Hero

Now, I'm not normally one to blog about American Idol. I don't watch the show, I don't have a love/hate relationship with Simon, and all of the previous winners kind of bore me, except for Kelly Clarkson, and that's just because I'm gay.

Flipping through the stations last night, I accidentally watched a part of it. I say 'accidentally' because I don't have cable, and flipping through the five stations that come in on my rabbit ears doesn't take too long, and compared to the other dreck that was on, AI didn't seem quite so bad.

Anyways, for those of you who have lives and souls and aren't 14 year old girls, last night's theme was "Dedications," where the ten young men singing were to dedicate their 'songs' to their 'heroes,' to those who inspire them. I put those words in scare quotes because, well, it really should be prefaced. One guy dedicated "Let's Get It On" to his parents. Seriously.

It got me thinking. If I were on American Idol, to whom would I dedicate my song, and which one would I pick? Are that many people really inspired by their significant others and their parents? I mean, I'm not. They're all good people and all, but they're not my heroes. They're not really people "noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life."

I don't know. I had a point with this post, but I seem to have lost interest. I'm just going to post a pic of a hot muscular guy.


Yeah, you all saw that coming.

end your blong now!

I'm not sure if this counts as my first piece of official hate mail, but it's pretty amusing, nevertheless. (The offending post can be found here.)

hello stupid person,
i happened to be "searching" aol in need of important information when I came across the stupid poem you wrote referencing Mary Kate's collapse. I was so dumbstruck and horrified I nearly killed myself, and remind you I am only a 12 year old boy, that probably sounds quite nice to you, you unruly sodomite... gross... what do boys do together? yuck. anyways, I did not begin this "e-mail" to make fun of the gross things you did, I simply mean to say that I'd like you to revoke the dumb "poem" you wrote. Mary Kate hates you, so does God and John Aschcroft. If you write back I'll tell my daddy that you're trying to molest me, now go away.


Best Wishes,
John Updike

I Hate Symbolism

The local amateur gay hockey league tournament was this weekend, and since Initial's friend's boyfriend was playing, I was dragged tagged along, mostly because I felt I had spent too much of the day watching television; only a few days ago did I convince him to buy an antenna to at least pick up five channels on his television so I could watch the Simpsons over at his place. Once he did get the antenna, we started to spend too many nights sitting in front of the boob tube, and it was a good idea to get out of his apartment. Plus, I wanted to at least pretend to play nice; I mean, this friend is Initial's only friend that I can tolerate, so I might as well stay on that one's good side.

The game ended up being pretty goddamn boring, which came as no surprise to me. It was, after all, an amateur hockey played by lesbians and 30-something gay men for whom a puck in the face would be an improvement. There were tons of fouls, and the team that we were 'cheering' for ended up losing. By the end of the game, my ass was sore from sitting on the bleachers, my eyes were rolled up to the back of my head due to all the errors, and I was grunting with impatience as the clock slowly counted down.

Of course, afterwards, my ass was sore, my eyes were rolled, and I was grunting for completely different reasons.

We got back to Initials place and as soon as the door closed behind me, I knew what I was in for. He pushed me back against the wall, one arm trapping me, the other on my chest, his tongue in my mouth. Anticipating what was coming next, I deftly undid my watch and stuck it in my front right pocket, and slipped off my ring and put it into my left. Call me crazy, but I like sex to be completely naked: no rings, no watches, no glasses, no socks, no necklaces, nothing like that.

Now, I won't bore you with all the sleazy, tawdry, disgusting, erection- inducing details, but at one point my pants were ripped off me and flung across his living room, landing somewhere near the kitchen.

Yadda, yadda, yadda, afterwards we realize that the Kiss Kiss Bang Bang dvd we rented was due by midnight, and one of us would have to get dressed and drive the three blocks in order to return it in time. Because I felt as though I owed him one, due to this one thing he did that felt really really good, I volunteered, and went to search for my clothing.

As I collected my keys, phone, and watch, which had fallen out of my jeans pocket when they landed, I realized that my ring was missing.

I wear one ring. It was given to me by my first (and probably best, so far at least) boyfriend, way back when. It was his ring, the only accessory he wore, and four months into the relationship, he took it off his finger and gave it to me. It was a little too big for my ring finger, so I took to wearing it on my pointer. And for the past three years, I've worn it constantly, only taking it off for showers, sleep, and sex.

And now it's missing. The symbolism is pretty blatant. Sure, I'm I was an English major, so this stuff comes pretty easy to me, but the fact that I lost the ring, the one big physical remnant of my past relationship, just as I'm hitting the two month mark in another, sounds to me like a passing of the torch sort of situation. And I don't like it.

In many posts recently I've expressed reservations over Initials. When it's good, it's good, and when it's bad, it's boring and he gets too doting. (Plus his friends all suck.)

So maybe it is a sign, that I should forget any hesitations I have and just go for it, restart with a blank slate with this relationship. Or maybe it's a sign that Initials is going to fuck shit up for me, and I should get out before he starts losing other things.

All I know is, I want my goddamn ring back.

EDIT:: He found the ring, with even more, sinister symbolism. It turns out, it was stuck in his shoe, near the side, and he didn't notice he had been walking on it for a while.

So Unsexy

I would sleep with 2 people listed as the 100 Unsexiest Men. Try and guess which ones.

