it's over now

I sat waiting for weeks for the 23rd of June to arrive. Now it has come and gone, seemingly in the blink of an eye. Last Wednesday after work, the girls and I packed our bags and descended upon McDoogal Hall for one final night of partying in Dupont before we flew out to San Francisco for Pride the following morning. Chuck, Nick and I tore it up at hip-hop night at Chaos until close. Then we came back to Chuck's for a little beauty shop and Broadway musicals. Nothing screams gay like make-overs and Aida!

By 5 AM, we were all dressed and hitting the streets to Dulles. Stress Me Out Sue made her first of many appearances that morning. Man that bitch can move! Anyway, our journey out to San Francisco was largely uneventful. We got to Chris's house in Berkley around 1 and were back in San Francisco by 3 that afternoon. We walked around downtown for a bit and then decided to head over to the Castro for happy hour before going home to change and then go out for the night.

That never happened. Two for one happy hour is all I can say. I know that we started at The Bar. I vaguely recall walking into Daddy's. Next thing I know, I'm waking up Friday morning on a mattress in Chris's basement. The large gap that I am missing from that night goes something like this. Blah blah making out with Jess blah blah turning green on BART blah blah miraculously throwing up in trash can on BART platform at North Berkley blah blah passing out on floor. Good times!

Friday morning we all woke up pretty early to head back into San Francisco for a day of sight-seeing and shopping. That night we were all excited to go out, but at the last minute it almost didn't happen. We gave the fans what they demanded though. There may have been some flirting and then shaming at Daddy's. There may also have been some juniper berries consumed throughout the night. We finished the night at the End Up, a club that opens Friday night and doesn't close until Monday morning. I'm sure you can only imagine the crowd there. It was fun, expect for all the whackos that decided we looked like we needed a new best friend.

Saturday was more shopping and sight-seeing during the day. That night, we went to the Pink Party in the Castro. It was unreal. There were so many people out and about in the streets. I loved it for the spectacle, but it was damn near impossible to get into any bars, much less get a drink. Nick and I parked ourselves in the back of Daddy's and actually had a great time people watching and dancing to an eclectic mix of music.

Later, we met with Chris and Chuck to head to the Opening Party, along with the cousins. Those bitches are so evil. They were all whispering for us to act up. When Deborah hit the stage at 2 AM, I was only about eight feet away. It was at that point that I decided that I really needed to give it my all. Boy did I ever. I was dancing harder than Deborah's back-up dancers on stage with her. I was dancing so hard that I apparently knocked the Gatorade from someone's hand. All I remember is that I was en fuego the entire time she was on stage. It was phenomenal.

From The main party, we headed over to an after hours party, after a brief unintended foot tour of downtown at 6 AM Sunday morning. The after hours was fun, but we were all pretty spent from the main party so we only stayed about two hours. That was plenty of time for us all to stare at the amazingly hot bartender in nothing but a Speedo. Yum. I get a little weak in the knees just thinking about him! ;)

We went back to Berkeley, at 9 AM on BART, still in our club clothes, as the rest of the world is starting their day. After a disco nap, we got back up and went back into town for the street festival. The festival was even more amazing than the Pink Party. It was about fifteen blocks of downtown San Francisco blocked off and full of people, booths and stages. Deborah performed again, and was as fantastic as the night before. Love her and can't wait for some new music!

After a few hours of people watching, we were ready to head home and gear up for the closing party. After dinner, everyone laid down to relax and take a short nap. Those short naps turned into full on sleep. When everyone finally got up after 11, we had less than an hour for all four of us to get ready and out the door. Somehow we pulled it off. We got to the closing party, cousins in tow, around 1 AM. When you walked in the door, it was like walking into a locker room sauna. It was a mixture of sweat and humidity you can't find anywhere else. By the end of the night, we learned that they didn't turn the AC on at all that night. I'm sure you can only imagine how hot it was.

Regardless, we danced that night like our lives depended on it. I have NEVER danced so hard in my life. I don't think that even my girls were ready for the moves that were pouring out of me. I am not sure what it was, but for the first time in my life, I completely let go of all my inhibitions and just tore the shit out of that dance floor. David Knapp was an awesome DJ. There was not one song that I wasn't getting into. We finally left the club shortly before 6 AM.

