Tag. I'm It!

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

I saw a creature, naked,

Interesting. I'm afraid my taggable friends are diminishing. HotAss will probably never blog again. Dusty has already been tagged. Char's the one who sent me this. Ummm, Virginia??

W.W.J.D.? - #1

My “Woof-Worthy” series has been wildly popular, at least among my 10 or so regular readers, and has even stirred a little controversy (Remember the Cingular Triplets?). And as it goes with any good idea, people seeking to roll in the fame and fortune will milk that idea to death. So here is my idea for a spin-off for “Woof-Worthy.”

“Woof-Worthy” is just looking/lusting from afar. Not to say I wouldn’t get the chance, but finding Larry the Cable Guy laying line in my bedroom or blowing Robbie Williams backstage probably isn’t going to happen to me.

And then there are those real people, with pictures or profiles all over the Internet, who are woof-worthy in their own right. And, let me say, I like a variety of men, but there are some varieties I like more than others. Some of these guys I’d just want to look at. There are men I’d f*ck. And there are men I’d let f*ck me like a Louisiana hurricane.

And occasionally it happens; I run across a man I’d date, marry in a beautiful ceremony like the Dynamic Duo’s, and rock with on the front porch in our golden years while dogs slept at our feet, water trickled down the sides of our plastic tumblers of gin and tonic, and the sun set in the west in a dazzling array of golds, reds and purples, reminding me it was time to change his diaper.

And sometimes, when the stars align just right and the universe decides it’s my time, it’s all of the above.

So here is the first installment of WWJD. The fun part for you, dear reader, is to figure out what I’d do.

(Disclaimer: Not all links are workplace-safe. If you're going to surf the Internet and read crap like mine, surf responsibly.)

WWJD #1

Oh L'Amour

In what was the most beautiful, inspirational and touching wedding I have ever witnessed, the Artist and the Chef formally became The Dynamic Duo, emotionally tethered to one another til death do them part.

Congratulations, boys. On behalf of the Gaggle, thanks for letting us share your day with you.

What Sound Does the Crazy Train Make?

Instead of "choo-choo," the Crazy Train Says "Stuuu-Stuuuuu-pid!"

I'm still on the crazy train for this stupid boy. And it sucks.

So far, it's been four very promising dates, but I'm getting the feeling he's a little bit of a flake.

He never calls when he's supposed to. Last night when we talked, he said he would call this afternoon and we'd get together. To me, "afternoon" implies a time period between noon and approximately 5:30 or 6:00 p.m. It's almost nine and no word from the sonofabitch. What the fuck? And like a schoolgirl, I broke down and called him at 8:30. No answer, and no, I didn't leave a stupid message.

And the really stupid thing is...this is part of an on-going cycle with me. See my post from Sunday, February 6.

According to He's Just Not That Into You, this boy is just not that into me.

Calling when you say you're going to is the very first brick in the house you are building of love and trust. If he can't lay this one stupid brick down, you ain't never gonna have a house, baby. And it's cold outside.

Prick.

What Happens When Your Magic 8-Ball Fucks Around with Your MP3 Collection

YAY! Another fun blogging game! You can guess who is going to get named to keep the game alive. Char. The Artist. HotAss. Dusty. Virginia.

Here are the rules: Go to your media player/mp3 player and put it all on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and after each one press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. And then elaborate...

One more thing...I swear to God I can't make this shit up.

1. What do you think of me?
Beautiful Stranger - Madonna

To know you is to love you. You're everywhere I go. Everybody knows. To love you is to be proud of you...If I'm smart then I'll run away.

2. Will I have a happy life?
Cinderelly, Cinderelly - Disney's Cinderella

When dancing at the ball/She'll be more beautiful
than all/In the lovely dress/we'll make for Cinderelly

3. What do my friends really think of me?
Macho Man - The Village People

Every man ought to be a macho macho man, To live a life of freedom, machos make a stand, Have their own life style and ideals, Possess the strength and confidence, life's a steal, You can best believe that he's a macho man He's a special person in anybody's land.

4. Do people secretly lust after me?
Absolutely Not (Thunderpuss Remix) - Deborah Cox.

Well, that seems like a pretty definitive answer. And while my ego was crushed for a second, I found some strength.

Should I wear my hair in a ponytail? Should I dress myself up in Chanel? Do I measure me by what you think? Absolutely not, absolutely not

5. How can I make myself happy?
Caribbean Blue - Enya

So the world goes round and round with all you ever knew. They say the sky high above is Caribbean blue. If every man says all he can, if every man is true, do I believe the sky above is Caribbean blue, if all you told was turned to gold, if all you dreamed were new, imagine sky high above in Caribbean blue

6. What should I do with my life?
Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen

I'm just a poor boy. I need no sympathy because I'm easy come, easy go. Little high, little low. Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me.

