Hedgehogs Running Amok

The Fort

2010-02-03T06:46:42Z

Pudd was my best friend through all of Elementary School. We didn’t have much in common. He was two years older than I, into cars and mini-bikes, where I was am always will be a nerd. But the adventures we had together will last me a life time.

This one time we decided to build a fort. So we went scavenging around the neighborhood and stole borrowed wood that didn’t seem to be of use to anyone. I have to set the scene for you so you better understand.

Our yards were identical. There was a front yard, two side yards, a back yard and the back lot. In our back lot, we planted a garden, kept the farm animals and built a shed built right up next to the property line. In Pudd’s back lot there was nothing but dirt and rocks. This was separated by a huge hedge of oleanders. Anything we did back there was shielded from his mother’s and more importantly my mother’s eyes.

We started out with a little one room Little Rascal’s looking play house which quickly grew to a 3 room shack with an unfinished second floor. I was playing Spanky to his Alfalfa. It was pretty cool. There was a special button you pushed that would open the window, though we had to close it ourselves. The ground was carpeted with old swatches of different colored carpets. It leaked badly when it rained. We had holey bean bag chairs that squirted Styrofoam beads out when ever you sat on it. At night we ran 30 extension cords plugged together across the yard to give us light. Oh and it smelled that special kind of funk that only young boys can. We would sit in there reading comics and talking about our plans to build our own amusement park. I think it was that talking that gave us the plan to build the tunnels.

I don’t remember what got us started but I remember that we put the opening on the back side of the fort and dug under neath. You had to access the fort through a trap door under the futon. At a certain point about 5 feet into the tunnel we decided that we needed a dungeon. But because we were tired of digging tunnels, we decided to dig a hole and cover it with a roof and then cover the roof with. The roof had a trap door so we could have a quick exit if we needed it. It was so easy, we decided to build all our tunnels that way. We dug like crazy that summer. By the end of it, there were tunnels and rooms all over that lot.

Then we decided that we were going to dig under the fence and build a room under under the neighbor, Mr., Chavez’s yard. Boys at that age don’t think things through. Okay, boys are stupid. This was our downfall. After we created the trapdoor, we forgot one thing. When you open a trap door, all the dirt falls off and people can see the door.

I need let you know the neighbor was a Vietnam Veteran. Now when he found a door in the ground of his property, he wasn’t really thrilled to say the least. He ran running around, screaming that the Viet Cong was here and they were after him. When we heard the commotion, we just poked our heads out of the trapdoor on our side and looked to see who it was. We couldn’t understand why he thought King Kong was after him. But I do remember the look on his eyes when he saw two very tanned, dirt encrusted boys stick their heads out of a trap door.

Mr. Chavez ran to the house and got his gun. And ran back to the trapdoor on his side. Thankfully Mrs. Chavez was of the mind to take the gun from him or I might not be here today. The cops were called. We were forced to return his “stolen property” (dirt) and made to work around his yard for a month until the grass grew back.

Pudd’s mom was not thrilled when the police revealed the extent of our diggings. They brought a bulldozer to fill in the dirt. It was a sad day when our fort came tumbling down.

But to this day, if you look at their back lot, you can see where the dirt settled after being filled in. And when it rains it looks like a miniature water park with all the crisscrossing rivers and streams.

On a good day,

2010-02-02T06:14:32Z

My day went great. I don't know where it turned. Maybe it was the ride home. I don't know, it just happened.

I feel like I can't talk to people any longer. It is as if we speak two different languages. It doesn't help that the one thing I talk about, is what everyone wants to bitch about. And when I do want to talk about things other than my job, I get blown off.

Then there are the kids. I think that my relationship with their father has somehow corrupted them. Their own personal relationships reflect the same way JP and I act towards each other. Add to it people who are expecting a normal relationship and there is a clash.

I am depressed.

I have to get out of this funk and quick.

Dude Where's the Love?

2010-01-29T05:25:20Z

You are warned that this post is not for everyone. It is a story I promised to tell my “Sistah” Goddess Duane, but haven't gotten around to.

