Hedgehogs Running Amok

Chupacabra, or Chupa for short, had a minor operation this week. To see the little drama queen in action you would have thought someone had taken out her ovaries or something. Oh wait, that is exactly what happened.

Anyway, the first two days were spent lying at the foot of my bed demanding special attention. This is where my computer desk is located, so I would have to do a little dance around her.

On the second day, I had stopped by the drug store to get a little something for my cough, and I had found a dog toy for 74 cents, so I decided to pick it up. You see, Chupa is a dog toy snob. Only certain toys are good enough for her. If she doesn’t like a toy, she will move it next to the cat’s litter box and leave it there. If she likes it, it gets taken to her bed room and she will pull it out when she wants to play with it.

This particular toy is a chicken that looks a lot like Super Chicken. It has a rubber chin strap that you can use to sling it across the yard and the dog will chase it. When it lands, it is supposed to make a noise like a chicken clucking. Only problem is that it sounds more like a child crying when it lands or if you step on it.

I gave the toy to Chupa when I go home. Well actually I threw it on the floor and it started squalling like it was dying and she jumped up, ran over to it. At first I thought she was going to kill it, and then by her behavior, she was obviously in distress over the baby crying. I felt like a jerk. Especially after I laughed at her picked it up and threw it down again, just to watch her get all manic over the stupid 74 cent toy.

This time she picked up the toy and carried it back to her doggy bed. She laid right down on top of it and would not let anyone near it.

The next day, I came home and found every one of her toys on the foot of my bed. There are 8 of them not including the new one, and they were arranged in a nice little pattern like a nest. She was lying at on the ground at the foot of my bed, with the new one. As soon as she saw me, she started whimpering. She couldn’t get on the bed with the big baby, so she was waiting for someone to help her.

I picked it and her up and put them on the bed and she immediately started arranging them around her.

On day 3, she began moving round the house. This includes moving her babies with her. She has two beds in the main part of the house, one in her room and in mine and dad’s rooms she sleeps on the bed. So she was moving her toys around to 5 different places.

Because it is getting so annoying sleeping with 9 stuffed animals, a dog and two cats, I started hiding the smaller, dirtier toys. They are not really hidden they are just in the wash, but she won’t get them back until she stops this nesting behavior or at least stops putting them all in my bed.

But she seems most attached to this chicken and I don’t have the heart to take it away. In truth, I can’t take it away from her. Since it is her only baby left, she is extremely protective of it. So much so that when I tried to take it away from her, she snipped at me. She didn’t break skin, but I definitely felt her teeth.

So I made some steps for her to get into my bed, so she can get into bed with her baby and take it with her when she goes. But trust me, the first time I find the chicken alone, I am going to have a few words with it, and it might even involve me throwing it to the floor to make it cry.

Posted by Rick at 12:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

He is an incredible kisser when he wants to be. Most of the time, they are manly, pecks on the lips, but when he decides to up it a notch, my heart melts.  I f I could package his kisses and sell them, I would be a trillionaire.

His lips, soft and supple, gently touch mine. Tentatively probing and tasting my own lips, I tense in ecstasy as his sweet breath moves across my face as if an extension of his mouth. I hungrily respond, but he calms my advances with his tongue. He places his hand along my face. I lose myself in the kiss, time slows down, my heart stops, he is totally in control of everything, I surrender myself to him.

His lips move across, my face and towards my neck. He knows that kissing my neck drives me crazy and he does so, over and over again. He moves to nibble my ear where he whispers, “I love you”.

I respond by sneezing snot all over his shoulder.

Kind of ruins the moment, don’t you know.

Posted by Rick at 11:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

There is no one straighter than Number One Son, trust me on this. In his 5 years of college he has accumulated a large enough harem that he has steady sleep over dates for every night of the week. He isn’t one of those douche bags that brags about his conquests, you are just aware that there is a new girl coming out of his bedroom every morning.

He is a big time jock, lettering in every sport he went out for in high school. Lifeguarding during the summer, assistant coaching track, football and basketball the rest of the year, he wants to be a teacher. And in his spare time he races cars down mountains. When it comes to getting the ‘tang, he knows no equal. Truly, he is a straight George Clooney.

So why does this ultra-straight guy, have a collection of dicks around his frat boy bachelor pad? There are penises of every shape, color and design. There are pictures, clay models, crude drawings on the walls, and even penises on the garden trolls.  And his friends have them too. The 12 or so members of his “gang” are infatuated with the cock. They talk about it, they grab each others, the hit each other in the nuts and still profess to be straight.

And then there is the gay chicken…

They get drunk, and they play a gayme. Two guys face each other, and the move closer and closer, until they kiss, and the first one to pull away, loses and gets pummeled by the winner. HUH? This is the same generation that uses “gay” to mean stupid or lame. And yet they will engage in homosexual activities?

And where the fuck was this game when I was in college? I would have won so many rounds with my friends.  And I wouldn’t have had to have gotten drunk to do it!

I feel like I will never understand these youngsters. They are going to be the ruination of America.

Post Script: Okay, be honest, how many of you busted out laughing that I used the term “tang” in a post or that I used the phrase “ruination of America”. I know both of them made me almost piss myself.

Posted by Rick at 09:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I am sick of talking about my illness. It is over and done with. I was driving home today and there was this excruciatingly painful sensation as a complex regurgitation process began deep in my chest that started with a simple cough and ended 20 minutes later with me hacking up the spongy slimy grey-purple mass into my hanky. It was absolutely disgusting and I have never seen anything like it before and I hope that I will never ever see again. But it was over. I haven’t coughed since. It was like all the evil that Laura and JP have been sending my way manifested itself in a miniature version of Slimer from Ghostbusters and my body had had enough and expelled it from my body.

I feel good. Real good. I don’t feel like running a mile, but damned if I didn’t walk it today. It has got to be at least 3 months since I went out walking at lunch.

