Yes, yours. It's boring, it's whiny, you don't update enough, and the color scheme is all wrong.
But it's ok. You probably hate mine, too.
I mean, there are reasons why I haven't been blogging as often as I could be or used to. And they're all Initial's fault. That jerkwad.
A) I don't think he knows about the blog, and I'd like to keep it that way. But it wouldn't be that hard for him to find it. We play around online (watching videos on youtube, you sickos), and there's a whole folder in my bookmarks for comments, stats, posting, HTML tricks, and technorati.
B) If he does find out about the blog, which wouldn't totally be out of the question, I want to make sure that it won't spark our first fight. I don't want to write anything too mean about his geeky friends or music snobbery or the fact that he smells like his cat more often than socially acceptable to have him read it and get mad at me.
C) We spent most of our time together at his place, mostly because he has a better kitchen, and he enjoys cooking. At my place, breakfast consists of cereal or a bagel, maybe with a can of soda. This morning at his place, we had fresh ground coffee, a Western Omelet with hand-chopped ingredients, and homemade hash browns. And while he was doing all that cooking, I was playing around his computer in the other room. He doesn't have a tv, so all I do is read the New York Times and other other online newspapers, since I don't want him to check his internet history and find blogger.
D) Blogging about boyfriends is boring. It's either lovey-dovey or written like a bad romance novel with Fabio on the cover. Or rather, a limp-wristed Fabio on the cover. Or it's like us, where we spent last night watching The Critic on DVD.
But you know what? My stats have been up 20% in the past two weeks, so maybe there's something to this lazy blogging thing. In fact, just forget I wrote this entire post.
But seriously, try and step it up in your own blog. It has been sucking lately.
January 31, 2007
January 23, 2007
Oscar Buzz
Now, this may come as a surprise to, well, none of you, but I am, in fact, a homosexual, and as such, I have a few things to say about the recent Oscar nominations.
- I hated Little Miss Sunshine with every fiber of my being. There, I said it. Given its obnoxious widespread popularlity I've been keeping that fact to myself, but now that its bumped Dreamgirls off the Best Picture, I can't keep my mouth shut any more. It's a bad movie. An R-rated Hallmark made-for-tv movie is still a Hallmark made-for-tv movie. It was preachy, the characters took the fun away from disfunctional not put the fun in there, and it left me angry as I left the theatre. Like, punch the wall angry. Quite possibly my least favorite movie of all time.
- Babel was just a mess. I didn't feel anything while watching it, and the whole time it felt like it was made specifically to be nominated for Oscars. The acting was good, but the whole thing was just an overstuffed mess.
- Why oh why won't they give Bill Condon his props? Sure, he won best screenplay for Gods and Monsters, but after the one-two-three directoral punch of Gods and Monsters, Kinsey, and now Dreamgirls, adapting Chicago for the screen in there too, he's definitely earned a nomination, at the least, for direction. How did he piss off so many people in Hollywood so he couldn't get an nomination? Why has the gay mafia failed him?
- Will fucking Smith? Seriously? I didn't see it, but my sister did and thought it was preachy. She liked his kid, but overall she thought it was kinda hard to sit through.
- Cars is probably the worst Pixar film, but it still should win.
- I haven't seen Notes on a Scandal yet, but I want to. Both Dench and Blanchette have great track records for picking films, so I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.
January 18, 2007
3 Reasons Why I Haven't Posted Lately
1. I moved.
My lease ended on the 15th, and while I hoped to renew it, it had already been marked as the model apartment for the building. Instead of living in the model and living with the possibility with ugly people coming into my apartment and rumaging through my stuff and the building manager leaving nasty notes under my door for all of the lease/code violations that naturally come with living, I decided to downgrade to a smaller apartment on the 3rd floor. I've spent the last few days moving boxes, slowly, down to the new place. While I no longer have a view of the capital, and my new shower has the water pressure of...something that would work into this comparison, it is $80 cheaper per month.
2. I'm dating.
I'm still seeing the new guy, who I've decided to give the pseudonym Initials, since he goes by the initials to his first and middle names. I know, I know; I'm super-clever. It's been almost two weeks, and I think I've decided that he's going to be around for a while, or at least long enough to justify a nickname instead of just referring to him as "him" or "that guy." We're still in the 'getting to know you' phase, and despite the shortcoming he may have (namely, Dungeons and Dragons), I think I can get over them.