When I was a kid, I had a really bad habit of chewing my finger nails. I would chew them down until they bled actual blood. My teachers would actually give me gum to stop me from chewing my nails. It was cheaper than the band aids. My mom in an inspired bit of mothering decided to put Apple Bitters on my finger tips to stop the chewing.

For those of you who do not know what apple bitters is, it is a chemical that is very bitter and causes nausea if ingested. The thought is that if you get sick you will stop doing it. It is sort of a behavioral modification FOR DOGS! It is supposed to keep dogs from chewing on things. Mom thought if it worked for dogs it might as well work for her son.

Truth be told, it worked. To this day, I get nauseous even seeing people with their fingers in their mouth. Please don't do it in front of me. I am ill just writing about it. Yes, I know I am fucked up. Get over it, I have.

So drag us to present day. JP has a new dog. The dog likes to chew up his Malibu lights, so I told him the story about apple bitters and how it had worked on our dog growing up and had also worked on me. So we went to WallyWorld and picked up some new lights and some apple bitters. We came back installed them and JP sprayed each of them top to bottom with a nice thick coat of apple bitters. We cleaned up went to dinner leaving the dog with his new snacks.

Coming back from dinner, there was success! None were eaten. So we settled down for a romantic evening. After a bit of cuddling and smooching, I figured he had been good enough for something special and proceed to do that thing that all guys love to have done to them. After a few hesitant teases, I went at it like, well JP's dog on a Malibu light. But as quick as I started, I was up off it, much to JP's surprise.

“Dude! You didn't wash your hands before you went to pee did you?”, I exclaimed.

“I didn't know we were supposed to wash our hands before we go to the bathroom”, He responded “ is this a new rule?”

“Dude! You have apple bitters on your dick!”, I quipped. Then I thought about it for a second and decided it wasn't going to work this time. I mean seriously, in the intervening years, this was not really the nastiest thing I have had on my tongue. I mean come one, I am a gay man after all. I over came years of childhood conditioning and finished like a good trooper and was rewarded shortly. Well not shortly, but you know after an agonizingly long time. A couple of hours even. When it was over, I heard JP say “Dude, that was excellent”.

Okay now I have just gotten a mouth full of two distinctly nasty tastes in my mouth. I did this out of love. I asked for no reciprocation. Not even a kiss, and this bitch is calling me “DUDE”. I was furious! “Dude! I mean what the fuck! You just got a freaking blow job from your lover! Can't you come up with a better word than "dude"?

Now, I am not sure I am ever going to have oral sex again because all I remember is the apple bitters and anyone who says “Dude” annoys the fuck out of me. And the worst part is that I say “Dude” a hundred times a day.

Are you friend or foe?

2010-01-28T06:33:36Z

Friend (Frend) –noun

a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.
a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.
a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe?
a member of the same nation, party, etc.

I know I have talked about friends and friendship a lot. Friends are important to me. But to me there are three main levels of friends. Acquaintances, Friends and Family.

Acquaintances are those people I know but don’t do stuff with unless I am forced to. I have thousands of acquaintances. These are people I talk to every once in awhile, whom I am friendly with, but don’t want to talk to outside of the area you know them. I like them, but I don’t want to get to know them on a real personal level.

Friends are those I like doing stuff with. These are the people you like talking to because they are interesting. These are the people you want to come to your parties. I have very few of these people. I don’t even think my best friend knows she is my best friend.

Family are those that I do stuff with because I have too even though there is no real relation. These are people who have brought meaning to my life. These are the people, I have connected with on a deeper level and like to keep them around. These are the people that get me that understand my humor. These are the people I truly love. The ones I would do anything for.

As I watch the interplay of relationships, especially amongst women and gay men, I notice that your best friend today isn’t the same one as tomorrow. One thing goes wrong and they become enemies. In my life time, I have had 4 best friends. Never did we leave on bad terms; there was always something that separated us. To me being a best friend is like being a government worker, once you are in, you are in for life.

