Homer'sWorld

Matt makes yummy mashed potatoes. I went over to his house last night for dinner with his roommate, her girlfriend, and another friend. Blake made a banana dessert that we were informed was the best banana dessert ever. And who am I to disagree. Afterwards cards and then Matt and I discussed current events. He has such pretty blue eyes.

Today it unexpectedly rained. What? It's not supposed to rain until this summer. The plants in my front yard, including the two small tobacco tree seedlings I rescued, seemed to really like it. We are going to have a little cold spell (highs in 60s) and I put away my electric blankey. I guess I will have to find something else to keep me warm.

Avi calls me at 7:30 to tell me that there is a backhoe at the site that I worked at last year, the site we carefully covered in protective fabric and backfilled because the City is making it into a historical and archaeological park next year. In the meantime, the unexcavated areas had reverted to parking and the dumbshit guy managing the lot had decided to repave the areas we dug. Normally this isn't a problem, but in this case there are fragile mudbrick walls about three inches below the ground surface. And it would be really difficult to display the main wall in the glassed-in viewing area they are planning if it had big backhoe tire tracks cutting through it.

Thankfully I got there in time to stop it, although the dumbshit and a certain City official hate my guts. Like I really care. But it added an unwanted amount of adrenalin and stress to what was supposed to be an unexciting day. Sheesh!

In other news, I've never had sex with a woman. Does that mean I'm legally still a virgin? Talk amongst yourself!


Virgin of Guadalupe.

It's 4:00 AM and my mind is wandering as I wait for the anti-histamines to kick in. The orange and lemon trees are blooming and although the smell is quite pleasant, it fucks with the inside of my head and I convert into a mouth-breather. Little things like my new purple shower curtain, with its pleasing new plastic odor, or the freshly cut and raked yard can not stop the misery of congestion. It doesn't help that I just finished having a nightmare about my cat Clown, who my brother ran over about 20 years ago.

So what else? I'm pretty happy right at this moment, despite the swollen nasal passages. I've got some plans, some things going on. Some hopes and maybe a couple of dreams. I'm optimistic about some aspects of the future- I think, for instance, that the chances of Shrub being re-elected are diminishing as the press circles in their new vulture-like attitude.

In other news, I got to hold a cute turtle that Patti found on the road coming to work. Now, I've never thought reptiles were charming but this little turtle, with his little red and yellow spotted head and legs, was way charming. That turtle wrapped his little spotted legs around my fingers and looked at me patiently for a while before deciding he really wanted to be someplace else. I'm glad Patti rescued him, especially because he isn't a native of the Sonoran, he's an Eastern Box Turtle, and somebody's lost pet that awoke from hibernation and decided to talk a slow stroll across a busy side street. Now he is going to go live in Tanya's backyard with her other turtles and tortoises.

I made dinner for Matt last night- potato and red pepper enchiladas, a salad, and white bean hummus. I think it came out pretty good. Afterwards we made some plastic bead mosaic thingys and talked. I had a good time.

To answer people's questions from yesterday: 1). The quilt is the picture was made by my mother. 2). My old picture is still on in the archived entries, I thought I should have one that shows what I currently look like. 3). By forgotten I meant that my friends forgot to get me when they went hiking nearby. 4). No Lasik, my glasses mostly shine when I do self portraits- I got the frames as Lensmaster or someplace similar. 5). Puff is the nicest cat, he would never scratch anyone.

Any other questions that need to be answered?

I was forgotten so I didn't go. Instead the house cleaning was for naught and the pretty marigolds sit unnoticed in the pots. The cats lounge on the carefully straightened quilt my mother made, straightened just in case anyone saw it. Another slow Sunday. I'm about to head out for that elusive perfect shower curtain that will bring underwhelming joy in my consumer driven heart. If only I find just the right curtain, then world peace will bloom and my hair will stop falling out.


Puff and his green eyes.

At the protest across the street from the Baptist church there were about 150 people. The church was having an all-day conference on changing gays "back" to straights. Yawn. Some of the people came over and the one guy that wanted to talk to me was just creepy, plus I think he is probably a glory hole cocksucker. Anyways, I ran into a couple of people I knew and hung out with Jeffrey T., who told me about the guy who is dating that makes leather-clad teddybears. Nice!



