited until she left and then we started out on our journey about twenty feet behind her. She kept asking us to go back home and to leave her alone. She said she was only going for a walk, but we knew what she was doing for sure.

Once she got to the spot where John could see her and us, we sprung into action. First we decided to start barking like dogs and whimpering. When that resulted in a red faced scream for us to stop, we decided that the only thing left was to start lifting our legs on the trees and bushes to mark our territory.

Needless to say Tina decided it was best to go back home and wait for another chance to impress the man of her dreams. Victory was ours and we went about our business, planning our next attack on Tina when she least expected it.

I don't know how she ever forgave Michelle and I for this, but she did. I guess she figured she owed me for almost killing me, according to Grandma, when she hit me in the head with a belt buckle while we were practicing our Sonny and Cher routine. That fight was over who was going to sing Cher's part.

Time Changes Everything

40 years on this planet and a lot has changed. Technology is so much better than it was as a child, and I am sure that it will only get better. For those of you who read this blog and are over the age of 20 I am sure you will get a smile out of some of the things I remember.

Cell phones amaze me. As a child we had an avocado green rotary dial phone that hung on the kitchen wall. It was understood that phone calls were a luxury and not something that we could afford for idle gossip. In Wellsville you could dial 4 and the last four of the number you were calling in town. We also had a party line. There was a time limit on these calls and you typically had another person who spent their time listening to everyone else's conversations. 

I never dreamed growing up that someday almost everyone I knew would have their own phone and they could take it with them wherever they went. When I was a child it was a HUGE deal when Mom was able to find a chord that would allow her to talk on the phone while standing across the room! 

I was one of the first people in my family to purchase a cell phone. For those of you who know me well, I believe this is when I officially became a phone whore. I was very proud of this brick shaped phone. It only cost me a dollar a day and $.50 a minute to use. 

Television...we had 3 channels, two we could watch without having to go outside with the pipe wrench and turning the antenna while Dad would yell, "a little more! Back! Wait! Right there! Nope, you went too far! Go back!" 

Now we all bitch because there is never anything on and we pay too much for all the channels we get. Most of us end up watching the shows we watched as kids for free on channels we pay extra for now. 

Cars were big, heavy, metal and you could use regular or unleaded gasoline. As kids, we could go in and pay for the gas and get a pack of smokes for Dad while he pumped. Now we have to pre-pay in most places and you have to be 18 to buy those smokes. You also can't get a pack of cigarettes and 2 gallons of gas for five bucks any longer. 

Words...Gay meant happy, Queer meant odd, retarded was the proper name for kids on the short bus and nobody knew what LOL, OMG, or what a text message was. If you needed to get a message to a friend, you rode your bike to their house and left it on their door, or actually talked to their face. 

A lot has changed in my life, but one thing remains constant. A trip to Walmart will leave you at some point with an expression on your face that says, WTF? 

Slugs and Tumors

I haven't blogged for 13 days. What can I say? I am a lazy slug. Truth is, I have been working on getting Tupperware going and I was busy looking for a new used car. I have gotten both of these accomplished. I have gotten into a bad habit of laying around on the couch like an old gas station dog. I don't have any motivation and I don't know why.

I have went mushroom hunting a couple times and I have been working on an afghan. I have officially became a tired ole queen at this point in my life. Now to either fight this or accept this is the future I am faced with.

I have always been somewhat of a slug though. Even as a young boy my cousin Kim would come to my house to go outside and play and I would want to stay inside and watch Guiding Light. Kim would tell on me and then I would have to go outside and play. This would usually result in an injury or sweating. I didn't like either of these options.

As I got older, I found it much easier to make an excuse as to why I didn't want to do something, however it was still difficult to convince people that I actually had a floating or 24 hour tumor. Nobody seemed to believe that this was possible. I am here to explain to everyone that it is.

A 24 hour or Floating tumor is something that causes you pain or discomfort. It can cause your to be quite tired as well. Typically these symptoms go away after a day or two.

Now that I am 40, all I have to do is say "I don't feel like it." People seem to take this excuse withouth question and then you are able to spend the next 48 hours on your couch with your groceries on the coffee table watching a marathon of The Golden Girls on the Hallmark channel.

Please understand if I tell you that I don't feel like it. I am not going to die. I am just being a lazy slug. If you still want to spend time with me, bring the salt.

A Night of Purple Passion

I was reminded at lunch today of how simple life used to be when we were teenagers. We all started talking about how much cheaper everything was. Gasoline was $.89 a gallon and you could get a bottle of Strawberry Hill wine for $1.79 at the local quick store.

I started remembering the times I had with both of these items. How we would all save our lunch money and just eat minimum stuff and then use the rest for cruising up and down Main Street on a Friday night. You can really make several trips on just a couple dollars of gasoline back then. The Strawberry Hill was drunk out of soda cups with straws. This was for two reasons. First it gave the illusion that we were drinking soda, second, drinking cheap wine through a straw makes your head spin that much faster.

Then we discovered something called Purple Passion. This stuff was considered the shit. It tasted like grape Kool-Aid and had a powerful kick to it. Everyone was drinking this stuff and we all knew that we were so much smarter than the adults because they would never ever catch on to this trend.

As I remember it, there was a night of food, fun, and a lake. Several of us decided to go to a private lake so we could have a bar-b-q and go swimming. It was going to be such a blast as I recall. Then only a few people showed up so things started going downhill.

After several hours of listening to songs on the radio and cassette tape we all decided that it would be much more fun if we had alcohol. A trip into town to get the supplies was needed so I went along with some of the people going. I had my eyes and stomach on some pickled sausages that the convenience store sold.

Once we returned, the party started kicking into gear. The cheap wine and the Purple Passion were flowing freely. I had chosen to eat my pickled sausages in place of the grilled hot dogs and hamburgers. After a couple more hours and several red plastic solo cups of the grape nectar of the gods, a couple of us decided it would be fun to go swimming. Well, actually skinny dipping, but I won’t go into those details.

A funny thing happens when a person has had too much alcohol and pickled sausages. Especially if they do something stupid; such as getting into a lake to go swimming at midnight. You get sick, and I do mean sick. The next thing I can recall is projectile vomit in the form of sausage bits and purple liquid.

To a drunken kid this could be mistaken for a serious medical situation. It seemed perfectly logical for me to get upset over the fact that I was now vomiting my intestines in small pieces. The fact that I was crying over this trauma was soon eased by my cousin who reminded me that I wasn’t throwing up my intestines but it was all those damn sausages I had eaten.

If anyone knows where they sell Purple Passion now please contact me. I will skip the sausages.

Lady and the Stalker

I used to always believe that it would be completely amazing to have a stalker. Somebody who was so obsessed with me that they would do anything to be near or with me. At a very early age I learned the hard way that this was not true.

A gay man should never feel so sorry for someone that they take them to their prom as a pity date. It never works out. Of course, the fact that I thought at the time, what the hell, let’s try this and see what all the fuss is about was not exactly in my favor. So part of the blame with this situation does come back to myself.

After the prom and what I will forever refer to as the “incident,” this girl became completely obsessed with being with me. I would often come outside to find messages on my car windshield written in shave cream. They would always have a heart somewhere in the message that was used to dot a lower case i.

Phone calls in the middle of the night were very common in our house, it didn’t matter what time it was. The phone would ring and of course there was no caller id then, so I would answer it to hear Michael Bolton playing in the background. She seemed to prefer the song How Can We Be Lovers, If We Can’t Be Friends?

This sort of thing continued for several months until finally everything came to a boiling point. She showed up at my house honking the horn repeatedly.  She did not want to get out of her care, either she was afraid of my dog lady, a black cocker spaniel, or she was afraid that she would look like an idiot for showing up at my house.

I went outside to see what the issue was and she started screaming at me that she loved me and would do anything to be with me. When I informed her that it was over, she decided that it was time to back out of the driveway at a high rate of speed. Unfortunately Lady was behind her car and she got the full force of the back tires. When I screamed at her, she looked down at my dog, put the car in drive and pulled forward; once again, Lady got the full force of the tire.