***BREAKING NEWS***

I interrupt this blog post to announce that I got HATE MAIL!

It is true. This very afternoon, I received an email from someone who hates me. I know it is hate mail because it read "I hate fags likke (sic) U. Yur(sic) a fukkin fag"

I am so thrilled. Some random person who hasn't even met me hates me for being. I doubt the guy even read my blog, but still he hates me. The sad thing is that being gay is only a part of me. If he gave me half a chance, I am sure he could find some other reason to hate me. Other people do.

***Now back to your regularly scheduled blog***

and then I said, "That's what he said" and we all had a good laugh.

And that is how I would bring peace and prosperity to America.

The Gift

2010-01-27T03:12:48Z

JP is a dolt. No matter how much I talk to him about his gift giving habits he fails to understand that it is not about the gift it is about the thought behind it. For example, for my birthday this year, he gave me a roto-razor, some gummy worms, some watermelon candy, a couple of shirts, two jackets and a toothbrush. Now to him, those were all great gifts. I had told him how much I had liked the Roto-Razor. I had told him I needed a new tooth brush. Those are my two favorite candies, and who can’t use new clothes? They are all good presents. I liked each one, but there is nothing there that will last forever. There is nothing there, that I couldn’t get for myself or that won’t be replaced in the next year. There is nothing that says “I love you and you bring something to my life.”

Then last week, his mother returns from a trip visiting friends and family in Oregon. She brought me something back from her trip. It was a piece of 81/2 by 11 paper folded in half. It was in a plain manila envelope with a Sears catalog inside to make sure it didn’t get bent in transit.

On one half of the folded paper was written “Happy Holidays Rick, May his noodley appendage touch you FSM. There is then a hand drawn picture of the Flying Spaghetti Monster with mountains, trees, a pirate and midget. It is signed by Bobby Henderson himself, The Creator of FSM. It is signed I am not ashamed to say I openly wept. I could not believe that she remembered a conversation from two years ago and got me Bobby’s autograph!

This is what gift giving is about. Getting someone something that they didn’t know that they wanted, but it is the best gift for them. Why didn't her son figure it out.

P.S. I know I am a crybaby and a geek, no need to post those comments. Thanks!

Facebook Follies

2010-01-26T05:27:09Z

I am on Facebook.

I am serious. I resisted for a long time but finely acquiesced and became a member. I don’t remember who suckered me into it, but I did it anyway. And I hate it.

There are three types of people on Facebook

The purists: These are the people that are there for the reason Facebook was created to find people you used to know or keep in touch with those you don’t want to lose now.
The Gamers: They come to Facebook to play games. This is why I stay. I am one of those assholes who is addicted to Farmville. I am level 50 bitches! That is right! I am better than everyone in my group. Seven levels ahead of everyone. I am the master of my own cyber plantation! And for all you who are rolling your eyes at virtual farming, you have to know that there is a game, an actual game where you take baths and clean your house. I kid you not, and to top it off, when you visit your friends, you have to clean their houses too!
The Gloaters: These are the people who post to Facebook “I am eating dinner with my boyfriend” or “Meeting up with some friends to party all night”. These guys never interact with people, they post a message and then move on. If you respond to their posts, you are a sucker. Unless you were one of the people they were partying with they will never respond to your posts. These are the people who in real life only call you when they need something.

There is a fourth group on Facebook, and they appear to be the vast majority of people. They created accounts, added some friends and then POOF! They disappeared never to be heard from again. I call them the MIA’s. Missing in Action.

When I started on Facebook, I kept it simple and did not add anyone I knew from work except a few people that I really liked. It was just me, some of the family and then my friends from work. But then something happened. I started playing the games. And the games are rigged so that you have to sucker err… recruit your friends into joining or you can’t advance. So the more friends you have the faster you move up. So I added more and more and more… until now, the people I am adding just annoy the fuck out of me, and it is showing.

