best of
Return from the Grave
Over the next few days, I will try to find some of my old posts. Sort of a best of The Digital Fairytale. I spent some time looking at the internet archive and found several posts that made me laugh my butt off. I figure why not let them make a repeat appearance – I just have to find them first. (I thought the grave reference was appropriate given the time of year).
Attack of the Flying Dildo
By now, all my friends have heard (and many strangers too). Yes, I have been mentally and emotionally scared by a horrific attack by a flying dildo. I will never be able to look at a dildo the same way again 
.
My story begins on one fateful summer day in July. Me the innocent and sweet person that I am just driving along minding my own business. (Okay, I was really doing 90 as I was running late as usual and dodging in and out of rush hour traffic – but you miss the point.) Anyway, I was driving along minding my business passing through Florence (KY) you know the place with the ‘Florence Y’all’ water tower when out of nowhere this giant neon pink and purple dildo comes flying towards my car. Not having anywhere I could go, I just let it come for me – I’ve never been afraid of a cock before and I’m not going to start now. So my life flashes before me in slow motion and I think is this how it ends killed by a giant cock. Then smack, the dildo hits my windshield leaving a cock head shaped crack (if you are imaginative, you can even see it as a cock head that is cumming, the cracks shot out in front like it is shooting its load [or maybe I just need to get laid]). To add insult to injury, rather than bouncing off or falling off to the side, the dildo just sat there on my windshield. So here you have me barreling towards Cincinnati in rush hour traffic with a neon pink and purple dildo on my hood (I guess I could look at it as free advertising). I had ample time to study the dildo in detail, and hundreds of questions popped through my mind. Where did it come from, why my vehicle, who the hell throws a dildo out of their vehicle on the interstate, what if they didn’t throw it out, what if it came out, what were these crazy dildo users doing, and lastly where had that dildo been (that thought was just too horrific to imagine – I was passing through Florence and racing towards Cincinnati afterall, neither exactly an accepting gay mecca). The thought of where it had been too horrible to visualize, I decide to roll down the windows and crank the stereo – might as well make the best of a beautiful day. Then traffic began to slow – congestion during rush hour who ever heard of such – and here I am windows down, Cher blaring on the stereo, with a giant dildo on my hood. Needless to say the looks, pointing, and laughter were quiet memorable. At this point I had decided to leave the dildo – I refused to touch it without protection (always wrap it up, or at least in this case get a rubber glove or paper towel or something to grab the mysterious flying dildo with).
Slowly but surely traffic begins to flow again and I am back on my way to Richmond Indiana. I finally get through Florence and find a truck stop to get gas and remove my extra passenger at. I pull off, fill up the tank and see this guy staring at my vehicle. I muster in my bitchiest tone – ‘what you never seen a cock that big’. His respond ‘nope, can’t say I have’. My retort, ‘My sympathy to your wife’. He just looked confused. I finished filling my tank and then grabbed one of the papertowels out of the dispenser and use it to throw the flying dildo in the trash.
I proceed on the rest of my trip without my extra cargo and arrive uneventful in Richmond. At the hotel, one of the staff comments ‘what happened, that looks like one nasty crack in your window’. I recount my story with her eyes getting bigger and bigger throughout.
Without a doubt, it will require years of therapy to overcome this horrific experience – okay maybe not. More than anything it is par for the course, if crazy crap didn’t happen to me, I wouldn’t be me. In truth, the thought going through my mind, ‘damn is that what my life has come to that my truck is getting more action than I am. Needless to say, I haven’t fixed the windshield, I have kinda gotten used to it. Plus it is entertaining to me when people ask about the crack and I get to recount my story to them and see the reactions.
A Holiday with Feeling
*Classic Fairy retrieved from the Internet Archive originally published 11/29/2004
For years I have been a spectator for the drama that is my family’s Thanksgiving holiday. Some of our more memorable moments include my brother announcing he dropped out of a PhD program in Biochemistry to sell vacuum cleaners (he managed to sell one before he quit – to himself). My parent’s announcing they were going to build a new house so that my mom and her girlfriend could live together (my father on an entirely separate floor from them). One of my best-friends asking me to donate sperm for her and her partner to have a child – while subtly asking someone to pass the gravy. Then two years ago, my grandmother (who has Alzheimer’s) deciding to go on a naked stroll through the hospital. But not to be outdone by my family, I decided to join in on the drama this year – well at least not intentionally.