At this point, I had no choice but to tell her the real reason I couldn’t be with her. The fact  was, as I explained, she had been the one to turn me homosexual. With tears in her eyes over me and tears in mine over Lady she left. 

Later in life she caught her husband in bed with another man.

Miss Clairol and Asian Jai

While staying with a friend of mine in Columbia, MO for a brief period of time I met some very interesting people to say the least. One of the most intriguing people I met was a very outgoing young Asian man by the name of Jai. He was always happy and had a very thick accent. He lived in the apartment below the one I was staying in.

Every time he decided he needed to tell me something I could hear him running up the steps screaming at the top of his lungs over the latest life events. These events could be either monumental or very small; sometimes it was just a general question about how things were done in the country.

One morning I heard him coming up the steps. He had just acquired his very first CD since moving here. He was very proud of it and had to show me. It was RuPaul’s Super Model. Jai pronounced it Ruppel. He asked if I wanted to listen to it and not wanting to be rude I accepted his offer. He said he would be back in an hour to get his CD and that I better not break it.

An hour later, I could hear him coming up the steps. He was yelling before he ever got to my door. “WHERE IS MY RUPPEL, BITCH?”

A few days later Jai met a young man at a bar and decided he would like to bring him back to the apartment for the evening. I was sitting outside as they both stumbled up the stairs; clearly they both had been drinking way too much on this night. I asked if they were okay and Jai informed me that he was fine that he was taking Brian in to color his hair blonde and make him a peanut butter sandwich.

I went to bed that night with the sound of RuPaul thumping beneath my floor and the loud screams of a drunken Asian gay man. I wasn’t sure what all they were doing, but it sounded as if they were not going to finish for quite some time.

At 5 a.m. I heard yelling and the sound of his tiny feet stomping up the stairs. “WHAT IS LEAKING? WHAT IS LEAKING?”  I jumped up looking around to see what he was talking about as his fist pounded on my door.  I wasn’t sure what had happened at this point so I let him in.

Jai informed me that his bed was soaking wet and that something had to be leaking for it to happen. Confused I followed him to his apartment to see what he was so upset about. In the bed was bleach blonde Brian who was still passed out and had unfortunately pissed himself while sleeping.

It took me several minutes to regain my composure from laughing before I could explain to Jai what exactly happened. Brian continued to sleep through all of the commotion and in fact only awakened when Jai pulled the sheets and blankets off the bed spinning him to the floor.

I never saw Brian after this morning but I did see Jai a few days later with another young man and a box of Miss Clairol going inside his apartment.

The eighth commandment

I learned at a very early age that if you behave badly, God will get you. This has always been something that I live by. Today I like to refer to it as, God will get ya if your ugly. Not ugly in a physical way, but in a spiritual way.

I went to my Aunt Jan's house one day to see if Kim could come outside and play and since they lived just a couple houses away, I was allowed to make the trip by myself. Aunt Jan never locked the back door to her house. It was always open, as was the practice of most people back in the early 70's. Either there wasn't as much crime then or we were all just stupid.

Upon entering her house and calling out for Kim, I realized that nobody was home. I made my way into the living room and there on the coffee table was a bowl of candy. Brach's caramels have always been one of my favorites so I decided I needed two of them, even at this age I had an issue with odd numbers. I knew as I put them in my pocket that it was wrong but I couldn't resist the sweet temptations that were in the white milk glass bowl.

I ran out of the back door and back to my house. Waves of guilt were flooding over my body with each step that I took. I was going to end up in jail for sure. I had to do something. I couldn't let my Mom know that I had just stolen two pieces of candy. I was in a panic by the time I got back to the house. I had to dispose of the evidence, but at the same time I wanted to eat this candy more than anything I had ever wanted in my life. Even more than I had wanted the Magic 8 ball for my birthday that year.

I finally decided that I could have the candy and Mom would never know that I had committed a crime. So I hatched a very clever scheme. I hid the two caramels under a bush in front of our house and then went inside. I acted like nothing was going on when Mom asked where Kim was. I told her that Aunt Jan wasn't home and that I was going to go outside and play. This was step one of my plan, once outside I would "find" the caramels under the bush and then the sweet treats would finally be mine!

I went to the bushes and found my candy once again and carried them into the house proudly saying how lucky I was to find such a rare thing in our own yard. My Mother on the other hand freaked out and took them from me. "No way are you eating candy you found in the yard," after all, she reasoned, it could have been left there by a serial killer!

I had no choice but to confess that I had stolen the candy, hid it, and lied about it. I still wanted those caramels. Mom was horrified at the level of deception that her baby boy had developed. She waited until Aunt Jan got home and marched me over there with my candy in my hand. I had to give it back and apologize to Aunt Jan for stealing her candy and not asking for it.

That Sunday in church the sermon and lesson was about the 10 Commandments. They focused on the eighth one that week. God had seen what I had done.

Cuts like a knife

I have never been great at sports, this is common knowledge. I am however very good at throwing fits. I have gotten a lot calmer over the years but throwing an object during an argument used to be my biggest flaw.

There was the time I got mad at a boyfriend when he said the dinner I cooked wasn't that good. I threw a 2 liter pepsi at him. he did have enough sense to duck but it hit the stereo and busted it all to hell. That was the last time he came over for dinner now that I think about it. 

There was also the time that Robby thought it would be funny to scare me. He waited on the steps and jumped out at me. I had a glass of tea in my hand and as I screamed, I threw the tea up the stairs at him. It took some time to clean that off the walls and steps. 

I don't always have to be mad at another person to have a spasm. After screaming and cursing for several minutes one night while trying to fry potatoes, Robby quietly asked why it was such a big deal?

This sent me over the edge. How could he not care or understand the potato trauma? I was trying to peel and slice some more so I could start over. I got so angry I threw the knife across the kitchen. It hit the edge of the sink and came sailing back towards me. I stood in horror as I looked down and saw the knife sticking straight up in the air as it landed into my big toe. 

This was my last throw. 

Winter, Spring and the Fall of Driving.

Spring is almost here and I am so excited that I can't hardly stand it. I believe with my whole heart that I should be allowed to stay at home from October 1 through May 1 and not have to look at anyone else in the world. I should have been a Bear when I was born. I hate everything about the winter season. I am not even a fan of the holidays that come along with the cold weather.

Driving in bad weather will not happen for me. It is a fact, use it as you wish. Ask anyone close to me and they will tell you that I will not be on the road behind the wheel of a vehicle if there is snow or ice on the road. It is hard enough for me to drive when the weather is good just because of the idiots on the road.

To the following people: Please stop doing this, you are giving me anger management issues.

Mr. Ride my ass because I am not going fast enough. I realized that you over slept and that you are in a hurry. Or, maybe you are just a dick who thinks he has to be the first one to cross the city limit sign.

Mrs. I'm too busy to drive, she is always on the phone, doing her hair and makeup in the mirror and swerving all over the road. Here is a tip lady, get a driver.

Mr. I'm too old to be on the road. You go 45 mph no matter what the speed limit is. When you do finally get out of your car to go in somewhere, I understand your pain. Your pants are pulled up so high that is has separated the boys.

Mr. Truck driver, please don't try to push me out of the way or take more than your lane just because you are driving a beast. I get it, I will move.

Finally, to Mr. Nose picker. 65 mph clearing the nasal passages. No further explanation needed.

Now that Spring is just around the corner I will have more smiles on my face than usual. Warm weather will of course give me more to blog about as people love to humiliate themselves in the warmer air for some reason. This is also a fact as you can see at any local Walmart in the July.

My First Hooker

In 2004 Robby and I decided that we wanted to take a trip somewhere that we had never been and since Robby won't get on a plane it had to be a destination that we could drive. After many online searches and discussions we settle on the city of New Orleans.

I wanted to see the French Quarter and the swamps. I had seen so much on television about this city being like it's own world that I had to go. After some planning we set out on our way to the Big Easy. I felt just like Suzanne Sugarbaker, I was gonna have a hurricane and some hair of the dog the next morning to combat the hangover.

Down I-55 we began our journey. It seemed logical to take this route because it was a straight shot all the way there. Dull does not even begin to describe this trip. Mississippi is the longest freaking state you could drive down the center of. The only thing to look at on the journey were the Pine trees. Oh and the Pine trees.

