“talk about a bad date. It was like going to bed with Colton Ford and waking up with Chaz Bono”
Blog-Lite
I know, I know…..my stalkers have not had anything new from me in quite a while. Many things are happening and I’ve been busy and haven’t had time to write. But, the very first story I posted here is now in print! It’s very weird and exciting to actually be published, and who knows what will happen. But anyway, I decided to brag a bit and share the link:
http://centralmasspridemag.com/
The web version should be up in a week or so, but if you’re in Worcester or thereabouts, pick up a copy and let me know what you think!
Jay: I haven’t often stopped to take the time to mention all the deep and beautiful ways that you have enriched my life
me: (taken aback) Yes you have, I have probably been remiss in that area
Jay: APRIL FOOL!
ah, the love of friends!
A Dark Mood
I don’t believe in the existence of mercy’s guiding hand…
Not with all that I have witnessed, I cannot understand.
Forever burdened with the knowledge that I could have been so much more
When the truth is hard to suffer, I knew this all before.
There is no comfort in faith, the heavens still will fall.
A thousand towers rise before me and I cannot climb them all.
There is no kind of joy in this, there is no time that it can heal,
When emptiness enshadows bliss, there is nothing left to feel.
I have not abandoned hope, though I know there’s nothing more.
Tired and alone, you forget what you hoped for.
I will walk this ground forever
and stand guard against your name.
I will give all I can offer,
I will shoulder all the blame.
I am sentry to you now,
all your hopes and all your dreams.
I will hold you to the light,
that’s what forever means.
I was never what you wanted, I could never never please.
I swallowed all our sorrow in the midst of your disease.
All my fortunes, all my gains, all the battles I have won…
Now collapsing like the rain, I stand alone, your only son…
Take some solace in these words, take notice of this place.
Hollow whispers that they are, like the wind upon my face.
Sing softly in my ear and look at me with wonder.
I will try to ease your fear as the darkness pulls you under.
Bruderschaft, “Forever”
<cough>.
I know, I know. I’ve been a bad blogger. I promise I will post something worthy so you, my adoring fans, will forgive my cold induced absence.
For the Love of Animals
I have always loved most animals, but my parents were never ones for pets in the house. More than likely because my father had an enormous German Shepherd when I was a baby. My mother was terrified of this dog and thought she would be eaten alive. I was told the dog would just sit at her feet, staring at her until she called for my father to remove him from the room. He would also follow her all around the house, generally just being a wise ass. She also blamed him for the bout of poison ivy she had on her ankles from him laying on my feet. Animals, in case you didn’t know, always fuck with their humans. The story goes that I was crying in my crib one night and the dog was very panicky about this. It seems he thought of me as not as the light snack my mother believed, but as something to be protected. He ran back and forth from the bedroom to the living room several times, whining at my father who was asleep on the recliner. The dog then had enough of being ignored and opened his mouth, grabbed my father’s arm and started dragging him out of the chair so he would see what was the matter with me. I saw old 8 mm footage of my father training this dog, and it was amazing. Using just hand signals, this beast would do whatever my father asked. After seeing this, I felt I had an ally in my quest for a dog. In the ten years since the demise of this dog (in an uncharacteristic power play, my mother made my father give the dog away) my father lost his penchant for pups. I then vied for a cat, figuring they were less work. Still, my parents came up with reasons for saying no. I don’t like cats and because I said so were the ones I remember vividly. I decided to go smaller, thinking something from the rodent world would appease all of us. I spent some time in the library reading books on the care of different small animals and finally settled on a guinea pig. I had all the facts, lifespan, care, exercise, food groups-including scraps of vegetables, different varieties and even mating rituals. I presented my case with the composure of a lawyer and the polish of a politician. In a completely outrageous turn of events, my parents agreed, even offering to pay for the initial cage and food expenses. My excitement was hardly contained over the next couple of days until we would go to the pet store and pick out my new buddy. Once in the pet store, my father was suddenly possessed. He decided, in what could only be described as a fugue, we should go into the guinea pig breeding business. I don’t know if he saw dollar signs scampering around in the cages or if he was having an aneurism. I cautiously looked at him, suddenly not the father I knew, and said um…I really only want one. But he was not to be deterred in his new quest of being Noah of Rodents. We left the store with a large cage, bowls, drinking bottles, food pellets, toys and two adorable little fuzz balls that seemed to immediately love me. Once we got home, I set up the cage right next to my bed and showed the newest members of the family their home. They seemed quite happy to be there, and greedily munched on carrots and lettuce which I hand fed them. The little darlings would jump around in their cage every time I came home, looking at me with their beady little eyes and letting out the most delightful squeals. They actually do sound like pigs, which is quite endearing. They would sleep on