Afterwards we went over to Curtis' yard sale and I made Jeffrey put on a preppy jacket and model for me.



Even with the dizzy-inducing jacket Jeffrey looked fabulous. He has Che Guevara tattooed on his lower leg. How many people can say that. Not me, I'm tattoo-less.

Geez, it's a bird fuck fest. Every morning in my backyard. Chirp, chirp, chirpppppp! So loud. It drives the cats wild, since all they want is a bird eat fest.

I hope the FCC doesn't spank for me for saying "fuck." Oh, I said it again! I am so naughty. Poop. Titty. Now I'm going to be grounded by Mike Powell.

I woke up after some silly dreams. In one I made out with a cute guy. I will have to tell him about that and see what he thinks. In another I had wings and was flying around a library vandalizing it. It was really fun to push over bookshelves. That was naughty too.

Abe liked his found-art piece I made for him. I like it better than the one I made for myself.


Missing the Canadian Rocket.

Panties on too tight? What's up with Condi Rice? She looks soooo happy! I bet she just won a trip to Disneyland. Or maybe George just touched her and told her, 'Smells good." Or maybe she suddenly woke up out of her coma and realized she's dealing with a bunch of jackasses. Or maybe... oh who gives a fuck...

My Dinner with Matt. After a-not-too-strenuous day at work I came home and made a piece of art for Abe (I'll post a picture after he gets it) and read a silly sci-fi novel. At around 7:30 I went over and picked up Matt and we went to have Chinese at Dragon View. Matt is a fellow Tucson blogger, he works with Panchesco at a local cafe. It's the first time we have met in person and it turns out he's a really nice, fun guy. He's vegan, interested in plants, hasn't figured out quite what he wants to do, and is heading off to Colorado for the summer. Oh, and he's really cute!



When I was his age I was super skinny (I think I weighed 147 pounds), closeted, a total geek. But times have changed. I kinda wish that I had some of the options that being young allows- not being tied down to a mortgage or car payment, experiencing things for the first time. I think its easier to be gay now than when I was 20, when there were no role models, tv shows, magazines, etc available. But like I said, times have changed.

After dinner I brought Matt over to my casa and we played Upwords and Gin Rummy and talked. The cats circled around, competing for attention. It was nice. Did I mention he's cute?

These are the enemy. The new Nazis. Religious folk. Evil. The people leading the effort to guarantee that discrimination against gay people will be written into the Constitution.



The American people are sophisticated enough to know the accusation of discrimination is false," said Representative Marilyn Musgrave, Republican of Colorado, the chief House sponsor of the proposal. and



Senator John Cornyn of Texas, the Republican overseeing the hearing, dismissed as a "myth" any idea that gay marriages have no effect on society.

I called their DC offices today. Their staff members don't like to talk to fags. I asked Cornyn's intern whether he only had sex in the missionary position. "If he is so interested in my life, I'm going to be interested in his." I said. Musgrave's gal intern assured me that it was a bipartisan measure. Yeah, maybe a token Democrat will sign on, but this is a Republican endeavor.

What to do? I'm all about love not hate. I also doubt that two-thirds of either the House or Senate will vote yes for the amendment, so it will wither and die. But still, the sickness of those people. The smug superiority. Makes one want to become an anarchist. Oh wait, that is what they want, isn't it. Instead I will send happy thoughts that Musgrave and Cornyn will maybe have some butt-fuckers for grandchildren. Wouldn't that be special?

10 shallow confessions.

1). I've never shop lifted. Sometimes if I leave a store without buying anything I worry that the store people will think I am stealing.
2). I hate cologne on men. Except for Philip L. in Lincoln Nebraska in December 1990. I loved it on him.
3). I hate the swab test!
4). I once stopped dating someone because his back hair was longer than his chest hair.
5). I sleep with my feet sticking out from under the covers.
6). I am distantly related to George Bush through both my mother and father. My mother, who voted for John McCain in 2000, said "Oh, I'm not proud of that."
7. In first grade we learned to read with "Fun with Dick and Jane."
8. I liked Nancy Drew better than the Hardy Boys.
9. I think Patsy Cline is a zillion times better then Kylie or Britney or Madonna.
10. I spend way too much time on the internet.