Last week I went off on them all. One of the favorite things for people to do, mainly women, is to post shit to their friends and then their friends copy and paste it to their friends pages and so on and so on. You know stuff like “You are a smart, beautiful, strong woman and I am so thankful you are my friend because I am a pathetic loser who is not threatened by your talent, looks, or wisdom. Thank you for letting me bask in the glow of your greatness. Now pass this on to 10 women you want to have a lesbian affair with”.

Okay I exaggerate but damn, I don’t answer 99% of my emails because of chain letters and now this? So I called all my friends to task for it. I told them that it was pure laziness for them to do this crap. If they want to express how they feel, then to do so in their own words. By using a template someone gave you, you cheapen the emotions and the sentiment.

I was not popular that day. But I did stop them from starting up a new chain, and one even took my advice and posted nice little notes to their friends and family’s pages.

Updating My People!

2010-01-14T06:50:05Z

The job is going great. I spend most of my day working remotely with staff in far flung villages like Kykotsmovi. Yeah, it is real, go Google it if you don’t believe me. I love the job. It is completely different from what I was doing before, but the principles are the same. Treat the employees well, communicate effectively, be fair and they will work hard.

I supervise the help desk. And because of some programming errors, the system has not been working as well as it should, so our help desk has been overrun with calls. I get to take some of them. To tell the truth, yesterday, I didn’t get off the phone. I was helping people all over the place. It was crazy busy. Today was much slower.

The best part about the job is all that I am learning. There is an incredible amount of work that goes into storing a single document electronically. The programming alone takes hours to debug. I got to meet the programmer of our database at one of the hundreds of meetings each week. Before the meeting everyone was acting like it was an honor for him to come in and fix his program. Everyone was going gaga over the fact that he was the President. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it definitely was not this guy. He is young, Hispanic with movie star good looks and he talks with a big booming voice. He was extremely egotistical for a guy who wrote a piece of shit. After the meeting I asked my boss why was everyone acting like it was such an honor for him to be at the meeting. It wasn’t like he wrote Windows. My boss laughed, and said he didn’t know either.

I miss my old job, well some aspects of it. I miss some of the people. I still hear from a few. Others who I didn’t think would not ignore me, have. I understand they are busy, but still I can’t help but think they only stuck around for what I could do for them. Now that I am not in a position that directly affects them, they don’t feel that they need me. Oh well there is always Karma and Facebook.

There is a major upgrade to the software tonight. I am betting tomorrow will be horrible, so I had better get off to bed. Hope all is well with you. Be well and see you soon.

HELLO, NURSE!

2009-12-17T04:43:36Z

A little big headed ginger kid walking along a curb on his way to school. His head is much too big for him to keep it balanced and he slips off right in front of the school. He lands square on his face blood gushes to out his nose like a fountain. He grabs his face screaming the block back to his house. He runs into the house where his mother is. She sees the first thing she sees is the blood all over his shirt and realizes something is wrong. She grabs a towel and quickly starts to clean his face. She starts to get worried when the blood won’t stop she makes the decision to rush him to the hospital. Pushing him out the door, they are met by a woman dressed in white.

She got out of her big white Cadillac and walked with a determined gait down the driveway towards the boy. She wore a bright white dress with sensible white shoes; the boy could not imagine a time he had ever seen such white clothing. She was a big woman with reddish brown hair. She immediately bent down to the boy as she introduced herself as Nurse Tammie.

She looked the boy over, with blood pouring from his nose; she looked at the small bump on his head, checked his teeth and then turned her attention to his nose. She ran her finger along one side and pushed ever so slightly. The boy screamed as there was a pop in his head. The mother started to object, but realized the blood had stopped immediately.

The three of them went back in to the house and cleaned the boy up. Nurse Tammie talked to the boy and his mom for a long time. The boy lay on the couch as his mom and Nurse Tammie talked about this and that and other things. They drank coffee and smoked cigarettes, while the boy lay just feet away. The boy watched TV oblivious to the two of them. Every once in a while Nurse Tammie would get up and check on the boy. The boy noticed that her white dress was now stained with rust colored marks where his blood had landed. He wanted to say he was sorry but didn’t know how. Nurse Tammie didn’t seem to mind anyway.