No, I didn’t come out to them – I did that many, many years ago (I waited till Father’s day for my dad – I wanted to make sure it was memorable for him). Instead, I spent my holiday in the emergency room (a massive infection, I’ll spare you the details). But you see, that wasn’t the drama. The drama came when the nurses were testing the dosage for pain killers (to stop the pain the infection caused).
There is a little thing about me that my close friends all know and realize. I have a VERY strong sex drive and can be a little bit of a slut (okay a big slut) when I don’t keep myself in check – basically I will hit on anything with a dick. I generally keep my hormones in check by the logical side of my brain, but when I drink or in this case am given painkillers all bets are off.
One of the nurses on duty at the hospital was an old friend of mine, and knew this reality. I am still trying to decide if she came to watch after me, or to watch the show. You see, she was supervising the male nurse who was responsible for giving me the test dose – first mistake. When they came in she gave me a hug and told me what they were going to be doing (basically figuring out just how much was enough without being too much). The sad thing is, I can remember most of what happened. After the first dose, I became a little more chatty – though still in pain.
Now is when the drama begins, after about ten minutes they gave me another small dose, as it was starting to kick in, I began discussing how nice the male nurses eyes were and how his ass looked in his scrubs – still in pain. The third dose now begins to kick in, the male nurse who was now sitting on a chair in front of me was looking in the other direction, without thinking about it I begin to massage his shoulders – still in pain. The fourth small dose, the nurse now standing was in close proximity when this dose began to kick in, my reaction to grab and fondle his ass – still pain, plus mental note he didn’t seem to mind.
The fifth dose was the part that will go down in family history. By this point, I was still feeling some pain, but it wasn’t the only thing I was feeling. Denise (the female nurse / so-called friend of mine) was standing in the corner trying not to laugh, while I am busy with my own activity – feeling up my male nurse. By the bulge in his pants, I could tell he didn’t mind at all, when here opens the door with both of my parents standing in the doorway. My father immediately turns and leaves, while my mother manages to utter something to the effect of “you seem to be feeling better” before turning and closing the door. Denise is doubled over laughing and the male nurse has this look of shock on his face. Then there is me, half glazed look on my face and still fondling the nurse and still in a little pain. The nurse finally backs into the corner and hands “my treatment” to Denise. My sixth and final shot begins to kick in and Denise asks if I feel anything. My response, to her was something about there being one thing I wouldn’t mind getting a better feel of – as I stare at the male nurse, the bulge in his pants, and the slight wet spot that has formed.
As is natural for my family, everyone lives in a state of denial. My parents didn’t make even one comment about me fondling the nurse; instead, they decided to comment on how beautiful all the holiday lights were as we drove home. The next day Denise called to “check up” on me – but more specifically to tell me everything I had done. I told her I could remember almost everything, but the guy’s name. She told me that his name was Richard, but that everyone called him “Little Dicky” as he was kinda short – and clearly with the painkillers talking, I responded that I could definitely attest to the fact that there was nothing little about Dick. Mental note, call Denise and get his number (if he’s single) maybe “lil’ dicky” can be my holiday present – if I he turns out to be a “pain” in the ass, hopefully it will be the good kind.
Closed Minds, Closed Hearts, Closed Doors
*Another classic entry copied over from the Internet Archive
I went to church yesterday. (Yes, I do go occasionally.) I grew up United Methodist and today’s sermon struck me as immensely ironic. I have a history at that church of getting up during the sermon and debating with ministers, but I held my tongue today as there were about 60 guests today and I didn’t want to make a scene. Plus, our minister gets nervous when the congregation gets large so me getting up and debating with him would have probably made him lose it.
