Anyway, Kevin was the only one to vote on yesterday’s list. He is one of the three reader’s, clearly. Willimu and The Receptionist are the others. I’m glad I can mildly amuse three people, but think of all the other possibilities! I could entertain tens of hundreds with my mediocre blogging! TENS!

But, I must appease my fan(s), so I shall now dig into the suggestion box, and pull up the one suggestion. Kevin stated it was a toss up of buildings exploding, or The Time I Got Thrown Across a Bar. I don’t normally go around blowing up buildings, and this was no exception. I really didn’t have much to do with THIS except for the fact that It’s very close to where I lived, and I frequent many of the places around it.

I mean, The Pita House has the best Falafel. Szechwan Garden has the best crispy duck. Yesterdog has the best chili dogs, Morningstar is the best 24 hour coffee shop that allows smoking, and and…so much! Hookah Lounge! Wolfgangs! All could’ve been DESTROYED. (…not really) Basically, the exploding building was one of the only buildings that I didn’t care about. Go me!

What I’m getting at, is that I don’t really know all the details, so go read THAT article. I was at work when it happened, but my house was just BLOCKS away.

This, of course, means that I’m going to write about getting thrown across a bar. Coincidentally, the bar that it happened in, is on the same street (and very close to) to the building that went boom. I tend to stay local, if you haven’t noticed.

One fateful night, shortly after Ewam turned 21, we decided to have a guys night out at Mulligan’s Pub. Mulligan’s is kind of a dive bar, full of metal-heads, emo kids, and scene-sters. I don’t think I ever quite fit any of those categories, but I find them endlessly amusing. Scenesters just love to get drunk and have deep pseudo-philosophical conversations. And I love to watch.

Regardless, they have $4 pitchers and some pool tables…sooo…we were all set. Ewam, DB, Machete, and I all sat a small table in the midst of the fray. It was a Friday night, so the bar was packed. I mean…PACKED. Sardines couldn’t even move. Waitresses were angrily elbowing people out of their way. Nearly every other word out of our mouths was “FUCK”

“FUCK there’s a lot of people in here!”

“FUCK! That guy just tried to sit on my shoulder!”

“FUCK you if you spill that drink on me…”

“FUCK! Where’s our beer?!”

…you get the idea.

At some point, my bladder finally started complaining about the eight dollars of beer that was flooding it. I headed to the bathroom, and did what one normally does. I started heading back to my table, but only made it six or seven steps before a man stopped me, and did the Time-Out-“T” with his hands.

“yo, dude! Timeoutimeoutimeout!”

Thinking that I might know him, I stopped, raised an eyebrow and said “yes?”

He started to reach out his arms, sort of like he was going in for a hug. Naturally (or not so naturally, I might just be an idiot) I assumed he WAS going in for a hug, and that I DID know him. I sort of stepped forward…and then he picked up by my underarms and threw me across the bar at the opposite wall.

Then Jesse went BOOM.

I hit the wall/counter and was on the ground. My favorite pair of jeans also went BOOM, when both knees tore open.

(To further prove my immense FAIL at proper reactions)

I picked myself up off the ground, and walked the several steps back to the thrower.

Self: um, that was really awkward…

Thrower: dude, don’t worry about it.

Self: but…why did you do that?

Thrower: nah, nah…dude…don’t WORRY about it.

Self: um, ok? Please don’t do that again…

Thrower: Nah, it’s cool. C’mere

Self: …?

He came at me again, and I started tensing my leg muscles in case I’d need to make an impromptu landing. But this time, he actually did hug me. I gave him the crazy eyes (O_o) and walked away.

I managed to make it back to my table with a minimum of being thrown, and sat back down. Luckily there was another pitcher. I poured myself a glass, took a sip, and then decided I NEEDED to talk about it.

Self: so uh…something weird just happened, on my way back from the bathroom.

Ewam: huh?

Self: um, some guy…he like, threw me? Across the bar?

DB, Ewam, Machete: WHAT!?