So instead of talking about items that come in or out of my body, I have decided to add a new feature. I have decided to tell stories about animals that I have had collisions with. Don’t bother calling PETA on me, they have me on their most wanted list.

This story takes place about 10 years ago. I was driving to Prescott on a business trip. It is about a 200 hundred mile round trip. It was an annual meeting where I was to give a presentation. I was going up one day, go back to Phoenix and then drive back that night to Prescott and then stay for two more days. There were complicated reasons for it, but it had to happen that way.

Prescott by the way is not pronounced PRESS COT it is pronounced PRESS KIT. Don’t ask me why, it is just the way we say it here. If you say PRESS COT, people will know you are a fur-a-ner. Also Casa Grande is not pronounced CASA GRAN DAY, it is pronounced, Casuh Grand. Just a little linguistic lesson for all you fur-a-ners.

I was not worried about the journey, it was normal for me to drive back and forth across the state for some meeting or another. Sometimes I had passengers, but most of the time I was alone.  On this particular journey, because of my strange schedule, I went alone.

Prescott is in North Central Arizona, which is a mountainous forest area. To get from Phoenix to Prescott, you have to pass through, desert, desert plains, desert mountains, plains, grassy plains, shrubby plains, shrubby mountains until you enter Prescott and hit the forest. This leads to some very interesting wildlife encounters.

As I came up the mountain to reach the plains, there was this one stretch of four-lane road with very straight stretches. It was on this stretch that I met my very first  road kill of this trip.

It was laying in the road, pointing nearly in the same direction as I was traveling, I would have completely missed it, if it hadn’t looked back. You see, in the early spring, it is warm enough for lizards and snakes, but they like to sun themselves on the early morning roads to get themselves warmed up for the day. This particular snake, was laying in the middle of the right lane. Something spooked it into whipping around coiling itself up into a ball into the left lane where I was traveling.

I had not time to swerve, so I hoped that it was low enough to travel over.

It wasn’t. I heard the bumper hit the head of the snake, and could hear the body as it flipped around under the bottom of the car. I was horrified, but there was no way I was going to stop and render aid to a snake. I kept driving, all the while imagining that the head of the snake was somehow still attached to the front bumper. It was this day dream that brought me to my second road kill of the day.

I was driving along the same road, nearing my destination. The vegetation had transitioned to more brush and bushes and an occasional tree. I don’t know how I saw, but it scurried across the road and then back, and sat on the side of the road, waiting. It was the cutest little chipmunk. I slowed down so that I could move out of the way in case it scurried back out, but it didn’t even make a move, so I sped up. I was safe.

I was right on the chipmunk when it ran under my tire. There was nothing I could do. It went crunch underneath the tire and there was a BAM! BAM! BAM! As it continued to pop off the tire and into the wheel well. BAM! BAM! BAM! Over and over again, it hit. FUCK! Why won’t it fall out! I sped up. BAM! BAM! BAM! In faster succession than before. I was beginning to think the universe was fucking with me. So I pulled over. BAM! BAM! BAM! Nothing. I started driving again and the noise is gone.

I don’t want to pull over and look at a snake head hanging from the bumper and greasy grimy gopher guts dripping from the tire. I just drove. Carefully avoiding anymore animals.

I arrived at the hotel and checked in then went to my meeting. After it was over, before I started back to the city, I checked for dead animals underneath. Clean as a whistle. No damage whatsoever.

I started back in the late afternoon. The sun was not yet down, so I would have light at least on my way back if not on my way up again.

There was no further down from the mountain. It was clear sailing, until I pulled on to the street to my office. Out of nowhere, this crow slammed into the windshield spraying blood, poop and feathers everywhere, cracking the windshield right down the middle.

The trip was without any more kills, but I remember it as the Day of Animal Suicides.

Posted by Rick at 06:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

In all seriousness, I am doing well. The fever is gone, the aches are gone, there is no more sniffles. There is only the Cough, and it is killing me. My stomach, neck and jaw aches because of it, it is a deep resounding cough that will last for 10 to 15 seconds. My stomach feels like I have been doing crunches all day long. Nothing I have taken has caused the cough to subside for longer than a couple of hours and then it comes back.

This is a problem when it comes to sleeping. So I went to the Drug Store to get something else. It is my corner drugstore, a big chain that starts with a Wal and ends in a Greens. I am there regularly so I know exactly where everything is in the store. I go directly to the cold medicine aisle.

I pick up the medicine and start back to the front of the store.  As I start down the aisle to the front of the store, this 10 – 12 year old boy  walks towards me and I move closer to the shelf as a courtesy. The kid keeps walking towards me, and I swear he moved even more into my line and walks right into me, brushing my story lightly. He doesn’t say excuse me or anything. I look back at him and said “You are excused”. He kept walking oblivious to me and our brief collision.

I got up to the register and debated whether or not I should report the kid as suspicious, and thought better of it. No need to get the kid in trouble just for being a retarded jerk. I paid and walked out.

I walked out and was unlocking the truck when the kid walked out of the store and came directly over to me. My first thought was “Fuck, I am going to whoop this little kids ass, here in the middle of the Walgreen’s parking lot”. I really didn’t feel like being on the 6 o’clock news today, because my hair looks like shit.

He walks up and stands between me and the door.

“You wanna donation?”

“What?”

“You wanna donation?”

No, I don’t want to give you a donation.

“You wanna give a donation?”, is he really flexing up on me? Yes, I would have to say, yes he is flexing up on me.

“No, I do not want to give a donation to someone who runs into a person and does not apologize. No I do not want to give a donation to someone who flexes up on me in the parking lot.”

He flexes up on me one last time and walks off towards a car wash in the next parking lot.

Pissed me off. I wanted to run his little ass over. But I didn’t. Or at least that is what I am telling my mother.

Seriously, though. I am going to need a handler when I go out in public if this cold does not end soon.