If you watch television you have likely seen the United Methodist commercials, the “Open Minds, Open Hearts, Open Doors” – some of them are actually quite good. Well, the commercials talk about different aspects including diversity and how Methodists are open to all diversity – including one with a woman saying that none of us are qualified to judge. The commercials are to an extent misleading given the facts of the past few years. While it is true that Gay and Lesbians are welcome as members of the UMC by the articles, there are many aspects that we are not technically welcome in or treated equally. For example, you can not be openly GLBT and serve as a minister – nor can a commitment ceremony be officiated by a UMC minister, so it is not an equal environment and the commercials are somewhat misleading. I will say though that the UMC is loosely structured and individual churches do have a great deal of say so ultimately more progressive churches will move us forward. Unfortunately, I don’t think it will be mine that does it – there is a very delicate balance at our church and often the balance is maintained by my family and family friends as we have the balance control of the church committees.
But what is the point of this (there is method to my madness – now on to the sermon). The sermon listed in the bulletin was about family and loved ones, but the sermon he ultimately gave was a fire and brimstone type of sermon. The basic sermon was on how we have abandoned God and that in fact our tolerance of diversity and difference is what is bringing America into chaos. He went on about how the fact that we do not actively pursue non-members (harass them into the fold) is actually something that will result in sending us to hell. He preached about sex and sexuality and how we have lost the values of God. And he stood there and spewed statistics and so-called facts that were blatantly wrong. Basically for over 30 minutes he went on and on about this, with each second of it making me more and more irate. The only joy that I got was the fact that I take care of the sound system at the church so I just kept tinkering with it and making it squeal and squeak – just to distract him and throw off his sermon. But the reality is what the hell has happened to the church I knew. I grew up with the philosophy and ideology that God was a God of love, that everyone was his/her/its children and that went opposite of everything in that sermon. Additionally, I was always taught that diversity and differences were what gave character to a congregation – not so if he is to be believed. The reality is that the sermon was nothing more than conservative propaganda that served to promote intolerance within the congregation. I do have to say that he is a young minister (under 25) and that in fact he comes from a Baptist background and thus ideologically does have some issues.
Another little irony is that when he arrived most of the church thought that he and I would become close friends as I am basically the only one active in the church that is around his age. Let me tell you, he barely speaks to me – it is very clear that he is uncomfortable around me because I speak my mind and don’t care if he doesn’t agree with me (I don’t think he knows that I am gay).
Oh well, I am sure that no one really cares, but I needed to vent.
Sex and Terrorism
*Another entry from the digital closet – this one from September 27, 2001.
The key to fighting terrorism – hoes all around. (I got this idea while playing Pimp Wars). Yes you heard me right. I will beat myself over the head for saying it later. But, the idea makes a great deal of sense when you take into consideration an article that appeared in the Times of India (link no longer active). Apparently, analysis of Bin Laden’s handwriting shows that he is “beset by a strong libido, which was driving his actions”. Now, I have been horny, but I have NEVER been so horny that I wanted to blow-up a building, nor do I think that is the logical outlet for horniness. I mean, when I am horny the only things I can think about are blowing a load, blowing a guy’s dick, or being ramrodded by a big ol’ piece of meat – the thought of blowing up a building would never cross my mind. But let’s assume for a moment that the article is correct and that this is the act of a sexually repressed man.
Well, let’s look at the towers. One can see how they could be taken as a phallic symbol. Tall (long), erect, and hard – further, Bin Laden’s need to destroy these huge phallic symbols (in other words these big steel dicks) is a sign that he himself feels a need to destroy phalluses that are larger then his own. In other words he is trying to overcompensate for a small penis.
Additionally, in the attack on the Pentagon the plane hit the outside and missed going for the center. Now we can look at this attack in terms of a metaphor for Bin Laden’s own sexual frustrations. The plane exploding on the outer edges can mean one of many things. The first thing that such an attack could symbolize is that Bin Laden has an issue with premature ejaculation – he cums before he can even get it into the target. The other thing that this could represent is that Bin Laden is saying that in fact he does not find the sexual role that has been proscribed to him to be satisfying – as he never actually got into where he was supposed to and found satisfaction and release without ever achieving that role. In other words this could mean that Bin Laden is in fact a big ol’ bottom in need of a big ol’ dick rammed up his rump. The easiest way to test this theory would be for a tank to simply impale him up the a*s with its turret (soldiers keep this in mind when you get him) and if by chance I am wrong it will sure as hell be one big pain in the a*s for him.