And I guess that sounds better than "put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger and now he's dead."

7. Why must life be so full of pain?
Amazed - Lonestar

And it just blows me away. I've never been this close to anyone or anything.

8. How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
One Less Bell - Gladys Knight

One less bell to answer. One less egg to fry. One less man to pick up after. I should be happy.

Well, masturbation is rather fun.

9. Will I ever have children?
Smooth (Tayar Radio Edit) - IIO

Smooth like the air, I take you into me. You're all I crave. Remain within me deep

10. Will I die happy?
(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Wanna Be Right - Barbara Mandrell

My Mama and Daddy say, It's a shame. It's a downright disgrace, but as long as I've got you by my side, I don't care what my people
say.

11. Can you give me some advice?
The Theme from Laverne & Shirley

We're gonna make our dreams come true, doing it our way.

12. What do you think happiness is?
Look What You've Done - Jet

Give me back my point of view, 'Cause I just can't think for you. I can hardly hear you say what should I do. Well, you choose. Look what you've done. You've made a fool of everyone.

13. What's my favorite fetish?
If I Had a Million Dollars - Barenaked Ladies

If I had a million dollars, I'd buy you a fur coat but not a real fur coat. That's cruel. If I had a million dollars, I'd buy you a monkey. Haven't you always wanted a monkey?

14. What can you tell me about my true love?
More than A Woman - The Bee Gees
I'm not even going to justify this answer by posting the lyrics.

15. Where should I look to find true love?
The Sound of Silence - Simon & Garfunkel

Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again because a vision softly creeping left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.

All Aboard the Crazy Train

There have been times in my life when I have gotten my ticket punched for the Crazy Train. I have been standing on the platform, waiting for the cars to pull to a stop so that I can get on board, well on my way to doing something stupid.

My bags were packed full of heated emotion, and at the last second, just as this runaway train was about to pull away from the station, I thought better of my trip to Nuttyville. And I retreated from the tracks as the train left in a dizzying cloud of steam and smoke.

And there have been times when I got on that train, punched the conductor right between the eyes, kicked the engineer in the nuts and took control. Wide-eyed with insanity and blind to rational thought, I blew the goddamned whistle, rang the fucking bell, and drove that train straight through Crazy Town and ended up in Downtown Uuuuuugly.

If you have ever created a master plan in which a potential lover would accidentally run into you at the grocery store, Starbucks, or a local gay bar, you were making plans for a trip.

If you have ever driven past a lover's house in the middle of the night just to make sure he was at home alone, your bags were packed.

If you have ever called his house just to see if he would answer and then hang up knowing he had Caller ID, you were making reservations.

If, like The Pink Lady a few months ago, you called a friend and asked in a semi-frantic voice mail for the friend to call the missing-in-action love interest at work just to make sure he was alive, your traveling companion might have been Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction." Fortunately for The Pink Lady, she had the good sense to get off the crazy train before the situation escalated into boiling his bunny.

I like to think of myself as a semi-rational human being, capable of knowing the difference between genuine concern and stalking. But there is something about infatuation and blossoming romance that makes otherwise sane people jump on an out-of-control steam engine and pilot it for a one-way trip to Crazy. And the thing about it is, as my mother would say, you know better than that.

We've all taken that trip, and we've all watched our friends speed away on that train, thinking they had lost every bit of God-given sense. But what can you do but wish them safe travels and hope they make it back home alive?

For two weeks, I have been chest-deep in infatuation with a particular boy, and I've caught myself pacing the floor, waiting for a phone call or anticipating seeing him. We've had a handful of dates, so it's not as if I'm stalking from a distance (Red Flag #1 -rationalization). And I get the feeling he is genuinely interested, but it's been frustrating not being as engaged as I'd like (Red Flag #2 - desire). We have conflicting schedules, so obviously things can't move as quickly as I'd like either (Red Flag #3 - impatience). I've driven down his street on my way to get gas. Never mind that it was out of my way. (Red Flag #4 - stalkerish tendencies).

It's a rough rail to ride. How do you show interest without becoming a fucking basketcase? And how do you keep the madman, all-consuming thoughts at bay? And how do you keep from becoming giddy as a love-struck schoolgirl everytime his name shows up on the Caller ID?

So here I stand on the platform. My bags are packed. My ticket is in hand. I hear Crazy Train rumbling down the tracks. I'll either get off in the town of Embarrassment or I'll end up in the big city of Love.

Hmmm... after a sentence like that, the village of Shame seems a likely destination.

Further Stories from the WTF Department

Story #1: The fiance of a former employee called me this morning, asking to borrow money to take said former employee off on a weekend trip because "she's been working so hard lately."