When we walked out into the grey light of morning, we were completely drenched in sweat. My jeans were SOAKED from top to bottom. It looked like I was just emerging from a swimming pool, with all of my clothes on. We walked down to BART to start our final journey back to North Berkley. The rest of the world was starting their Monday mornings, coming into work. I can only imagine how pretty we must have looked!

After a shower and a nap, we woke up around 11 and packed everything to leave. We made it to the airport and found the flight before ours had been delayed. We managed to get on this earlier flight (which ended up taking off at the time of our scheduled flight). After over 12 hours of dancing in 24 hours, a five hour plane ride is not fun, to say the least. We finally touched down at Dulles at midnight. Almost two hours later and I was walking in the door to my apartment.

I still think about little things from the weekend and crack up laughing. There has only been one other vacation that even comes close to how great this one was. I had the absolute time of my life and I couldn't have asked for three better friends to share it with. Love you girls!!! Thanks for making my first true Pride magical and memorable!

naughty girl

I couldnt' better describe how I am feeling right now if I tried.

I'm feelin sexy
I wanna hear you say my name boy
If you can reach me
You can feel my burning flame
I'm feelin kind of n-a-s-t-y
I might just take you home with me
Baby the minute i feel your energy
Your vibe's just taken over me
Start feelin so crazy babe
I feel the funk coming over me
I don't know what's gotten into me
The rhythm's got me feelin so crazy babe
Tonight i'll be your naughty girl
I'm callin all my girls
We're gonna turn this party out
I know you want my body
Tonight i'll be your naughty girl
I'm callin all my girls
I see you look me up and down
And i came to party

islands in the stream

That is what I woke up to this morning. For some reason, I had a dream this morning that Dolly and I were singing that song together. I'm not going to lie, it was a FABULOUS duet. Then I woke up and haven't gotten that song out of my head all day.

I am so excited right now that it is impossible for me to focus on work. The girls and I leave bright and early tomorrow morning for our trip to San Francisco for Pride. I can't wait! I have never been out west before, so it is even more exciting for me. I know that there will be plenty of shenanigans, some to tell about in my blog, others not. ;)

What makes this trip even sweeter is that everything went really well at the cardiologist's yesterday. The doctor said that everything looked good. My blood pressure was a little high, but she thought that might have just been nerves from being at the doctor's. I have to go back in six months for another check up. I am really glad that my family pushed me so hard to go have that check-up. Now that I know my family history, and how my genetics are stacked against me, it is good to know that I am already being monitored. Just one more piece of good news for me to celebrate in San Francisco!!! Oh my, I feel shenanigans in the air!!

doesn't really matter

Today I told myself I wanted to post a blog, but I didn't want it to be all serious and depressing. Oops! This afternoon I have my first appointment with a cardiologist here in town. You probably find yourself saying, Bernie you are only 26, why do you need to see a cardiologist? Well, read the below excerpt from an email from my mother about my family history.

"My father's father died at age 54 of heart attack.

My father died at age 56 - heart attack.

My father's sister's son died at age 50 - heart attack and another sister's son had a massive coronary last year in his early 60's.

My brother died at 41 - heart attack. First attack at age 32

John, his son, had his first attack at 27 and quadruple bypass at age 36.

My sister's son had a massive heart attack at age 33, followed by quadruple bypass.

Your father's grandfather died from heart attack and your grandfather died at age 73 of heart attack."

Will I have a heart attack? Why yes indeed I will! It is basically only a matter of time, and this will probably happen sooner rather than later. But, I am doing what I can to prevent this from happening. Hence me going to see a cardiologist today. She will tell me to lose weight, which I already know and have been trying to do. It sucks and I am not good at dieting, but I'm really trying. I would love nothing more than to have a nice flat stomach and perfect chest. I doubt it will happen, but 15 - 20 pounds lighter would be nice.

