Homer'sWorld

I just finished watching the finale of the show Day Break. You can see all 13 episodes on the ABC website. I highly recommend watching- what a well written show that made you think-think-think. Plus Taye Diggs and Adam Baldwin and Mitch Pileggi- hotsters all.

"It's the blackmailer Whitney!" I'm sitting in front of my computer typing in newspaper articles from 1871 while listening to online Passions. I'm so glad my life is free from witches, blackmailers, guys faking cancer, and hermaphroditic serial killers.

Ohmigosh, Tabitha's sending Spike into the basement! I hope something bad happens to him.

So yes, a quiet night at home. Jimbo is back in DC, Brady is over at Patrick's. I'm excited though, Glenn is coming next Monday! And only 8 days until the Non Denominational Boiled Egg Decorating and Hunt Party! I wonder who'll find the most eggs this year?

Tucson Gothic, by Panchesco.


Homer and Jimbo, March 2007.

The Benadryl kicked in on the way to the airport. Two pills, trying to plug up my nose and eyes, like that mythical Dutch boy and the dike. By the time I got to work, well I was flyin' like a bird. My skin crawled. I'm very susceptible to drugs of any kind. I swear, aspirins give me a huge buzz.

So anyways, real hard to concentrate at work when your skin is crawling and your fingers don't want to go where I want them to go. But, still, amazingly productive and many great archaeological scientific finds were almost made. Today I've decided to take one pill and enjoy a slightly less frenzied morning.

At the Mexican Loteria farewell party, many useful but inexpensive prizes were won.


Guest of Honor, Jimbo.

Not all of the players understood the concept of Loteria [Bingo].

Brady.

And not everyone won their dream-prize, most notably Vince who got the corn-on-the-cob holder set.

Vince.

But perhaps because the four pizzas I made were so delish, everyone seemed to have a lovely time. Jimbo was amazed at the ease at which I whipped 'em out,

Patrick shows Frank proper how to do a do-rag.

The cheesecake brownies came out very well, I just had the last one for breakfast.


John.

Jimbo and I hung out Frank and John afterwards and had a long, convulated conversation.


Twirler Panchesco.

Meanwhile, I am sure Panchesco was at home practicing.

I had some margaritas at David C's party and Jimbo had to drive home. At the party I admired his chickens and flowers.


Pretty flowers.

Time certainly flies when you are having fun, especially if Panchesco is there.

Panchesco.

Now I'm at home and I've taken some aspirins to head off a suspected post-drinkypoo headache.

To answer a reader question: 10th cousins once removed. This means that Jimbo's ancestor 10 generations back and my ancestor 11 generations back are the same person. The "removed" part indicates how many generations different we are. Jimbo and my father have the same ancestor 10 generations back, so they are 10th cousins. I'm one generation down, so I am once removed. Does that make any sense? I hope so.

So I sent Jimbo up to Phoenix with my car- I'm just finishing feeling like an allergy zombie. Thanks to the huge rain we had yesterday, all of the pollen had settled and I am no longer an oozing mess.


Puff imitates a Kiss member.

So I just sat down and figured out that Jimbo and I are 10th cousins once removed. Our descent from our common ancestor, Robert Ransom, who lived in Plymouth Colony, Massachusetts in the 1640s, is as follows:

Robert
Joshua---Robert
Susanna--- Deborah
Elizabeth--- Robert
Daniel--- Priscilla
Hannah--- Alden
Mary--- Daniel
Alzina ---William
James ---Faith
James ---Morrell
Jimbo ---Lee
----------Homer

Jimbo is actually in my father's generation, so I'm going to start calling him Daddy from now on.

This is not the Grand Canyon. I woke up this morning, after endless nose-blowing and eyes-watering from the night before. Soooooo tired. So I asked Jim if we could do something that involved less driving. So we went to Kartcher Caverns instead. Except they were almost sold out, so Jim went on the cave tour while I watched the lengthy orientation film and dramatically dabbed at my weepy eyes.


Cottonwoods.

Afterwards, we went to the San Pedro River and saw several vermillion flycatchers and one hot historian.

It is thundering outside now, finally a rainstorm after a couple of months without. We contemplate going out for a drink, I believe that will be the plan.

