Archive for December, 2006

Just An FYI

December 27, 2006

Have no fear. Come To Find Out is not sinking so easily.

Being the holiday season, I was a slave to the Baby Jesus and his money grubbing retail ways. Because we all know that Christmas means the love of presents, gift certificates, surly customers and returns on items you probably shouldn’t have bought anyway, because hey, your 16 year old neice probably wouldn’t look good in a lime green cable knit jump suit anyways, so why’d you buy it for her in the first place.

As soon as the dead skin is pumiced from my feet and I’m adequately hydrated with the proper beverages, you can bet your ass I’ll be back here. Until then, I’m going to soak in the tub and dream of the day I can legally carry a tazer. And successfully argue in court the phrase ‘Excuse me, but can you get me this size?’ is provocation enough to send thousands of volts coursing through another being’s body.

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My Apologies

December 16, 2006

It has come to my attention, recently, that family has stumbled across my blog [see my previous post’s comment section].

I had always known that what I put up on this site would be for the world to see. And I never had a problem with that. Words that I have written here are words that I would not be embarrassed by if anyone would stumble across them.

The purpose of this blog is so that I can have a forum to speak my mind and exercise my writing. Most of what is written here is done so in jest and humor. The few times where I have been completely serious [for example, my views on social issues], I believe I presented myself in a mature and well spoken way.

Because I’ve never tried to be malicious, inconsiderate, hostile or insulting on my site, it never occurred to me that someone would take my writing as such. So when I was alerted that I had inadvertently insulted family, I was upset.

I think it is important for me to differentiate my opinions and my feelings. I don’t like country and rural settings. I personally could never live in such an environment because I am not cut out for such an environment. I belong in the cities, because that is what suits me. For me, I cannot understand the appeal that such a place has for others. That is my opinion. Trust that it is not reflective of how I feel towards my family.

I love my family. I disagree with them a lot, argue with them a lot and complain about them a lot. But they are my family, and I love and care for them. I may not always like what they say or what they do, but they are family, and I am forever bound to them.

Anything that has been written or will be written on this domain [or any other] regarding my kin is never meant to be malicious. I am not embarrassed by what I wrote, because I believe the content to be in jest and good humor. I am, however, saddened that family is so upset by what they have read.

I had always thought it was obvious that this site was a satirical one. Now that I know that some people, more precisely those in my family, are offended by my humor, I will do my best to curb certain topics.

I apologize for any misinterpretation of this site’s contents. It was never my intent to cause any harm. Especially towards my family.

I’m sorry.

The Frosh Times

December 14, 2006

I’ve graduated high school and am now a freshman in college. The summer preceding the big college move in was littered with new experiences, such as getting drunk for the first time and throwing up pizza in the bushes in front of my house. Also in front of Steph’s mother.

Now I’m in college. I’ve just spent four years in an all male, private Catholic school. Otherwise known as the place where gays die of asphyxiation due to the lack of oxygen in the closet. So after very careful deliberation, I decide that it’s time for me to start to learn some things about my community.

Up until this point, I had only told one person I was gay. I had known for quite some time, but until the beginning of high school, never labeled myself as such because to me, it didn’t matter. If I didn’t care who I became attracted to, why should anyone else? But that’s going into another post entirely.
As I continue throughout my freshmen year, I decide to set up goals for myself. Not so much academic goals or goals to put in place a path towards a successful future. Oh no. Because that would be trivial and superficial. No, I set up ‘gay goals’.

These included, but are not limited to…

*Going to LGBT events on campus.
*Going to the gay club.
*Dancing with someone at the gay club.
*Making out with someone at the gay club.
*Getting someone’s number at the gay club.

As you can see, these goals were very adult and mature in their nature, and had no amount of frivolity ensconced in their existence in the very least.
So every time I went out, the primary purpose of the excursion was never ‘fun’. Please. It was field research. When I was able to write off one of the missions as complete, I was happy not because something happened, but rather because I set my mind to something and accomplished it [read: make out]. Unfortunately, I neglected to factor into my research expectations the fact that I may succeed in these goals only on paper, yet in real life be thoroughly ashamed and embarrassed of myself.

Most of the goals were easily enough accomplished. Even getting someone to give me their number was relatively simple. Though I did feel very uncomfortable when the guy called me the next morning [at 9 am…then at 2 pm…then again at 8 pm and finally at 11 pm] to tell me about his hill-billy hoss family and how many tractors they own. Other missions, I was not so lucky.