Soon she got up and said she had to get back to school because there were other little children that needed to be taken care of and off she went. But she came back at lunch time again dressed in a beautiful white dress with no signs of blood. She joined the boy and his mother in a lunch of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich.

She came back on her way home, and declared the boy healthy enough to return the next day.

Nurse Tammie was always there. All the colds, the flu, the tonsillitis, the sprains, the strains the headaches and backaches, she was always there.

As the boy grew and changed schools and moved around, Nurse Tammie was always there. The outfit changed in the 80’s to an orange and purple flower smock but still she wore those white sensible shoes. The boy thought she followed him, but the truth was that it was just coincidence. The boy’s mom became best of friends with Nurse Tammie.

Years would pass and the boy would grow older and so would Nurse Tammie, but she was always there for him.

Then one day the boy was out with the man who would be his one day and they met Nurse Tammie. There were hugs all around and the man and Nurse Tammie talked like they had known each other for years. And they had. Years before the boy the man had had Nurse Tammie as his school nurse. The man said “Nurse Tammie is my mom’s best friend”.

And that how she was. Everywhere you went, everyone knew Nurse Tammie. Everyone had a story of how she had helped them through one sort of disease or another. Everyone loved her. Everyone was her friend.

Through the years, Nurse Tammie was always here or there, you always saw her until she got ill herself and stopped going out as much.

It has been about a year now; it was last Christmas Eve to be exact when we last saw her. She hasn’t been well. I got an email that said simply, “Nurse Tammie, has entered hospice, she asks that no one come visit her, but you remember her as she was. Family asks that instead of gifts or flowers, you donate to…”

I hope that when I leave this place, that every memory I leave behind is as loving and caring as those Nurse Tammie gave to me and hundreds if not thousands of other boys and girls.

Deep-seeded Psychosis?

2009-12-15T04:16:04Z

Today, while watching a co-worker get dressed as Santa for a "Winterfest", it dawned on me that Santa is fucking creepy. How did this become the symbol of the biggest holiday of the year? This guy is just nasty. I mean he sneaks into your house while you are sleeping and brings gifts to children. In my neighborhood that means your ass gets shot. No questions asked.

This might be why I have always disliked Christmas. This creepy old guy in need of a massive makeover. Where are the Queer Eye the Straight Guy people when you need them?

My Husband Wish List

2009-12-08T08:00:06Z

The other day I twittered something about "Pretend Husband", and I was asked how many Pretend Husbands I had. Pretend Husbands are the guys I have no fucking chance in the world of landing but think about when I am shopping for housewares at Target and think "Will _____ like this?" I have forgotten more pretend husbands than I can list, but let's give it a try.

Please note that by inclusion on this list, I am not making any allegations or assumptions to the honorees sexual orientation.

Jake Gyllenhaal

Was first introduced to him in October Sky, by the time Donnie Darko came out, he had matured nicely. I love his goofy smile.

Gerard Butler

This dude is too cool for school. He just screams sexy. If we were married we would soon get divorced because I would demand he scream "THIS IS SPARTA" upon climaxing.

Nick DeCaro

Who? Yeah, Nick will do that to you. The picture isn't of him. I didn't get his permission to post it so I didn't Nick is a very talented photographer that brings us stuff like this. I am in love with a man with a camera. Go figure. Note, the pirate thing is a private joke.

Ricky Martin

This one has been a consistent choice for years and he just keeps getting hotter. If we get married, he will stop shaving his chest. That is mandatory.

Chris Salvatore

Starring in the third installment of Eating Out, I found this guy a year ago on YouTube singing "I kissed a boy". I follow Chris and his current husband, Matthew Stevens on Twitter and I have not been disappointed. I would never come between them, but if something should happen, I will gladly step in for a night or 5. Dinner is on me!