And there is this item from the Associate Press:

SYDNEY, Australia - A man shocked authorities after he released so much static electricity from his jacket, he left burn marks in the carpet of a business.

Fire officials in Victoria state said the man, Frank Clewer, had built up at least 30,000 volts of static electricity in his jacket simply by walking around the city of Warrnambool, according to a report by the Australian Broadcasting Corp.

He received his first shock when he walked into a local business Thursday afternoon. "It sounded almost like a firecracker or something like that," Clewer told the ABC.

Burns less than an inch in diameter were left on the carpet where he had been standing, the report said. ABC did not say if Clewer was injured.

Fire officials evacuated the building, fearing the incident might trigger electrical problems, but let Clewer go, the report said.

When he got in his car, Clewer's problems continued.

"I actually scorched a piece of plastic I had on the floor of the car," he said.

Fire officials took Clewer's jacket and said it continued to give off voltage.

And in further shocking news.

Renee Zellweger and Kenny Chesney Split. After four months of marriage, Renee and Kenny have filed for annullment. Renee cites "fraud" but didn't elaborate. Well, of course it was fraud. Kenny was trying to make her believe he was heterosexual.

My Big Fat Gay Wedding

With the nuptials of The Artist and The Chef barely a week away, I can't help but be reminded of my big fat gay wedding. Yeah, so it didn't happen, but it was supposed to take place on April 24, 2004.

There was something symbolic or maybe just clever about 04/24/04, although if I did the numerology on it, it probably would have spelled out doom and disaster.

At any rate, the Ex and I were planning for that date. Invitation lists were starting to come together.

We were scouting out places. We really wanted the Japanese Garden at Cheekwood or possibly the Rathskeller of the Seelbach Hotel in Louisville. The Seelbach would have been perfect for the mood we wanted to convey.

As the first priority of gay men, we had selected the appropriate outfits - black suits with matching purple neckties. White tulips were the flowers of choice. Attendants were lined up - Hotass was mine, and his brother was his. I was looking into the getaway car - a classic 1930s convertible. The invitations were designed in purple, white and black Art Deco design. A year out, he gave me a couple of books about gay and non-traditional weddings for Easter.

And I was most excited about the music because it really does set the tone for the ceremony, doesn't it?

While people gathered, we had agreed on a collection of jazz vocal standards to keep with the mid-century feel of the day - "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole, "It Had to Be You" by Billie Holliday, "I've Got a Crush on You" by Ella Fitzgerald, "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered" also by Ella, "Can't Help Lovin' that Man" again by Ella, "Isn't It Romantic" on the trumpet by Chet Baker, "The Man I Love" again by Ms. Fitzgerald, "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong.

Processional music was to be Pachelbel's "Canon in D Minor" played on guitar. At least we agreed on that.

I wanted something unconventional, something fun, for the recessional music - "How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)" by James Taylor and Carly Simon, "This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)" by Natalie Cole, "All You Need Is Love" by The Beatles, or "Marry Me" by Dolly Parton.

It was a source of disagreement as you might imagine. He didn't think his mother would take kindly to the "Marry Me" lyrics that said "His momma don't like me one little bit/ But you know I don't care/ Let her pitch her hissy fit/ Cuz I ain't marrying her."

We were leaning toward Natalie Cole. How ironic. Because that love oh-so did not last.

But my reception, my reception. Well, that would have been the party of the season. And really, isn't that the reason that gay men want a wedding? Isn't it really all about the party?

The groom and the groom got the first dance - "At Last" by Etta James. And we decided on that song before Celine Dion ruined it.

Every wedding reception I've ever been to has been devastated by stupd songs like "YMCA" or "The Chicken Dance." You can count that gay weddings will never be marred by such insanity. So our wedding reception was to have tasteful music, well at least not retarded music that you hear at every reception.

Note to the Dynamic Duo - "The Chicken Dance" is a party-killer. Your friends will think you're straight. Seriously, it's not really that fun. It's stupid.

So what happened to my big fat gay wedding? Good question. I think as we got closer to the date, he got cold feet. Well more like Birdseye-frozen-food cold feet. And the conversations about the wedding became more and more infrequent. And the plans fell by the wayside, and April 24, 2004, came and went without much excitement.

We broke up a month or so later.

"Cry Me a River" - Julie London

The F-Bomb

Before you begin this post, I have to tell you that this is Not Safe For Work (NSFW).

I fucking love the word "fuck."

Not necessarily in the sexual context but in the exclamatory, I-want-to-make-a-point context. It works in so many situations. Disappointment? Say "fuck." Disgust? Anger? Annoyance? A moment of sheer sexual ecstasy? "Fuck" works with a variety of emotions

Here lately, my favorite fucking phrases have been:

"Fucking-fuckity-fuck..."

"Fuckthatnoize...sheeeit"

"What in bloody fucking hell..." As if this makes me more British.