For example. I may or may not have been intoxicated during the make out mission, wherein I may or may not have had my first kiss with a guy, whom I refuse to believe was older than 28, though definitely was. I also may or may not have received a hickey about the size of Delaware located on the right side of my neck, whereupon it traveled from the side of my neck all the way back to the nape like a storm cloud of promiscuity.
Also, it may or may not have been a week before Easter. The celebration of our Lord Almighty, Jesus Christ, and his glorious resurrection from the dead and ascension into heaven. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. And my mother and brother may or may not have been coming up to visit for the weekend so that we can all go to church together in order to worship our Loard and Savior.

One of the reasons I know God doesn’t hate gays is this. For the week up until Easter, the weather shifted from blue skies and warm winds to cold clouds and snowy storms. Thereby forcing me to wear turtlenecks, scarves and high collars for the whole week. God saved me.

God and CVS. They were having a sale on foundation that week, and it was smudge free, so I couldn’t pass it up.

Amen.

Hey Girlfriend!

December 13, 2006

Fast forward. It’s spring time, and I’m in sixth grade. My friend Cori and I are riding our bikes around the neighborhood as I finish up my paper route when we come across a truck parked in one of my customer’s driveways. On the back of the window is a bumper sticker with the picture of a hand and a tag line that reads ‘Safe sex is in the palm of your hand’.
Cori burst with laughter, and I kind of just looked at him.

What’s so funny?

Haha, oh it’s that bumper sticker!

Why?

You know…[he jerks his hand up and down near his crotch] safe sex?

Thus began the only hobby that I have ever entertained longer than a few months. That, and breathing and eating. And even then, sometimes those fall into second place. Only because for a time I thought that my hand parties caused acne.

Shift ahead two years, and I’m in my last months of middle school. I’ve been dating this girl, Jeanne, for some time now and we’re pretty hot and heavy. Meaning we’ve been holding hands a lot recently and we’re looking to take the next step.

At this point I can hear you all saying ‘Wait…girlfriend? But I thought…?…My head hurts’. As well it should. We’ll deal with the sexuality in the next post, kids, so stick close and pay attention.
Jeanne and I had known each other for most of middle school, but had only become friends during 8th grade science class with Mr. Palm. Everyday we would file into class, me with my poorly covered science book, and her with her trapper keeper and binders that had scribbled ‘I Creature‘ all over it. She sat next to my best friend Steph, so the conversations we had were numerous, though very short, because Mr. Palm would always ask me to please stop bothering the young ladies seated behind me. He would always address us as Mr. and Mrs., making my classroom disruptions seem adult, and thereby all the more scandalous.

I don’t recall when we started dating, but I do remember when we made the big jump. The summer before our freshmen year of high school, we were playing manhunt in Steph’s backyard. Jeanne and I had hidden behind the same bush, waiting for the hunter to finish counting. We turned and looked at each other, and then it happened. The wildest, most passionate closed mouth kiss you’ve ever seen, next to a drunken aunt’s uncomfortable hello.

That was both my first kiss with Jeanne and my first kiss ever. And, if I recall correctly, my last kiss with Jeanne, because I broke up with her a few weeks later, on account of the fact that we were going to be going to different high schools. And sure, maybe because I was gay. Whatever.
It wasn’t until several years later, when Steph and I were driving downtown to get a bite to eat, when a particular song came on the radio that caused her to lose control of herself in hysterical laughter.

There is no blame, only shame
When you beg you just complain
More I come, more I try
All police are paranoid
So am I, so’s the future
So are you, be a creature
Do you say, do you do
When it all comes down?

I don’t wanna comeback down from this cloud
It’s taken me all this time to find out what I need.

~Bush ‘Comedown’

After calming down, she asked me if I remembered how Jeanne would always write ‘Creature’ on notebooks, binders and in the margins of books when we were dating.

Immediately, I didn’t like where this was going.

I don’t get it, what’s your point Steph?

Ohmigod, I can’t believe you didn’t KNOW this! YOU’RE THE CREATURE!

And if a lifetime of insecurities and issues can’t be traced back to my first/last girlfriend referring to me as ‘Creature’ for a pet name, then I don’t know what can.

Education Starts In The Early Years

December 12, 2006

I’ve decided I’m going to dedicate this entire week to sex. Five posts, covering all that I’ve learned and experienced, regarding everything that is connected to anything sexual. Starting from the beginning.