Jesse Metcalf

Only time this Daddy in training would be desperate is when he is trying to get away from me. I love his smile and the new bulked up look. When he was sleeping with Eva Langoria on ABC's Desperate Housewives he was way to skinny.

Enrique Iglesias

Okay, I am going to get a lot of grief for this one but I just love his sappy songs. He can be my Hero any day.

Javier Soto

You don't know him but he is a local reporter/anchor for an independent station in Phoenix. He is such a cutie. He does a good job and has fun doing it. I follow him on Twitter @JavierSoto3TV and he was the one who asked how many pretend husbands I have.

Ryan Reynolds

From Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place to this summer's Wolverine, If Ryan is in it and half naked, I will buy it!

And Finally

Laura. I would marry her in a heart beat. You gotta love a woman who can give you rabies dressed as a pirate! I would be her bitch anytime. Get Well Soon Sis!

Rant

2009-12-07T05:28:43Z

I was watching this commercial the other morning for these kids things called Bendaroos. They are sticks of wax that stick together to build things. That is all well and good. It looks like something a 5 year old will look at, throw to the ground and go off and play X-box. I am not saying it isn’t a good product, in fact it looks like a product I would have begged my mother for when I was a kid. Why? Because they are “magic”; says so right in the commercial.

“Magical wax over super strong string” is the exact wording. Now I am no expert, but if the commercial says “Magical” then it has to be real magic, unexplainable by science, supernatural. If it is not, then the company can be sued for false advertizing. So, here is my plan.

I am going to build my own man. I am going to get me some of this magic wax and I am going to form it in the shape of a man. I will start small. I will do body parts first. Well, I won’t start small but you get what I mean. After I have perfected the body parts, I will move on to a full body. It will be my David only he will be alive!

And he will not need to eat, he won’t spend my money, he will always be there, and I won’t ever have to worry about him looking at other guys, because I won’t make his eyes work, I will just make them out of normal wax.

And if this doesn’t work, then and only then will I sue Bendaroos for false advertisement. But I won’t sue them for money, I will sue them for real magical wax. I will force them through the courts to create actual magic, and when they do, I will be there to claim victory and the product, from which I will create an army to take over the world! I will create all manner of creatures from griffins to T-Rexs. The world will never be the same! And of course, I will create a winged-unicorn so that I may fly high above and watch the carnage.

Now you see why JP never asks me what I am thinking about?

Note: The picture has nothing to do with the post. I found it on the net and it was a WHAT THE FUCK type of picture, that I found disturbing. So I thought I would share it with you so you could be disturbed with me. When did the KKK get a clown?

My Cat is an Enabler

2009-11-12T05:48:32Z

Last night I was making bacon for a friend's dinner. Whenever I make bacon, I always make twice as much as I need, because I have nibblers around who steal it. I did this last night, taking the amount I needed and leaving the rest of the nibblers.

I came back expecting to catch Dad or Mom eating the bacon, but what I saw was amazing.

Razz, my cat had jumped up on the counter and was purposefully dropping bacon on the floor to my dog, Chupa. She then turned back and stole a piece for herself and ran off.

Damn animals are conspiring against me!

Ahhhhhh!

2009-11-11T18:09:05Z

And she wonders why I don’t answer her calls.

2009-10-31T07:11:30Z

It was 15 minutes after 5 and I was thinking about what I needed to do after I got off work. I had a whole list of things, that I just needed to get done and still make it home in time for Glee! My phone rang. I looked at the caller id and answered the phone.

“Hi, Mom”, I answered

“What are you doing after work?”, she asked, sounding more like Earnest Borgnine than any woman should.

“I guess I am doing something for my mother”, I sighed.

“Bring me some cigarettes, something to drink and a candy bar to St. Joe’s.”, she barked.

Suddenly I am worried, “Oh My God, what are you doing at the hospital? What happened?”

“Nothing is wrong with me, they took D—away in an ambulance just now, I am going there now.”

Much more calm now, it is only her current boyfriend. She has already killed off two of them, but this one is just a little older than I am. Damn she wears the men out.