Once we crossed into the state of Louisiana, it was in fact as if we had entered another country. Especially once we turned onto I-10. The bridges were so long it was amazing. Swamp as far as the eye could see, and peppered throughout were the shacks that people actually live in.

We made it to our Hotel room, I was too excited to do anything except visit the French Quarter, so we went for a walk. The first place we hit was Bourbon Street, I was after a Hurricane and some craw fish. This was my goal for the evening. My goal for the evening was not to get so wasted that I tried to get a homeless man to polish my sneakers for $1.00. Robby had to drag me away from him and into a restaurant to get some food with the hope of getting me somewhat sober enough to walk back to room.

Everything was going fine at the table until I spotted a prostitute with a scorpion tattoo on her breast. I couldn't help but stare in my haze and she must have mistaken my fascination with passion. She began to show me more and more cleavage while I sat at the table on the balcony waiting for my craw fish. I however was trying to focus on the tattoo not the breast. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get a better look so I took off from the table and crossed the street.

She was all smiles as I approached, to her, she thought business was picking up. To me, I was on a mission to talk to a hooker. As I approached she asked me what I was looking for, I froze. Panic washed over me like never before. Before I could even think I just blurted out..."I love your boobs and tattoo."

"I'm sure you do honey, you wanna better look?" she replied. Then it finally hit me, what she was after and what I wanted couldn't be any more different under any circumstance. I explained to her that I was with my boyfriend having dinner and apologized for wasting her time. I then noticed that she was drinking something that was green and I asked her what it was. She informed me it was called Kick Ass Gator. I had no choice but to make things right. I paid her $10.00 for the remainder of her drink and returned to my dinner.

Horned Toads and Bar-B-Q chips

When I was in the 4th grade my sister and decided that we couldn't live without a Horned Toad for a pet. My Dad, bless his soul, worked for Backer's Potato Chips in Fulton and he drove a truck for them. On one of his routes he managed to find us a toad and brought it home for us. Spike was a beautiful toad, he had a home in an aquarium and it was filled with sand. His diet consisted of crickets and other insects.

I was not going to catch these bugs to feed Spike so Mom was the one who was outside catching bugs each morning. I just couldn't stand the thought of killing one thing to feed another. This way of thinking also carried over in life to the point that my Dad never had a hunting buddy with his son.

As with most pets, Spike eventually died. I am not sure what killed the little toad but there were tears and a funeral. My sister and I found the perfect place to lay him to rest. We even placed little yellow dandelions on his grave. We never even considered that his grave was at the end of the drain spout from the roof, until it rained that night and we found Spike washed out of his final resting place the next morning.

Once again, we had a funeral for Spike, and once again we buried him. Unfortunately, we put him back where he was and it continued to rain. Spike had to be buried several times before we finally understood that he couldn't rest next to the drain.

Once the pain of losing Spike passed I decided I wanted Bar B Q rippled chips. Backers didn't make them so Dad decided to run a batch of rippled chips and put the flavoring on them for me. That was the biggest bag of chips I had ever seen!

To this day I don't understand how or why my Dad did everything he did for us. I guess that is why he will always be my hero. I miss him terribly and this blog is dedicated to him.

Wonder Boy

Television has always been a huge part of my life as far back as I can remember. When I was a young boy I was completely obsessed with Gilligan's Island. I couldn't function without watching it. Mom and Dad would often try to trick me if there was someplace they needed to go and it was on. We didn't know what a VCR or DVR was back then because they had not yet been invented. We also only had three channels and the remote was typically myself or my sister.

When it was time for the family to leave I would sit there in front of the TV and try my hardest to stall so I could see if Gilligan would in fact get off the island that week. Mom or Dad tried their hardest to convince me that if they just turned the TV off, Gilligan would be on when we got back and I wouldn't have missed anything. This worked a couple of times before I caught on.

Another show that sucked the life out of me was Wonder Woman. I don't know why, but I wanted to be her and part of me still does. The fact that she got to run around in a bathing suit, fly an invisible plane, and had a golden lasso of truth was more than my mind could comprehend. I had to have this life and would do whatever it took to become Diana.

My cousin, Kim and I would often play superhero and we would both be Wonder Woman. It never even crossed my mind to be Super Man, or Spider Man or any of the other males who were saving the world from evil. The two of us would play Wonder Woman for hours on end outside. Fighting crime and saving the country from the Nazi's.

We decided finally that we needed at least some of the items that Wonder Woman used in order help rid the country of evil, so we slipped inside the house to get a few items that would assist in our endeavor.

The first thing we needed was a golden lasso of truth, Mom's gold yarn was perfect for this. Then we needed the wrist bands that would deflect bullets. What to use for this? It wasn't as if Mom had a supply of bracelets, so we improvised and decided that Styrofoam cups that had the end cut out and a slit up the side would make the perfect band. The only problem, they weren't silver!

A trip to the kitchen provided the answer we so desperately seeking. In the cupboard was a new box of Reynold's Wrap. The fact that we now had silver bracelets to deflect the onslaught of bullets that we were facing outside go the creative juices flowing. We knew very well that a red star should be on each bracelet. We were positive that this was one of the main sources of power for Wonder Woman so we had to find something.

Finally a trip into Mom's bedroom revealed the perfect shade of red nail polish that would definitely give us the desired effect. Once the ensemble was complete we were ready to fight crime and save the country, or at least the neighborhood for the villains of the world. All we had to do now was spin in a circle and we were ready to go.

Mom on the other hand was constantly buying aluminum foil, Styrofoam cups, gold yarn and nail polish. She couldn't understand why these items were constantly needing replenished.

Tis the Season

It's that time of year again everyone, time for the garage and yard sales. As I have written in a previous blog, I grew up with a grandma who loved these events. To her, a bargain was a bargain and I myself will find it necessary  going to these events to see if there is anything that I absolutely could not live without.

I have had a few yard sales before in my life. It is definitely a great way to get rid of clutter and other odds and ends in your house that you are just sick of looking at. A few extra bucks in your pocket is always a bonus for what could be considered trash to yourself and treasure to others.

It occurs to me that a yard sale for fun would be a great source of entertainment. I would love to have one just for laughs without the possibility of making any cash. I have thought this out and have decided there are several items that would be absolutely hilarious to put a sticker on. Here are my top 5 items that would be fun to have for sale at my next event.

#1 A used litter pan, without cleaning it up. just stick it out there with a sign on it that says "works great".

#2 How about a half eaten sandwich for $.25?

#3 The thought of having a sign up that says make me an offer on my child gives me great pleasure. Especially if the child is currently on a sugar high and running around like a chicken with it's head cut off.

#4 Used underwear would be a definite treat to get a reaction from people.

And last but not least, my #5 item that I would love to get peoples reaction on is... A vibrator. Imagine the looks on people faces when they start picking through the quarter box to run across one of the items with a sticker on it that says, "works great" or "like new".

The possibility of comedy and shock value of this is beyond belief and you just never know when I may do something like this.

Life's a Dance

I love music of all kinds. One look at my iPod and you will see that is has everything from Patsy Cline to Lady Gaga on it. I also love to sing. I am not good at it, but I love to do it.

The solution to this problem is this; put the earphones in as tight as you can get them so you can't hear yourself. If you are in the car, volume up. Once I have it at a level that I can no longer hear my own voice I am ready to go. This gives me the green light to sing as loud as I can with all the grunts, growls, pops, and sighs that go along with each song. In these moments I am Brittany, Madonna, Hank Sr., Elvis, or whomever I have streaming at the moment.

Some of the best times to sing and bust a move is while you are home alone cleaning the house. The only audience I have is my dogs, so I love to dance with them and sing directly into their face while they try to run and hide under the throw pillows. The fact that my voice can send them into a frenzy is so much amusement that I will often send Robby to the store just so I can have a few minutes of fun.

On one particular day, not so very long ago, I was at my best in the kitchen. I had Brittany going full blast on the ipod. She had "did it again" and so had I. Every single time she sang "Oh Baby, baby, how was I supposed to know" I had the same growl coming out of my mouth that I believed she did. I just knew that I was the next member of the Mickey Mouse Club that was yet to be discovered.