Self: yeah…he liked, picked me up…and well, threw me…into the wall.

Machete: Are you fucking serious?

DB: huh…

Ewam: WHO THE FUCK WAS IT?!

Self: yes I’m serious, I don’t know, and “huh” is right…why would he do that?

Ewam: I’m gonna go punch his teeth out

Self: I mean, seriously, why would you—what? Ewam…shut up, you are not. I’m fine.

DB: yeah…calm down. If that guy could just throw Jesse across the bar, he could probably punch your lights out.

Self: …are you saying I’m fat? DB, your girlfriend could pick me up and throw me across the bar.

Ewam: I don’t care how big he is! I’m could take him! Where is he? WHERE IS HE?

Self: …shut up. You’re not doing anything. I’m fine. I just want to know what possessed him to throw me. Like, was he standing there with his friends when I first walked by? I wonder if there was a bet involved like ‘dude, I bet you can’t throw someone across the bar’ “dude! I so can” “unnngh, well…he looks light enough, throw HIM!”

That is, of course, is the only reasonable explanation as to why someone would feel possessed to throw me. I never got my answers, and the remainder of the night was spent trying to calm Ewam down.

I kept telling him I was fine, but…apparently I wasn’t. As we left the bar, and I went down the first step, I almost went BOOM again. Apparently, in my failed landing, I had twisted my ankle. And had to limp the rest of the way home.

I have yet to be thrown at a bar again. But at least, now, I know to be prepared. Whenever anybody attempts to hug me, I have a brief moment of panic before their intent is clear. It’s sort of like my fear of handshakes.

I’m not AFRAID of handshakes, just…confused. I’m never quite clear on what someone intends to do when they extend their hand to me. It could be just a handshake, or it could be the Straight-Guy-Hug-Pat-Pat (this is what I have named it, and you know exactly what I’m talking about) or it could be some weird summer-camp secret hand shake a ma bob. There are endless possibilities, and you never know what you’re getting into until you take their hand.

This is why I try to avoid handshakes. Otherwise, I like to be the instigator so I can control the situation.

But I do wonder…how many other people have been randomly thrown across a bar, without some sort of premeditated reason? HOW MANY!?

I’m not sure where to start, so I’ll jump back to the stabbing incident.

Jayda and I had gone out for a typical night at the bar. We had fun, and ran into a bunch of people we knew, including one that was having a birthday. After the bar started to die out, we all decided to skip out to the Grand Coney (I used to be a cook there!) and get some breakfasty/greasey-after-bar food. When we arrived at the restaurant, I started to walk in, while Jayda held the door open for the next person. I was about to head through the next set of doors, when out of the corner of my…ear…I heard:

“dude! He has a knife!”

As I turned, I witnessed a gothicly (I know it’s not a word, shut up.) dressed man pull a knife out of some guy’s stomach (the one Jayda was holding the door open for) and quick run away. I finished walking into the restaurant, trying to tune out the yelps and squeals of gay men and sauntered up to some of the people I knew.

“So uh, some dude just got stabbed…”

“WHAT!?”

“yeah…he’s like, right there.”

Right on cue, Guy Who Got Stabbed walked in, he had removed his shirt, and I clearly saw the knife wound, and blood, and…some…inner organ thing poking out the hole.

Needless to say it was pretty gross. But in being the idiot that I am, I was set on staying and having a meal. As queen after fairy after ‘mo fled the waiting area…I continued to stand until the hostess was done calling 911. At this point Jayda ran up and grabbed me by the arm.

Jayda: Jesse…let’s just go

Self: but…food?

Jayda: No. We’re leaving. We’ll stop at McDonald’s.

Self: …but…coney? We’re already here!

Jayda: Yeah, but some dude just got stabbed!

Self: I know…he’s right there, and so are his intestines…

Jayda: right, which is why we are going. Now.

Self: but-

Jayda: NOW!

Self: FINE!

Then we went to McDonald’s.