3. I was sick.
Besides, Initials gave me the clap, and if I can get over that, hell, I can get over anything.
My lease ended on the 15th, and while I hoped to renew it, it had already been marked as the model apartment for the building. Instead of living in the model and living with the possibility with ugly people coming into my apartment and rumaging through my stuff and the building manager leaving nasty notes under my door for all of the lease/code violations that naturally come with living, I decided to downgrade to a smaller apartment on the 3rd floor. I've spent the last few days moving boxes, slowly, down to the new place. While I no longer have a view of the capital, and my new shower has the water pressure of...something that would work into this comparison, it is $80 cheaper per month.
2. I'm dating.
I'm still seeing the new guy, who I've decided to give the pseudonym Initials, since he goes by the initials to his first and middle names. I know, I know; I'm super-clever. It's been almost two weeks, and I think I've decided that he's going to be around for a while, or at least long enough to justify a nickname instead of just referring to him as "him" or "that guy." We're still in the 'getting to know you' phase, and despite the shortcoming he may have (namely, Dungeons and Dragons), I think I can get over them.
3. I was sick.
Besides, Initials gave me the clap, and if I can get over that, hell, I can get over anything.
January 12, 2007
10: Neither shall you desire your neighbor's house, or field, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.
Few of his friends wanted to talk on the record.
“This is the kind of place where if you talk too much,
You can come home and find your house torched.”
Over the years he was in and out of rehab, cocaine and alcohol.
Charged twice for assaulting former lovers. Mounting debt.
A series of broken relationships. He was no angel.
He first saw Jon from the waist down, his torso hidden under the hood.
He could smell fresh meat under the stench of gasoline.
It all started with a note taped to Jon’s trailer door, innocent and pubescent.
WXYZ-TV, CBS affiliate for the Detroit Area. 3-4 PM weekdays.
“Come on Jenny Jones and expose your secret crush!”
He finally saw his way out of that small town.
Jon too wanted out, wanted to make a name for himself, and accepted the producer’s call.
Jon bought himself new clothes and eagerly waited on the soundstage.
The announcer said that his crush wished to tie him up in a hammock
And spray whipped cream and champagne on his body.
When Scott walked out, Jon clenched like a fist.
He was flattered but not interested; he was ‘definitely heterosexual’.
They flew back from Chicago together, and went to Brewski’s to prove no harm done.
One beer led to another and another, which led to a blackout.
The next morning, Jon woke up in Scott’s bed, disoriented and violated.
It was all too much. He panicked and ran. $249 for the shotgun.
Jon rang Scott’s doorbell, fired twice, and left him in the doorsill.
He drove to a gas station two towns over to call the police.
"I just shot this guy… because he fucked me… on national TV…
I just walked into his house and killed him."
Lights. Camera. Action.
“This is the kind of place where if you talk too much,
You can come home and find your house torched.”
Over the years he was in and out of rehab, cocaine and alcohol.
Charged twice for assaulting former lovers. Mounting debt.
A series of broken relationships. He was no angel.
He first saw Jon from the waist down, his torso hidden under the hood.
He could smell fresh meat under the stench of gasoline.
It all started with a note taped to Jon’s trailer door, innocent and pubescent.
WXYZ-TV, CBS affiliate for the Detroit Area. 3-4 PM weekdays.
“Come on Jenny Jones and expose your secret crush!”
He finally saw his way out of that small town.
Jon too wanted out, wanted to make a name for himself, and accepted the producer’s call.
Jon bought himself new clothes and eagerly waited on the soundstage.
The announcer said that his crush wished to tie him up in a hammock
And spray whipped cream and champagne on his body.
When Scott walked out, Jon clenched like a fist.
He was flattered but not interested; he was ‘definitely heterosexual’.
They flew back from Chicago together, and went to Brewski’s to prove no harm done.
One beer led to another and another, which led to a blackout.
The next morning, Jon woke up in Scott’s bed, disoriented and violated.
It was all too much. He panicked and ran. $249 for the shotgun.
Jon rang Scott’s doorbell, fired twice, and left him in the doorsill.