With my trusty dance partner, Mr. Swiffer Wet Jet, I was on fire. I was getting the floor clean while doing moves that nobody had ever seen before. In my heart I knew that it was time to take this show on the road. This was my chance to expose the world to what would later be known as the Curtis Effect.

I was not aware that Mom had entered the apartment and was a captive audience of one until I hit the hight note while singing into the handle. I knew at this moment that I was cashing in on the phrase, "I will love you no matter what."

Thanks Mom.

May I please use the restroom?

When I think back over the stunts I have pulled in my past, several stick out in my mind that were absolutely humiliating. I never seem to shock anyone other than myself with some of my actions. I have a tendency to say or do just about anything with no regard to my personal safety or humiliation.

There was a time several years ago that I was visiting the University of Missouri Hospital. While walking down a long quiet hall I noticed several young doctors buzzing in and out of rooms. They all seemed to impress me with their scrubs and clean cut looks. The thought occurred to me that it would be nice to possibly marry a doctor some day.

Upon ducking into a bathroom with a friend of mine. I made a comment over the stall that I wouldn't mind a "casual encounter" with a young doctor, one that would be so amazing that he would instantly fall head over heals for me and we would live happily ever after. I was the ultimate gay fairy tale where we could live in a fancy home and I could decorate and garden each day along side Martha Stewart. 

I wondered if my off the cuff remark had fallen flat on deaf ears or if I had finally gone too far with my sick twisted sense of humor. I had not heard a single comment from my friend after all. There I was giving him some of my best material while going to the bathroom and I was getting no feedback.

Once I had finished my business I opened the door to my stall and  realized that my friend was no longer in the room with me. In his place was a very attractive red faced young intern who was wearing scrubs. He seemed very nervous that I had finished before him and that I was now standing less than a foot from him.

I quickly washed my hands and bolted from the restroom. Once outside I saw my very good friend doubled over with laughter. He had in fact heard my remarks in the restroom but chose not to respond since the young intern had followed us inside without my knowledge.

I chose to not have lunch in the cafeteria that day.

Friends Forever

Having a best friend, or as the younger generation calls it now, a bestie, is the greatest gift anyone can have. To have more than one is exceptional. I have several friends in my life that I can call a best friend. In the end there all different degrees though.

For instance, Sheila would be considered my best friend. The very best. She knows where I keep the box of stuff that needs to be destroyed should I become incapacitated so my Mom don't find it. She will be the one to come to the hospital with tweezers should I be in a coma, and she knows when the statute of limitations is up on some of my less than stellar moments in life. 

A call to her at 3 am is never out of the question. Even if it is a call to tell her the latest joke I heard or to ask if she knows where I put my toenail clippers. 

Diane is the friend that will always send me coffee. She is the one that has a very deep connection to me and my family. She may live in Ohio, but I don't hold that against her. It gives me a place to go for vacation. The only draw back to Diane is that she can't tell me how something smells or taste since she fell down a flight of steps. Her family is my family extended.

She took me to see Carrie Underwood in concert and let me stand there for 45 minutes in a trance without saying a word. She understands my obsession with music, Carrie and Crystal Bowersox. Some day we will get to meet Crystal in Toledo and I am sure Diane will be the one to thank for this.

JW, where do I start? This is the kid I grew up with. Both of us from small towns with family ties and roots in abundance. When we were very young I remember him telling me that his Mom said she was going to beat the black off him. This scared me so bad. I cried and asked my Mom how that was possible. She had to explain to me that it wasn't, it was just a phrase. 

Somewhere there is a photo of JW that was taken in the backseat of a car while he was arguing with his significant other. I was on the outside of the car and I saw the flash going off. I couldn't understand what was going on until he jumped out of the car screaming that nobody was going to hit him in the head with a camera. The only thing I could think to say or do was ask for a copy of that picture. 

I will always be there for the friends I have in life, as they will me. First we will be concerned, but eventually everything will be fair game for laughs and teasing. From falling down steps to getting your head smacked by a camera. Or, if you will, a drunken night with a missing shoe and a mud puddle. 

I still don't know what happened to Sheila's shoe. 

A Day In The Life Of Curtis

Some people think I have a very exciting life. I am not sure where the myth that most gay men live in total excitement and parties came from but i can assure everyone out there that this isn't true. I am probably the most boring person in the entire world. I usually get up at 6:30 am after hitting the snooze button for a half hour. This morning action seems to drive Robby nutty as a fruit cake. No pun intended.

Once I get out of the bed, I stumble and fumble my way to the kitchen where I turn the coffee pot on. Why I don't set it up the night before to be ready I don't know. It has a timer, but I can't figure out how to program that either. It's very difficult to separate two coffee filters when you have double vision. 

Somehow over the years, Robby has learned not to even glance in my direction until after the first sip of caffeine. It isn't a pretty picture in my house at this point. There I sit at the table holding my head because it usually feels as if it is going to fall off and roll under the table for some reason my hair is such a hot mess that Robby usually looks at me in horror with a shit eating grin on his face.

I am probably going to get attacked for this again, but I am so grateful that I don't have children. I could not even begin to imagine having to deal with a small person before work. It is hard enough dealing with a 1 year old yorkie and a 17 year old blind and deaf dog that early. If this makes me selfish or just an ass, I can deal with that. 

Robby is a morning person. He hears his alarm on the first note and shuts it off as he rises from his slumber ready to get in the shower and go. I on the other hand rush in a panic out of the shower, into my clothes all while grabbing sips of the morning go go juice. I typically hurt myself at least once each morning on my way out the door. It is also a ritual that I forget either my phone or my debit card each morning and have to turn around and come back, even after Robby has asked, "do you have everything you need?" 

Once in the vehicle I stare straight ahead until we arrive at our morning destination. We even pass my cousin Tina going in the opposite direction and she waves. Again, Robby makes an obvious statement. "There goes that girl you know." To this I always reply, "Her name is Tina." 

You would think after 17 years together he would know my family. He usually tries to talk about something else as we drive but I only hear Charlie Browns teacher. 

 I like to get my coffee pot going on my desk and then gather my wits about myself before the others start to arrive, so I usually get there about 30 minutes early. I am not above telling the boss to stop talking before I have had my coffee. Some have learned this the hard way. While others see the glazed over look of a death threat brewing and just nod in my direction. 

Once my day is over and I have reached my threshold of people, I make a mad dash for my sofa. There I will browse the web, watch television and in general become a giant slug waiting for somebody to come in and poor salt on me.

My night can not end until Chelsea Lately goes off the air. The best nights have Loni Love on the show. If you haven't seen Americas Sister get it. That bitch is funny! After the show ends, I check twitter in case I have been discovered and nobody told me. Then it is time to drag my lifeless body into the bedroom where I lay there thinking about all the stuff I should have done or need to do until I pass out. The next thing you know Duran Duran is singing Wild Boys on my phone again and it is time to start all over. 

Can I get you anything else?

If you have ever worked in a place that has a drive thru window, or do so now, I can give you a few tips to make your shift go better. Warning: don't try these tips if your boss is around. I am not responsible for getting anyone fired who acts like a dumb ass they way I did.

There is nothing, and I do mean nothing, funnier than the headphones that you and the other employees have to wear. They usually have a respond, and an all button. The all button goes to the other workers and not to the asshole at the menu board. It is very important to learn where these buttons are. I learned this the hard way one night after saying to the customer by mistake..."Every single night this freak comes here. Don't they have a life?" to this statement I heard a voice say, "yes I do."

Working at Starbucks, I often found myself running the drive thru window for some reason. Why there was a drive thru window still baffles me. I was supposed to hand hot drinks out the window to someone. They would then drive off with yet another reason to be distracted on the highway.

However, by having this at our store, it did give me a chance to entertain the masses. By masses I mean the other employees. I typically liked to have everyone I worked with wear a headset. This way I could also torture the ones at the front counter while they had their welcome face on. Watching try to keep a straight face while I whispered into the headset that I hoped their customer got a yeast infection was my favorite joke.