"I need a fucking cocktail."

"Fuuuuck."

"You fucking people are driving me fucking nuts."

"Two tears in a bucket. Motherfuck it."

And when I get really creative, I combine phrases to say crass things like:

"What the bloody fucking-fuckity-fuck are you fucking thinking, you bloody stupid fucking retard? This fucking shit is bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S. FUCK! If somebody doesn't fucking give me a fucking cocktail now, I just might go fucking nuts on their fucking asses."

I do try to exercise some restraint, and only use the word when I'm around people who will truly appreciate its emphasis. But occasionally I slip up and drop the F-bomb in front of people who I shouldn't use that word around. At work, for example. Most recently, I used the word "fuck" to describe my feeling of angst at forgetting to do something important. The people I used it in front of froze for a second and then laughed nervously. I apologized and they informed me that almost any word was acceptable except the F-bomb.

I've been trying to do better. But seriously, fuck it.

What I've Been Up To

In another moment of boredom, I Googled my name and found out some interesting facts about myself.

Did you know that...

• I have been the host of BBC's "The World This Weekend" since 1994?
• I was first introduced to marijuana following two operations for testicular cancer that metastasized to my stomach?
• I have an art gallery in Woodstock, NY, and apparently it is one of the best fine art galleries in the Hudson River Valley?
• I have been the governor of Ohio, and the airport in Dayton is named after me?

Seven Things

When you feel like there's nothing else to blog about, there's always a silly game to play. So here we go.

7 things I plan to do before I die:
1) Visit New York City.
2) Visit a bathhouse for some crazy freaky circus sex on Ecstasy.
3) Skydive.
4) Spend a month in the UK.
5) Have an exhibition of my paintings.
6) Nap with the man I love in a hammock near the ocean.
7) Have a short story/novel/script published

7 things I can do:
1) A damn good tarot card reading
2) Make a mean carrot cake.
3) Kiss.
4) Make people laugh.
5) Write.
6) Paint.
7) Obsess.

7 things I cannot do:
1) Eat chocolate-covered cherries.
2) Tolerate ignorance.
3) Tolerate arrogance.
4) Balance my checkbook.
5) Deliberately make people feel bad.
6) Sleep with the closet door open.
7) Face the world without a shower.

7 things that attract me to the same sex:
1) Hairy chest
2) Hairy forearms
3) Facial hair
4) Compassion
5) Wit
6) Intelligence
7) A genuine smile

7 things that I say most often:
1) Are you fucking kidding me?
2) These people are driving me fucking crazy.
3) I need a cocktail.
4) In a perfect world...
5) My pussy's on fire.
6) Keys, wallet, phone. Three-point check.
7) And a pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights, please.

7 celebrity crushes:
1) Tim McGraw
2) Colin Farrell
3) The Edge from U2
4) Robbie Williams
5) Larry the Cable Guy
6) Henry Rollins
7) Johnny Knoxville

7 people I want to do this:
1) Hotass - if he ever decides to blog again.
2) Char
3) Dusty
4) Buffy
5) Virginia
6) Kimdog - when she comes back from hiatus.
7) The Artist

The Fairy Godmother

This past weekend, we lost a true treasure.

Miss Kitty passed away quietly at her home sometime Saturday night, and she will sincerely be missed. When she was late for Sunday lunch, one of her boys was dispatched to find her. And she was discovered having faded peacefully at her desk.

If there ever was a Southern genteel and elegant lady, it was Miss Kitty. Widowed with no children of her own, she adopted all of us as her own. She was tolerant. She was sweet. She was gracious.

One of the first times I met Miss Kitty, she was dressed coolly in summer linen, sipping Kitty martinis next to the pool while scantily dressed boys scampered about.

Every night, weather permitting, she climbed the spiral iron staircase to her observation deck with a shot of tequila to watch the sunset. She was a connoisseur of sunsets, and we could count on her to give us the latest report of the the latest and greatest sunsets over the Memphis skyline.

We loved being in the presence of Kitty. She elevated every get-together to something classy and fun. We loved her stories and her company. We loved her.

Two weeks ago, I had dinner with Kitty. She was spry and lively and seemed sincerely delighted to have me there. I wish I'd had more time with Kitty. She had so much to share - stories, laughter, compassion, smiles.

It's easy to imagine that she is watching over us all. And I'm glad that she is.

Woof-worthy #10 and #11 - The Cowboy and the Porn Star

A couple of years ago, I had a dream about Tim McGraw. We were in his trailer, and he was swearing that he would leave Faith for me. I was resting my head on his chest and Faith was banging on the trailer door, demanding to be let in.

Tim McGraw makes me swoon.

And then I discovered Kent Larson, the porn star who could pass as Tim's twin.

Day-um.