Today is one of those days when I really wish I could go back to being a kid and not have to worry about all this adult crap. But then I think about how much I want a family of my own, and realize that I need to deal with all of this now so that I can be a good father down the road. I want my kids to come home one weekend and be embarrassed by hearing stories about how my spouse was feeling frisky, which coincidentally happened to me with my parents this weekend. I love that my parents are still in love, but I don't need to hear about how Mom was going to surprise Dad by walking into the house topless!

One day I'll be that parent, up half the night worrying about how my kids are doing. Unless I have a massive heart attack at 29, or get hit by a bus tomorrow walking to work. There is no point in worrying about what might or might not happen. Doesn't really matter how much I worry. What will be, will be. This is what gets me through going to see a cardiologist at age 26. Wish me luck!

Got 'Til It's Gone (the cancer story pt. 2)

When last we left our valiant hero, he was struggling to come to grips with the fact that he had testicular cancer. We pick up our story three days later, in Carroll County General Hospital, as I'm being wheeled into surgery. I was scared out of my mind. I had never undergone surgery and had no idea what to expect. I don't really remember anything leading up to that first operation.

I do remember waking up though. I know that I was in my hospital bed and my dad was on my right, holding my hand. I remember being in some pain, and then the nurse coming in to give me pain medication. She just rolled me over like a rag-doll and stabbed that night right in my butt cheek. Then I sort of drifted back to sleep. I left the hospital the next day, still in some pain. This is when I started to learn about my operation.

My doctor explained to me that my surgery did not go as smoothly as planned. Because my testicle had grown so large, they were unable to push it out of my body through the incision below my navel. Instead, they had to slice open my scrotum and pull out the mutant nut that way. I am proud to say that I had the largest testicle every removed in Carroll County. My one testicle weighed in at 989 oz., which is almost 2 lbs.

Yes, you did read that correctly. Two pounds. Next time you are in the produce section of the grocery store, grab a medium size cantaloupe and drop it on scale. That is about how large my nut got. Now you can probably see why that crazy Spaniard was so desperate to get into my pants. Here he thought he'd discovered the next John Holmes.

If you don't believe me, feel free to email me and I'd be happy to email you a picture of my doctor holding the nut after he removed it. My loving parents asked for the doctor to give them pictures of my nut. Lovely. We always joked about how they were going to frame it and hang it over the fireplace in the living room.

Because my testicle had grown so large, my scrotum also grew and stretched to accommodate it. When they removed the growth, my scrotum was still very stretched out. To prevent it from filling with fluid, my doctor stitched it to my body to keep it from hanging down. Yes, my nut sack was sewn to my body. I also had about twenty staples on my pubic region from the incision. These had to remain covered while the wound healed. The best part was that my dad had to help me change my dressings every day. There is nothing more humbling than having your father apply a bandage to your crotch at 20 years old.

Now that the cancer had been removed, the next step was for me to be tested for any further signs of cancer in my body. My mom is the executive assistant for the President of USUHS, a military medical school. Through her connections, she had my medical care transferred from the doctor in Carroll County, to a Urologist at Johns Hopkins. What an eye-opening experience that is. Every visit to my doctor, I was THE youngest patient there. Almost everyone else there to see the doctor was at least 60. How many people in their 20s do you know with a urologist?

Dr. Kavoussi was a great doctor. He explained everything to me in basic terms and was very friendly. He decided that due to the length of time my tumor grew, the best course of action would be to remove my abdominal lymph nodes next. He would be performing the surgery himself, and lucky for me, Hopkins is one of two hospitals in the world that will perform the operation laproscopically. In lay terms, he would make four small cigarette sized holes in my chest, instead of opening me up from nipple to navel. My second operation was scheduled for July 2.

There was one small risk associated with my surgery. My doctor warned me that it was possible that as a result of the surgery, there was a tiny chance that I would be rendered infertile. This was a lot for me to deal with at that time, because not only was I dealing with cancer, but also trying to come to terms with my own sexuality.

My parents and I decided that I would go to a sperm bank before the operation and put some of my swimmers on ice, just as a back-up. My parents wanted to be involved in every aspect of my treatment, so they wanted to take me to the sperm bank as well. The best part is that I had to do this not once, not twice, but three times. Three different times my parents had to drive me early in the morning, to a doctor's office where I would jerk off in a cup, with them in the waiting room. If you have ever thought that you've had awkward conversations with your parents, it is nothing on riding home from the doctor's office for sperm donation. Good times right there!