We had several repeat customers and I didn't care to learn their names. I knew their annoying drink instead. People who frequent a Starbucks on a daily basis always want the same drink. For example, the lady who always asked for a venti caramel frappacino. "with extra, extra, extra, extra, extra, caramel." Every night I would have to hear this. It was a game to either charge her for each extra she said or to count the times she said extra.

Caramel lady did not like it when I asked her if she would like to buy a jar of caramel. She preferred us to squeeze it into the cup and cover every inch of it before pouring the beverage in. I think we all got hand cramps from caramel lady.

For some reason, the other employees would also have a hard time keeping a straight face while they waited on someone and I would slip into the back room and quietly remind them that the person they were waiting on looked like a crack whore or that they had muppet eyes. For those of you don't know, muppet eyes on a human is not cute. It is freaky to see all the whites of a persons eyes. It's very difficult to hand someone coffee once you realize that it is Oscar the grouch.

It wasn't all fun and games though. I absolutely hated cleaning the bathrooms when some dumb ass would shit on the floor and not the toilet. It wasn't fun to pick up their drug paraphernalia from the floor either. Please people, if you are gonna do drugs in Starbucks, take your needle, pipes, papers, and roach clips with you when you go. This was probably Karma coming back once again to bite me in the balls for making fun of people to pass the time.




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Bra and panties

My grandma would never leave the house if she looked like shit. This is a true statement. I was raised to believe that if you are going out of your home, at the very least comb your head and put on clean panties.

I don't know where this philosophy has gone in 2011, but for some reason we have creatures running around all over the place that look like they have just rolled out of bed. If that isn't bad enough some look they were rode hard and put away wet.

I see these pitiful people every place I go. They stand at the gas pump with cartoon sleeping pants on and house slippers that are too big for their feet. They come into my office without a bra and their hair all knotted up with a gummy bear stuck in it.

I am sure most straight men don't mind the absence of a bra, and I, on occasion can also admire a great pair of what's-its. However, when you are 8 months pregnant and the tatas hang low enough for the baby to start nursing on its way into the world, it is time to use a little support.

The same goes for men. For the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary, wear underpants. Please don't come into any building with your running shorts on if your turtle head is out of the shell. The same goes for jogging pants, are these men really trying to say, look at my low hangers and the curtain rod, I work out. No you don't work out, If you did you would need support for the twig and berries.

I will say it again. People give me the greatest thrill. I can usually find something or someone every single day that will make me either laugh, or vomit.


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Stephanie hates lobster

My good friend Stephanie, the one I talked about in a previous post who was obsessed with the TV show FRIENDS as much as I was, is also one of the funniest people I know. She supports my obsession with Big Brother and wants me on that show more than I do. I truly believe we are related somehow. I just need ancestry.com to help me prove it.

Nothing would make me laugh harder than when she was pissed at the guy who sat next to her. His main goal in life was to be disgusting. His second goal in life was to get attention anyway he could. He was the type that would invite himself into any conversation.

The fact that he had a lobster claw for a hand was just extra fuel for the fire. He tried to keep it hidden most days. I say be proud of your claw if you have one.

He had a nasty habit that would make her want to vomit. He would pick his nose and eat it. I of course thought it was funny as hell to see the look on her face when she had called me to her desk while he was doing it.

His stupid remarks about how cool he was would cause steam to rise from the top of her head. This event usually occurred at least there times a day much to her dismay.

Lobster Claw would also put his Bluetooth headset on each day when he left to go to his car. He wanted to give the impression that his shit didn't stick, but we all knew better from the odor that would creep out from under his ass. I always assumed he was talking to his mom even when he claimed it was his girlfriend but I highly doubted that there was a woman in his life. I don't think there is a big market out there for Lobster fetish, but I could be wrong.

Stephanie and I would always find a way to poke fun at him. Most of the time he was clueless about this, but sometimes I think he got it. Looking back I guess it was mean, but if you are going to pick your nose with your claw and eat it you are just setting yourself up for my entertainment.


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I love plastic

When I worked and lived in the city I met some amazing young women who called themselves the plastics. This is from the Movie Mean Girls, if you haven't seen it you are missing out.

I loved to torture these ladies. I would often steal stuff from their desks such as their Bratz dolls and leave them a ransom note. I would later send them a photo of their toy in a dangerous situation such as being hung by a paper clip noose. I don't know why this was so amusing to me but it was.

Poor Heather got the brunt of this mainly because she was very anal about everything on her desk. There was an unlimited supply of stuff to torture her with. Coming in to find your doll having it's naughty spots touched by another doll would send her over the edge with laughter.

Kim was another favorite of mine to torment. She was very crafty and I would often just move things on her desk and wait for her to realize something was off. She gave me skittles too. Always in even numbers.

Finally there was Ashley. I did drive her crazy but mostly I found it funny just to make her laugh. It didn't hurt either that she sat across from THE hottest guy in the office. He had a shirtless picture of himself and his wife on his desk, Bonus! She would also do something called a mouse race that I still don't understand, but she seemed to love it. Everyone needs a pet project.

These girls are amazing people but I found it very odd that they couldn't pee alone. Heather would also find it necessary to talk about her poo and it was rumored that she took others to the toilet with her for company. The fact that she could take a dump at the office and be proud of it still haunts me.





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Cowboys and Tequila

In my much, much, younger days I was quite the little party boy; surprise! Let's face it. I was slim, cute, and actually had an ass that I might have even caught you looking at it.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the kind of cash required to live it up. So I had to rely on the kindness of strangers as well as my charm and "assets".

Apparently, when a man, or two men, for that matter, buy you drinks all night, kindness has nothing to do with their motives; they just want something in return...

This is a truth that transcends orientation. Especially if these particular two men are dressed and pressed like cowboys. Cowboys from Kansas City to boot. I had no idea any cowboys lived there up to this point in my life.

Needless to say as the evening progressed I naturally became cuter by the minute. They became more rugged and handsome with each shot. And I don't mean the pistols they were packing. I was in the presence of two very tall drinks of water and I was getting thirsty.

I would dance with one, then the other, then both of them. These Marlboro men where getting my best jokes; my A game. I was the shit and everyone in that room knew it.

Around midnight the tequila was pouring fast and often and the lime wedges were piling up. By this time we were all life long friends. Laughing, singing and hanging on each other like lint on an old mans scrotum.

When the bartender shouted last call he wasn't the only one with an announcement. That's when they informed me of their intentions; the price of my fun. At first my mouth hit the floor. I quickly closed it when one of them raised his eyebrow at me waiting for my "acceptance" to their indecent proposal. I had to think fast, but my head was spinning like they wanted me to do on silk sheets.

I decided my only chance of survival was to run. To lie to them and tell them that I needed a few minutes or something and go to my car. They saw through my hesitation and assured me with wide smiles that they would bring me back to my car the next morning. I was safe with them. Yea right. Safe and sound like a corpse in a roach motel.

Finally They agreed to wait for me out front. I knew I wasn't good to drive. I was afraid they would come to the parking lot to look for me if I just hid in my car; to collect on their investment. I did the only thing I could.

I went around the corner of the building and hid between two paper machines. If I waited there long enough maybe they would loose interest and go away. I sat down and folded my arms over my knees drawing them up to my chest blending into the wall behind me and was swallowed up by the darkness.

The next thing I knew I was greeted by the safety of the morning sunlight creeping across the horizon. The two paper machines had also been filled with the Sunday edition.





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OCD is a bitch

If you suffer from any form of this disease, and I believe most of us do, you might enjoy this look at some of my issues with everyday life. I have gotten better thanks to medication but there are still days I pace the floor over these things. 

I hate odd numbers. Even the volume on the tv needs to be set at an even number. Skittles, m&m's and any other small candy pieces must be eaten in pairs. If there is one left in the bag the panic sets in. 

Shoes must always be lined up on the floor of the closet arranged by date of purchase, color and style. This can get quite confusing at times. Although Robby throwing away two bags of my shoes when we moved made it a little easier. He still owes me several trips to the mall though. 

Remote controls have to arranged according to size and facing the tv at all times. I can not go to sleep at night if one has been moved. I stay up later than Robby to avoid this. If I go to bed without them in the proper place I know for a fact that the world will end before 5 am.