He drove to a gas station two towns over to call the police.
"I just shot this guy… because he fucked me… on national TV…
I just walked into his house and killed him."
Lights. Camera. Action.
January 10, 2007
So the guy I've sorta started seeing is divorced.
I thought I was fine with it; I mean, he is a little bit older (26) and bisexual. I mean, we pretty much all have a dating history by that point, and they can't always be rosy and enviable. Lord knows I'm not exactly proud of my time with Heart.
It's been about a week, and last night, during some post-coital cuddling, I started to broach the subject, asking how what made him decide to get hitched. I mean, when he was my age he was married, and I'm looking at my life and I can't imagine any sort of history where I would be married right now.
And he was fine with explaining things, how they had dated for two years and it felt like the next logical step at the time, and they both graduated from college and were looking for a reason to stay together. And then 9/11 happened, and so it was hard for both of them to find jobs, so they wanted to stick together.
Wait. Back up a sec. Yeah, that's right. He played the 9/11 card. He blamed his marriage on 9/11. My eyes rolled so far back I almost fell off the bed.
I'm pretty sure using the 9/11 card upsets me more than the fact that he was married before.
It's been about a week, and last night, during some post-coital cuddling, I started to broach the subject, asking how what made him decide to get hitched. I mean, when he was my age he was married, and I'm looking at my life and I can't imagine any sort of history where I would be married right now.
And he was fine with explaining things, how they had dated for two years and it felt like the next logical step at the time, and they both graduated from college and were looking for a reason to stay together. And then 9/11 happened, and so it was hard for both of them to find jobs, so they wanted to stick together.
Wait. Back up a sec. Yeah, that's right. He played the 9/11 card. He blamed his marriage on 9/11. My eyes rolled so far back I almost fell off the bed.
I'm pretty sure using the 9/11 card upsets me more than the fact that he was married before.
January 3, 2007
“I think we should be fuckbuddies.”
I’m not entirely sure how I mustered up the balls to say that, especially since I was completely sober at the time. We were at Starbucks a few days ago, me picking up a White Mocha to energize me for a full day of job hunting, and him picking up something to wake him up enough for his drive home for his mom’s birthday on the 2nd. He was ordering his drink while I was picking mine up, and we made eye contact.
We’d fooled around twice; once last spring, and again in October. The sex wasn’t anything worth writing about, not great but not terrible, and without a good story either way. More importantly, however, our chats pre- and post- coital were some of the best I’ve ever had with a casual sex partner.
We recognized each other, and did some small talk while he was waiting for his drink, and then he suggested we grab a table and chat some more. We talked about my graduation and failure (so far) at securing a job, and his classes, and our various holidays, which led to talk about resolutions. He plans on working on his upper body, letting his chest hair grow back, and not giving in to senior slack. I plan on getting a job, working on my abs, and getting better at sex.
“Getting better at sex? You weren’t bad, you know.”
“Yeah, but I want to learn how, or train myself, to stay hard in a condom better. I sometimes have problems with that. Plus, I rarely bottom, and when I do, it always takes forever to open me up. I don’t want to be like floppy saloon doors or anything, but I want to be able to take it.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I have problems with that sometimes too.”
“Condoms suck.” He nods in agreement. “But I’m not going to play without them, so I’m just going to have to learn how to live with them. I’m going to try and start jerking off with a condom on, just to get used to it.”
“Well, if I remember correctly, you’re kinda big, right?” I blush a little bit, and nod.
“Kinda. I mean, I’m not a porn star.”
“Have you tried Magnums?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should. Sometimes if a condom is too tight it can be restricting and make it harder to stay hard.”
“I’ve never really thought of myself as a Magnum kind of guy. I mean, I don’t know.”
“You should pick some up and try them out.”
“I usually just get my condoms for free at the local gay dances, and I don’t really want to pay for them. Plus, like, if I buy some and they’re too big, it’s going to ruin my life.”
He laughs, and assures me that that wouldn’t happen. (Addendum: After searching online, he’s right.)
“And uh, if you need someone to try them out on, well...” He takes a sip of his drink, and moves his foot on top of mine.
“Well, uh, that could maybe be arranged.” We’re both blushing, a lot.