Posted by Rick at 07:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

The one good thing about being sick is that it is giving me so many stories for my blog. Besides the incredibly rudeness and uncaring attitude of my friends, family, and lover, I have to deal with the general public. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those recluses that spend all their time avoiding people, but in truth, if there were fewer people to deal with, I would be happier. There is something wrong with people as a whole. For some reason they have a sense of entitlement to everything. They want to make sure they are getting “theirs” to the detriment of manners and courtesy. There is a sense, that life somehow must be fair or that they are “owed” something.

I mean really does it matter if you get into a big department store before someone else? You are still going to have to wait at some point; there is nothing to keep you from holding the door for a little old lady trying to hobble through the door on a walker.  Do you really have to take up the whole aisle with your cart, while you search through the 30 different kinds of peanut butter for just the right one? Common courtesy people! It is “Do onto others as you would have them do onto you” not “I am getting mine, even if it kills you”.

This is the sort of thing that I am seeing today.  Everyone seems to think the universe owes them something, and I can’t even get a little fucking pity. But you know when they are sick, I call them every day, to see if there is something I can do, but when it comes back to me, OH! NO! They are all too busy to talk to me.

But I digress…

While I was visiting my doctor, he explained that If I went to certain stores that are doing the $4 prescriptions, I could save a lot of money on my meds. He explained it simply enough; My insurance would fill a 30 day supply and charge me the $20 co-pay, so on a 3 month supply, it would cost me $60 total and I would have to go back every month to get it filled. But if I went to one of the places with $4 prescriptions it would only cost me $12 and I would get them all at once. Wow! Big difference there.

So I went back to work, with the intention of filling the prescriptions after work. After I got out, and you know I was out of there 1 minute after my time expired, I stopped by my favorite department store. For legal reasons, I will call it, by its real name, Target.

I went directly to the pharmacy drop off window, and asked them how much it would cost me to fill the prescription without my insurance. I was the only one there, but as soon as I stepped up to the window, a woman joined the line behind me with her shopping cart. What follows is the exchange:

Pharmacist Assistant: Do you have insurance?
Me: Yes, but I don’t want to use it?
PA: If you have insurance, why don’t you want to use it?
M: Because it will cost me $60 to fill the prescription.
PA: Well if you have insurance, we can’t fill this for you without your insurance?
M: Really? Could you show me that law?
PA: No it is company policy
M: Could you show me that company policy? Can you show me on your ad where it explains that restriction?
PA: No, it is against company policy.
MA: It is against company policy to show me company policy?
PA: Yes.
M: Is there someone else I can talk to?
He walks back behind the counter and pulls out a hobbit from underneath the counter. She climbs what I hope is a step stool behind the counter.
Me: Are you the Pharmacist?
Hobbit: Yes, I am. How can I help you?
Me: He said that you could not fill this prescription without my insurance information. I don’t want to use my insurance; I want to know how much you will charge for this prescription if I don’t use my insurance.
Hobbit/Pharmacist: Why don’t you want to use your insurance?
Me: Does it really matter? What would happen if I didn’t have insurance? How would I get these prescriptions filled?
Hobbit/Pharmacist: We need your insurance to find out what the difference in price would be.
Me: I already know what it would cost me with my insurance; $60, what I need to know what it would cost me if I didn’t have it.
Hobbit/Pharmacist: I will have to check, can I see your insurance card?
Me: No, you cannot.  And why are you discussing anything with me while this woman is breathing down my neck? Where are you HIPAA markers? Where are your signs telling people to stand back from the person in front of them? Shouldn’t you ask her to step over to another window or at least step back?

It went south from there. I will leave out the rest of the gorey details. The pharmacist, obviously pissed at the crazy man who is confusing her, asked someone else to take care of me and took off to take care of nosy woman.

He looked it up on the computer in two seconds and told me that it would be $12. He had me fill out a form and told me that it would be about 20 minutes. As he was walking away the pharmacist yelled out, “tell him that it will be an hour”. I looked up at him and he just shook his head a little as if to say, “Save me from the evil hobbit thing, she has gone crazy!”

I went and did my other shopping, but there was no way I could fill a whole hour, so I went and paid for everything, took it to the car, and then went back in. That had killed all of 35 minutes. I walked up to the pickup window and there was the last guy I talked to holding them, up.  Nowhere near an hour, the pharmacist lied, she wanted to punish me for questioning her authority.  She would rather let a dying man stand and wait for his medication, than admit that she was being difficult. I am saddened…

Yeah, I am going to milk this for all it is worth!

Posted by Rick at 08:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

… After a particularly violent coughing fit:

JP: Now you are doing that on purpose!
Me: Yes, I am coughing like this because I like the taste of my own spleen
JP: You do it again and I am going to stab you in your throat.
Me: Have you been hanging around Laura?

The response of my twin and my boyfriend to my infirmity is the same; to do bodily harm. Ain't love grand?

Posted by Rick at 09:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Long time readers of my blog may remember Dr. Norm from my Yahoo! 360 days. For those who are new to my blog, let me give you a quick update. Dr. Norm graduated medical school the same year that I turned 10. But he is one of those people who no matter how old he gets, he still looks like he is 12. He looks like a cross between Ricky Martin and Enrique Iglesias with a little Filipino mixed in. And he is extremely hot.

I found Dr. Norm after an exhaustive search for a new doctor about 4 years ago. Upon my first visit with him, he took over an hour to talk with me. It was like old friends setting down and having a couple of beers to discuss our lives. During that first meeting he did the first thing he did something that no other doctor in the world did, he pulled down his pants and showed me his surgery scars. He is funny and witty, a bit manic and totally gay friendly. I was in love.

Last September, because of a change in insurers, I lost Dr. Norm. Because he is a cardiologist, Dr. Norm is a specialist for my insurance. That means that instead of $10 a visit, it is $50 per visit. I was heart broken. I mean how was I ever going to replace Dr. Norm. This is a guy who before he went to Italy for a month, called me personally and checked on me. He was always brutally honest with me, one time telling me that I had two choices, take my medicine or die. Seriously. Then he told me that he needed to keep me well because he had to pay for his 3 daughters’ college and then their weddings.