The most interesting part of that whole experience is that I learned that I have a very low sperm count. For the average man, his sperm count is around 20 million. Mine was down to 1 million. They say that this is common in survivors of testicular cancer. Once my sperm was placed in reserve, I was ready for the second operation.

The day of the operation I woke up at 4 AM, to be to the hospital by 5:30. I was prepped and ready to be taken back by 6. I remember that all of my family was there to see me off, then the nurse came and administered the first narcotic. I didn't feel anything or a few seconds, then all of the sudden, the clock started swimming like it was part of a Salvador Dali painting. I was wheeled back to the operating room and they put a breathing mask and told me to count back from 20. I think I made it to 18.

The next thing I remember is waking up, being wheeled to my room. I was still out of it and just kept asking for my mom. There she was, at my side. I just remember thinking that I couldn't let go of her hand no matter what then passing out again. I spent the next few hours in and out of consciousness.

My next memory is from the middle of the night. I woke up with the worst urge to pee. I paged the nurse and let her know that I had to go to the bathroom. She kindly explained to me that I had a catheter in, so that should just let go and it would all be taken care of. I tried and tried to no avail. I paged the nurse again and told her I still couldn't go. She then came to my room and discovered that my catheter was kinked up and blocking my urine from following to the collection canister. When she unkinked it, I let loose with 2 liters of fluid. I have never felt such relief in my whole life!

The next few days were tough. I was told that I wouldn't be released until I could stand and walk on my own and had a bowel movement. You wouldn't think this would be a big deal, but you are wrong. I had four tiny incisions on my chest, yet it felt like my entire stomach and chest had been opened. You know that feeling when you've done too many sit-ups and it hurts to stand up? Imagine that feeling times 100. That is how it felt. And for whatever reason, my body decided that I would never poop again. Thankfully, the doctor released me after three days.

When I got home, all my systems did start working properly again. It took me about three weeks though before I finally felt up to par. Surgery really does take a lot out of you. Most days I would feel OK, but then out of the blue, I'd be exhausted and just want to sleep.

Thankfully, there was no further sign of cancer in my body. I didn't have to go through chemotherapy or radiation. I was EXTREMELY lucky, especially considering how long the cancer grew in my testicle before anything was done. This whole experience has given me a very unique perspective on life. I think it has really taught me the value of not stressing over the little things and to cherish your friends and family. You have no clue how much a twenty minute hospital visit can mean to someone, until you've been confined to a hospital bed for three days.

Kids, the moral of this story is, if your testicle starts growing one day, don't assume it is a good thing. Most men love the thought of their genitals mysteriously growing larger, but it isn't everything it is made out to be!!!

walk away, fighter

A little break before Part Two of the cancer story.

It hurts my soul / cause I can't let go / All these walls are cavin' in / I can't stop my sufferin' / I hate to show / that I lost control / Cause I keep goin' right back / to the one thing that I need, / oh I'm about to break / and I can't stop this ache / I'm addicted to your allure / And I'm fiending for a cure / Every step I take / leads to one mistake, / I keep going right back / to the one thing that I need, / oh I can't mend, / this torn state I'm in / Getting nothing in return, / what did I do to deserve / The pain of this slow burn / And everywhere I turn / I keep going right back / to the one thing that I need / To walk away from / I need to get away from ya, / Need to walk away from ya, Get away, walk away, walk away

When I, thought I knew you / Thinking, that you were true / I guess I, I couldn't trust / Called your bluff, / time is up' / Cause I've had enough / You were, there by my side / Always, down for the ride / But your, joy ride just came down in flames' / Cause your greed sold me out of shame, mmhmm / After all of the stealing and cheating / You probably think that I hold resentment for you / But, uh uh, oh no, you're wrong' / Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do / I wouldn't know just how capable I am to pull through / So I wanna say thank you' / Cause it makes me that much stronger / Makes me work a little bit harder / It makes me that much wiser / So thanks for making me a fighter / Made me learn a little bit faster / Made my skin a little bit thicker / Makes me that much smarter / So thanks for making me a fighter

One year ago, these two songs were my theme songs. I could not listen to them enough. I was going through something so painful that it made my cancer look like a vacation. First, just a little background to set the stage for the biggest betrayal of my life.