Three unanswered questions about urine answered.
1). Why did my pee smell so bad tonight after eating asparagus? According to the Boston Globe, 50 percent of people have that problem. See the link for the two competing theories as to why it happens- sulfur breakdown gene vs the smelling gene.
2). Now that Princess and Bear are living with Karen, why has Joey's urinating-on-furniture behavior stopped? Apparently Joey was intimidated by pretty little Princess and was expressing her anxiety by marking the furniture with urine.
3). Why is my urine usually yellow? Because it contains the waste products of red blood cells!

And there you have it. I hope you aren't pissed off at having wasted your time reading this.

Plasticpiece. So I painted a canvas brown, per Steve G.'s suggestion, went to Ace and bought a glue gun (twice, the first one didn't work), laid out some of my finds and made a whatever-you-wanna-call-it.



I'm not totally in love with it, but it was fun and David G. and Abe admired it when they came over. I realized that one reason I have been droopy today is because there is a bunch of plant pollen floating about and I am having some ugly allergies. So that was the excitement today.

A little walk in my neighborhood. I go down Palomas, past the house with the vicious barking chihuahuas, like I'm afraid of them. At the end of the street is a makeshift horse corral with perhaps a dozen horses and some chickens. I stop to pat each of the accessible horses on the head and give them a little attention. I grew up on a farm and hated farming, but I really like animals- perhaps that's why I've been a vegetarian for 21 years.



I live in Menlo Park, which was developed beginning in the 1910s. My house was built in 1927. Sometimes I find prehistoric pottery in my front yard. There is a 2,000 year old village site beneath the stables and a Chinese farmer's house from the 1880s nearby. I mosey down a couple of blocks to the south. Diana lives in a house built in 1877 and has a shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe built into the adobe wall next to her driveway.


Virgin of Guadalupe.

Across the street is the remnants of the old Mission, established at the site of the original Tucson. I walk across the Mission Gardens and there is 1,000 year old pottery everywhere. Beyond is the garbage dump that the city put in in the 1950s. I brought a sack with me. Last weekend I went to my friend David A.'s art opening . He does a lot of "found" art, collages made from scraps of wood, bone, and metal. A couple of years ago I took David over to the dump and we collected trash, some of which has since been incorporated into his pieces. I want to do one of my own, focusing on the plastic things that are eroding out of the dump.

I wander over the edge of the dump where erosion and bottle hunters have exposed some of the trash. There is a lot of plastic- the 1950s saw the start of the plastic revolution. It's amusing to see that all but one of the pieces is stamped, "Made in the USA." The exception says "Hecho en Mexico." I find a lot of interesting pieces- avoiding things like shoe soles and most of the combs. Instead I pick up toys, bottle caps, fragments with interesting shapes and designs. When my bag is full I bring them back and wash them off next to the guest house. Mike comes out to admire my eccentric project.


Future art.

I'm still feeling a little droopy today, I dunno why. The dinner party went well last night, my house is immaculate. The cats are attentive and behaving themselves. Partly it is because it is already frigging hot here. Partly it is because it is so frigging quiet at my house. I've got a plan though, get out, do things, make things, go places, kiss somebody, forget the weeds in my yard. No use sitting about moping, no sirree.

Nobody's perfect. I was having fun last night at the bar. I was on, the right clothes, the right attitude. I wore this tight 1970s black polyester shirt with the widest lapels. The hot leather man eyed me as did the scruffy blond boy, I was on, that's for sure.

Chris said let's sit down and chat. And everything kinda crumbled after that because it turns out that he knows the Ex fairly well, although how never became clear, and there's one thing that is very clear to me- it is better not to see or talk about Him. After a year and a half it still feels like a dirty knife being stuck in me and twisted, leaving behind a hollow, disenchanted feeling.