This was back in September that I lost him. Thankfully he gives out prescriptions for a year, so I had plenty of time to get another doctor. I kept putting it off and putting it off and finally March came around and I lost my yearly prescription. I stopped taking my medicine. I was okay until I caught this ordinary run of mill swine flu. I had to go to the doctor. It was killing me. I could barely function.

So I called Dr. Norm’s office to see if they could recommend a doctor like Dr. Norm to be my new Doctor. When I called Patty, his receptionist, she asked me who my new insurance was with and I told her and she got as indignant as she can. “Those darn people, I wish they would stop that. Dr. Norm is a primary care physician.” I was overjoyed and made an appointment for yesterday.

I arrived and the lobby was full. I figured that I was going to have to wait until the other 4 went ahead of me. But no, they called me right back. Dr. Norm’s daughter took me back and took my blood pressure. She said that Dr. Norm would be right in and left. He comes in, and asks me what is wrong and I tell him that I think I have a cold. He asks me what I am taking for it, and I tell him. He tells me that I have the everyday normal flu and there was really nothing to do about it but quit whining. He then proceeded to yell at me about my blood pressure.

He told me he didn’t care about the common everyday variety swine flu, but he was going to put me in the hospital because my blood pressure was way too high. He told me that he was going to do an EKG and if it was not absolutely perfect, he was going to call 911 and have me carted off on a stretcher, even if he had to tie me down. And then he stood up and walked over to me, and started to untie his scrubs. I am not sure what I thought at first. I was a little taken aback, but intrigued. He proceeded to pull down his pants and show his incredibly hairy legs as he cupped his balls in his hands. He showed me these scars that went up and down his legs. They were obviously new scars because they were still pink, but I could barely keep my eyes on them, because he was cupping himself. He told me the story of how he had blown his artery in his leg out and had had 8 surgeries since Christmas. He yelled at me some more, as he sat there with his pants around his ankles.

I got the point and a show.

The EKG turned out perfect. The neat thing is that it took less than 3 minutes. She pressed a button and a full report spit out. The last EKG I had was an hour long and they had to keep fiddling with  the sensors.

So long story short, I got my medicine. I feel a hundred times better and I got to see my sexy doctor in his underwear. How did I get so lucky?

Posted by Rick at 10:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

First I would like to thank my fellow blogger Dan over at Go Left at the Fork, for dedicating a post (in part) to me. No one has done that for me before. They have talked about me, idolized me, slapped me around, mocked me, argued with me, ridiculed me, but never ever have they dedicated a blog to me. Much less a hot gay sex story. He also sent me a whole bunch of readers from the East Coast. And to top it all off, he said my blog is “pretty hilarious”. I don’t think there could be a finer compliment than that. So in appreciation, I am publicly thank you for your support. I promise I will talk to you again soon, I have just been incredibly busy.

To “J” who spent his day emailing me on my cell phone as he tracked down the reason for me not being able to blog yesterday, you are very much appreciated. Even when you told me that if fucked up my computer and “ I doubt it can be fixed.Send it to Laura so she can dispose of it properly. As a last resort before you junk it, try it in Internet Explorer.” Handsome, sexy, intelligent and a smart ass. GOD I LOVE THAT IN MAN!

“J”, for your help, I thank you and add an additional blowjob to the list. I think we are up to six now. Better hurry and collect or they will be gum jobs by the time you get to them. When Laura and I move to Cali, we won’t stick you in a room with the animals, you can have the couch. Thank you for all that you do, because I know you do it for the love of my Twin. You are AWESOME!

To Laura, who proved to me that she loves me. Thank you.

To Duhv who gave me the Swine Flu over the phone. I appreciate it, and promise to give you something of equal value.

To Mom, I want to thank you for sticking me on the phone with Evil Grandma who spent 50 minutes explaining to me about why I need to be married. I guess she will never be called Evil Genius Grandma. 41 years old, grandma. My closest companion since I was 18 is male, grandma. Unmarried, Grandma. Put the clues together. Your oldest grandson is a Freakin’ Butt Pirate! But thanks Mom, I appreciate talking to Evil Grandma about the weather and why I like 100 degrees to 32 below. I will make sure to invite Sis over this weekend so you can explain to her why you like non-family members better than her.

To Farmy, who is probably my biggest fan. Thank you for your support. I am sending Noel to your house in his poofy shirt so you can admire it.

To Angel, who sent me an unexpected text message today. You really don’t know how it turned my mood around. Sorry it took me so long to respond. I have been a little busy this week. I have nothing I can give you except to promise I won’t engage in conversations with your mom anymore. At least not about you.

THANKS!

Posted by Rick at 09:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

It has happened. I got the Swine Flu. I didn’t go to the doctor to find out, I just know it in my heart that it is. I had bacon Saturday, so that must be where I got it. I also talked to Duhv that day so I got a double dose. It started last night a little after 2 a.m. It started with a cough, and then another until I doubled over. Then the vomiting started. I couldn’t breathe and my head was pounding. It was horrible.

I took some drugs and then went back to sleep, but every half hour I was up again with a coughing fit. Soon my alarm was going off and I knew that there was no way I was going to make it through the day at work. So I called in and then let everyone know that I was sick. Out of all my friends, only one person called to wish me well. Sons-of-bitches.

Mom is out of town so, I can’t whine to her. The twin doesn’t answer her phone and she would probably mock me anyway. And when JP called, all he did was laugh at me. I hate everyone.

So I am sitting here trying to think of all the mean things I can say about my friends and get back at them. But instead of getting mad at my friends for not being caring, I decided to take the higher road. I am going to send them presents for putting up with my whining.

I sent them all used tissues. Thanks for being there for me! Enjoy your gift!

Posted by Rick at 06:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I am used to my neighbors making loud and obnoxious noises at all hours of the day so when there was a loud and raucous noise outside, I thought nothing of it. It sounded like a parrot with emphysema. I just figured the neighbor had put the bird outside in the 100+ heat to roast, and the bird was objecting to the process. I know I would. I hoped that it would be over soon.