One nice thing about antihistamine eye-drops, they make my eyes blindingly white!!!

Jimbo's Big Gay Tucson Adventure, version 3.

Many things to do, many things done. We walked over to the new archaeology dig, stopping to visit with the horses at the corral 500 ft from my front gate. On the way back I showed Jim the rock art and bedrock mortars, where mesquite pods were once pounded into flour, thousands of years ago.


Bedrock mortars.

Afterwards we visited with Bob and Steve and admired their beautiful 1893 adobe house.

Bob and Jimbo.

Little Miss Peaches always wants me to carry her around, and I do as I am barked.

PEACHES!!!

Lunch at Rosa's with the waiter, George, very handsome in an Aztec prince kinda way. Then a stop at the Sweetwater Wetlands, where the ducks were plentiful and an enormous egret stood.

After a stop at Mexican Safeway I came home and made dinner for Jim, Chris, Jimbo, and Vincent. For dessert, yellow cake with vanilla-coconut whipped cream and fresh strawberries.


The Dessert.

The guys played Mousetrap afterwards, although the rules seemed much more complex than any of us remembered.


Mousetrap!

In other news, I was helping Jimbo with his family history and of course discovered that we are something like 15th cousins. He is also related to various royal families, including King Ferdinand (of Columbus and Queen Isabella fame). I always knew there was some Queen in him.

I pointed out the muscle-bound hottie to Jimbo at the airport and later he pointed out the tall, bearded geekster- who totally cruised us.

Afterwards we drove directly to La Indita and ran into Bob and Steve and the four of us had a loverly supper of delicious Mexican foods.

At home, Jimbo has been playing with pussies. My cats adore the strange men I drag home, climbing all over them. Jim is no exception.


Jimbo, Puff, and Mama.


Brady is here and they are gossiping like a pair of old ladies- about this man or that. The phone rings and it is Patrick looking for his bf. Just another night in Tucson.

Happy Birthday War In Iraq!!!

Ohmigosh, it seems like it was just yesterday that you were the twinkle in those Neo-con's eyes, and look at you now!



You are getting to be such a big boy, all grown up. Of course, you have a lot more years of growing up to do!

This party is a lot like the ones back in the day, why I well remember going to the fourth birthday party of your cousin Vietnam War. I'm guessing the food at your party if a lot better, you know how much I love hummous!

Oh, we are going to play party games! I love games! Drill-a-hole-in-a-Sunni-Arab is one of my favorites! Here, let me put this plastic rain poncho on you before they hand you the Black-n-Decker, and make sure you leave it on for the Shite Pinata afterwards! Oh look, the party napkins have torture scenes from Abu ghraib on them. Collect all 128!!!



Did you get any good presents from Gramps and Grama? Oh! Your own personal Improvised Explosive Device? I hear that all the lil terrorists are clamoring for them. You are so lucky that Bombs-R-Us wasn't sold out! When you are a grown up, like me, maybe you'll get to push the big red button and blow up even bigger things! Like restaurants filled with people! What a bad time to make a reservation!

Oh dear, I really must be going back to the Green Zone and crawl back down into my bunker. Yes, I hate to miss the rest of the party, but rumor has it that one of those super fun chlorine tank bombs is going to explode in the market and I forgot, darn it, to bring my gas mask!

Well, little boy, I hope your next four years are as exciting, wonderful, and optimistic as the last four years. Now give Uncle George a kiss on the cheek and I'll be off.

So I'm spending this weekend doing spring cleaning- necessary because Jimbo is coming next week and I don't want him to shriek at the enormous dust bunnies hiding in the corners of rooms. First thing was a trip to the nursery, where I purchased flowers and vegetables. As usual, I bought more than I had room for in my pots, so someone at work is getting a mixture of flowers.


Vegetable garden, Spring 2007.

Seymour, the Artichoke, is busy growing. I moved a couple of small shrubs and planted seven tomatoes and a bell pepper. I have a couple of daffodils hiding beneath Seymour, avoiding the heat.


Allergic.

I've been pretty miserable the last few days- having a cold and massive allergies at the same time is just obnoxious, especially since I apparently have allergy-induced pinkeye in both eyes!