In June of 2003, I moved into my first apartment here in DC. Around that same time I made two friends. Let's call them Spotted C (female) and Chester (male). So, I met Chester at a gay club in town and Spotted C in my hip-hop dance class. It turned out that Chester and I actually work for the same company, so we became good friends very quickly. Of course we hooked up after about a week of knowing each other. Then I learn that he considers himself bi-sexual and isn't sure what he wants at the time. I say that is fine and agree to just be friends with him. Well, I'm sure you know how well that worked out. Months later, I am in love with him, secretly hoping he will wake up and decide to be with me.

As all of this is happening, I am hanging out more and more with Spotted C too. We get to be very close and she becomes my best fag-hag. So, I am turning to her all the time to talk about how much I want Chester, but realize deep down it won't happen. Like the idiot I am, I brought Chester and Spotted C together and we all started hanging out like a big happy dysfunctional family. Can you see where this story is going? I'm glad you can, because I sure didn't.

April 30, 2004, the three of us join Chester's sister and some of her friends for dinner at Marrakesh (which if you haven't been to yet, you must go sometime. It is fabulous seven or eight course traditional Moroccan meal, complete with professional belly dancers). After the meal, we went out to Five for dancing and drinking. By the time the club closed, we were all loaded and got in a cab back to Dupont. Somehow Spotted C ended up going back to Chester's that night. I knew something was fishy about it, but they both assured me that nothing was going on.

The next week was Spotted C's birthday. That Friday night we went out in Adams Morgan and got wasted. The more drunk we got, the more I was sure that something was going on between the two of them. That night we all crashed at Spotted's house. The following day, we were going out to my parent's house for the night while my parents were out of town. I got out there early and did some cleaning and cooking, then Spotted C, Chester and Big Man (Chester's friend we all got to know) came out later.

They all showed up hours later than I expected and were already loaded. They continued drinking and smoking while I picked up after them and sulked around the house. By 2:30, I had about enough and went to tell them I was going to bed. Since no one in my family smokes, I made them smoke outside. I went out to find everyone, but could only find Big Man. He said that Chester and Spotted C went running off into the fields. I started walking out in the fields, listening for them.

After a few minutes, I heard their voices and snuck up on them. What I saw still makes my stomach drop and my heart beat a little faster. There they were, on my parents farm, hooking up like the world was coming to an end. To say that I blew up is an understatement. First, I scared the shit out of them by screaming, what the fuck do you think you are doing? They both jumped apart and just sat there. I started laying into them then. After that, I just took off back to the house.

Over the next few days, I learned that this had happened before in October and then started up again in April. I couldn't believe that Spotted C sat there listening to me pour my heart out about this kid, the whole time she is sleeping with. I was crushed. I felt like my entire life had just been ripped away from me. For a few days, I was just kind of numb, going through the motions of life. Then I started listening to songs like Fighter and No More Drama. Those lyrics really got to me and I started chanting them to myself any time I started to feel down about everything. Needless to say, like in Fighter, I am such a better person now for everything that I went through. Now I have the best friends a person could possibly hope for, people who would never hurt me the way those two did.

Why bring all of this up now? Partly because this all happened just a little over a year ago. I have been thinking lately just how much my life has changed in the last year and how I am so much happier. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was in a serious depression before I even found out about Chester and Spotted C.

There is another reason though. Just the other night, my roommate let me know that he had dinner with Big Man, and Chester happened to be there as well. Chester, it seems, was drunk and started going on about how he loved me (as a friend) and wishes that we could be friends again. When I heard this at first, I was almost excited. I see Chester a few times a week at work, and it is completely awkward. Neither of us will even acknowledge the other's presence. It would be great to put everything behind us and speak again.