I am used to my neighbors having a large number of pets. The house to the west has had 7 or 8 owners over the past 5 years. It is a revolving door. The one thing good thing that each new family remodels the house when they move in. I have thought about buying the house and moving in and letting the family have this house, but I figure that as soon as I do, another family member will figure out that I have more space and will want to move in. So in the end another family moves in and we deal with them.

The first family to move into the house did nothing to improve the house, but added a barnyard full of animals. There was a dog, 20 cats, 2 geese, 10 chickens, 4 ducks, 2 peacocks, 2 horses, a cow and a hippo. Okay, there really wasn’t a hippo, but it was a huge assed pot bellied pig. It scared me, more than the mangy dog that would chase me to my car each day. We got along pretty well until Kurby, my dog, started jumping the fence to get some nookie from the dog and pick up an order of post-coital chicken to go. They stopped talking to us after that.

It didn’t matter because soon the bank foreclosed on them and they left in the middle of the night leaving the animals behind. Once it was evident that they had left for good, I called the Humane Society and they came out with these huge trucks and carted off all the animals except for the dog and the cats. They wouldn’t take the cats because they could not tell who the owners were and they didn’t take the dog because it wasn’t there when they came.

I ended up feeding the cats and another neighbor took the dog. The problem with feeding cats over the back fence means they end up jumping the fence and coming to live with you. Thankfully a non-profit group took pity on me and came out and spayed and neutered the cats for $5 each. So I had 21 cats for the longest time. It now appears to be 15 and 1 so we are slowly but surely getting back down to the optimum necessary number of 1 cat per household.

As you can surmise, I am used to strange animal noises outside my home. So this noise was nothing special, until it started to sound like a parrot with emphysema being strangled on my front port. So I opened my front door and there was mom’s cat doing his best to look innocent. It is the look that he gives me whenever he is about to attack my toes. And then there was the noise again. I started scanning the ground for a bird in distress, but saw nothing. I looked under the nearest bush and still nothing. Then I looked in the bush and damned if the thing wasn’t staring me in the eye. It was a dull green bird with red and blue spots and it was pissed off. It wasn’t pretty like the lorikeets that attacked me at Rooster Cogburn’s Ranch, but still it was a defenseless little bird. I knew exactly what to do. I ran into the house to get my camera. Damned if the battery wasn’t dead.


I grabbed a towel and went back outside to capture the bird. Not fully thinking out this plan, I wrapped the towel around my hand and reached in to grab the bird. He screeched and ran off deeper into the bush. I moved around to the front and reached in again and again he screeched and ran around to the back. Oh, great, this could go on all day. I went to get JP but he was in the shower. Damn it! He is never around when I need him. So I went back to bush and there was mom’s devil cat eyeing the bird like it was a full bucket of KFC. I had to do something or the cat would be looking for some mashed potatoes and gravy. I reached in again and presto, he was in my hand. I quickly wrapped the towel around him and went to find something to put him in. Never having a bird before, I didn’t really know what to do with him. I figured I needed something with air holes, because birds do breath oxygen, and I needed something that I could see him so I could check him out for injuries. I started looking around the house. I thought about it for a second, and couldn’t come up with anything. My first thought was to use a gallon pitcher, but then thought better about it. Before you mock me, you have to remember that I have no idea how to take care of birds. When I was a kid, I had ducks and chickens, but they pretty much take care of themselves for the most part, this was different. I walked around the house with a bird, wrapped in a towel, doing its best impression of Linda Blair in the Exorcist trying to bite a chunk out of my hand.

I thought about a cardboard box, and figured he would make quick work getting out of this, and then it came to me! The pet carrier!  All right! That would work. I grabbed it and with my free hand began the complicated process of opening it. You really need two hands to do it, but it can be done with one hand if you concentrate. Why do they make it so complicated? It isn’t like dogs and cats have opposable thumbs, why would they make it so that it takes longer to get it open than to get the animal to wherever you are taking it?

As I was concentrating on opening and just as I got the door open, the bird found something that he could really sink his beak into. Now the bird had a whole hand to pick from, but for some reason it knew the exact point to attack for maximum pain; the space between my index finger and thumb. I yelped and threw the bird into the carrier with a thump. I didn’t intend to throw it, it was just instinctive.  I looked into the crate and what I saw was a total “What the fuck” moment. The bird had extricated itself from the towel and was now standing on top of it, head bent low wings spread out and it was hissing at me.  I stared at it, seriously considering my options when it stopped hissing, licked my blood from its beak and started running towards the door. I quickly slammed the door shut as it tried its damnedest to eat through the metal grate to get to me. It was at that moment that I vowed to buy a new easier to open and close pet carrier.

Now what to do with the damned thing. It was hot, thirsty, hungry and scared. I had nothing to give it water. I had no food, I wasn’t even sure what it ate. It looked more like a lorikeet than a parrot and I knew they fed on nectar and not seeds, so I moved the cage to the computer and looked it up. Yep, it looks exactly like a Musk Lorikeet. I didn’t want to keep the bird, but I didn’t want it to die. So I picked the cage up and as I did, I felt the bird nip at my finger through the top. Mother fucker! I seriously thought for a split second that I would really like to take the cage in the back yard and open it and allow a couple of cats inside. But I thought that would be too cruel… to the cats.

I was already tired of the bird and decided the best thing to do is give it to the crazy cat lady. She is my neighbor to the east, and has more animals than I can count. When I was looking for a home for the 20 cats, she told me that she had 54 cats and 17 dogs. I took the carrier, and told her that she could keep the carrier if she would take what was inside, no questions asked.

She was hesitant and then she saw the bird and said yes. I explained how it may be hurt because the devil cat had had it cornered so be careful it was scared and was prone to bite. I thanked her for her kindness and happily left it behind and went home.