Can food should be arranged according to size and all labels facing out. Robby will sometimes turn them around just to mess with me. He seems to think it is funny, I however do not. 

Dog treats are to be handed out one at a time but they must eat two each time they get them. This could explain why my pets are fat.

Anyone looking for a roommate? 

I Don't Do That...

I have never been a person who liked manual labor. I have dedicated my entire life to as little physical work as possible. If I have to break a sweat or get dirty, I won't do it. 

Vehicle maintenance is my sworn enemy. I don't care about cars, if they start and run, that's all I need to know. I have only changed one flat tire in my life. It was in my own driveway and Dad was trying to teach me how to do it. Of course he found it very funny when I jacked the car up first then tried to loosen the lug nuts. The tire spun and I hit the ground. 

Dad laughed and I threw the tire iron across the yard and declared that the car would in fact sit there until it rusted down to nothing before I did that again! Dad changed the tire while I watched tv. 

Years later I drove a car with a flat tire for about 3 miles on gravel. Robby wasn't too happy about this, but I didn't get dirty. I also complained about how loud it was and how my ears were sensitive to the noise it created. 

A few months back I was riding with Joe, who works for the Highway Patrol. I was enjoying my evening of protecting and serving until we had a flat tire on a very dark road. Joe got out of the car and asked for my help. 

This was not going to happen. I informed my very good friend that I don't do that. I did however hold the flash light for him. Thank you Joe for supporting my delicate nature. Although I still believe that this flat tire was karma from him getting angry and yelling at a man for leaving the scene with a drunk driver to help him avoid arrest. 

Although he deserved the ass chewing, the look on Joe's face was priceless when he got back into the car and I was pointing at his dashboard camera that had been recording. 

I have not changed a tire completely in my life and have intention of ever doing so. Same goes for checking the oil. I haven't done that since I asked dad for a funnel small enough to go in the dip stick hole. I will pump gas, if nobody else is with me. 

The Old Lady and the Bear

A few years back I decided that I was going to join the millions of others who do the crazy day after Thanksgiving sale. Normally I don't like to get up this early but I decided it would be fun, it wasn't. 

It was cold as hell that morning to start with. Why people torture themselves to save a couple bucks is beyond me. This was long enough ago that Walmart actually closed at midnight so they could re-open for the sale. So I was outside waiting. 

I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds in the cold but I had my eyes on a couple things. One of them being the purple Care Bear for my niece. They had them for $5.00, so this was indeed a bargain. 

A funny thing happens to people at these sales. They turn into wild animals when they see a store employee coming near the door. It was about 3:45 when people spotted the guy. I believe he had a great sense of humor because he turned around and walked away before he got to the doors. The crowd was pushing and shoving like a pack of wolves. 

Finally the click of the lock broke the low moaning of the crowd. It was madness! People were pushing and screaming and I was standing there wondering what a delicate thing like me was doing there? 

As I made my way in I noticed an older lady with a big ass purse in her cart. She had a look of evil on her wrinkled old face. I was sure it was Satan's Mother. She was heading in the direction of the toy department. I tried to get around her, but that old bat had some cart moves. 

I took my chances and circled around the pet department and came out right in front of her. It was a race to get to the toys. Once we made it, I spotted the bears. There was several left, but only one purple one. She went for it. 

I had no choice, I needed this bear. I looked around to see if anybody was paying attention. Then, with an accidental stumble I "fell" into her cart. It worked, it shoved her away about two feet and I grabbed the bear! I had succeeded in injuring a senior citizen, but the last purple bear was mine. She gave me a go to hell look as I smiled and nodded in her direction. I put the bear in my cart and rounded the corner to flee the scene of the crime. That's when I saw the end cap full of Care Bears. 

Parking Lot Pain

Originally  I was going to talk about my OCD and the things that make me want to cry myself to sleep at night. Until I had to stop at the store on the way home for a package of hamburger for dinner.

Seriously, why do people stalk me in a parking lot? They creep up behind me like they are a shark getting ready to have their snack for the day. This is before I ever get parked to go in. I think they are secretly hoping that they will get a better spot than me because I am too stupid to take the one closest to the door.

Once inside, it is time to deal with the aisle stalkers. You all know who I am talking about, and I am sure some of you are guilty of this as well. You follow really close to someone in the store. They might lead you to the bargain of the day or better yet give you an idea for dinner. If you are really good you can grab the last one on the shelf that I am reaching for.

I am not one to fight over the last item. I haven't done that since I accidentally knocked a woman down for the last purple Care Bear on the day after Thanksgiving sale. If you need that bottle of store brand mustard, please take it. I will spend an extra dime on the name brand.

I never realized until today how serious the ground beef shortage was in my community. Although there are cows all along the highway and I pass them each morning looking so sad in the fields with their snow covered faces, there is always a crowd at the meat counter. Everyone is picking over the meat. I am not sure if they are looking at the cut or the price. It's ground cow folks, grab a package and move out of my way please.

Once I have managed to get through the herd I try and make my way to the front of the store. Of course this is where I see the same lady with the bad shoes who tried to run over me in the lot. She has a cart full of items and seems to be the only one in line. I wait patiently behind her while she fumbles for each item, one at a time to place on the belt. Then she has to pay with a check.

By this time I am hurting, a combination of these events have caused me great ass pain. Once the old bat has finished, it is my turn. I get through the line quickly only to fall in behind her as she struggles to push the cart out of the store. Finally, once outside I can get around her and head towards to the car. Of course this is when I am followed again by a massive Buick who is wanting to know where I parked.

BOO!

One of my favorite things to do is scare people. I find it hilarious when I see the look of terror on someones face and I am the one who caused it.

I usually like to do this at work. I know it isn't very professional, but it makes it that much funnier when someone screams in an office. Of course bosses are the best. There is no greater thrill than putting on a Halloween mask and crawling into their office while they eat lunch at their desk and just laying in the doorway until they look down. Of course when she got strangled on her Pringles I had to run.

There is also the trick of crawling under the desk and waiting for them to pull their chair out. A low growl can cause great concern to some people.

Hiding in the wall safe and waiting for someone to come in also gives me a thrill, especially when they open the door and I am just sitting on the floor and simply say hi!

Catching your partner in the shower and pulling the shower curtain back while screaming bloody murder while holding a butcher knife is a thrill you all need to try. You better piss before you plan this or else you could also end up wet.

It is not funny though when you are getting out of the shower naked and wet and you pull the curtain back to find your other half standing there in a Michael Meyers mask. I still have a soft spot on my head from this night. Thank you Robby for using one of my worst fears against me.


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Vermin of the world unite!

A few months back some of you may have read about an incident with me and a raccoon on Facebook. For those of you that missed that post I will try to get past the trauma of that night and tell it again.

My best friend Sheila has possum trauma. She has several stories about that ugly little critter wreaking havoc throughout her life. From a chance encounter as a child when one ran into her house and across her body to another falling out of a tree and landing on the hood of her car as she drove down a road screaming in terror.

I find so much humor in these stories that I often re-victimize her by making her share them when we meet new people. I have seen first hand the look of terror on her face when we top a hill late a night and one of her sworn enemies is sitting in the middle of the road waiting for another chance to attack her life. It truly is one of the funniest sounds a person can make when she sees one.

Karma, as we all know is a total bitch. She will take her time and track you down and give it to you good. This is exactly what happened to me.

I was taking out the trash one evening and had my flip flops and pajama pants on. As I approached the trash bin section of my apartment complex a raccoon jumped out at me and hissed. I swear this was the largest beast I had ever seen in the wild! I screamed like a frightened school girl threw the bag of trash straight up in the air and it landed in front of me.

I tried to run but the bag had burst open and the garbage inside spilled onto the damp ground. At this point, I slipped in the garbage that I had been carrying and busted my ass. I didn't have the courage to look for the monster so I struggled to get up in fear that it was already on top of me eating the late night snack that I had so thoughtfully provided. I ran to the house covered in filth and grass.

Robby, my life partner, just nodded at me when i slammed the front door shut. He knew at that moment taking the garbage out was now his job.


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Bright lights of the city

When I moved to St. Louis a few years ago, I thought for sure that it would be the best thing for me. I had grown quite tired of rural life and everyone knowing my business or making it up if they didn't. 