“Good. I had a regular fuckbuddy last year, but he transferred, and I could use a new one.”
“I think we should be fuckbuddies.” He cocks his head. “I mean, I was thinking about it the other day, and you were on the shortlist of potential guys.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“I mean, like, the sex hasn’t always been mind-blowing, but it’s never really been awkward between us.” Of course, that sentence probably should have made things awkward, but somehow it didn't.
“Yeah.” He checks his watch, and does a double-take.
“Oh, shit. I should really be heading off.” We take our drinks and head outside, and start walking.
“Well, uh, you should call me when you get back from your mom’s birthday and we should try and figure things out. I mean, it’s a lot easier to talk about it instead of, well, actually going through and doing it.”
“Yeah, will do.” We say our goodbyes and head off our separate ways.
That night, I started talking to someone else online. And then we went out for gelato and drinks. And then he spent the night over. And then the next day we spent most of our time together, watching movies, going out to eat and cuddling. He slept over again, and we went to the mall and hung out, and that night we went to see “The Queen.” And now I think we're dating. Or seeing each other. Or something. So I guess I have to turn down the possible fuckbud. Oh well.
We’d fooled around twice; once last spring, and again in October. The sex wasn’t anything worth writing about, not great but not terrible, and without a good story either way. More importantly, however, our chats pre- and post- coital were some of the best I’ve ever had with a casual sex partner.
We recognized each other, and did some small talk while he was waiting for his drink, and then he suggested we grab a table and chat some more. We talked about my graduation and failure (so far) at securing a job, and his classes, and our various holidays, which led to talk about resolutions. He plans on working on his upper body, letting his chest hair grow back, and not giving in to senior slack. I plan on getting a job, working on my abs, and getting better at sex.
“Getting better at sex? You weren’t bad, you know.”
“Yeah, but I want to learn how, or train myself, to stay hard in a condom better. I sometimes have problems with that. Plus, I rarely bottom, and when I do, it always takes forever to open me up. I don’t want to be like floppy saloon doors or anything, but I want to be able to take it.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I have problems with that sometimes too.”
“Condoms suck.” He nods in agreement. “But I’m not going to play without them, so I’m just going to have to learn how to live with them. I’m going to try and start jerking off with a condom on, just to get used to it.”
“Well, if I remember correctly, you’re kinda big, right?” I blush a little bit, and nod.
“Kinda. I mean, I’m not a porn star.”
“Have you tried Magnums?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should. Sometimes if a condom is too tight it can be restricting and make it harder to stay hard.”
“I’ve never really thought of myself as a Magnum kind of guy. I mean, I don’t know.”
“You should pick some up and try them out.”
“I usually just get my condoms for free at the local gay dances, and I don’t really want to pay for them. Plus, like, if I buy some and they’re too big, it’s going to ruin my life.”
He laughs, and assures me that that wouldn’t happen. (Addendum: After searching online, he’s right.)
“And uh, if you need someone to try them out on, well...” He takes a sip of his drink, and moves his foot on top of mine.
“Well, uh, that could maybe be arranged.” We’re both blushing, a lot.
“Good. I had a regular fuckbuddy last year, but he transferred, and I could use a new one.”
“I think we should be fuckbuddies.” He cocks his head. “I mean, I was thinking about it the other day, and you were on the shortlist of potential guys.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“I mean, like, the sex hasn’t always been mind-blowing, but it’s never really been awkward between us.” Of course, that sentence probably should have made things awkward, but somehow it didn't.
“Yeah.” He checks his watch, and does a double-take.
“Oh, shit. I should really be heading off.” We take our drinks and head outside, and start walking.
“Well, uh, you should call me when you get back from your mom’s birthday and we should try and figure things out. I mean, it’s a lot easier to talk about it instead of, well, actually going through and doing it.”
“Yeah, will do.” We say our goodbyes and head off our separate ways.
That night, I started talking to someone else online. And then we went out for gelato and drinks. And then he spent the night over. And then the next day we spent most of our time together, watching movies, going out to eat and cuddling. He slept over again, and we went to the mall and hung out, and that night we went to see “The Queen.” And now I think we're dating. Or seeing each other. Or something. So I guess I have to turn down the possible fuckbud. Oh well.
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