I'm not perfect, even with my pretty shirt and too-tight jeans. I sometimes feel a little depressed because I'm lonely. Sometimes I wish the phone would ring a little more often, at moments like that I can be surprisingly pleasant to telemarketers. I miss cooking meals for two, the silliness, the driving someplace together. It's sad to miss the imperfection of that relationship, but that's the way it is, that's the way I feel. I'm hoping that someday I will meet another person to be best friends with and now that I have only three cats and new curtains I'm guessing I look a little less like a ghetto welfare mommy. Maybe if I lose a few pounds, maybe if I act butch-er, maybe if I cut the weeds, maybe that's a bunch of bullcrap but self improvement helps according to Dr. Phil and Dr. Laura and Oprah but not Martha. But who knows what will happen on Homer's World, the writers haven't let on and I missed the last few moments where they showed the upcoming scenes. Damn, I wish I had TiVo.

In today's episode of Homer's World our lead character signed important paperwork. He edited one page of text. He cleaned house. Later he went to a store and impulsively bought new curtains for the dining room, which will have to be hemmed, and two tablecloths, one of which is covering the once-nice-but-now ugly light green couch. The store was having a fabulous sale and the clerk was a very cute blond guy. Our protagonist is pondering what to make for tomorrow's Spanish dinner party. He thinks he is going to just go and buy some fresh exotic fruit and cut in up- fig, pomegranate, starfruit, etc- things one would likely find in Spain or one of its former colonies. In the cooking portion of the episode, he tried out a potato omelet, as suggested by Patti, [vivacious, Samoyed-loving co-worker] but didn't think it was in any way special. Tonight's cliffhanger will involve Homer going out to the bar dressed in his button-less tuxedo shirt to say hello to some of the other characters that live in Sim-Tucson.

Going to NYC. May 21st through 25th. Goals: 1). See my best friend Les, who I knew back in the days when I was sweet and innocent. 2). Go to Second Hand Rose and look at vintage wallpaper and linoleum. 3). Spend a night partying with Mark, Wayne, and anybody else who happens to be in town.

Nightmares all night long. I'm a tad stressed because I'm refinancing my house (5% at 15 yrs) and I thought I would end up with a slightly reduced payment but made a booboo- the online rate calculation didn't include escrow [and didn't remind you about it at all, hmmm...] so my payment is actually going up.

This wouldn't be a problem, if only I was able to manage money better. I'm really good at putting it away for retirement, when the total sum will probably be enough to buy a box of adult diapers and a candy bar. But if I have cash in the bank- gone! So I sat down and made a budget and tried to figure out where the extra money goes to and who knows? It's not like I live a particularly luxurious life- I think the most spendy thing is my cable internet and kitty litter. I don't buy expensive clothes or fancy foods and haven't traveled much lately. But still I don't have any savings and I basically live paycheck to paycheck. Sigh. It isn't like the 1960s when my father supported a family of five while being a truck driver.

So the nightmares revolved around my father, who was much worse about money than me, but it is rather clear that I was comparing myself to him. Whenever I have these sort of dreams it is rather unsettling, and I'm still pretty tense. I'm going to go find a cat to hold for a while, and everything will be fine.

Yuck. Someone in my office has really bad breath. At this very moment it is floating around coating everything in stink-plaque. What do you tell the person? {----}, you really need to floss/brush/gargle/sand blast/vacuum/hose out your oral cavity! Your mouth is a Superfund site! Is that Jimmy Hoffa lodged behind your second premolar?

And now for something totally unrelated. Puff, my black cat, likes to jump up on top of the shower door and watch me shower in the morning. What a cat perv. This morning he decided to reach down and pat me on the head. I'm like, "Puff, what are you doing?" Finally I realized he was wickedly trying to scratch me with his freshly trimmed claws. So poor ole Puff ended up taking a shower with Homer. He didn't like it, but it was probably good for him as he is shedding like crazy. Now if I could only find a human volunteer to take showers with.

In recovery. Wow, I was pretty messed up after getting home. The weird thing about the whole experience is the amnesia. Gavin drove me home but I have only vague recollections of that. What I do remember is the very pleasant feeling of lying down on the couch and the fact that it was so soft, much softer and snugglier than I have ever dreamt it could be. Even now, seven hours after getting doped up, I'm a tad woozy. Not enough to stop me from going to the store to get some frozen onion rings which I have been craving totally for some bizarre reason.