Happy President's Day

Mmmhmm, Abe the Babe... maybe not babelike in the traditional sense (he was definitely tall and dark, if not classically "handsome") but a mind that was hotter than Georgia asphalt. You could ask him anything, and he would probably know the answer, which could be very convenient. Abe was pretty reserved -- not so great with the romantic stuff, and he'd probably run and hide if you ever said "listen, we need to have a talk". But his waters ran deep, possibly deeper than any other president. Maybe even than any other mortal. Ever. And we suspect that as long as you were gentle and non-judgmental with him, he'd totally open up to you. And when he did, and you saw the true contents of his heart, your mind would be BLOWN.

Who's Your Presidential Hottie Soulmate?

In what is not an admission of a problem,

we ended up spending Valentines Day taking a tour of a microbrewery near town, complete with an extended tasting session afterwards.

And as for the post from earlier this week, in which I expressed reservations about Initials, it was more relief of frustration then anything tangible or anything foreboding.

Although if he does end up moving in with his 31 year old overweight fag hag and her three cats, all bets are off.

Turn Around, Bright Eyes

Yes, I do realize that this is a blatant, almost incomprehensible 'turnaround' from yesterday's post, as well as a tenuous at best link to a youtube video featuring shirtless boys, but I need help.

I realized, soon after I woke up the next day, that I've never had a Valentine before. Tomorrow will be the first February 14th that I haven't been single for, ever. And I'm not entirely sure what to do, or what to get him, especially considering yesterday's post. Any suggestions?

And in another 'turnaround,' I am in dire need of the video to Song of the Cloud Forest, which was a segment from the Jim Henson Hour from my youth. It has yet to be made available on VHS or DVD, but if anyone out there has a copy or can find it on the bittorrents or anything, I would be much obliged. So obliged, in fact, I may be tempted to provide you with naked pictures.

I'm just saying.

EDIT:: It looks like I was able to find a poor version of the video online all by myself, so I'll be keeping those naked pictures for my own use. Sorry guys, try and be more on the ball next time. For those of you interested, a copy is uploaded here.

The adage goes "Never go to bed angry"

which is why I'm still awake at 5 am, Sunday morning, trying to distract myself. I don't know if I'll post this, but I'll wait until Monday to make that final decision. As of right now, this is purely cathartic.

Initials is on his way out, I've decided. He's too much of a snob, and not in a good-natured, irreverent way in the way that I like to think I am. It's more like an NPR-listening, opera listening, Sideways wine snob kind of snob. He's also too doting, which was nice at first, but now it's old and kinda demeaning. Tonight, when a friend of his mentioned the domestic partner benefits at his place of employment, Initials motioned to me and looked excited, which is jumping the gun considering that we've known each other for less than six weeks. And the sex is fucking weird. But that's not what's on my nerves at the moment.

I don't like his friends, but I'm willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. I still hang out with the college crowd, with fun alcoholics, while he is friends with sad alcoholics who don't like their dreary desk job. And I'm willing to bet that in ten years or so, I probably won't be as interesting to guys in their early twenties either.

I could surive hanging out with most of his friends occaisionally, but I can't stand his fag hag. She makes my fists curl and my jaw tense. She's slow, and fat, with rolls of neck flab, reminiscent of the Witch of the Waste from Howl's Moving Castle, only with more pockmarks. She wears tank tops too small for her, with arm fat that keeps jiggling for weeks afterwards. At age 29, she lives in her parent's basement with her three cats. She was too dumb to realize how snarky and rude I was to her after dinner.

Now, it wouldn't be so bad, except that she and Initials have plans to move in together once he finds a new job. And that ain't kosher by me.

Unfortunately, I'm at a quandry. I can't really tell him not to move in with her, because it's only been six weeks, and to be honest, I can't really see me ever falling in love with him, and I won't be making any long term plans with him, or even signing a short-term, month-to-month lease with him myself. I will definitely hang out with him less and less once the two live together.

I'm not really planning on breaking up with him soon, but if I were, I'm thinking about being a dick about it, and telling him I don't want to keep dating him if he moves in with her. If he actually does move in with her, I'll stop seeing him, and if he backs out, I'll pull the 'bros before hoes' thing and stop seeing him because he doesn't treat his friends well.

I don't think I could be that big of a dick. But I'd think about it.

But actually now I feel better about the whole thing, just letting it out, so we'll just have to wait and see. I'll keep you informed.

Everyone's A Little Bit Jewish

Now, I know I'm not usually one for filling the blog with youtube videos, but after I stumbled upon this video, I couldn't help but have two posts with youtube videos in a row.

Five Things I Am Finding Myself Addicted To Lately

1. Trolling youtube for vintage videos I didn't know existed from classic artists, eg this video of Stevie Wonder and the Rolling Stones performing "Uptight" and "Satisfaction"


2. Bookworm on yahoo games.

3. Beethoven's Fifth Gold Digger as mixed by Rebel DJs

4. The Celluloid Closet and how I can't believe I've never seen it before.

5. Jesus Christ, Vampire Hunter. 'Nuff said.

---

Also, my best friend is studying abroad in Prague this semester and we've been keeping in contact via Skype. For those of you who have the service, and are interested, my SN on there is hardcoreaura, same as my AIM SN.

I have a new excuse for not posting.

It's that blogger went ahead and upgraded me to the new, shitty Blogger without my consent and I find it awkward and obnoxious to use, and the formatting sucks.  As soon as I get a job, the first purchase I will make will be to switch to typepad or possibly my own domain so I won't have to deal with this shit.  Fuck you, Blogger.  I spit in the face of our Google overlords.