Homer'sWorld

My trip in pictures. I'm back from DC to find Tucson is amazingly cool (in the 70s) because of a major rain storm that dumped inches of water on the area. I am enjoying this immensely.

So I stayed with my buddy for three days. The first night we recorded a pair of podcasts. I got to play host on Friday's episode.

Homerradio.

I made him eat a blueberry, he was a blueberry virgin!


My buddy and the blueberry.

The next day we hopped on the Metro and visited cool, dry DC. We went to the National Botanical Conservatory and looked at plants.

Buddy and Homer.


Cactuses.

That night his boyfriend W. arrived and we went to the ABBA concert. The dark-haired woman kept saying, "You are FANTASTIC!" It was a nice time. The next morning we went to two wineries and I sampled various wines and made him stop so I could pick some blackberries.


Homer and W. at the winery.

On Saturday I traveled to Jimbo's cute apartment and we readied the place for partying. At the party I spent some time talking with Jimbo's uber nice friend, Dreamy Ron. Besides being really nice, he's also very, very dreamy.

Dreamy Ron.

The party was marred, unfortunately, by an attack of explosive diarrhea! How inconvenient. I survived and was even able to go to Chrisafer's birthday party where I spotted a former porn boy, who was very easy on the eyes.

I've been advised that my observations on some guests at the party were taken the wrong way. Sometimes my sarcastic humor has unintended consequences, I wasn't intending to offend anyone and I'm sorry if someone was offended.

The next morning Jimbo and I went to the Kenilworth park where I snapped these photos before my camera batteries bit the dust.

Water lily.


Lotus.



Jimbo and the triffids.

I loved the triffids. Why don't they remake Day of the Triffids?

Last night I hung out with Jimbo's very nice friend Brian and on the plane to Dallas I chatted with a cutey named Frank.

Nice time in DC, I'm so happy to have them as my friends. They are special guys.

Next week: Vancouver.

Too many gin and tonics. I forgot to take pictures. I drunk called Brian and he has incriminating voicemail. I saw a pretty porn star. I told Debbie she had nice cleavage. Room, stop spinning. Please.

I am at Jimbo's apartment, it is a nice, homey space. We went to lunch and I was practically overwhelmed by the attractive men everywhere. Youngish men. Tucson, in contrast, is mostly senior citizens.

Yesterday, Archerr and his boyfriend W. and I went to two wineries and they attempted to instruct me on the qualities of wine. I'm not the best student, I couldn't detect the texture very well. I did take a nice picture of some wine glasses though. And I made Archerr stop the car so I could eat some blackberries growing on the side of the road. YUMMY!

Tonight a fancy schmancy party. I'm excited to meet all of my future ex-boyfriends! Actually, Jim and I have very similar taste in the mens, so it should be interesting to compare notes.

My buddy is the best host. He makes me breakfast in bed. The wonderful room service. Mints on the pillow. The only bad thing is his Mac-obsession. Just touching the Mac computers makes me feel real durty.

Actually, I am having a nice time. Yesterday we went to the National Botanical Conservatory. After our free full body cavity search, we wandered around the place and I attempted to take artsy pictures. Unforts, the light wasn't the best and they actually had fewer flowers than when I have been in the fall or winter.

Pretty leaves.

Afterwards we made the mistake of going to the Hischorn Gallery of Ugly Modern Art. I wanted to laugh at the totally black canvas that was stuck in a corner of the basement. I wonder how many artists did one of those?

Last night Archerr, the Boyfriend, and I went to Wolf Trap Farm to the Mamma Mia concert. I had thought it was more of a musical with a story line but that is not the case. I called Brady and Brian and recorded portions of songs on their answering machines, I'm sure they will enjoy those song snippets for minutes to come.

They should put a warning on Captain Crunch cereal- will remove all skin from the roof of your mouth. I'm at Archerr's house and it is early in the morning (for me) and groggy and we are going downtown soon but I have to finish my Diet Coke in a feeble attempt to wake up. I'm on his podcast this morning but when I pulled up Blogger on his evil Mac computer it won't let me do things. Macs are evil. Adventures will ensue now.

Watch out DC, here are I come. I'm going to enjoy the pleasant breezes, the people throwing flowers at me as I drive by in my motorcade. I've practiced my queen-wave, I'm really good at it.