So what's next? Mark has mentioned going to NYC this May and suddenly I'm thinking, well wouldn't that be fun to go see my best friend Les and hang out with Mark and Wayne? Maybe Steven as well.

This is Homer on drugs, Valium and Demoral. Woozey, uncoordinated,m having triubkle speekking,

The colonoscopy and ednoscopy went well. THe monentb the drugs were oumoed in I fell asleep and the next thing I know I'm awakened by a nurse in the recoveruy== room. ABut 5 ninutes and tghen out the door. Gavin drove me back as my klips slowly became unnumbed, But as you can tekk I;m readlly woozing and it is impossible to tell the figures which keyes to hit.

Nothing wrong, although I have a small hernia on my left side that will hav e to be fixed sometime.

I won't torture people any more. Time for something to eat.

Food, food, food. I'm busy fantasizing about food. Really salty french fries and tangy catsup. Vanilla ice cream with fresh strawberries. Squash with lots of butter. Captain Crunch. Cashews. Chocolate. A really fresh peach. Twenty four hours now without chewable food and I can understand how the people on Survivor must feel. Especially because the nasty laxatives are truly, wonderously effective. Do not attempt this at home, they ought to say. From personal experience I tell you, don't attempt to nap after taking some of that stuff. Very bad decision. Very. Bad. Bad.

I'm sooo hungry. Fasting sucks and everybody at work seemed to be talking about food or consuming yummy smelling things. I had to come home anyway, so I stopped at the pet store to buy some litter and my favorite clerk was there. I forgot hunger for a moment as I looked into his pretty blue eyes and admired the bracelet made out of chain links. He is a looker, that's for sure.

Joey got a pretty pink collar with a tinkling bell. She is so happy now that Princess and Bear have gone to live with Karen. No fights, no messes. She has decided to be a good kitty. Yeah!

Blech, I just drank some nasty stuff. I am going to be such a whiny bastard for the next 24 hours.

I've added links to several blogs. I met Sushil online and he is a sweet man from India. I'd like to read more about life in India and how it contrasts with life in Mississippi. Palochi is an easy-on-the-eyes guy [stud?] from Chicago- hey I'll be there sometime this summer! Billy leads an interesting life somewhere on an island in the southern US- he has some very adult adventures. Hope everybody is having a lovely day. I went to Crate & Barrel and back-ordered a rug for my living room.

I had to buy a new tee shirt before John's birthday party. A trip to the mall, where pedestrians apparently think crosswalks are actually crosswalkslowlys. It took forever to find a space and forever to walk to Old Navy and not a cute guy to be seen.,

I go to Gavin's place to pick him and Kevin up.



I'm in my new white tee shirt, my torn jeans, my favorite wingtips- purchased for a dollar in 1985 at Value Village in Ypsilanti. Gavin and Kevin look mighty fine as well, we are a trio of heartbreakers.



Perhaps not as pretty as some, such as a pair of well-done-up gals.



I suspected that Panchesco would be there, and sure enough there he was, looking cuter than the devil. Jamie was excited to be introduced and discuss photography.


Cowboy Dick.

A quick stop at IBTs afterwards, and then a longer visit at the Denture, where I chatted with Reuben and David B. and Jamie and Richard. Everyone was smiling and happy, it was like one of the ladies' club parties my grandmother held in the 1950s.

I got a few compliments- on my new haircat, my clothes. When I was younger I had a terrible self image and it still surprises me to hear someone say, "You look good." If you had told me 19 years ago or so that someone would tell me that, I would have been astounded. Now, as a 40-year-old, it still startles me like a deer in a headlight. I guess you are supposed to say 'thank you,' but I always end up tongue-tied. Sorry about that.

I was naked when I took this picture. I had just finished giving myself a haircut. I haven't gone to a barber or stylist in a couple of years. I figure, given the amount of hair I now possess, why pay somebody when I can do almost as good a job by myself. Almost is the important aspect, since I have had a couple of hair tragedies where the clippers kinda went out of control and I had to buzz everything really short. Tonight's version looks rather respectable, maybe I have hairstylist genes?