So I finish up my work and leave 30 minutes late. I stop by the grocery store to get all that she wanted because I hate standing up at the convenience store with 20 people behind me and announcing that I need a pack of Misty Menthol 100’s. It isn’t the manliest point in my life when I have to get her some smokes. It is like not only do I have to get the girliest brand on the planet “Misty”, but the regular size is not good enough for me, I have to ask for the extra long ones. Yeah, you won’t see that on the cover of Sports Illustrated Magazine.

I stop at the “Gay” Safeway. I say “Gay” because this is the store that most of the gay couples shop at. When I worked downtown, this was my favorite spot to shop. I felt comfortable. So I gather up all my stuff and go through the self check out and then hit the customer service counter to get the cigs. There is no one behind the counter, but it usually takes just a second for them to get there. But while I wait a young gay couple shows up and waits in line behind me. They are one of those preppy gay couples where they are overly thin to the point of being anorexic and one is nelly and bitchy.

The customer service rep comes running out of the back room and to the counter. She asks me what she could do for me. “Misty Menthol 100’s Please.”, She looks at me with obvious disdain, waddles back to the cigarette case and pulls out the small box. “No he bigger box please”. She looks at me again and shakes her head slightly. The gay couple are now whispering to each other and the overly feminine one is now standing on one leg and bouncing his other foot like a hyperactive flamingo.

The clerk returns and asks me “Is there anything else?”. I say no, real quiet and ashamed like, and she starts to ring me up and tells me to slide my card. I slide my credit card and she says no, you have slide your driver’s license first. WTF? What is this? Is the government now tracking who buys tobacco products? Is this why mom sent me here? My driver’s license has not been out for quite a while so it takes a little longer and I hand it to her, she runs it through her machine, then tells me to swipe my club card so that my driver’s license will be on the card when they come in, and then swipe my credit card and would I like to add my credit card to my club card so that I only have swipe one card from now one?

NO! I don’t want all that. I just want to go home and watch Glee!

She didn’t even bother to give me a bag so I had to carry them in my hand, where everyone could see them. As I walked away, the feminine guy says real loud, Marlboro Reds, Box.

Funny, he sounded just like Earnest Borgnine too.

Al Jolson would be so proud

2009-10-30T20:30:31Z

I woke up to the sound “You have a text message”. My eyes focus and it is from Angel. I forgot to tell him that I was off today, so I scramble to make sure it isn’t a work related as my eyes focus it says “Did you get the picture I sent you?”.

Now Angel sends the most interesting pictures of all my friends. Not the good kind my friend Akito sends me that reveal body parts, but interesting ones. So I scrambled through the 14 messages sent to me since 4 a.m. (yes I am popular) to find the message.

I open it up and there he is dressed in a 70’s outfit, and dutchboy haircut, a guitar and what appears to be black face. I say a little prayer and text him asking him if he is wearing blackface in a government office?

“No”, he responds “I am wearing brownface”. (I am serious as a heart attack he really did say that) He sends me another picture and he is indeed wearing makeup to appear darker than he already is. You gotta love him. He truly is this innocent. He really doesn’t know. He blushes when you say the word “vagina”. So I explain to him that black face is modifying your skin tone to appear African American. I explain that it is offensive to some because white people would dress up in black face because minorities were banned from appearing in movies. I tell him to look it up on Wikipedia his favorite source of knowledge.

He is mortified. He is upset. He can’t believe it. I tell him he may be okay because he is already a minority, people might not get upset about it. But to be prepared for it if they are.

He responds “Tom (my boss) saw it and laughed and said to stay away from Tina Turner”. Yes Angel, the whitest man in America didn’t realize blackface was offensive. The man who thinks Mac and Cheese with Mayo is an ethnic food, has deemed your costume acceptable you are not going to offend anyone.

I love his innocence, but also his naughty side. He responds, “I have black in me if you count A--- (his boyfriend)

I respond back “If you have your black boyfriend in you at work, then we have a whole other set of problems.” He didn't respond back.

I love Angel, it is never dull around him.