As I walked home, I resolved that the next time I feel the need to save a bird from a demon cat, I won’t.

Posted by Rick at 08:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Me: I really like accents. Can you do a Spanish Accent?

JP: Si, se puede

Me: Why does your Spanish sound Scandinavian? Can you do Australian? British? No, no, I know Scottish? Scots are hot.

JP: (Sounding exactly like Scotty from Star Trek) - I've giv'n ‘im all I's got captain, an' I canna give ‘im no more.

Me: Isn’t that what you said to me last night?

JP: I am trying this whole “green” thing and recycling

Posted by Rick at 11:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Years ago, I ran a restaurant. It isn’t that big of a deal, almost everyone has worked in a restaurant at some level in their life time. When I was asked to leave the job, I was not upset at all. On the contrary, I was elated! I could no longer stand my asshole boss and the job itself. But I appreciate my time there, because it taught me a lot about myself.

The severance package was more than generous. I figured that if I had cut back on some luxuries, I could have gone for 5 months without working again. I was going to take some time off and enjoy life! I ended up lying around the house watching TV for about 3 weeks, when the panic set in. I HAD TO GET A JOB!

The very next Monday, I applied for unemployment and started job search. About a week later, I got a part time job with a government agency calling old people reminding them to take their flu shots. Basically I was a survey taker. I got bored with this real quick and my supervisors decided that they would send me out into various health care providers waiting rooms and interview patients to see how they liked the service. The fact that I was the only employee with a car, helped me get out to of the office. The money was okay, the hours were whenever I chose to show up. I could work as many hours as I wanted as long as I did not work more than 31.9 hours a week.

Visiting the health care providers was okay, for the most part. Emergency rooms were the worse. I had to go to them late at night. I could pick the night, but at least one had to be a weekend. 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. I interviewed people that were hurt doing some really stupid things. There was the woman who was boiling bottles for her baby and pulled one out of the boiling water using only her hand. There was the cab driver who, in order to protect himself, carried a gun, and hid it from customers by sitting on it. He shifted; it went off, blowing his right nut off and scaring his customer into shock. I got to interview the wife on that one and she was not happy that they could not put the nut back in. That was her actual complaint that he was going to have a rubber ball.  Ignore the fact that it was plastered in a million little pieces all over the front of the cab; she wanted it pieced back together and put back in.

There were horror stories too. The kid that slipped into the tub and almost drowned, the guy who set himself on fire, the girl who drove into a telephone pole, killing her best friend. It was easy to remain detached because it was surreal.  I just interviewed the families who have just suffered a tragedy about customer service, and they answered the questions in a zombie like fashion.

My favorite places to go were the AIDS Clinics. These people treated me like a king. They set me up with an office and brought the customers to me. They would bring me food and drink and sit down and talk to me about me and not my work. But on the flip side, these were the customers that touched my heart the most. They had the best outlook on life. There was the 7 year old girl who told me how she was going to beat AIDS. There was the mother who was making plans to see her kids graduate, get married and have kids of their own. Remember this was just when the drug cocktails were coming out and were still experimental. But I truly loved visiting these clinics. The staff and patients just had the best attitudes.

I left that job, because they pulled me into the office when the money for the provider surveys dried up, and I was put back on the phones.  The supervisor on the phones was a total bitch. I already had another full time job and another part time job, so it was not a loss.

Even as bad as I felt about the job after I left, I remembered the people that I worked with. I especially remembered the people at the AIDS clinics. Whenever I had a chance to work with them again, I did. I did outreach with them, I worked with them on special projects. I am constantly talking to people about the good work they do, and how we need to support them.

In some sort giant cosmic quirk, the universe stepped in and turned my world upside down. On the same day, I received a call from a director of one of the clinics; found out that a friend used to work for him and found out another friend was a patient of his.

So what did I learn?  The Universe is a crazy place…

Posted by Rick at 11:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Rick at 04:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Three years ago, I played around with Yahoo! Answers. Back then it was new and there were a lot of retarded gay bashers. You would report the questions, but Yahoo! wouldn't delete them. So being the protector that gives me so much pleasure, I would share my opinions. From time to time, Yahoo! likes to send me little reminders of my past indiscretions…

Hello kiz_ma_az (kiz_ma_az)

You have posted content to Yahoo! Answers in violation of our Community Guidelines or Terms of Service. As a result, your content has been deleted. Community Guidelines help to keep Yahoo! Answers a safe and useful community, so we appreciate your consideration of its rules.

Question: Why do people hate people that hate homos?

Question Details: From the answers and insults I have gotten, you people not only are hipocritical, but you say not to hate and stick up for gays. But then you turn around and bash me my family, and my opinions. Sounds like we have liars.

Deleted Answer: Ya know, I hate snakes. I avoid them at all costs. I don't go out in the desert looking for snakes to taunt, that would just be foolish. So my question to you is, why are you here? If you truly hated gays, you wouldn't be here unless of course you are fool. So either you are gay or you are a fool. But then the two are not mutually exclusive so you could be a gay fool. It cost you 5 points to post this, and you have given away 30 making fun of gays today; that tells me a lot about you.

Violation Reason:Insulting Other Participants


Regards,

Yahoo! Customer Care

I love that the violation is for name calling. I can't wait till they get to my fights with the G0ys.

Posted by Rick at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Rick at 08:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

 3 Minute Man

I was Stumbling along when I came across a forum where people were asked how long great sex lasts. I was aghast at all the people who were saying that it should take between an hour and an hour and a half. There were some, (women of course) who felt that great love making should take all day long.

Okay, what the fuck are these people doing wrong that is taking them so long? Great sex/love making should take no longer than 15 minutes. Any longer and my mind starts to wonder, and I start thinking about all the other things I could be doing.  Sometimes, I am perfectly happy with a WHAM! BAM! OMG I THINK I JUST SWALLOWED MY TONGUE! 3 minute quickie.  At this point I feel I must point out that JP’s stamina is the stuff of legend, and he would last a lot long if I let him. The idea of quickies is mine, not his. I say this because from time to time, he wonders his ass over here to read what I have written. And we have mutual friends that read this blog. For good measure, please let me add that his length and girth should be recorded for posterity in the record books or at least on Wikipedia.