Once we were settled I found a great job at a big investment firm downtown. While working there I met some very amazing people. A few are still considered friends of mine today and I miss them terribly. 

It's not everyday you get to work with someone that can go toe to toe against you as an undefeated FRIENDS trivia champion. Thank you Stephanie!  I had a nice apartment and some family ties there that made the transition smooth for me. 

Family couldn't help with the white knuckles and stiff hand cramps I had from going from a town with a four way to 5 lanes of traffic. I know for sure I caused a few traffic jams on more than one occasion. I was sure my vehicle would be shown on the 6 pm news as the cause each day.

Finally I learned my way around and got more comfortable with the traffic and hustle and bustle. I had certain convenience stores I stopped at each morning and the routine was working out great for me. 

Then, one morning I had my newest shirt and tie on looking fine as hell and stopped to get a coffee and something for breakfast. When I walked in there was only one other person in the store. I saw him standing off to the side of the counter chowing down on his $.89 hot dog, but I honestly thought he had paid. This is when I learned how mean some city people can be. 

He yelled at me for cutting in line and when I apologized for my error and stepped back so he could go first, he spit his hot dog on me. Mortified, I stood there with a look on my face that had to tell the cashier that I was going to shit my pants because he told the guy to leave the store. He handed me a napkin and told me how sorry he was. I just paid for my stuff and left. I went to work with what looked like adult spit up on me and had to explain to everyone what the stain was. 

I never went back to that store after the hot dog wielding maniac had his spasm. I found another route to work just in case he was following me with a polish sausage.

The Gripes of Wrath

A lot of things gripe my ass and so, I would like to discuss that here. Please keep in mind that this is just a few of the things that make me wish upon the person doing them that they will get a yeast infection or a swollen labia or even sack sweat. 

First, social networks are great. Twitter let's me know what my favorite celebrities are doing and when they are near me. Facebook keeps me informed when my neighbor takes a shit and when he is out of toilet paper. 

Please for the love of all that is gay stop posting your Childs every move. The occasional update is fine but I have deleted friends for posting about little Bobby every time he moves. 

"Bobby looked at the tv today like he understood what it was!" there was a picture to prove this. Bobby had to be at least 4 years old. My first thought was, she was happy that Bobby was learning and he was slow. Instead of posting this, I hit delete. 

Second, don't park in the handicap spot if you are sending the 12 year old in for your hemorrhoid cream. You aren't getting out of the car and you are creating a moment on a couch for this child later in life. 

Third, if you do go inside the store, please don't block the one item I need with your cart while you and Edna catch up on the latest gossip of Bertha having to have her gout treated. 

Fourth, if you find yourself in front of the judge because you have a heavy foot or thought it would be cool to carry your stash with you while you drove across state, please, dress nice. A tight shirt that reveals your tramp stamp and flip flops is NOT proper court attire. 

Finally, Walmart really needs to hire more checkers. Or at least start taking some of those years of service pins off their current ones. The extra weight seems to be slowing them down more and more these days. Once I make it through the life sucking line, please don't stop me to make sure I paid for my case of water on the bottom. If I am going to steal something, I can assure you it will not be something I am going to piss away. 

Boys will be boys?

Trying to be "Normal" when I was younger was very taxing on me. I was expected to like cars, dirt bikes, fishing, hunting, camping and anything else that would eventually have me running for the sink to clean my hands.

God bless my parents they tried anything and everything to get me interested in the same stuff the other boys were doing at the time. I didn't like fishing, the smell was horrible and the worms were just nasty. The thought of killing the worm by shoving a metal hook in it's ass was almost more than I could take.

Then there was the pellet gun. While some of my cousins thought it was cool to hunt a squirrel with it, I enjoyed the patterns I could make on a soup can.

The dirt bike that I had to have turned out to be a huge disaster. I tried to rev the engine while it was in gear and then had to try and run along beside it to keep up. It fell and so did I. There I was, a 70 lb. wimp trying my hardest to pick that damn thing up and throw it across the yard. I was done with that.

Sports took on a life of their own. Wrestling didn't work. While I was quick, I was too weak to do it. Earlier in the year I  had already hung from the pull up bar until the coach had to remove me, so why I thought I could do this was beyond me.

After a few matches I was known as the fall guy. As soon as the whistle was blown I fell over on my back and waited to be pinned so I wouldn't get a bruise or sweaty. Ironically today I don't mind getting sweaty and being pinned.

While playing Dodge ball I made sure I was first out. I ran to middle of the floor and stood there waiting. I learned that if you looked around with confusion you would be picked off like the weakest antelope.

The only thing I liked about flag football was the pretty colors that were hanging from the belts. This was mostly because of the one Oaf who would get to excited and tackle me while he drooled and panted.

I couldn't get the damn bat to connect with the softball. Basketball made me feel short and running track seemed completely pointless to me. There was no clearance rack at the end of the course so why hurry?

Many times I have considered having an attorney file suit against the public education system for forcing me to participate in these games. Clearly the only thing I would have been good at was making the pom-poms for the cheerleaders or helping to decorate the gym for the next dance. That of course is a whole other story.

Closets, Gym class, and handbags

Coming to terms with my sexuality was not a pretty thing when I was younger. A lot of people to this day still believe that it is a choice and not something you are born into. My question to these people is simply this.

At what point in life did you decide you were straight? This usually puts a look on their face as if they are trying to get the answer to a long division problem in their head.

For me, I always felt odd. All of the other boys in my class were sneaking peaks at the little girls and I found myself waiting for the time when gym class would start and we all got changed.

I was awful at gym class. I was always the kid that was left standing last when teams were being picked by the captains. The groans were quite embarrassing when the coach finally told me what team to be on. Then we would have to change again. This was when I figured out that I was not the same as most of the other boys.

In rural Missouri, you don't tell people that you like their jockstrap. It never ends well. So, I tried to fit in. I talked about girls and flirted with them like I knew what I was doing. The whole time I was doing this I was taking mental notes of their outfits, shoes, handbags and hair styles all with envy.

Once I made it out of school and had lost my virginity, to a girl, while I pictured her brother and I skinny dipping together, I decided it was time to tell the family.

I started with my Grandma. She simply smiled and told me that she loved me and wanted me to be happy. I waited a couple more years and met a guy who took me to my first gay bar. I was so nervous that night.

I had so many images in my head, people chained to the walls, leather chaps with big guys smoking cigars, you name it, I thought it. Turns out, it was none of that. It was actually just a regular looking place. The main difference was that everyone was dressed very well and nobody had on tan pants and black shoes!

Once I realized I was in fact not the only person in the world who was gay, I had the courage to tell my parents. So, I went home and worked up the nerve to write them a letter and leave it on the front door.

Dad never read it, he already knew some how, and Mom fell apart for about a minute. Then she realized that there was always a reason she had taught me to crochet, sew, clean, cook, knit and shop. She was grooming a housewife without realizing it. I however would have thought that all of the fights my sister and I had over Barbie would have confirmed it.

Mom often says now that when I constantly gave Tina's Marie Osmond makeup head make overs that she knew. Even though she had bought me a Donny Osmond doll at the same time. I'm not sure what he was supposed to do or if it was her way of saying "Here, take this man doll dressed in purple bell bottom pants and go find yourself."

20 years have passed since the letter and I am still gay. I don't wear black shoes with tan pants and I still look at handbags with envy. I also miss my Donny Osmond doll.

Creatures of habit

Watching people and their actions have always fascinated me as long as I can remember. I give credit for this to Grandma of course as stated in my earlier blog when she would take me to Walmart to people watch.

Over the years I have noticed that just about everyone has a habit that they are probably not aware of. Some people use a phrase such as "what not", or "and that" entirely too much in their conversation. It gets really hard to listen to these people because I tend to try to filter out all the habits while they are talking. I usually end up with a glazed over look on my face because I have started thinking about what I want to eat next.

Others have little things they do in public that they shouldn't. I doubt they realize they do these things, because if they did, they would be sure to stop. You all know who you are. If you don't, it's okay, keep doing these things, they fill my life with humor.