So anyways, the fridge is sparkling, the slipcovers and rugs are washed, I'm sweeping and mopping and everything will be tidy.

Dr. Tran!



Makes me laugh. In a cup!

Some family scandals:

- My grandmother's father's sister had an affair with a farmhand and gave birth to a daughter, who was put up for adoption (this happened about 1910). Grandma saw that woman into her 70s, with the woman apparently not realizing they were first cousins.

- My father accidentally ran over and killed a kid who was sliding down a hill and slid right into the path of the car my father was driving. This was in 1954.

- My great-great-great grandmother Perlina divorced her husband who had "moved all his furniture, including the only cooking stove in the house and left (her) entirely destitute" (the house was a rented one). This was back in 1884.

- My maternal grandfather's first cousin Fanny's house caught fire and she and five of her eight children died from smoke inhalation in 1942.

- I voted for Bill Clinton. Twice.

Brady was really excited because his fav 'merican Doll contestant, Sanjaya, wasn't eliminated. Geez, you should hear him dialing over and over again to keep [his words] "My long-haired cutey" in the show. He is obsessed with that dude.

Personally, I like LaKisha a bit more. She's from Michigan, so she's down with it.

I have the IP address of a commenter "Sick Fags"- 4.190.166.99

Can someone explain to me how to look up this person?

Update: Thanks to Phil, I now know that the person's IP address originates from:

OrgName: Level 3 Communications, Inc.
OrgID: LVLT Address: 1025 Eldorado Blvd.
City: Broomfield StateProv: CO PostalCode: 80021 Country: US

Chairman of the Joint Chiefs General Peter Pace says: "I believe homosexual acts between two individuals are immoral and that we should not condone immoral acts," Pace was quoted as saying in the newspaper interview. "I do not believe the United States is well served by a policy that says it is OK to be immoral in any way."


Peter!

Hahahahahaha. Petey job involves coordinating things so that People A can go out and kill People B. Isn't that just a little bit immoral? A teensy eensy bit immoral. Oh come on, admit it, What would Jesus Do sorta thing? Wouldn't the world be a much better place if there was more loving instead of more killing? Peter P. (ohmigod, if you say that outloud you'd be a hit at a watersports themed sex party!) needs to grow up and stop worrying that homosexuals want anal with him. Cause I sure don't.

And now for something totally unrelated.

Hot redheads. Jimbo is posting pictures of hot redheads for Saint Patrick's Day. Let's look at this picture of my friend Jeffrey T.


Jeffrey T.

Jeffrey lives in Boston where he teaches small children, who come from households where English is not the primary language, how to speak, read, and write in English. Jeffrey is one of the nicest men I know, and he is also a very attractive redhead. I'd rather look at his picture, or pictures of cute puppies, than nasty men who get all freaked out by the idea of me kissing handsome redheaded men.

Notice how much happier Jeffrey looks in his picture than Peter P. That is because Jeffrey is a well-adjusted, handsome redhead and Peter P. is a freaked out homophobe who has nightmares (or fantasies) involving...... I'll let you imagine the details, this is a family-orientated blog.

I've sat in the same cubicle in my office since moving to Tucson about 12 years, 9 months, and 19 days or so. Of course not every day, including today, when I sat at home with a sore throat and booger bombs. Well, one of my co-workers is moving on to a new job and I'm planning on migrating over to his cubicle, which is bigger and has a window. In the last year of so coyotes, a bobcat, and Harris hawks have sat outside that window, so much more exciting that the view in my roughly 9 by 10 linoleum squares.

So, yeah, I stayed home and watched the last half of Passions and ate non-diety things (burp!) and took several naps. I was going to trim my beard but need to get a new trimmer, the old one is dying and someone lost the number 1 guard.

I know, I know, exciting. Here, look at this picture of the cute puppy instead.


I'm gonna grow up and bite you.

Despite a nasty sore throat, I spent a few hours this weekend walking around my neighborhood. The City is working on getting the neighborhood on the National Register of Historic Places and I've been helping out. First I wrote the history- not such a hard thing to do since I've done a couple of archaeology projects around here (there is a 2,000-year-old village site less than 500 ft from my front door). Now I'm taking pictures of every single building in the neighborhood. That comes out to two pictures of roughly 500 buildings. What did I get myself into.