Last night I had dinner with David G. and Abe. Abe's a good cook and it was a nice last meal before the upcoming rectal event. I'm sorry, but the special diet totally sucks and I am craving not-allowed foods like crazy, which is all psychological, I guess. On the other hand, I foresee losing a couple of pounds and that would be quite acceptable. Weekend plans? Going to a party tomorrow, maybe hiking on Sunday. How about you?

What's happening? Today I have to start my butt-probe diet! Now that sounds pretty disgusting, but for the next three days I have to eat low fiber foods, I guess to slow everything down prior to taking mega doses of laxatives on Monday and Tuesday morning before the doctor shines his light where the sun don't shine. I mean, I'm pretty certain that no light has ever shined two or three feet up inside my rectum. So I'm getting to masticate [I love that word, sounds dirty but it's not!] things like corn flakes, cottage cheese, applesauce, custard, wax beans, creamy peanut butter, and pancakes. No gristle! Not like I would ever eat gristle [Ihate that word, it does sound dirty!].

Speaking of butt probes, Expurgate's Other Half is coming to town and they are going to have lots of man-on-man action. They are both hot, virile manly-men and could charge good money to allow boyfriend-less guys like me to watch. I bet Senator Santorum would pay to watch as well, if you could get him away from his dog humping. Now I have horrible gaydar but whenever I see his simpering highness (lowness?) on the television I think "Oh geez, he's a total closet case queer!" It is so obvious, which explains why he is such a fag hater. What a sad person. And if that isn't correct it is even sadder because then he doesn't have any excuse for his yukky anti-sex obsessed behavior.

Has anyone else watched Extreme Makeover? I watched the other night and somehow the guys always come out looking like freaks afterwards. The one exception is "Anthony" on their website, who was kinda cute when chubby and became a little stud afterwards. Personally, I look in the mirror and can't envision getting plastic surgery. Even a hair transplant seems kinda silly, however, maybe in ten years I'll change my mind on that.

It is difficult for me to understand how a person can casually leave bombs on a train or carry a sign saying "God Hates Fags." But those are two things that happened today. Intolerance and the hatred of others seems so main stream, so accepted.

I'm an atheist, I've never believed. Never been to church and I'm thankful for that. Many religious folks would call me immoral and evil. Whatever. My personal philosophy is that because I think each person has only one life and then nothing, that I will never do anything to harm another. I don't want to hurt anyone else, and would hope that other people would feel the same way.

Unfortunately, many so-called moral, religious people seem to think that it is perfectly acceptable to bring pain and misery onto others. I was vehemently against the war in Iraq because I knew that thousands of civilians would suffer. The reactions of pro-war people was so immoral- either denying that these people were being wounded or killed, or somehow rationalizing that their pain was alright as long as the United States achieved some abstract and as yet unrealized goals.

The same crowd of people largely support the anti-gay marriage amendment. I've asked pointed questions to local and federal politicians- How does gay marriage harm anyone? And they can offer no rational reason or tell me personal anecdotes of how gay marriage has hurt one of their constituents. It is rather depressing to realize that their ideas are based on hate. As far as I can tell, it takes a lot more energy to hate than to love, and I think love is a much better emotion.

We're lost. Don't you hate that when it happens. The roads signs in the San Rafael area are pretty poor, and twice Gavin and I (well, I was the driver) went down the wrong road. We spent about an hour traversing dirt roads. We stopped and ask Cow #43 for directions, but she told us to just "Moooo-ve on."


Redhead cow.

Finally I spotted the ranch and we drove up and had lunch on its long porch, feeding scraps to the two dogs hanging out.


Lunch with Gavin.

After completing the survey work, back we went. The scenery from San Rafael to Patagonia is pretty spectacular and largely unspoiled.


Heading towards Patagonia.

It was nice spending time with Gavin and talking about all sorts of things. I'm glad we are friends and that we got lost for an hour, just gave us more time to gossip.

Road trip. I have to go down to San Rafael today to survey three small areas to make sure there are no archaeological sites on them. I'm grabbing Gavin and taking him along for company. Should be fun to chat on the way back and forth and Gavin has never seen the prairie there.