Then I gave it more thought and decided there is really no point. What do I hope to get out of speaking to either of them again? These were two people who hurt me over and over and over. A lot of times, I didn't even see it. But, as soon as shit hit the fan, some of my dearest friends came out and told me how they didn't like either of them and thought they treated me like shit. Do I really want to surround myself with people like that again? No, I don't. I am happy in my life right now and that happiness is partly due to the fact that they hurt me and made me grow into the person I am today. They can feel free to contact me if they like, but until then, "thanks for making me a fighter".

precious things (the cancer story pt. 1)

So, I hinted at this story last week. God, nothing says uplifting story like cancer! Actually, this story has a very positive ending. Imagine if you will, a 20 year old traveling abroad for a semester studying in Seville.

I got to Spain on January 26, 1999. It was cool and over-cast in Seville. I remember being completely exhausted from traveling for the last 18 hours. A few days after our arrival, we moved in with our adoptive families for our stay. I didn't realize it then, but I was placed with the best family in the entire program. I really did grow to love them as my family.

While I was studying in Spain, I started to notice that my one testicle was growing. Understandably, I was more than a little freaked out by this. But, I did the intelligent thing and just ignored it. I thought that maybe it was some sort of STD or something that would just go away. At the same time I was dealing with all of this, I was still trying to deal with my sexuality. I just couldn't go to a doctor and telling them (in Spanish mind you) that I had a nut that was growing, oh and it may have come from having gay sex. It was too much for me to handle.

So, I just let that nut grow. And grow it did. By early May, it was so big, you could clearly see the bulge when I walked or did anything else. Thank God I had lost over 70 pounds by this point and my clothes were huge on me. Although, that nut was a curse one night.

It was a beautiful night in May and I was walking home from school. The orange trees were in bloom and the streets were full of people out browsing the shops. I stopped in Plaza Mayor on my way home to check out the book fair. As I'm walking along the various booths, I notice that someone is keeping pace with me. I don't think anything of it and go to cross the street. While waiting for the light to change, this older man (upper 50s) comes up to me. He says, in broken English, "You are American". I respond in Spanish, that I am. He then proceeds in English to ask if I'm a student and if I'd like to get coffee. I am immediately suspicious of him and politely decline. The he asks if I have a girlfriend. I say yes, lying, and cross the street. Any sane person would have stopped talking to him, but my momma always told me to be polite to my elders.

As we cross the street, his true colors came shining through. He immediately switches to Spanish and starts BEGGING to suck me off. Now, I am freaked out for two very different reasons. The first is that this man is apparently hypnotized by my gigantic package and wants it in the worst way. Second, I am freaked out because he is using all this filthy Spanish slang, and I am understand every word of it. This is when I realized just how fluent I'd become.

In my state of shock, all I could say to this man was no. The whole time I was trying to think of alternate ways to walk home so that he wouldn't know where I lived. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. I'm sure that you are asking yourself right now just how big that nut was. Well, dear reader, you'll just have to wait for the next installment of the story for that. Trust me, you will be amazed.

I returned to the states on May 31, 1999. I was so happy to come home. My family was more than a little shocked when they saw me. I had lost 80 pounds in the four months I was gone and looked just a little different. I have pictures showing me as I boarded the plane in January and when I got home in May. I wish that I could post them right now, but I don't have them scanned in. They will go up in a future blog post.

The day after I got home, I went to my family doctor for a couple reasons. Amazingly, the giant nut was not one of the reasons. On a drunken night, I fell into a table and screwed up my back (which still hurts from time to time six years later) and to find out why would become nauseous after meals. It was getting so bad that my friends in Spain thought I was bulimic.

After all of that was checked out, I casually mentioned to the doctor that my testicle had grown some. He asked me to drop my pants and show him. I'll never forget the look of shock upon his face. He scheduled a sonogram and blood work immediately. By 4 PM, not 24 hours after getting home from four months in Seville, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. My first surgery was scheduled for June 3. I didn't even have time to process everything that was happening to me. In hind sight, that was probably a blessing in disguise. Little did I know what was to come in the following months.

