dirty filthy

Below is the exact reason that I need new friends in my life. This is an email from a "friend", who will remain anonymous, about his/her adventures last night. Filth, pure filth. No one should be subjected to such filth before noon on a Thursday!

"we did what two men do in the privacy of the bedroom...but only this morning...last night we were kinda wasted so we blew each other and then I sat on his chest and shot my load all over him and then this morning I woke up got it hard and put him inside me...."

I need new, God-fearing friends I tell you!!!

northern lad

Let's just put this out there right now. I am a huge dork and a big fan of the Harry Potter books, and movies. I fought this for as long as I could, but finally in January of '03, I read the first four books while traveling across Spain and France. I was immediately hooked. I only brought the first three books with and finished them within a few days. I made my sister run all over Madrid with me, looking for the fourth book in English. Yes, I suppose could have read it in Spanish, but I didn't feel like putting forth the effort.

Last Thursday I decided I should re-read book 5 so that it would be fresh in my mind for when the new one was delivered to me on Saturday. I was very ambitious and wanted to read 980 pages in just two days. I did it in two and a half days. I spent my night Friday and entire day Saturday reading, just waiting for my book to arrive. It never did. I wasn't too upset because I still had some of book 5 to finish. When I woke up Sunday morning, book 5 finished, there was still no sign of my book.

No big deal. I hit the town with the girls and did our usual brunch, to JR's, followed by shenanigans routine. When I finally got home late Sunday night, there was my book waiting for me. Apparently the boys upstairs had it the entire time. It was delivered on Saturday, but no one bothered to come down and let me know!!! I was just a little bit pissed about this.
I immediately ripped the package open and started reading. Not the best idea after a full day and night of drinking. After struggling through the first chapter, I gave up and passed out.

Monday morning I started in on the book with a vengeance. I would leave my desk for 30 minutes at a time and sneak to the lobby just to read a couple chapters. By Tuesday at 10 PM, I was already done with book 6. The book was amazing. Very fast paced, even more so than the last couple books. I also thought that this book did more to explain past events than any of the other previous books.

Now though, I am sad for a couple reasons. First, the book definitely ends on a sadder note than any of the previous books. I mean, who wouldn't be depressed about Hermione carrying Snape's baby??? KIDDING!!! I think the more depressing thought to me though is that there is only one more Potter book left. Ridiculous right? Bernie, you are a grown man. Why are depressed about the end of a series of children's books??? All I can say is that these books have captivated me in a way few other books have, at least not since my teens when I read for fun, on average, a book a week.

When I finished the book, I had this anxious feeling that I could not escape. For some reason I was hyper and pacing around the house, almost as if hoping that the 7th book would mysteriously appear in front of me. Just goes to show how impatient I am. Thank God Dan Brown has a new Robert Landon book coming out soon. That should keep me entertained for two or three days, depending on how much reading I can do at work!

Music

Last night I was walking with the gang from JR's to Green Lantern. On our walk over, I placed a call to a friend to discuss something stupid. As I'm talking to this friend, he overhears the girls singing in front of me and asks what is going on. I explain that we are walking up the street and the girls are singing. He starts laughing and asks if any of us can talk about anything other than house music and drinking. I laugh and say yes, we actually do have real conversations (and no I'm not talking about the usual Friday morning "I remember/don't remember").

Yes, many times we seem very shallow and superficial on the surface. But, there is so much more that we have all hidden for various reasons. This little exchange really got me thinking. I am a music fanatic. I'll be the first person to admit that. One of my favorite memories is when I was four or five. Every Saturday morning Chris and Mom would be in the kitchen preparing lunch, and I'd be standing in the middle of the room, watching American Bandstand and dancing. That is probably one of my very first musical memories.

In middle school, I would listen to the top 5 songs each and every night. I even went so far as to keep a notebook and record the top 5 every night. I know, such a dork. Then there are the 'dance recitals' that Lindsey and I would give. Two of our best were Janet's 'Miss You Much' and Paula Abdul's 'Cold Hearted'. For two little kids, we gave some FIERCE choreography! (Side note, how my family didn't know I was gay back then is beyone me!)

Fast forward to freshman year of college. That winter I went to Frostburg for my first of many visits to see Liz. While up there, I met someone who has had more impact on my life than anyone else outside my family. I was introduced to Jamie the minute I came in the door. Little did I know Liz and Co. were using him to test and see if he thought I was gay. Deep down, I was petrified to meet him because I thought he would know the minute we met. He did. But, he didn't say so. Later that night, he and I ended up going out to get something to eat. Three hours later and we are still sitting in the parking lot discussing music and life. That is when I finally confessed that I had occasionally thought about being with men.

MUCH later that night, we were in Jamie's room, listening to Celine Dion's CD "Falling Into You", when Liz came knocking on the door looking for me. I thought for sure that I was busted and that my life was over. But, they went away and didn't find out about it until I finally broke down and confessed to Liz weeks later (we 69'ed!). For the rest of my life, whenever I hear a song from that Celine CD I will forever think of Jamie and that one pivotal night in my life.

That is not the only example of musical memories in my life, just one of the best. Music will ALWAYS be a huge part of who I am. I damn near had a mental breakdown last weekend when I broke my mp3 player. 4500 songs gone. What the fuck was I going to do without it? Of course I immediately ran out and bought an iPod shuffle, to get me through the next few weeks until I can afford a 40 gig model. To me a day without music is pure hell.