Spring is suddenly here- no need for the electric blanket, the back door stands open to let the sun and air in. The cats are happy. Princess and Bear went to go live with Karen, who is excited to have them. Joey suddenly has stopped fighting and it is so quiet now. I'm hoping her other problem will be solved, so far no annoying puddles. Of course the moment I think this she will pee on something.


Daffodils next to porch.

Pretty pictures. Richard is a wizard with the camera. He can make anyone look good. Here's a pic of me and Jeffrey S. at the movie theatre on Saturday night.

Boyfriend material. Chrisafer had a link to the Match.com Physical Attraction test.

According to the test I am:

1). picky, drawn to the most handsome of the handsome
2). older than 30, younger than 50 (makes sense since I am 40)
3). So-called "Ecto-Mesomorphs," with narrow chins and nicely angular faces or So-called "Endomorphs," with full, curved faces
4). Dark brown hair (red is my favorite, but the only redhead in my test was homely)
5). "Bears"- They tend to be bigger guys, with full roundish or oval faces. Most have beards or some kind of facial hair. Typically, you can catch some chest hair peeking from under their shirts.
6). You also picked a number of men that we call "Professors." They're usually clean cut, handsome, and middle-aged.


Best match. The computer told Chrisafer this guy wasn't a hottie for him.

Some others that the computer says I like (and I would agree)







So who is your type?

Take a look see at the movie 9 Dead Gay Guys if you have the chance. Very funny in an awful way. I went last night and Panchesco was sitting behind me. Let me tell you, he has the nicest laugh. We hung out in front of the theater surrounded by Rocky Horror fans and Richard took some pics of one particularly well done-up guy.

Afterwards to the Denture Inn, which was amazingly crowded and I chatted with (and flirted) with the usual crowd. This morning I've been reading the Sunday papers and thinking up ways to avoid yardwork.

Hanging out with Mike and Ned in the backyard. Mike has moved into the guesthouse and built himself a firepit under the big mesquite tree. He and Ned were out there tonight making arrowheads out of volcanic glass. I had been moving some old railroad ties, in preparation for some yardwork tomorrow, and I sat and drank a beer with them.


Mike.


Ned.

Earlier I had gone to a couple of furniture stores and looked at overstuffed chairs. At Copenhagen there really wasn't anything that I liked. At Alexander's I found one, but then had to look through the fabric samples. The Todd Oldham pattern that I liked was outrageously expensive (about $500 for the fabric alone). I settled on a less expensive floral, although I only took down the information, since I'm not up to buying a major piece of furniture until after the house refinancing is done.

Earlier than that I had given a lecture at the Children's Museum, mostly to a bunch of three and four year olds. That was an interesting experience- the kids had no idea what I was talking about. But the parents liked it, especially the very cute bald daddy. Woof.

Spring fever. Yesterday cold. Today, bright and sunny. The daisies are blooming like crazy in my front yard. I planted some flower seeds and they are all springing up. I have irises and daffodils getting ready to blossom as well. I have always really like spring. Back in Michigan the piles of snow would gradually disappear and suddenly tulips and daffodils would appear. It was my favorite time of the year. The seasons are less intense here in Tucson, but the turn from cold to warm is still exciting. If only it wouldn't switch from warm to hellishly hot!


Daisies in Homer's frontyard.

Did you step in it?. Something stinks. George's new tv ads have arrived in Arizona. Images of the wreckage of the World Trade Center and a flag-draped body. I wonder how it would feel if one of my relatives had died there and a politician was using their dead body as a graphic in a commercial. I wonder whether the person who chose that image also chose the one of Laura sitting next to Georgie. "I'm troubled" by her unhappy appearance. She looks like a bitter old shrew, but then George has been busy fucking over the rest of the nation and probably neglecting his domestic policy, if you know what I mean. Or maybe he accidently poked his nasty old thing somewhere it shouldn't and Laura has a little annoying itch.