But back to this idea that sex should last for hours. At the very outside sex should last 30 minutes, and this would include, the greeting, the dinner with drinks, the act itself and the clean up. And sex should not take longer than a commercial break if something good on TV. Why take any longer? I mean really don’t these people have lives? Don’t they have cable? Don’t they have the Interwebs? Aren’t there towels to be folded, dishes to be cleaned, and animals to be fed?

Even when JP and I have the world to ourselves and plan to stay in bed all day, we are more inclined to take 10 - 15 minutes and then fall asleep and then wake up, eat, and then start the process all over again. But still we are not taking longer than 15 minutes at a whack (Pun intended), and we get bored and get up and watch TV.

I am sure that these forums are populated with heterosexuals, and I only have my life as a frame of reference, but I am scared at the idea of an all day love session. I would get sick of all the touching. And at some point doesn’t it start to hurt?

I have to draw on my professional life, for an axiom on this subject. Just because you take a long time to do a project, doesn’t mean you are doing a good job.

So now it is your turn; how long should sex take? Take your time, I will be watching TV if you need me.

 

Posted by Rick at 10:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Rick at 08:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Rick at 07:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Me - Hello, my phone is not working
TS - What seems to be the problem
Me - My voice mail isn’t working. People can’t leave messages and I can’t access it.
TS - What do you mean? That is not possible.
Me - It is true. It doesn’t work.
TS - Are you sure?
Me - Yes, I am.
TS - Let me check. I will call you back, don’t answer.
Ring Ring – Ring Ring – Ring Ring
…
Ring Ring
Me - Yes?
TS - Well it works for me.
Me - Did you leave a message?
TS - No
Me - Try it again and try to leave a message.
Ring Ring – Ring Ring – Ring Ring
…
Ring Ring
Me - This is Rick.
TS - Yeah, you are right, it doesn’t let you leave a message, it just puts you in a loop. I will write it up.

One Hour Later…
Ring Ring
Me - This is Rick.
TS2 – I understand you have a problem with your phone. What seems to be the trouble?
Me - My voice mail isn’t working. People can’t leave messages and I can’t access it.
TS2 - What do you mean? That is not possible.
Me - It is true. It doesn’t work.
TS2- Are you sure?
Me - Yes, I am.
TS2- Let me check. I will call you back, don’t answer.
Ring Ring – Ring Ring – Ring Ring
…
Ring Ring
Me - Yes?
TS2 - Well it works for me.
Me - Did you leave a message?
TS2 - No
Me - Try it again and try to leave a message.
Ring Ring – Ring Ring – Ring Ring
…
Ring Ring
Me - This is Rick.
TS2 - Yeah, you are right, it doesn’t let you leave a message, it just puts you in a loop. I will forward this up.

Still another hour later…
Ring Ring
Me – This is Rick
TS3 – I understand you have a problem with your phone. What seems to be the trouble?
Me - My voice mail isn’t working. People can’t leave messages and I can’t access it.
TS3 - What do you mean? That is not possible.
Me - It is true. It doesn’t work.
TS3- Are you sure?
Me - Yes, I am.
TS3- Let me check. I will call you back, don’t answer.
Ring Ring – Ring Ring – Ring Ring
…
Ring Ring
Me - Yes?
TS3 - Well it works for me.
Me - Did you leave a message?
TS3 - No
Me - Try it again and try to leave a message.
Ring Ring – Ring Ring – Ring Ring
…
Ring Ring
Me - This is Rick.
TS3 - Yeah, you are right, it doesn’t let you leave a message, it just puts you in a loop. I will forward this up.

Five minutes later
Me – This is Rick
PG – This is the Phone Guy I understand you have a problem with your phone. What seems to be the trouble?
Me - My voice mail isn’t working. People can’t leave messages and I can’t access it.
PG - What do you mean? That is not possible.
Me - It is true. It doesn’t work.
PG- Are you sure?
Me - Yes, I am.
PG- Let me check. I will call you back, don’t answer.
Ring Ring – Ring Ring – Ring Ring
…
Ring Ring
Me - Yes?
PG – Okay, it is fixed. I left my phone number, don’t forget to reset your password and voice message.
Me – Thanks!
PG – No Problem!

Posted by Rick at 09:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

For your 41st Birthday, I got you this. Not the actual squirt gun but the picture of the squirt gun. I couldn't find you a pretty Big Lots Shirt but I hope it helps you find your next victim twink.

Have a great birthday and I hope you have many more.

Posted by Rick at 05:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Ever have one of those days that follow a theme? And like back in high school where you were either too cool to care or too self absorbed to notice, no one told you it was going to be a theme day?

I woke up way too early. Like two hours early today. Lying in bed trying my best to determine if I was going for that extra two hours or stick it out. As I stared at the ceiling, I decided the best course of action was to go back to sleep anticipating that it was going to be a busy and tiring day. Just then, my nose decided that, for whatever reason, that it would unplug itself, and drain directly into my throat. I sat bolt upright in my bed and immediately began the dry heaves. Like a cat with a hair ball I was trying to force the mucus out f my throat by using my whole body in a weird snake vomiting dance. I reached for my water jug and immediately realized that I had forgotten to fill it the night before. I ran to the bath room trying not to let anything out on the way and grabbed a glass of water.  Properly lubricated, the dry heaves stopped and I was able to rest comfortably, waiting for one of 5 alarms to go off.

As I drifted off to sleep, Mom’s evil cat joined me. He has this new thing, that if I don’t shave for a few days, he will come rub his face on my stubble, leaving his hair behind. Mom says he does this because he loves me, but I know the truth, the damn cat is looking at me like I am his own personal shedding post. Hair now firmly entrenched in my overnight growth, I realized there was no way I was going to get back to sleep and gave in.