Now as we can see we need to spread the wealth of hoes throughout the world and liberate the women in Afghan society; as well as get rid of that public stoning for homosexuals thing. If we did this it would at the very least curb terrorism. I mean think about it, if given the choice between killing yourself and getting laid, which would you choose. I can honestly say that I can not think of anyone that would not choose getting laid. Thus if we liberated the society sexually we would most certainly curb terrorism as most people are not going to be destroying things if in fact they are enjoying a nice after-glow.
So SEX is the solution to terrorism.
breaking up is hard to do
Another fairy classic – This one from Sept 23, 2001 when I was losing my then boyfriend Ricky – read all about how much of an a**hole I can be.
Okay, so the stuff about why I am wigging out and bummed today. Maybe I am just being stupid, but I think my boyfriend is about to dump me. (Hopefully he won’t read this, I haven’t told him that I added this functionality yet). Well, here is what has been happening.
Friday – He went to court with me (see Friday entries). While there I told him that I had a phone interview later that afternoon for a job about 250 miles away. After that he became somewhat distant – not saying much. That night (4AM in the morning so Saturday technically) I went to his apartment to spend the night (he gets off work at 4AM – also right after I posted a blog entry). Well, I am laying there in bed when he came in and I did the basic greeting stuff (hey babe, how was work) – he basically ignored me. When he got into bed he just laid down – no kiss, no playin’ around, no sex, no nothing. I asked him what was wrong and he simply said that he was tired. Next morning (noon actually), he woke-up before I did, typically he would nudge me gently or wake me up by playing with me or other things. Not this morning, I woke up and found him in the kitchen having breakfast – the conversation seemed rather distant (not like him at all). I went up behind him to massage his neck and shoulders and he pulled away. I again asked him what was wrong and this time his answer was that his shoulders were sore (all the more reason to let me give them attention I thought).
Well, we had originally planned to go to the park and go for a hike/picnic that day. When I brought up when he wanted to leave, he said that he wasn’t feeling up to it. I asked if he was sick the reply no not really. I again asked what was wrong and the answer nothing. I decided that it was very clear that I was not wanted there and was getting ready to leave, before I left he told me that he had to work late so there was no reason for me to come over as he didn’t know when he would get home – I told him that I had to be up early today anyway so it was no big deal (though I am saying forget it to what I had to do). So that brings us up to where we are right now, (any advice email me – the link is in the corner).
Needless to say I think I know what is wrong – the job interview and the thought that I might be leaving. You see, I am not the innocent victim that I might seem. I too like most men am an as*hole in nice guy clothing. Well, not really, but I made a major major major mistake with Ricky that I will have to carry for my whole life. You see, he is absolutely perfect (not really, but he is the perfect guy for me) – and 13 months today I did something that really hurt him and basically devastated him. Let me guess you are thinking that I cheated on him – NO not that I am absolutely monogamous. What I did was even worse.
(The short abbreviated version) We originally started dating in the spring of 2000. Our relationship moved really fast, within 2 months I was basically living with him. During this time I was searching for a job and had been very open with him about that. I interviewed with a school in the Boston MA area. I went to the interview and at the time really liked the school (I learned better later). I was offered the position and accepted it – only I did not tell Ricky. On August 22, 2000 while he was at work I packed my stuff and left – leaving only a note behind telling him I was moving to Boston and a check to pay half of everything until his lease was up. THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE. I did so for two reasons.