I'm troubled about Martha being declared guilty. Her stock value drops by one fourth. Why aren't the prosecutors charged with a corporate crime? Martha may have made a stupid decision. Who wouldn't act on a tip? I wonder if her success as a woman and her donations to the Democratic party had anything to do with it? Meanwhile Kenny Lay, George fuck bud, is lounging about in one of his mega-mansions. I wonder if he ever wakes up at night and thinks, "I wish I hadn't screwed thousands of people out of their retirement money."

So what crap will we step in next?

Snow day. From work I can look north to the Santa Catalina mountains and see the snow up on the peaks. It certainly feels cold enough where I'm at, at about 2500 ft elevation. My house is so cold too, poor old Puff just wants to sit on my lap.


The view from work.

My cat problems may be solved in a happy manner. My Ex's mother wants two cats (her dogs died last year) and so I offered her Princess and Bear. Karen loves little miss Princess, who is damn pretty, and I think she'll like Bear as well, who is timid and well-mannered. So perhaps Joey, who hates the younger cats, will quit having her mental problems and stop the awful urination business.

In other news, well- I really don't have anything else to talk about. So dammit, I'm going to go do something about that matter. I'll let you know what trouble I get into.

Makeover. I couldn't get the five queer guys to make a housecall so I decided to take the situation into my own hands and exit the beard, at least for a while.


Homer in March.

It is strange how you can look at a picture of yourself and see things. Like the fact that I don't appear to have an upper lip or that one eye is a little bigger than another or that my skin has a slightly yellow cast to it. What's that all about?

Gross, but true. I'd noticed this little black spot at the the top of my right arm. I'd poked at it a couple of times, but this morning I decided to really poke at it. I'd thought it might be an ingrown hair, which I've had a few on my beard. But as I dug at it (it was pretty far below the skin) that didn't seem to be the case. Finally after using a needle and squeezing really hard, I was able to get it out, a small oval hard object. What the fudge was it?

I took it to work and totally grossed out Jenny and Jane when I explained why I needed to use Jenny's high power microscope. I wish I had a picture of Jane's horrified face. Well, Jenny (who knows a lot about rocks) looked at the disgusting anomaly and declared that it was a little pebble (I was fearful that it might be an insect cocoon and I might have something terrible like Guinea worm [note I was going to link to a picture, but after checking Google images I decided NOT to).

How the hell did I get a little pebble inside of me. I mean, it was at least a quarter inch under my skin. Granted, it wasn't very big, but still... Blech, this beats yesterday's entry in terms of yuckiness, I'll probably never get to make out with any of the cute bloggers who read this, they'll all think, "Oh, it's Homer, the pebble man."

Damn, writer's block! I kinda knew that I was going to have it tonight and when I sat down I was so right! So I've decided to pick a totally strange topic. Scars. And make a list.

1). Forehead, center, cousin Katie's croquet mallet.
2). Right hand, between the knuckles, glass bottle fragment in an outhouse.
3). Left hand, palm and along outer side, Mama Cat in December.
4). Left hand, along outer side, unknown.
5). Right shoulder, top of scapula, infected acne spot.
6). Left lower leg, front, glass coffee table at a party.
7). Left thigh, front, infected acne spot.
8). Neck, front above Adam's apple, surgery to remove large benign cyst.
9). Penis, circumcision!

How many scars do you have?

Okay, bronchitis officially sucks. If I had a dollar for every time I have coughed over the last five days, why I'd be a lot happier than I am at this very moment, since no one is paying me in my feeble but constant attempt to turn my lungs inside out. At the staff meeting this morning I realized I was just plain miserable, and decided to come home and lie in bed for most of the afternoon. I feel a tiny bit of betterness, so perhaps that was the smart thing to do.

At the Oscar party last night I shocked everybody by announcing I hated Finding Nemo. I was told that it was the favorite movie of one guest. Well, I thought the movie made fun of mentally ill people dressed up as fishes, and I really wanted the evil shark to eat a couple of the main characters. Anyway, I think I made a bad impression, but you know what, I just didn't care. I stayed for a couple of hours but the whole event was so dull, no naughty outfits or outspoken politics and Billy Crystal was just dull as cardboard.

Say hello to Cosmic Noise, he's yet another cute Tucson blogger.