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.

A letter. [lined writing paper, folded, burnt in several spots. Found by a co-worker in his yard]

Baby

Hey

I don't know what to do cuz last night we were outside n I did his hair right then I said "Oh you look so sexy" then I kissed him.

You know what he said oh your not Kim.

I was like no I'm not. he said "Well you were all gurly and datz so sexy." but I was like whatever. So yeah I do [like] him but datz cuz of him bein him not bein someone he'z not so I'm being my self starting Monday cuz I'm gonna strip my hair and straightning it. When it'z blond and wear a skirt (yeah right) i'll wear gurly ass pantiz cuz I'm going to go get my new cloths sometime dis month. So gzg love ya always. 4ever

I [heart] you
Lanice

[in purple pen] James wants you to write him Lanice do you like James? Yes or NO

Homer's commentary about this letter.

This simple letter, written by a girl perhaps 12-years-old, tells such a complex story. Of love and longing. Rejection and reconsideration. Of careful planning and plotting.

Lanice gave the note to her un-named friend, who wrote an interesting question on it and passed it back. Somehow the note was then folded up, set afire, and blew away.

I wonder if Lanice's new blonde hairdo and her "gurly ass pantiz" worked? In some ways, I hope not, since she is probably too young to be messin' with James.

I transcribed the letter exactly as written. I think Lanice was deliberately mis-spelling some words, but I could be wrong. In any case, her wording reminded me of Shakespeare, especially when she writes "but datz cuz of him bein him not bein someone he'z not."

You go Lanice, good luck where ever you are.

How ironic. The woman leading Arizona's anti-gay marriage amendment got herself killed in a car accident while driving to Phoenix to attend the petition delivery ceremony.

I tried very hard to feel sorry for this person. Really, I did. But then I got over it.

She led a group that thrived on promoting discrimination against homosexuals. Her associates were vile, evil people who hate gay people.

I don't believe in fate or karma. I do believe that history has a way of exposing the flaws in people. If she should make it into the history books, Lynn Stanley will be remembered as a bigot. What a wasted life.

Happy 230th US of A. Let's hope things improve this year.

I tried to make French vanilla ice cream today but the custard got all eggy and then the ice cream maker engine over-heated and by then I said, "I regret I only have one dessert for my party!"


Red, white, and blue cake.

Luckily, the cake recipe from Martha's Baking cookbook came out nicely, although once again I wish for that elusive food-stylist boyfriend, preferably with food photography skills like Aaron or Jonny.

On the application for my next boyfriend there will be a spot that says, can you dance like Johnny Hazzard?

Johnny Hazzard.

Because I am apparently an evil person, I stole this picture from Adam. Meet one of his four kittens, born last week at his domicile in Phoenix.

Adam's cute baby.

If I didn't already have three cats, a dog, and an evil disposition, I'd be begging Adam for the privilege of taking care of the little feller when he is older. But Ms. Joey wouldn't like the little feller and would pee on the furniture, and since I am pure evil I probably wouldn't make a good parent to the wee kitty.

Maybe I could adopt this cute redhead instead. I just hope he isn't allergic to cats, a dog, and doesn't mind that I am evil.


Cute redhead.

Actually, I'm only one percent evil. What is that saying- "Hell hath no fury like a pissed-off Homer" or something similar.

I am not religious. I have never been to a church service. I have never believed in a god/goddess/other higher being. I doubt that I will change my mind on this. I don't try to convert people to my views. I thanked the Jehovah Witness woman nicely this morning for handing me a brochure while I was doing yardwork. I've never tried to convert religious people to my beliefs. I have protested outside a Baptist Church when it was holding an Ex-Gay seminar, but that is the only time I have done something like that. I take offense when religious people try to impose their beliefs on other people through legislation. I think religious people often do good things. A very close friend of mine attends church every Sunday and I'm glad that it brings him happiness.

One aspect of my personal beliefs is the understanding that you only live once. As a result, I make an effort to not harm others through my actions. Once in a while I fail at this, even minor infractions to my personal moral code typically make me guilt-ridden.

Recently, a certain Christian gay blogger has taken offense at general statements I have made on my blog or in comments on other blogs- 1). that Christians like to feel superior to other people and 2). that the 2000-year-old Bible may not be the best tool for organizing one's life today, and 3). that Christians/Muslims ignore the fact that other past peoples (Greeks, Romans, Egyptians) believed as strongly in their gods as modern folks do.

I realize that these are, in fact, my opinions. Feel free to disagree with them.

However, I have never personally attacked This Certain Christian Gay Blogger. In contrast, he has repeatedly attacked me in quite a personal fashion. TCCGB feels free to suggest "[my] beliefs come from unenlightened prejudice," that "Why should your belief in the superiority of atheism get a pass while my confidence in my beliefs gets mocked," or, as written on his blog "My, don't we feel superior."

So there you have it, I'm unenlightened, prejudiced, superior, mocking.

Please note that I have never stated that I believe atheism is superior to any religion. I have never personally mocked TCCGB's religious beliefs. TCCGB never bothered to email me personally to discuss these points. Instead, he has used his blog or the comment section in another blog to suggest things about me that are, at least as far as I can tell, not true. I am not unenlightened, I am not prejudiced, I don't feel superior to others. Okay, once in a while I mock politicans, but that's about all the public mocking I do.

So anyways, I guess these personal attacks bother me because they seem particularly venomous, as if TCCGB would like others to dislike me as much as he apparently dislikes me. I don't know what to say. He's never met me, he doesn't know what kind of person I am. I understand well the feelings another blogger recently had when he was attacked in someone's blog.

So there you have it.