As I’ve mentioned a few (read: several) times on this blog, I have no sense of fight or flight. In fact…I tend to lack immediate responsive emotion most of the time. I’m not sure what wires got crossed while I was being created. Something that should instill panic in a normal person, can happen right in front of me (or even TO me) and I just sort of stare at it blankly, like it’s TV. And it’s NOT! It’s fucking REAL LIFE. It doesn’t seem to matter much to me though. I’m sure that if I worked at some late night convenience store, and some one raised a gun to my face and told me to empty the register, I would just stare at them. Then they would shoot me because they would think I was either retarded, or that I had already tripped a silent alarm to the police.

Moving on to New Year’s Eve!

Jayda and I crashed a party for a minute, and then went to separate bars. I dropped him off at his, and then proceeded to park in fucking Siberia to go to mine. Seriously, I should have just left my car at the party, it would have been a shorter distance. Parking, usually, is not a difficult thing in Grand Rapids. Sure, you might have to park a couple blocks away from where you’re trying to go, but you don’t have to park in the fucking RESIDENTIAL AREA to get somewhere DOWNTOWN. I am not bitter.

Most of the night went without a hitch. I kissed Speedle at midnight, hung out with Willimu (I kissed him several times (count: 3) but…he might repress those memories) and ran into an old regular customer of mine, from when I worked at Steak n’ Shake.

Old Regular Customer invited me back to his place, with some of his friends. I agreed to this, but warned him that I might need to crash on his couch if I got too tired and or tipsy. He assured me that was fine. We went to his house, and made fun of VH1 behind the music specials and had a generally decent time. His friends left, and I started to get comfy on the couch. Then he checked his work schedule.

“Fuck! I have to work at 6:30!”

“Shit man…that’s like…in an hour.”

“FUCK! I can’t…drunk…I gotta take a shower. You gotta go!”

“alright!”

I got un-comfy from the couch, and started searching for my coat. He walked me to the door, gave me a hug, and said “Well, give me a call, and then we can go out on a proper date.”

I suddently realized that I hadn’t mentioned Speedle at any point in the night, and that my attempts at friendliness could have been misconstrued. Also, in concurrence with my broken Fight or Flight, when I’m confronted with a something that doesn’t quite make sense to me…I some times blurt out words that could possibly be misinterpreted.

In response to his proposition…I ended up saying, sweetly “Aw, we’re NEVER going to go on a date”

His face immediately became that of Bruce Banner transforming into the Hulk.

ORC: GET OUT.

Self: I…didn’t mean…I—

ORC: GET. OUT. NOW.

Self: No, I mean, it’s that—

ORC: GET OUT! That just PISSES me OFF!

Brain: we wouldn’t like him when he’s angry

Self: hoooooookaaaaaay…yeesh…

And I left. I have yet to explain it to him, but I don’t much care. That seemed to be a pretty illogical response, even if I could have phrased my rejection better.

Um…wasn’t there something else life threatening that happened then? Oh! Right! Inadvertent shootings!

This year, was the first year that Grand Rapids had a ball-drop for New Year’s. I didn’t feel like freezing my ass off while waiting for a glowy ball thing to fall…so I did not attend. (note: this was why I had to park eighteen thousand blocks away from the bar). So…apparently, in celebration of the glowy ball, and the new year…some people fired their guns off into the air. Now…if I remember anything about physics, there’s this weird thing called “gravity” (10.2 meters/second/second!). Also, I think there are a bunch of old sayings like “what goes up, must come down.”

Can you guess what happened? Can you?

Right! People got hit by falling bullets! (at least it wasn’t frogs?) One person got hit two blocks away from the bar I was at. The other person got hit a block away from where I was parked. AS I WAS WALKING DOWN THAT VERY SAME ROAD.

Again, I was not very alarmed…and the sense of relief that it wasn’t me, or the sense of panic that it could have been me, never ever set it. Aren’t y’all jealous? I’m always calm during catastrophes! I’m broken!

Later that night, before I left the bar. I man shot a worker at a local strip club, and possibly a patron. Then he ran out and the police shot him dead. It was an eventful couple hours for the New Year.