Backyard. Some pics from my backyard.


Prickly pear pad.


Rusted corrugated iron.


Barrel cactus flower.


Aloes.

Having friends with pools is very, very important when it is 110 degrees outside. Last night I went with Brady and Forrest and hung out with Chris and Peter in a little above-ground pool. Forrest is new to Tucson, and we had fun filling him in on life here.


Buster.

Today Shane and I went and hung out with Chris and Jim and their dogs Buster and Chester.


Shane.

Now back at home I'm steamy hot and wishing I had a pool in my backyard. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen, but if I did have a pool Shane would get to be pool boy.

Benefits of buzzing one's head:

- no bed hair
- save money on shampoo
- save money on haircuts
- that pleasant prickly feeling.


Orange, blue, and buzzed.

Disadvantages of buzzing one's hair:

- no cute hairdos
- the wrong people wanting to experience the prickly feeling
- you can see the cranial suture between my frontal and left parietal
- mistaken for skinhead

"The average blogger is a 14-year-old girl writing about her cat," said Alexander Halavais, an assistant professor of interactive communications at Quinnipiac University in Connecticut.

I knew I was doing something wrong. I'm a 14-year-old girl trapped in a 42 (almost 43)-year-old man's body!

Brian says I write about my cats when I have nothing better to write about. Actually, that's not correct. I make up little surveys when I am all bitter and don't have anything to say.

Speaking of which, Joey cat is trying to sit on the keyboard. "C'mon, move!" I just said to her.

In other news, cut off my hair today- too hot and too comb-over looking. I have also got to buy a bike and start riding again. My stomach is looking kinda bloaty right now. I whined to Jimbo about it and he noted that I've been whining a while. In other words, he said, "Do something about it." And so I shall. I'd post a picture showing you said bloated stomach, but that's not gonna happen.

After work I played with Puff. When you are in a bad mood, sometimes that is the best thing, just being a goof with your cats.

Look at the camera Puff.

Unfortunately, Joey decided to pee on the couch for some reason. I discovered the accident while lying down on it. Nice. So cushion cover is being washed and I soaked the cushion with gin, which takes the smell away and leaves a lovely juniper-like scent behind.

I picked a big red tomato from the garden couple days back and made me a tomato-mayo-black pepper-white bread sandwich. Or two. It was very good.

In other news, I added something to a Wikipedia entry yesterday, quoting a nasty thang's opinion on gay marriage. One of her minions removed it within a couple of hours. That's the problem with that site, people "cleaning" up entries to make them "nicer." I told Jimbo today that he should edit the "hairy chest" entry, which does not reflect the years of research we have done on furry-chested men.

And so on. Will it ever cool down here?

My mother has adult onset diabetes. So does my sister Susan and my Aunt LouAnne. My sister Elizabeth has juvenile diabetes. A co-worker's 11-year-old daughter has recently developed juvenile diabetes. A co-worker's husband has just developed adult onset diabetes. Here in southern Arizona an alarming number of O'odham, Native American indigenous to this area, have adult onset diabetes. It is a growing epidemic in this country.

Stem cell research may (or may not) provide better treatment or, perhaps, a cure for diabetes. Instead of investing and investigating the potential benefits of stem cell research, The Great Decider plans to veto the bill put forth by both houses of Congress to expand research possibilities.

''The simple answer is he thinks murder's wrong,'' said White House spokesman Tony Snow. ''The president is not going to get on the slippery slope of taking something living and making it dead for the purposes of scientific research.''

The Great Decider thinks extracting cells from a tiny embroyo is murder. I am so pleased that he is pandering to his base supporters, individuals for whom all science is viewed with suspicion. Let's return the Middle Ages and burn witches while we are at it.

I find it ironic that The Great Decider is, apparently, concerned with murder. His actions have caused the deaths of tens of thousands of innocent Iraqi civilians during this ongoing war that is always turning the corner. For example, he ordered bombs dropped on a restaurant in April 2003 Iraq because there was the slightest chance Saddam might be having supper there. When the broken body of the 20-year-old woman was brought out -- torso first, then the head -- her mother started crying uncontrollably, then collapsed.