Last night, back at JR's, Mariah's 'We Belong Together' came on. I bought her new album three days before it came out and have listened to it daily ever since. Love it. From my reaction though, you would have thought it was the first time I was hearing the song. I can't get enough of it right now. I probably heard it at least two times prior to that point in the evening. I didn't care. I immediately started singing along and was off in my own little world. The girls love to joke about how I zone EVERYTHING out when a song I love comes on. That is me though.

Music has always been such an escape for me. I don't care who is around or watching, if it is a song I love, I'm going to sing. And most likely dance. Judge me all you want, I am happy and will enjoy the song. I know that people were looking at me last night, but I just didn't give a shit. I only hope that those people have something that fills them with the kind of joy with which a good song fills me.

bootylicious

I don't think your ready for this jelly, because my body's too bootylicious baby.

Yeah, I'm big boned-ed. What of it? Well, apparently that means I ain't gonna get no play. You know, most days I accept this fact and just roll with the punches. For whatever reason, this weekend it really got to me.

I haven't ever been happy with my body. Not since puberty started. I'm sure that this is true with most people. "I hate my ear lobes" or "I have chicken legs" blah blah. Everyone always has that one thing that they dislike about themselves. But me, I hate everything about my body. Most of it is a weight issue.

When I was sick with cancer in Spain, I lost over 80 pounds. I have pictures of myself from the day I left and the day I returned. I looked like a completely different person. Yet, even after losing all of that weight, I was still over-weight. Numerous times I have tried dieting and/or exercising. I'll have varying degrees of success, but eventually I give up and put it back on.

My problem is that I love to eat. I definitely use food as a comfort. Like last night when I came home drunk and depressed. What did I do? Oh, I ate those fucking feelings away. Now this morning I feel disgusting and hate myself even more. So, I'll probably try not eating for the next day or two and then gorge when I can't take it any longer.

Why so many issues now? Because it seems like no matter when I meet someone, I'm immediately judged as the fat friend and put in that 'great to talk to, never to fuck' category. Great. That is fine most of the time, but for whatever reason all I wanted was a little action this weekend. Not even the dirty dirty, just some making out. That never killed anyone right??? Nope, not to be. And that's fine. In the long run, I realize it is probably for the best.

I would just love for once in my life to walk into a bar and have everyone look at me and undress me with their eyes, instead of layering more clothing on me with their eyes. I know, shut and snap the fuck out of your pity party already. I just really had to get this shit off my chest this morning. I think I need to just take a complete break from the bar scene and get my shit in order. All going out does is depress me even more as I watch my friends find love (read hot gay sex) and I go home and eat another five or six feelings.

I'm sure that I'll never have that six pack abs or any massive pecs, but maybe I can get my body to a point where I don't look in the mirror and cringe.

Me, Myself and I

I hate living with a roommate. I am reaching the breaking point with Alex right now. This weekend was like the final nail in the coffin. Friday night he (of course) had no plans so his plans became those of the girls and I. All we wanted was a chill night to hang out, eat our feelings and watch some good movies. Alex comes home and immediately joins us as if he was invited.

Now, I get it that he lives there too and pays rent just like I do. Fine. But, when you haven't left the fucking apartment in six days, not even to go to work, it gets a little bit annoying that I can't even have my friends over without him all up in my shit.

Thankfully, he went into his room when we decided to watch Finding Neverland. I thought that would be the last of him for the evening. Nope. Wrong again. He must have come out of his room at least ten times. To smoke, then to pee, then a million times to come out and eat most of the Oreos. Without asking if he could have some. Finally, I reached my breaking point and told him to just take the cookies into his room with him. That is when he asked if I minded if he had some. Nice. BTW, I just ate half your cookies. Do you mind? No bitch. Get that shit and get out of my face.

I can't stand him. Saturday I was able to avoid him all day long. We went out to my parents that afternoon for dinner. I love going home. It is always such a great escape for me to just get away for a few hours, see my dogs and my family. I always come back to the city in such a better mood. By the time I got back to the apartment that night, Alex was already out with his friend Gavin. He left me a message to come and meet them at JR's, but there was no way that was going to happen.

By the time Nick and I got back to the house after going out, Alex and Gavin were already in bed. When we went to the living room, it looked as if they had torn every article of clothing from their bodies right at the door and just left it there. Another example of how fucking inconsiderate he is. Fine, I get you are coming home drunk and ready to get some, but really is it so fucking hard to take your big pile of clothes into your room with you??? The next morning I discovered they had brought a trick home with them to share.

I left the house as quickly as I could to avoid spending more time than necessary with them. I already had brunch plans with the girls and Emily (Hi Em!) at the Beacon. This is my one little secret from Alex. He knows that we go to brunch all the time, but he didn't know where. Until yesterday. I got a message from him midway through brunch that he was trying to find out where I go to brunch. I just deleted the message and was going to call him after brunch and say that I had no reception and was just getting his message.

Nope, about half an hour later they all walked in. I almost shit my pants and cried. The best part about it all though was that he had the audacity to invite said latin trick from the night before to brunch! We were dying. Gavin stopped over to say hi to us all and to apologize for what a mess they left in the apartment. When he did, I asked why the hell they brought the trick to brunch. He had no idea and wasn't really happy about it. Ugh, that's Alex for you though.

So, moral to the story is that I CANNOT live with someone again. I don't care how broke I will be, I will not have another roommate. I can't do it anymore. I need my own space. In just a few months this dream will become a reality.