Note from the saddle
Boy, I must’ve fucked up pretty bad if you cannot resist temptation to shout at me over the phone. Could you see me looking into the receiver?! My look then is beyond words now.
Entries Tagged as 'I am what I am and I will survive'
Appy is going bye-bye and gay dating
Fair warning, there are two separate topics right there. Also I am not parting with my Appy, we’re leaving together in hour first e-honeymoon. I hear most BT operated hotspots are six pounds an hour. Sterling. Fucking. They want to ruin my relation with Appy, or what?!
The gay dating site is providing for the drama and amusement in my life. I know, it’s not much of an entertainment, but since I don’t have cable… One guy says “not looking for relation, if I were, I’d be looking for a relation with girls”. That’s sad, closeted, true, and telling. Another guy’s nick innocently states totalsm, like in Satu Mare. Like in sado-maso. Thats’s a funny missunderstanding.
OK, I have a couple of flights to catch, and a terminal to change in Heathrow. Heathrow in less than two hours? What were the travel company thinking?!
Confrontation
Do I have to stick to what I say I am? Do I stick to what I say I am? Do you see the difference between the two? Being out is a confrontation with myself first and then with the others.
These days I am making peace
Definitely depressed. The weather, the allergy, everything makes me tired. Not enough sleep, everything seems indeed like an effort. Satisfactions run fast by to quickly fade and make way to problems. I am tired of being late with everything. It’s that need for a clean slate, because everything on your plate now is just too much, too greasy and too getting cold. Not too sure what the future has in store. Happiness is the now, not in the wish. Truly happy people don’t have wishes, but I guess it’s only a matter of expectations and perception.
In my dream this morning we were picknicking on the occasion of a gayfest. We were also being awarded a prize for a website. I am sure it was a dream, because (1) I am currently unable picknick, (2) the gayfest was in fact a harvest celebration in the countryside, the parade was a happy marathon through villages, and the villagers were all in aw and wonder; also it took place somewhere in Transilvania, I could tell by the villagers’ accent, and (3) you cannot be awarded a prize for a project you have not completed.
Yesterday I was advised to wear a protection helmet at the march, but I think the only head gear I am bringing is my brains.
GayFest 2008 in Bucharest
It’s that time of the year. I am curious to see how many of you will be there, and where exactly. The overzealous should buy their own ripe tomatoes. They stain, but they would be a more civilized option to the more hardcore “stone option”.
Anyways, here is the official page, the programme (in Romanian only), and the web review.
Cheers!
Can my new Mac do things for me?
Like instead of me? Like call Romer!can. Like write a post on how outraged I am about the lack of promotion for GayFest (that starts tomorrow). Like ask Mazi why she switched her blog to private. Like how much I enjoy listening to Kenneth Bager.
I am overwhelmed. I have also had an almost near death allergy situation this morning. Send me your money and good wishes. Thank you.
LATER EDIT: The ill repute Windows/Picasa habits die hard. I am still fighting, but it’s both frustrating and funny to post a picture the size of the above. I promise to get better real soon.
There are no realiable landmarks in the world today
Everything is upside down! From top only showing their butts, to power-bottoms teasing us with their cocks, what is a poor conservative gay to understand of this world anymore?
Daily revolution
Relax, nobody gets hurt. That’s mostly around myself. Take yesterday, for instance. The moment I got out of the house, I caught a little fly between my eyelids. Isn’t that special?! OK, OK, it was my righ eye, but still. Thirty minutes, a panic attack, two pharmacies, and half a bottle of eye wash later I have managed to remove the little thing. It has not survived the above mentioned hardships. Do you know the joke with the crocodile tamer and the blonde? Yeah, that’s how I felt, only nostrils dried from the antihistamines.
In other unrelated news, I have been to the bookshop. That’s the thief of my heart, now that the boyfriend is in the mountains. Buying books, underline buy, not read, makes me feel intellectual. Of course, at a cost. Also being the gay I am I have bought Madonna’s latest. And Lenny Kravitz’s. Tell you what, you wannabe DJs, these two don’t go together, not for the time being, I’ve tried.
And now off to work, celebrating by doing this Labour Day.
Attention, we have a fly in the closet
You know your mum is not out, when she introduces your boyfriend as “a friend of my son’s”.
Philosophical side-effects of making pretty
When I did what I did I had feared the process and ignored the consequences I am now reminded are without fail more ferocius. When one is already way in one’s thirties, one should trust common sense more and vanity less.
You are probably wondering what the heck is he talking again. Oh, well, I had my back waxed. Before too soon I was happy on my way, I had not reached my pain threshold and had my back as smooth as linoleum, ready for the cuddling weekend with my baby. But, damn those buttbabies making, since I am not living in a nudist colony I had to wear clothes. Despite calming balm and cotton t-shirts without inside labels… remember that Sex and City episode? it’s me! My back looks like a stellar map, only red. I have until Friday to make it go away. Oh, where is the Fairy Godmother when you need her him?
As for you kids, there is a life lesson in every waxing you take. You don’t believe me? then go read paragraph one again. Now, go play and be merry.
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