With all of this craziness, you’re probably thinking that Grand Rapids is a dangerous area. But it’s not! I have never once felt endangered, or even remotely unsafe. I’ve lived in the downtown area for about 4 years now (moving nearly every six months)…I’ve even lived in the questionable areas, but this is all that has ever happened to/around me:

· Had the shack in my backyard (a permanent residence to a man named “scuba steve”) get drug busted.

· Had to call the police because a bum persistently tried to live in my basement.

· Had a landlady scream at me, “I THINK they would have told the HOMEOWNER if the hot water was going to be shut off!” to which I had to scream back “I THINK they would have notified the homeowner if the house was going to be FORECLOSED, too. But APPARENTLY you were unaware of THAT, too.”

· Been pinned to the railing of a porch while the person pinning me there was getting pummeled by the drunk-crazed house party guests.

· Peed in a bush and watched a drive by shooting.

· Had a bum hit on me.

· Watched a stabbing.

· Avoided falling bullets.

· Been screamed at by a crazy lady (the one on Fulont and Fuller!) that I’m a heathen.

· Been picked up and thrown across a bar (that…was actually a really funny story)

· Had a building 6 blocks away explode (which really has little to do with anything, I just felt it was noteworthy)

· Had a bum take his Jesus pamphlet back from me because I didn’t have any money to give him. (this is why you always use the “I only use my card” excuse.)

· Had my ex try and hit me with his car.

· Had random people try and join a party, and steal our vodka.

That might be it. Ok…that, um, didn’t help my point at all. I swear that I’m some sort of magnet for weird/scary occurrences. They rarely happen TO me, but I just seem to walking around with spherical waves of chaos emanating from me.

If you were my friend, these things could happen to you too! I promise! I actually consider my life to be pretty boring, but when I look at the above list…I have to imagine that these sorts of things don’t happen to normal people.

So! In hopes of not taking such a long break from blogging…I think you wonderful, and very good looking, people should choose from the above list for my next few posts! Otherwise, I will just refer to it when I’m out of material.

C’mon people! Vote! It’s like American Idol without the “yo dawg,” cracked out Paula, smarmy Simon, or annoying (and gay) Ryan Seacrest!

Speedle, Alexandria, Jayda, and I all moved into a new house. After everything was moved in, we decided to have just a few people over. Unfortunately, Speedle was acting kind of strange, and kept setting bowls of soup at every place setting, even outside, for no apparent reason. We were not planning on feeding the guests.

In fact, he let the bowls of soup sit out for too long, to the point that they became rancid and the buzzing of flies were driving me insane. I couldn’t stand it anymore, but I didn’t want to be the one to have to clean up after his mess, so I had Alexandria hire a maid, after he got a job.

Regardless, our friends seemed to like the new house, along with all the lavish furnishings. Somehow, we ended up getting in a deep conversation about kissing, while our new neighbor, Mortimer, yelled at Speedle and I about sex. I’m not really sure what point he was trying to get across, but regardless…I decided that would be the perfect moment to propose to Speedle.

And he said yes!

Everyone congratulated us, but it was getting late and everyone trickled out. Alexandria and Jayda ended up getting into a fight over…something. John cried. Speedle and I basked in pre-marital bliss.

We have since gotten married.

What? Oh, hi! Um…none of the above is real, just so you know. I started playing the Sims 2 again. It’s kind of funny how much it can parallel real life. I mean, Speedle and I are in love, I get along really well with Jayda, and decently with Alexandria. Shea gets along well with both. Alexandria and Jayda fight and make up all the time…etc.

I just want to know where the command prompt for cheats is in real life. PEOPLE! WHERE ARE MY CTRL+SHIFT+C BUTTONS IN REAL LIFE!?!?!?! LULZ

I just want to type ‘motherlode’ and have $50,000 magically deposited in my bank account. For reals.

Anyway, on to the typical Weekend Update.