I never knew

Wow. That is pretty much all that I have to say about this weekend. As most of you know already, this was Pride weekend in DC. What you may not know is that the girls and I got things started last Tuesday and kept right on going through last night. I can't even put into words how fun the last week has been. Even though I have been to Pride celebrations before, this year I think I will look at as my first "true" Pride. I spent every moment of it with the best friends I could ask for. Looking back at where I was in my life a year ago, I couldn't be happier with where my life is now. This time last year I didn't even know any of the girls. Now I can't imagine my life without them. If anything, this weekend has taught me just how much your friends can change your life.

escapade

"Come on baby, let's get away. Let's save our troubles for another. Come go with me, we've got it made. Let me take you on an escapade."

When I got my first text from Jamie, that may as well have been what he said. Nick and I met him at Windows for some very strong drinks of his making and karaoke with the one and only Gladys Kravitz. After seeing a wide variety of characters, including a very drunk bull-dyke twirling my girl Liz on the 'dance floor' and Steve and Miranda doing a mean rendition of that Meatloaf song "I Won't Do That". That's hot.

We left there and went to Cobalt for 80's night. The music, as usual, was awesome and I was having a great time. I did have to Janet-shame someone who shall remain nameless (Chuck) for making out with a boy instead of dancing to Escapade with me. I'm sorry, you may make-out with boys all you like, but you will not miss an opportunity to dance with me to Janet, Miss Jackson if you're nasty. ;) All in all, it was a great night out and just what this boy needed to bring me back out of the crappy mood I was in all day.

Today I showed up to work nearly two hours late (God I love that my boss is out all week) and just fooled around on email with friends. After a nice long lunch to Hamburger Marys, I came back to work and back to reality. My mom called me to let me know that she was in the hospital Monday night and part of Tuesday for chest pains. This has happened before and, sadly enough, in addition to a history of cancer, my family has a long history of heart problems. The doctors did a ton of tests and didn't find anything serious with here heart and think it was probably just stress induced. Fucking Aunts are driving my mom to the hospital. Those cunts cannot leave town soon enough.

Now, they said everything seemed OK with her heart. However, they did find a small lump on her lung. It didn't show on a chest x-ray, but it did on a CT Scan. For the general public, you probably have no clue what that means really. I wouldn't either if it weren't for my own battle with cancer five years ago (save that for another blog or five). basically, it means the lump is very small and most likely something that just developed recently. They are bringing her back in three months to see if it has grown or anything. Nothing to worry about. Yet.

This really scares the crap out of me. I love both my parents, but my mom is my rock. I don't know what I would do without her. I know I have nothing to worry about right now, but it just makes you realize that your parents aren't going to be around forever. Ugh, this is way too much for a Wednesday afternoon.

Thank God Jamie is coming down again tonight and we are going to dance to some hip-hop at Chaos with the lesbians. "Come on baby, let's get away. Let's save our troubles for another. Come go with me, we've got it made. Let me take you on an escapade."

nobody knows me

This weekend my dad's sisters all came into town. If ever I wished that I was adopted, it is when I am subjected to dealing with my dad's family. Other than my great aunt Theresa (the classiest woman I've ever met), I can't stand my dad's family. They are all ignorant, self-absorbed assholes. This is all due to my grandmother and the way she raised them. Apparently my grandfather wasn't like this, but he died when I was eight, so I don't remember much about unfortunately.

I guess I shouldn't say my dad's entire family is a bunch of assholes. It is mostly just his sisters. He has three sisters, each one more annoying than the other. His sister Regina is the one that lives in the area. She is Grandma reincarnate, a straight-up bitch that you dread spending two minutes with. She is so terrible that her two sons don't speak to her, and her son-in-law 'conveniently' was stationed back in Texas to escape her manipulations and meddling.

Janet is a piece of work all her own. She is by far the most obnoxious of them all. Thankfully, she and her lovely tube dresses live on the West Coast, so I only see her every few years. Lastly, there is Edwina. She is the baby of them and has never worked a day in her life. Now, there is nothing wrong with being a kept lady, but this bitch takes it to a whole new level. I think that I could tolerate Aunt Edwina, for a few days without anyone else around. But, throw her into the mix of everyone else and she is just another Schwartz bitch.

The worst part about this whole visit is that they are staying for nearly two weeks. For no reason. My grandparents are no longer living and they were never close with my great aunt. Even better, they are staying at my parents house. God bless my mother because she is the one who has to put up with them and entertain them.