You see, I can honestly say now that I love him and at the time I was scared to admit it to myself. You see I had been down that road before. I had never felt as strongly for anyone as I do Ricky, but others had been close. In both cases I had my heart ripped out beaten to a pulp with a sledgehammer and then tossed in a blender on frappe. In other words it was bad, and I was scared that the same would happen with him. The other reason that I did not tell him was that I was scared of the conversation that might come up. A conversation where we would decide to move together and I was terrified of the commitment. You see it would be one thing if I had stayed here, but I was moving 1000 miles and would be responsible for taking him to a town were he did not know anyone and where he was far away from everything he knew. I didn’t think it fair to even ask him to make that decision. Further the position was a live-in position (an apartment in a residence hall) – he had never lived on a college campus so had no idea of what to expect so it would have been unfair to have put him in that environment. Basically I was a stupid idiot that walked out on him.
We did talk after I got there and I explained everything and why I did what I did (he was crying the whole time and for the most part so was I, but I was convinced I had made the right decision). I saw him in December at a party and he was with someone else (actually a friend who was playing boyfriend to make me feel bad). We talked some more and put the hard feelings to rest.
I returned in May to be with a friend who was dieing. I had talked with him and he knew I was back. One night I just showed up on his doorstep crying (Becky had taken a turn for the worse) – he took me in and talked and comforted me. I stayed there that night and the next morning I woke up and wanted to be with him – I loved him and knew it and I just wanted to show that and be with him. He woke up to me giving him a blowjob – we made love for close to six hours. In other words we got back together, it was a little odd at first – basically I spent all my time telling him I was sorry for being an asshole. He was by my side through her death.
After that we decided to take a vacation (he spent 2 weeks with me and I spent another 4 after that) in New Orleans. During that time we made up for lost time, and it was also the first time we both truly told the other those three words (the hardest in the human language to say) I LOVE YOU. Well, we talked through the relationship and in depth on why I had done what I did and we together came to a conclusion. That another time and another place we would be together and it would last, but at this point in our lives it limited our options. We decided that it would last as long as it would last (basically until I left again).
So in other words he is faced with that possibility again, the possibility that I will leave. It is hard for me to think about it, so I can only imagine what it is like for him. He has to be wondering if the man that he loves will walk out on him for a second time. I don’t really know what to say or even tell him. In truth I didn’t think it would be that hard for me either. The other thing is that I searched much closer, 250 miles is not really all that far (4 hour drive okay maybe a little on the far side for a relationship, but it could work). But then again, all this worrying may all be for not because I may not even get invited for a campus interview or get the job, who the hell knows. All I know is that I think I am losing him again and this time he is leaving me.
Religious Fanaticism
*Another classic returning thanks to the internet archive, this one from Sept 22, 2001
By now I think everyone has heard Jerry Falwell’s infamous comment (link no longer in Internet Archive) of last week (The Village Voice did a nice top ten style list using it). Needless to say it still pisses me off. By why do I bring this up now, you will understand in a few moments. (but first the rant).
I would think that the America people would finally wake up one day and realize that religious fanaticism in any form is dangerous. It is a lesson that we saw the deadly results of on 9/11 but no. Shortly after that Jerry “Bin Laden” Falwell comes out of the wood work and claims the blame for the attack rests on everyone for which he typically shows disdain. Have people forgotten his last major PR release (no not Tinky Winky) it was a little comment about how a hurricane was going to come and destroy Florida if the people did not turn against what he viewed as their sinning ways (specifically naming several groups – same as always homosexuals, pagans, feminists) (On a side note will he ever find new groups to pick on). This man is a true nut case. How anyone can take him serious is beyond me. But the reality is that it was a great deal of free publicity that offended half the country and caused the other half to call up and let him steal their money for his theme park and God only knows what else.
Now what made me think about this tonight. Well, I think I have figured out why it is that all of these people like Falwell are crazy. They too are drinking the Pat Robertson protein drink. Yes folks did you know (or even care) that Pat can do 600 pound leg-presses. His secret a special 700 club protein drink (expect the infomercial coming soon – can’t you see it “a drink inspired by God”) but yes folks I believe that all of these nut cases are on the same protein drink. A drink that no only allows them to do 600 pound leg-presses but also makes them absolutely certifiably looney. (All that stuff up there for this, you can tell I am tired — time for sleep).
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