Pole Dancing as an Olympic sport – another great idea brought to you by Mormons.

Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg – an interesting couple – they hizzle the sizzle with the Mashed Potatoes

Cooking Mama the PETA edition

Prince William and his royal scepter

Project Runway Delayed

ispeech read for your ears.

Hugh Jackman: Sexiest Man Alive – ummmm, I don’t think so. Definite hottie, but not the end all be all of hotness 

Semen Cookbook – Ok, now I have heard everything – I blame the Food Network

A Heart Attack waiting to happen – Turbaconducken (I like all of those things – just NOT TOGETHER)

Blowjobs as performance art – who knew that is all it took to be an artist – heck I should have my own exhibit in the Louvre.

“If homosexuality is a disease, let’s all call in queer to work: "Hello. Can’t work today, still queer";”

Though it doesn’t look like that was the inspiration. In general, it is somewhat a good idea, but will I ‘call in gay’, will any of my colleagues – one might but he wouldn’t be volunteering he would be looking for a lil’ twink to hook up with. Good luck to them in getting volunteers to ‘call in gay’. I just don’t get that galvanized by the whole prop 8 issue, though I seem to be in the minority. In my case, I am just a jaded ol’ queen that thinks relationships suck because men are jerks.

I am lucky in many ways, I work for an employer where I can be openly gay (heck it feels like we outnumber the str8’s many days) and in a profession where many often assume you are gay by default. I’m spoiled and lucky (I once worked at a homophobic college and it was one of the most depressing experiences of my life – I was so miserable that many days all I did was cry.)

Also, read their FAQ, my favorite

Will this get me on Oprah?
If it will get you to help out, then…yes…you’ll be on Oprah, Honey.

*Side note… Not my usual self right now. For the last week I have been working 16to18 hours a day and am just exhausted.

via !! omg blog !!

Honestly, it is more entertainment than it is actual value. It doesn’t really tell you anything that you couldn’t already figure out – it is just cool that a computer is telling you. What geek doesn’t love that, me included.

When I checked, I was 83% man – damn I was hoping for much lower.

If you follow the link on the analyzer to uclassify, you will find a link to another cool project the typealyzer (get the personality type for your blog – I’m an ISFP. Slightly different than my normal result, but still close.

via The Sword – Magical Gender Analyzer Quantifies Drag Queen Realness 
Oh and definitely check out the picture – I so want one of those – a My Little Pony case mod – it is so cute and probably the only thing that could make me more gay than I already am.

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.

Men are fascinating creatures, everyone says that women are confusing, but I definitely beg to differ. I understand women just fine, it is men I have yet to figure out. What brings this on, none other than a guy – but not for the reasons you are probably thinking.
The short version – Shortly after I moved here to Morehead, a guy randomly emailed me (from here in town). We got to talking and eventually hooked up, he was simply a “friend with benefits”. There was never any chance for more, for no other reason than that I do not date “closet-cases”. Until about a year ago, he had never even been to my apartment – I used to tease him about being afraid that someone whom he did not know and would likely never see again might just see him coming into my apartment – how scandalous that would be. Anyway, we have been just friends for about six months now, but tonight is what brings on this rant.
Over the weekend, I had a three hour “bi*ch” session with a friend. Traditionally, we get drunk during these as it is just that much more entertaining for the other. A few minutes after the bi*ch session ended, ***** called (I’ll keep his paranoia down and just leave him as blanks). We decided to get together and watch a movie, as I was in no state to drive, he came and picked me up. Everything was fine, we watched movies, and drank quite a bit – as I was already “sh*t-faced”, I ended up “skunk-a*s drunk” naturally. We talked, and laughed, and watched movies – nothing else. After he sobered up, he brought me home, and helped me to bed (I had one hell of a hangover the next day). Absolutely nothing sexual happened. As he had been a perfect gentleman, I decided to cook dinner to thank him (nothing fancy). Here is where the confusing part of guys comes in (did I say this was the short version, well I lied ).
So, Monday I cut out of work a little early and came home to cook. About 5:30PM ***** showed up. Everything was fine, we talked a bit and had a glass of wine. I went into the kitchen to put in the garlic bread, and asked him (from the kitchen) “Do you want parmesan on the bread”. When he didn’t answer, I stuck my head out of the kitchen to ask again. What was I greeted by? None other than ***** sitting on my couch with his dick in his hand stroking it. He looked at me (with his very bad come hither look I might add) and said “Fu*k dinner, let’s just skip to dessert”. All I could do was laugh, I told him that I wasn’t that drunk and to put his cock away. I went back in the kitchen, now everything would have been fine, except my uber-bi*ch kicked in. I came out of the kitchen (he still hadn’t put his dick back in his pants) and I went off, I told him that A) he needed a new line, B) I was no longer in the mood to have dinner, C) I had work to do, and D) “if you haven’t gotten the hint – get the fu*k out”. Needless to say, he put his dick away. When he didn’t make any movements towards the door, I looked at him and with as much bit*hy drama-queen as I could muster told him to “get the FU*K OUT!”, he got the hint and left (subtle aren’t I). Now was I a bi*ch – YES. Was it justified, I think so.
Let’s be honest, if I invite a guy for dinner, he should at least have the courtesy to wait until after dinner to pull out his dick, or at least let me pull out his dick.
Now, I can hear every guy out there, “you led him on”, what a typical guy response. You see, I have come to the conclusion that when talking to most guys they hear in an entirely different language.
If you say, “How was your day?”, they hear “F*ck me now!”
If you say, “Do you want to grab a bite for dinner?”, they hear “F*ck me now!”
If you even say, “Hi”, they hear “F*ck me now!”
But if you say, “F*ck me now!”, they hear something to the effect of “**** is on TV”. For str8 guys this is probably some sport, for most gay guys it can be just about anything else.
Now, on a side note, my favorite of all are the men that refer to themselves as “we”; the collective “we” to which they refer is often none other than themselves and their penis. What the F*ck? Now, in all honesty, I love my penis, but I do not refer to it as a person – that is just insane. I don’t ask my penis what it wants for lunch or dinner (though I have met guys that refer to what food their penis is in the mood for).
I wonder if it is a sign that ***** hasn’t called me.

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.

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.