Ass picking is one of my favorites. These people have no shame and I admire that. They climb out of their cars and immediately pull their shorts from their crack. They don't even think twice about doing it.

Others, for whatever reason leave the material shoved up in there for the duration of their shopping trip. This does amuse me, but looks uncomfortable as hell.

Most men have a habit of pulling at their scrotum sack when they think nobody is watching. Some will do it when you are standing right in front of them. Then there are the few that get creative and move from foot to foot in an attempt to release the sack from the side of their leg. This occurs more in the warmer months. Other men just go for and try to appear that they are digging for change in their pocket. I call this searching the coin purse.

Watching people eat gives me a thrill as well. There are a lot of eye drinkers out there. With each drink they take their eyebrows raise as far up their face as possible then retreat to the standard position as they lower the beverage. Hillary Clinton is an eyebrow drinker.

So, to all of you ass picking, sack pulling, eyebrow drinking, catch phrase saying people out there, God bless you! Without you I wouldn't be sitting here pursing my lips together while I type.

How to survive a trailer park

Around the time I turned 11 Mom and Dad thought we should move to Eureka, MO. They rented a trailer in an area that was prone to flooding. The rent was very reasonable though. Shortly after that Aunt Jan and Uncle Jerry moved down as well.

This was great news for me, my smurf partner in crime, Kim would be right there with me. Later of course we would be referred to as Bonnie and Clyde by the family. Having Kim there meant a whole new experience for both of us. Together we were going to rule the Trailer Park and for sure find a real live smurf in the woods.

Of course we had to start each day by torturing my big sister Tina. The best part was when we could spy on her while she was watching a particularly stunning young man who lived just a few trailers down. He was hot, he wore cuffs on his jeans and carried a comb in his back pocket.

After we tired of this we decided to spend the day at the play ground at the top of the slide. It had a large round platform that would double as a watch tower. This is where we could be sure to see enemies coming long before they noticed us.

Unfortunately while we were watching for enemies, we failed to notice the large stray dog that was mean until we decided to come down. The hair raised on it's back and the teeth showing while he growled at us meant business. So, we had no choice but to stay put.

It must have been hours before that dog finally gave up on having us as a snack. We were starving at this point, but couldn't risk trying to make it home. We decided we could live off the land.

We climbed down because this was serious. If we used the slide it would have been fun. Once on the ground we made our way to the woods near the creek. We collected berries, creek water, seeds, and leaves. Then we found the wild onions. We were set.

On our way out of the woods Kim scratched her leg on a log but we knew we had to make it back to safety. There wasn't time for a medical emergency right now.

Finally we were safe in the tower again. We ate the onions and decided the rest of the stuff we had collected would make a good medical potion for her extremely damaged leg. We mixed it all together and applied it to the wound. This would ensure that she would not have to have her limb amputated.

After a few hours passed we thought it was safe to go home. We came down from the tower and started running as fast as we could. Cujo didn't follow. We were safe until morning.

We both woke up covered in a rash. Turns out, the wild onions were crow's poison and eating it was not a very good idea. Kim's leg however did need to be cleaned and treated with the proper medications from a store.

Evil Kenevil vs. Baby Alive

Christmas time in my house was always exciting. I was such a believer in the fat man with a beard. This lasted until the year my cousin, Kim, and I decided we could unwrap all my presents carefully and see what I got. Once we mastered that, the magic somehow disappeared. 

One of the most special memories I have was the year we lived by the railroad tracks. I think I was about 4 years old at the time.  Mom and Dad had decorated the house and were so excited! I didn't know it until years later, but they had gotten a line of credit at Western Auto that year and that is where they were going to do their shopping. 

It was so exciting. There were packages of all sizes, shapes and colors under the tree that had the large bulbs on it. The kind that were actually hot to the touch. 

My sister, Tina, and I ripped and tore into the beauty like wild beast. We had no shame in our greed on this day. I remember my dad watching, all smiles at the two kids he and Mom had made so happy. It also didn't hurt that Dad was a big kid himself and secretly couldn't wait to play with the toys. 

Then, disaster struck. I opened a present that Dad was sure would be my favorite. An actual Evil Kenevil on a motorcycle that had a zip strip that would launch it across the room! I loved it, until I saw Tina holding the most precious gift the whole world had seen. 

Tina had gotten a Baby Alive from Santa! That fat bastard knew that I secretly wanted such a great gift. Why had he given it to her of all people? Could she really understand just how wonderful it was to have a  doll that would eat, drink, pee and poop? I doubted that she even gave it a second thought! 

The only thing I could do over this situation was cry. Looking back on it now, I am quite sure that this was the day that mom and dad exchanged the look that said, "Our son is probably gay." 

Grandma and the summer of coats and such

When I was younger I would spend a lot of time with my grandma and grandpa over the summer vacations. Most of this time was wonderful memories but there were some moments would be considered child endangerment today.

Each morning there was housework to do. Dusting, running the vacuum and making beds was a must before anyone left the house. Then it was a trip to town where grandma would drive to the post office and IGA. I would run into the post office and check their mail. The box had a lettered combination on it. I can't remember what it was. After that we went to the store.

Grandma would buy the stuff she needed for the day and always buy grandpa his smokes, camel non filter. She however smoked kool mild 100's. I would get 2 packs of candy cigarettes. Mine said cool on them and had a little penguin. I thought I was the shit.

Each time grandma had a kool I had a cool. This might be why I have bad teeth. Then it was orange soda and vanilla ice cream every evening before bed.

Occasionally we would drive to the bigger town of Mexico, MO and go to walmart. This is where I learned about fashion from grandma. We would sit on the bench outside of walmart and she would point out who's purse or shoes didn't match what they were wearing. This was of course long before there was a website dedicated to this.

Then it was time to hit the yard sales. Mid august in Missouri is hot, very humid and sticky. This however seemed to be the perfect time for grandma to find winter coats for the grandchildren for the coming winter.

Every zipper, every button, snap, clasp and belt had to be in working condition. I was the model for this on several occasions. I would stand there in the sun with a hood over my head zipped to the chin begging for her to just put it back. Her response was always the same.

"babe, you will need this coat come winter. We are almost done." I also knew that I would need a new pair of gloves each winter but those were always a Christmas present and it was a surprise. Although I knew I would never get brown. She hated brown. I don't care for it either.

How I learned to hold my head up

My earliest memory is kindergarten. At least the one that is clearest in my head. I was a terribly skinny little thing with overgrown feet a large nose, that I still own the rights to today, and low self esteem.

The first day of school was so terrifying for me. Mom and Dad had done their best to get me ready. They even bought me my very first book bag that was blue and red. I loved that bag. I think this is where my obsession for what we call a Murse today came from.

I must place a disclaimer here...this is from my memory, the way I remember it. If you remember it another way tough shit.

Mom took us to school that day, my sister Tina wasn't scared. She was in first grade now, so she wasn't scared of anything! I however was ready to cry the moment we got into the car to go. I couldn't understand why I of all people had to leave my mom. It wasn't fair.

When we got to the school mom took me in and I started to cry my face off. I just knew I was never going to see her agin. This was the end of our relationship as I knew it. Mom tried her best to assure me that I would have fun and that everything would be fine. I on the other hand was just starting to figure out for the first time that parents are not always honest with their children. The woman I trusted more than anything was going to abandon me.

Turns out, she didn't. I managed to survive, thanks to my cousin Anthony who was also in my class. He loved the first day of school. I was afraid I wouldn't make any friends and he kissed a girl before the bell rang to start the day.

As the weeks went by I did learn that school was okay and that there wasn't a monster around every corner waiting to rip my face off. I was still so shy, I always walked with my head down. Even when the teacher told me not too. I wanted to avoid eye contact as much as possible. I was even too afraid to ask to go to the bathroom so I would wait for lunch and then ask after I had eaten my food and consumed my tiny little red box of milk.

As it happened one day, I had to go tinkle. I asked for permission to use the restroom and sat out down the hall to do so. That's when I walked head first into the door frame and busted my head open.

I remember thinking that I could hide it, nobody would know. Then I saw the blood. Turns out I had to have stitches. After that I decided it was best to hold my head up when I was walking someplace.