So Bush wants to spare test tube embryos, which will never have a chance of being implanted, because that is murder. But killing a 20-year-old woman who happened to live next to a suspect restaurant is not. Crock. Of. Shit.

Of course if the UK or France makes an amazing stem cell discovery that cures some rare disease, you can bet any member of the Bush family who needs it will have immediate access.

The Great Decider. Moron.

It's fucking hot and I'm fucking cranky. What's pissing you off?

Mark and I had a jam-packed day. In the morning I made him breakfast, later on we went out to the desert for a hike.


Mark and rock art.

I took Mark to one of my favorite spots, where 2,000-year-old rock art is visible on cliff faces.


Saguaro and rock art.

All around are huge saguaro cactuses (or cacti), some of them clinging to the sides of the canyon we walked up.


Sonoran desert.

It was amazingly hot, I was sweating like mad.


Amish straw hat.

One aspect of growing my patchy hair out is when you take your Amish straw hat off, it is not a pretty sight.

Bad hair moment.

Um, like, yuck.

After that excitement it was lunch at Rosa's and then naptime. Back at La Casa de Homer I introduced Mark to YouTube videos and we watched various 1980s songs.

In the evening, we ran over to Dougie's going away dinner. I said a brief hello and we left, I really want to spend an hour or two just with Dougie before he starts his new adventure in Chicago.

Afterwards, Mark and I had dinner at La Indita and then wandered over to IBTs, where we ran into Chris and Jim.


Victoria Chase and Mark.

We didn't know that Saturday was show night. Ohmigod, Victoria Chase, Bunny Fufu, and the third guy (who is competing for Miss Gay Arizona) put on a wonderful show.

Homer and Chris.

I wish I knew this performer's name. I cheered so loud I'm a little hoarse. I cannot imagine the hours of hard work and the money spent on costumes.

Chicago.

Mark goes back to Boston tomorrow to his wonderful husband Jim. It has been really nice seeing him. Sometime next year I'll probably show in Boston myself.

Mark was one of my housemates when we lived on Anne Street in Ann Arbor back in 1986-1987. That was a crazy, crazy year. He drove down from Phoenix yesterday and we went out to the Denture Inn and had some beers. Andy and Adam, who I sat next to at the Jello Wrestling event were there, along with their friends Ian and Tim. All six of us went off for authentic Mexican food.

Taqueria Pico de Gallo.

The hot sauce burned my lips and they swelled up, I'm sure that Angelina Jolie and I were twins for a moment or two.


The guys eating.

Mark and I came back to my place and played on the internet- we both laughed at the naked pictures of another one of our housemates. "Look Mark, can you see his butthole?"

Another visit to the Denture where we sat with Brady for a while and I chatted with Shane and Richard C.

Today we are off for more adventures, who knows what trouble I'll get into.

You can watch just about anything on YouTube.



Take this clip of Nikki, a contestant in the United Kingdom's version of Big Brother. I am transfixed by her.

Cocktail party survey.

1). Cheese and crackers or mixed nuts?
2). Gin and Tonic or Cranberry and vodka?
3). Cranberry juice or lemonade?
4). Jazz or Disco?
5). Casual or dressy?
6). Mexican loteria or Celebrities?




Loteria cards.

Arrrgggghhh. Mr. Acid Reflux has decided to visit. He's an uninvited guest, with terrible manners. I'm going to arrange a date with Mr. Little Purple Pill and hopefully they will hit it off and he'll stop bugging me. Burp.

When I was a kid we would go out to the berry patch and pick strawberries. Mommy would mash them up in the big stainless steel bowl, using a tin can with the lid cut off to slice the berries up. She would drop some sugar in and mix it up and let it sit out while she made Bisquick drop biscuits. We'd cut them open hot and put margarine inside and then dump strawberries on top. Sometimes we had CoolWhip, Mommy was all about convenience (I didn't have real whipped cream until I was an adult).


Strawberry shortcake.

Once or twice over the summer we'd have an entire meal just of strawberry shortcake. Those were fun dinners, eating dessert for dinner until I just about burst.

I still like this the best, although I make real whipped cream now.

On the radio. You can hear a conversation I had yesterday with Archerr and his super nice bf W on Archerr's podcast. I'll be seeing them and Jimbo and Carl soon in DC.


Looking toward the monsoon clouds.