Some of the neighbors are suspicious. Others just want to chat with me. I stopped for a few minutes and chatted with three pitbull puppies. My hands still have that puppy breath smell.


Bow wow.


Growl!

It is already hot outside, before noon. Spring lasted about a week and summer has arrived.

So, Newt Gingrich couldn't keep his cock out of his mistress while married to one of his wives. When he wasn't fucking the mistress, grunting and groaning and wheezing with his pig-like eyes scrunched up as he fantasized about Hillary or Chelsea or Sandra Day O'Connor, he was spear-heading the investigation of Clinton for getting a blow job from Monica. Yes, the Newtster had a little Christian failing or something similarly moronic. But Clinton's was worse, 'cause he said he didn't. And by the way, Scooter needs to be pardoned ASAP.

Rush Limbaugh, drug addict and unmarried Viagra user who also regularly rails against premarital sex, has taken up the screed that John Edwards is somehow feminine and somehow that is a bad thing. I wonder how the women of the world feel about this? Do you feel intrinsically evil because you don't have a cock? Well, apparently you should. But then, who really wants to hear your opinion, except Ann and Michelle who are supposedly hot, but since I'm a going-to-hell cock-sucker I really can't tell.

So, Alberto Gonzales leads a Justice Department that fires people who wouldn't hurry up and indict Democrats. And, of the Justice Department investigations that have taken place since Bush magically appeared in the White House, 79 percent have targeted Democrats and 18 percent Republicans. Can you spell L-A-C-K-E-Y. He, apparently, can't.

Does any of this surprise me? I regularly call my US Senators office to express my opinion and the staffmember listlessly makes a tick mark on some scratch pad and at the end of the day they click on that computer thing, so useful for playing mahjong, and make one of those magic internets messages that scurries through the tubes to mystical, magical Bushington, DC, where the next morning a bright, hopeful intern excitedly gathers those tick-marks up and makes a memo or something to send to Mr. High-and-Mighty Senator, who probably reads it while pooping or fucking some hot young page because he is having a failing moment too. Doesn't everyone?

I'm so glad (am I?) that I don't have a porn star past to be exposed about. But if I did, hopefully my career would have ended with a bang and hopefully I'd have had a really clever porn name.

Your task, if I had been a porn star, what was the name of my best-known movie? What was my screen name? I await your answers.

Alright, Jay wins: Phil Dirt in "Fuck Rogers in the 69th Century.

Busy as a bee at work today. When I got home there was a daffodil blooming, something I didn't expect.



Blurrodil.

Plane ticket purchased for trip to Dallas to see Mark & Brian and Adam and hopefully Rusty too.

The Vote for Zombie short film that I was an extra in is now online.


Introducing Homer as "Cowboy Zombie."

You can glimpse me as "Cowboy Zombie" in the film and the "making of" film.

High school Tuesday.

Glenn recently posted his high school yearbook picture. He was very wholesome and cute back then. I was chatting with Archerr and convinced him to post his picture. Very handsome (and conservative!) look.

Now my contribution:


Latin Club dinner, 1980.


I took Latin in 10th grade and we had a dinner where the first year students were slaves to the second year students. I remember that some of the second year students made Dorisrene eat fudge, which turned out to have been made from chocolate flavored Ex-Lax. Those were the good old days.

I look at the picture and I'm amazed at how much I've changed. Who knew I was inside that person?

Mexican Safeway isn't the same since Byron quit. So I've started going to Food City to buy produce. I think that Aaron and Johnny would enjoy walking through the store. It caters to a largely Mexican-American clientele.


Food City at St. Mary's and Grande (Ciudad del Alimento en St. Maria y Grande).

On Saturday they had a chili roaster fired up in front of the store. The smell of the chilis made me so hungry.

Peppers for 69 cents each (pimientas para 69 centavos cada uno).

I grab a blue basket and head to the produce section. I pass a teenager balancing three huge slabs of ribs- do people actually eat that much meat?


Cactus pads (cojines del cacto).