I sat at the computer, stumbling through, pictures of zombies, boobs, crazy people and comics. This was so interesting to me that I lost track of the time and ran a little late in getting my shower. And because I was late I had to shorten my shower. And because I shortened my shower, I did not follow my routine. And because I did not follow my routine I forgot to shave. I darted out of the shower, ran to the bedroom to find mom’s grey cat on top of my black pants; shedding. Fuck. I pull out the lint remover and run it all up and down my pants getting the hair off. I get dressed and run out of the house, realizing that I forgot my deodorant. I run back in and unbutton a couple of buttons and quickly put some one. And then run out.

I get to work on time. I have a class and have to run.

I am about half way through my class when Angel texts me asking me what is up with the bear hair. I am sitting in my class wondering what the fuck he is talking about. What is wrong with my hair. I self consciously play with my hair, trying to get it to lay down flat. My response to him… HUH?

His next text does nothing to clarify, because now he is accusing me of wearing a rug. This sends me into a crazy freefall of a WTF moment, because I am trying my best to ignore the text, but how can I? Does my hair really look like a toupee?  I know I am losing my hair, but damn, does he have to keep pointing it out.

So I end my training. Leaving I reach up to straighten my collar to realize that I had not buttoned my shirt all the way when I left the house. It was my chest hair he was talking about. (I hope)

I go about my business with my shirt buttoned up, I continue to fuck with Angel via text. But he gets bored with me, because people without hair are jealous of those with it.  So I move on to another victim. This time it is a woman who for some reason decides to tell me all the gruesome details of what happens to a woman after she has a baby. I listen attentively and with genuine concern, I just wish she would stop talking about leakage, and drainage and other stuff that sure as hell will not make it on my blog.

Moving on to lunch, I decide to stop on my way to my next destination. There happens to be a Burger King in the same parking lot as my destination. Yes, I know BK has that freaky child molester looking mascot, but I am in a hurry, so I forgive them for that, and the whole being British thing too. I pick a corner area where I can watch people. When visiting a public place you never want to have your back towards people in case they decide to go crazy and start shooting up the place or like the case in Namibia, where all the patrons turn into zombies. I made that last part up. Not that it couldn’t happen, just I don’t have real evidence that it did. But I digress.

I am sitting there putting onion rings on top of my BK Bites, making note not to get the 6 pack because two of them fill you up, when I looked out the window towards my truck. There is a car parked next to mine and a very tall Latino man steps out of the car. I look away for a split second when I realize the guy is undressing. He takes off his shirt to reveal a very hairy chest, it is then that I notice that he is just wearing some blue boxer-briefs. At this point, I am thinking “Should I take pictures?”, then before I know it, he whips down his boxers, and sits down into his car. I can’t believe that this guy is doing this. Then I realize, that because of the way he is parked and the way the restaurant is situated, I am really the only one that can see him. I think again about pictures, but if I do, I will draw attention to the guy and besides, my phone definitely won’t take pictures through the tinted glass of the restaurant.

He is putting on a pair of grey boxer briefs, and stands up, and there is a flash of something humongous before it disappears into his boxers. I am not sure if I  have just been flashed by his junk or if it was his arm. He turns to face me and puts on a blue t-shirt and moves to put on some baggy jeans.

While all this is happening, I am texting Twitter and Angel. All I can say is thankfully Twitter doesn’t call me a liar.

It is then that I realize that my theme day is “Hair” and I don’t mind it so much, especially when a hot hairy Latino gets undressed in front of me. I wonder if I can get more theme days, and if they will all be as good as this one.

Posted by Rick at 04:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Rick at 10:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

 

So, let’s get it over with. Yes I threw a temper tantrum. Yes, it was ill advised. But seriously, I was over it the very next day. My twin called and it was all good. Thank you to everyone who supported my outburst. I am over it, and I have moved on. I know that if I fall into their trap, I am not better than they are. I have to be me, and do what I believe is the right thing. I was their bitch and I paid for it. In the future, those types of posts will be sent as emails to Laura, since my emails seem to fall into some sort of black hole over there. Yeah, I am talking about the picture of my future husband. Dammit. I wanted to show everyone.

Please note that I have not been ignoring the blog because of what happened, but because, well damn it, I hate to admit, it but my life is pretty boring.

If you have noticed a lot of pictures of good looking guys on my posts, it is simply because there is a reader that comes here just  for the pictures. I am doing my civic duty. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

If you really want to read some really good writing, you must, and I mean this, must go over and read Nick’s Blog, Heaven’s Burning. Damn can he write. If you do nothing else on the internet, go read Nick’s blog. He only has 3 posts, but damn, they are good.

Another interesting blog is Dan’s, Go Left at the Fork. He is in an interesting place that I totally can relate to from the other side of the fence. But be warned it is on blogger, and it comes with that nasty adult warning, even though it is, in my opinion a lot fucking tamer than mine.

Swine flu mania is still in full force, though I think that it is now petering out. We had a scare last night when Number Two Son was rushed to the hospital. He was tested but it turned only be strep throat. Sigh, nothing exciting happens …

To that special someone: Really, it happens to lots of guys all the time. Don’t worry about it. We can try again when you aren’t as tired. Seriously, I am not mad. It will be alright.

I think Obama is probably the fucking coolest guy on the planet. I watched him walk in take over a press briefing, talk shit about his people, give them props, give us the low down on Justice Souter and then waltzed right on out. Not very presidential, but pretty damn cool. It is a whole new ball game home biscuit.

Now the list of guys I would do is a lot longer than that.

I realized today that I have had this job longer than any other.  I have only had three employers. I have worked a full time job ever since I was 14. The first job was for 13 years 5 months, the second was for 3 months and this one is 13 and a half. Yeah, do the math. You will come close to my real age. I am geeky like that. I notice the strangest things.

The cowboy has nothing to do with the post, I am just pandering to a specific audience.

 

Posted by Rick at 08:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)