I can actually condense all that knowledge into two posts and maybe a short, witty one liner, but I’ll be taking some artistic license in order to fill up the full week. If anything, though, it’ll be a fun journey through my life. Complemented by embarrassing photos of myself. So here it goes.
My first long term relationship was back in 1st grade with Nicole Champitto. She was three and a half feet of blonde bombshell with an obsession for pogs that rivaled my own. We spent all of our time with each other. In the classroom. On the playground. At my house. And even at my Aunt’s. We were inseparable.

I remember when our relationship went to the next level. We were both lying down next to each other on the living room floor, watching Out Of This World while eating candy Valentine’s Day hearts. I reached into the bag and pulled out a pink heart that said ‘I Love You’ on it, and then handed it to her.

Did you pick out this one on purpose?

…What?

This heart that says ‘I love you’.

…Oh…Um, no…wow, that’s weird, huh…

The sexual tension between us was obviously palpable. We broke up shortly thereafter, though, when she moved to New York after her parents divorced. I didn’t think I could face second grade without her.
During that same time, another woman started to become interested in what is apparently the best home smoked meats this side of the seesaw. Her name was Tara. My babysitter’s daughter. It seemed to me to be very sudden. For the longest time, all I could remember was her hating me with all the passion a third grader can have for a first grader. Then all of the sudden, one summer, we became attached at the hip. Unless, of course, I was with my other woman.

It was during this summer, after Nicole had moved away, that Tara and I were running around her house when we decided to ask her mother if we could play with Barbies in Ma and Pa’s RV. Ma and Pa were Tara’s grandparents, and they lived right next door. We were always between the two houses, usually because they would give us candy when Tara’s mom wouldn’t.
I can remember hiding around the corner when Tara asked her mother if we could go play Barbies in the camper. Her mother seemed surprised, and asked ‘John wants to play Barbies?’ Tara replied ‘Yeah!’, and I immediately became embarrassed and said under my breathe the first thing that came to mind; the phrase I had heard every adult I’d ever been in a car with utter during traffic.

Ahh you fuckin’ turkey!

15 minutes later, Tara and I made our way over to the camper with Barbie, Ken and other pudendum free pals for fun and games. Ken went to work. Barbie treated some sick animals, served some food on a jet, taught third grade and came home to make dinner [being Ken was always the boring part of the game…he had no fun costumes]. It wasn’t long until we both started to comment on the fact that Barbie and Ken all looked the same…down there.
A child’s mind is very A B C. The problem [A] arises. The thought process [B] ensues. John’s penis and Tara’s vagina [C] present themselves, solving said problem [A]. It was only a quick game of private parts peekaboo, but enough that each of us knew what the other was working with. After that, we found playing Barbies was trivializing our obvious genius in the matters of man and woman. We decided instead to drop Barbie and Ken out of the second floor window of Ma and Pa’s house in order to see whose head would pop off first.

These are my first memories of what I now realize to be something sexual in nature. At that age, it was never something sexual but just something new for me. It was somewhat the foundation of what I was to later learn about sex and love. Mainly what exactly sex was and how my pee-pee related to what I thought looked like, for the longest time since that RV escapade, an extra long wrinkly belly button.

I Give Good Gifts

December 1, 2006

Yesterday was my friend Rob’s birthday. Happy birthday, Rob!

And since he doesn’t read this site, nor will he ever unless I’m sitting next to him with a laptop and the browser at my site [and even then, he’d only say ‘That your site? Oh’ and turn back to watching stupid things on television, such as football or the news], I’m totally allowed to show you all his gift. And also call him a dick hole. Because he’ll never know, and I’ll laugh always and forever knowing that he was called a dick hole in front of the internet.

This is his present.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Fuck These Postcards. Possibly the simplest, yet most AWESOMEST idea ever to enter this world [save for Jesus Almighty and TiVo], and I’m giving it as a birthday gift. I’m so great.

These are just 3 of the 27 postcards that came in the pack. I think this may be the best gift to ever be given. Ever. And that includes the gift of life, which is paltry compared to this fuck-pack.

The best thing is this. When I went to the website, I noticed that not only do they have a Fuck This Book for sale, but they are making a second book, too, made out of reader’s submissions. They even sell stickers of varying sizes that have the word ‘fuck’ right on it!

I don’t know about any of you, but I see me pissing myself laughing all over Boston as I put up these stickers.

I’m so very excited.