my desk as I did my homework, watch TV with me, and I’d even take them on adventures in the backyard. After a couple of months, my father was wondering why the female wasn’t pregnant. We had witnessed the male on several occasions make this Barry White sound and mount the female. Then it happened. The female started making her own overtures and suddenly mounted him! My research of this breed never prepared me for this odd turn of events, so I was dumbfounded. Fortunately, one of my cousins was over and did the one thing we never thought of doing, she checked their sex. Well, it turns out I had two males and they were quite clearly gay or their cage caused some sort of prison romance thing between them. I literally cried and told my parents I was afraid Anita Bryant was going to come and take my pets away in the night and drown them in orange juice. Once GuineaGate was over, and returning one of my pigs was out of the question, we took another drive to the pet store and picked out two females. This time of course, my father demanded their sex be confirmed before we would pay. Remember of course, I only wanted one and now I had 4 to take care of. Four bowls to fill. Four water bottles to fill. Four cages to clean. All these little buggers did was eat, have sex, sleep and shit. Lucky bastards. This new menagerie would not fit in my room any longer, so they were relegated to the basement. This made my mother very happy, as she complained of the smell. Three of my pets were great, cuddly, loving puffs of fur that just enjoyed being alive. The other one, a female, was miserable. Nippy, bitchy and finicky. I’m convinced she was reincarnated as Paris Hilton. Or maybe Perez Hilton, I’ll have to check brainwave patterns. We got one litter of 4 out of her, before she decided that her suitors were inferior. Of those four, she ate 3 of them and the other one died of malnutrition due to her lack of maternal instinct. The smaller female seemed to push out babies on a whim, gracing us with litters of six or more every month or so. One time I was summoned to the basement to help my mother corral these demons who had wriggled though the bars in their cages and were now running free. I couldn’t help but laugh as my mother surrounded the cage with her arms, screaming. By this time, my father had moved on and no longer wanted to be part of the joint business venture that he insisted on. Eventually, the pet store refused to take any more of our overstock, which by this time we were giving to them free of charge, I put my foot down and decided that there would be no more babies. Fertile Myrtle passed away about eight months later and her husband (yes, I married them in a ceremony that made Princess Di’s wedding look like it was held at a VFW post) soon followed. This left me with the original guy, the one I really wanted, for another couple of years until one morning I didn’t hear his squeal of anticipation for his morning carrot.
“I bet his taint smells like sweat and lilacs”
Me, on a picture of a hot guy
Friends…….
So another milestone birthday is coming up for me, I’m going to be 45 in a couple of weeks. I have no idea how this happened so quickly and forcibly, but I still take comfort in being able to say I’m “almost 40”. Hey, don’t judge me; I’m just using the new math they tried to teach us in the 70’s. For the past couple of weeks, Matt has been acting a little off, as were several other dear friends. This led me to believe that they were all up to something. It’s not their fault, I’ve been watching people and how they react for four decades and have an excellent eye for human nature. This and the obvious clues in phone calls and texts asking me what plans I had for the big event. Honestly, I really thought they were going to throw an intimate surprise party, similar to the one we all threw for Elbumpusrex. This would have made me so happy to have the people I love having a good time and generally worshipping me, as I’ve never had an adult birthday party. Planning a surprise for someone is wrought with difficulties, from logistics to even keeping the secret. This one, to their dismay, was a clusterfuck of problems which caused some hysterical and frustrating moments for these guys, which I inadvertently had a starring role in. It started with trying to keep a secret from me. No small task, as I have the enviable ability to spot bullshit kilometers away. Then they had to find accommodations for my dog, which is generally no problem for a weekend, Matt’s roommate is always happy to volunteer his services as surrogate daddy. He however will be out of town as well. Bringing the dog is also an option, but how do you stuff me and the dog in the car for 4 hours without an explanation? Then I threw the cherry on the icing today. I casually mention to Matt that I want to have a tag sale on the same weekend to try to get rid of some clutter. This simple comment sends my poor man into another world of annoyance. He jumps up and starts texting, which is completely out of character for him. Nanoseconds later, my phone rings. One of the organizers says to me “Did you hear about the killer full moon that’s supposed to bring all sorts of natural disasters next weekend? Well, since you’re not going to live to see 45, we’re taking you to Out of Hibernation for your birthday”. I didn’t know what to do or say, and it’s not easy to make this bitch speechless. I’m still in shock to tell you the truth. They have even created a “Broke-Ass Ryan Fund” to cover incidentals like food, cocktails and RID. So before I get too misty and waterlog my computer, I’ll just say I love you guys and I can’t thank you enough.
“and get some eye cream for heavens sakes. You could go to Europe with those bags”
Matt, on an annoying individual