The produce selection is so much better than Safeway. Some of the fruits and vegetables aren't so pretty, but they taste much better.



Hot peppers (pimientas calientes).

Lots of things I don't normally buy- cactus fruits, guavas, tomatillos, a big variety of peppers.


Cone sugar (el azúcar del cono).

Along one side are huge bins of exotic sweets- I can't figure out what some of them are supposed to be.


Spices (especias)

No spices in the bottle- instead they package them in see-through plastic bags. The smell of chamomile is especially strong.



Statues above milk (estatuas sobre la leche).

There is almost a whole aisle of various types of tortillas and a third of an aisle devoted to lard. I was surprised to see big pieces of lard wrapped in plastic wrap on those little plastic trays. So much lard. There are not many skinny people at this store.

Above the dairy section is a big selection of statues of various saints and Jesús, José, y Maria. In amongst them is an enormous yellow piggy bank, the pig smiling broadly.

I came home and made chili rellenos

Jim, Chris, and Allen all assured me the key lime pie I made was tasty. It was a tad too sour for my tastes.


Key lime pie. I really need a food stylist/photographer bf!

I was late to watch Rome because I attended the annual meeting of a non-profit group I'm the newsletter editor for. To my surprise, they gave the annual award to me. It was a basket of fattening foods.

No progress on the NS,NS diet this week, even though I really behaved myself. I can't decide what is trendier, laxatives or emetics?

I almost had Copier Rage today while at the historical society. I waited patiently while the idiot copied an article from a book. He went through an elaborate routine for each page, and seemed utterly perplexed that so many pages came out wrong. You'd think that the use of a copier machine by an adult would be pretty easy. Wrong.

He probably spent a half hour copying a dozen pages, blithely ignoring the people who needed to use the same fucking machine. I closed my eyes and imagined kicking him in the ass. Repeatedly. It would have been really satisfying to do so.

Compounding this was the fucking annoying librarian, my least favorite one there. He is deliberately rude and lazy and makes a big production out of doing his job. I know the other librarians dislike him, because he makes their jobs more difficult. I had to look at numerous files, and he gave a big sigh each time he handed one to me. It was all I could do to not tell him off in front of everyone. "Just do your fucking job." He's just putting his time in so he can retire.

Have I vented enough? Don't get me started on Snowbird drivers, people who wait for the last minute to write out a check at the supermarket, Home Depot employees, and so on.

American Idle. Brady was trying to tempt me last night with low-fat chocolate popsicles. My willpower overcame his vain efforts. The "No snacks, No shame" diet continues. I tried on a shirt today and see that I still have a little ways to go before complete contentment is obtained.

Brady is a big girl when watching American Idol. I wish I had taken a photo when they announced that the one guy was booted out and not that other one. Brady's mouth dropped to the floor and his squeals of protest were both loud and decidedly not one would expect to hear from a hirsute gentleman such as he.


Homer and Brady.

The quilt that Brady has draped over himself was made from scraps left over from the 1970s, when my mother was The Polyester Pantsuit Queen. That was truly a miracle fabric- never wrinkled, easy to clean. My mother had probably a dozen pantsuits and to this day regrets throwing the pattern away, because, well, they were so stylish.


Pantsuit quilt.

I think Brady would look very nice in a polyester pant suit, don't you agree?

I asked Randy at his mother's memorial service if his sister-in-law had had plastic done. I'd already observed that there was enough Botox in the room to paralyze an elephant.

Really, this was the way someone's life should be celebrated- with a party with people standing around talking and laughing and living. Lois had a good life, and her kids adored her. She had many friends, most of whom she had made since moving to Tucson about 15 years ago. I remember going to her house for holidays, back when I was Randy's roommate, and she was always sweet to me, making me feel comfortable when I was so far from home.

Of course the Gays tend to cluster in these sort of events and I hung out with Scott and Don and we surveyed the crowd. The three of us honed in on tall, beefy, goateed Jewish straight man. Is it inappropriate to discuss how nice someone's butt is at a memorial service? And to discuss other, less refined topics?

If they hold a service after I keel over, I hope that after the get done praising me some of the gay guys stand around and tell some very, very naughty stories.