My mother has always been the quiet and meek one in the relationship. My father treats my mom (and all of us) much better now than he did when we were younger. Not to paint the image that my dad is spouse abuser or anything, but I just don't think that he fully appreciated my mom the way that he does now. Anyway, when the family rolls into town, they just walk all over my mom and treat her like the town idiot. I swear that if I heard those women offer my mom one more bit of 'friendly advice' this weekend, I was going to have to bitch slap them.

My mom and I are very close and I don't take kindly to anyone treating her poorly. I have tried to talk her into standing up to them, but I don't think it will happen. It just isn't in her to do that. I really wish she would though. I would love to see my mom just snap and tell those cunts to go fuck themselves. Can you feel the love I have for them??? I know, it seems horrible, but if you spent a day with them, you'd understand where I am coming from.

The best part about a visit from my dad's family is that none of them know I am gay. Not surprising though since my dad just figured that out this fall. It isn't something that I have tried to hide from him, but I still haven't found the courage to sit down and talk to him about it. I know that he isn't going to turn me away or anything horrible like that, but I just can't bring myself to do it yet.

My dad's family I'm guessing still thinks I'm straight. At least judging from some of the quality gifts I get for Christmas from them. Example, my NASCAR loving cousin Dan and his wife bought me a Playboy calendar last year. Awesome. I'll be sure to hang that right on my wall! There is nothing like opening a calendar full of naked women in front of your entire family.

The best part about this whole secret gay life is that I know my cousin Amy is a lesbian. She MUST be. I mean, bitch is a basketball and volleyball coach in Florida and still lives with a girl 'friend'. Uh huh. Bitch, you aren't fooling me. I don't need to smell your face to know a carpet muncher when I see one! Yet, I'm sure that just like everything in my dad's family, our homosexuality won't ever be openly discussed, just speculated on behind closed doors. Fine by me. The less they have to do with my life, the better off I am.

another girl's paradise

Last night, we all agreed to meet at JR's for Power Hour. This was perfect as it gave me time to go running after work and then change. I went to the bar expecting to be there for no more than two hours. These things never end up that way. It was probably one of the strangest nights I've had at JR's in a while. Not one of the four of us was drunk the entire time we were there. I can't tell you the last time that has happened. In fact, I don't think that it has.

Anyway, after Chuck and Chris left, Nick and I agreed to pick up some movies for tonight and then head to Green Lantern. I don't know why I initially agreed, since I am no where close to liking my appearance enough to remove my shirt. But, I somehow always have fun there and went along. We got there and ran into a couple friends, including this new boy to the area I have a tiny crush on. That, coupled with great music (even a remix of Mariah's latest which I had yet to hear) made for a lot of fun. By the time shirtless hour was over, we had found more friends and a plan was developing.

Since it was Thursday night, Nick and I decided to head off to Apex for a little R&B/pop music. It is so rare that you get to hear this type of music in a gay club, that it is hard for me to resist. Words can't describe the drastic difference in clientele between Green Lantern and Apex on Thursday. GL is a slightly bear-ish older crowd. The Thursday crowd at Apex is all college kids (18+ and free entry with college ID) and mostly queens at that.

I don't know when it is that I 'grew up' so to speak, but last night it really sank in to me that I can't do the 18+ thing any more. It is a very scary thought to me when I look across the crowd and realize all the kids in there are closer in age to my little sister (21) and my nephew (18) than they are to me at 26.

The music was decent last night, but it just wasn't clicking like it should have. I think partly because I was so consumed by the age factor. When a Britney cover of "I Love Rock and Roll" came on and crowd went nuts, I thought about how most of those kids probably had no clue that Joan Jett did it first. How is it that just a few years of age can make such a huge difference?? My sister and I get along so well and most days I forget that there are nearly six years between us. Maybe she is an exception to this.

When we left the club, Nick and I were talking about how even at that age neither of us were like that. Maybe it was because we were still coming to terms with our sexuality and spent much of college and post college with straights. No matter how much of a 'queen' I become, you will not see me in a club with eye shadow on.