Um, first off? MORE SNOW. LOTS OF IT. It’s been snowing almost constantly since Thursday. This has caused lots and lots of ice and cold everywhere you look. Seriously, everywhere. My car…both inside and out. My self. Trees, small children, roads…literally EVERWHERE.

Actually, other than that, this weekend wasn’t too exciting.

Speedle and I have started playing World of Warcraft. This is the second time, for me. So, yeah…go ahead…get it out…saturate me with all your “Jesse’s an uber nerd” comments. Do it. See if I care. See my face? Here? Yeah, this is a face of not caring. I’m a gnome-warlock. And her name is “Gonnagetchoo” cuz…I’m gonna getchoo. Me and my little imp helper. Yeah.

I was also harassed quite a bit this weekend. By men who find me ridiculously attractive. So…here are a couple scenes, WARNING! CRUDE LANGUAGE! READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED:

Scene 1

Friday night, Diversions

Guy1: Feed me your cock.

Self: um, no?

Guy 1: Why not? I want you to choke me with your cock.

Self: I have a boyfriend. No. It’s not going to happen.

Guy 1: please? No one will know…

Self: …sorry, nope.

Guy 1: do you want a shot?

Self: sure.

Guy 1: Will you take me back to your car?

Self: no.

Guy 1: Why? Fine. No shot then.

Self: ok…although I don’t see what blowing me has to do with buying me a shot

Guy 1: Fuck off.

Self: …..oooooooookaaaaaaaaaaay

[walk away]

Scene 2

Sunday night, Rumours

Guy 2: Hi! I’m Guy 2! What’s your name?

Self: Jesse, nice to meet you.

Guy 2: Yeah, this is my friend Guy 3, we think you’re the single hottest guy in the bar.

Self: uh, thanks.

Guy 2: Guys 4 and 5! This is Jesse! Isn’t he hot? Yeah! I know! He is! He’s like, the hottest guy here!

Self: um…k.

I then tried to ignore the small throng of admirers and focus on the pageant taking place, but Guy 2 kept trying to touch my ass, face, and leg. Eventually he got drunk and obnoxious enough for one of his more responsible friends to take care of him, and take him away from me.

Scene 5

Still Sunday night at Rumours

Guy 6: [touch touch, rub]

Self: *cough* [run awaaaaaaaay!]

Scene 6

Still Sunday, still Rumours, in the bathroom…

Self: [pee]

Guy 1 (again): Hey!

Self: um, hi. [still peeing]

Guy 1: [walks over to me…while I’m peeing…tries to take a gander at my…y’know]

Self: [turns to hide…self.]

Guy 1: Feed me your penis.

Self: sigh. Um, hi? Peeing? NO.

Guy 1: so I’m never going to get to blow you?

Self: [finishes] No…most likely not.

Guy 1: So we can’t be friends?

Self: I uh, what? We can be…friendly?

Guy 1: So…why can’t I suck you off?

Self: One, I have a boyfriend. Two, “friends” don’t usually harass each other about blowjobs, let alone go through with it. [walk far far away!]

Scene 7

Same place…same night.

Guy 1: So…never?

Self: Right. I’m with Speedle, you know that.

Guy 1: yeah yeah, he’s a nice guy.

Self: Yeah, he is. I love him, and I wouldn’t do that to him so please…quit it.

Guy 1: siiiiigh, ok.

Self: Thank you.

Guy 1: I still think you have the sexiest voice. I’ve told you that since the first time I met you.

Self: I know.

Guy 1: no! I’m serious.

Self: I KNOW.

Guy 1: Well, let me know if you guys break up.

Self: ugh, fine. Will do. But, I gotta get goin’

Guy 1: ok…bye [hugs me] I love you. WAIT! I mean, I mean, um. I like you…a lot.

Self: …have a good night.

People? Um, WTF? What is going on? Am I exuding some kind of ‘come hither’ pheromone or something? I don’t….I don’t get it. It makes my brain hurt.

I suppose I should be flattered? I mean, I do have some kind of weird self-esteem issues when it comes to my appearance but…wow. And really, y’all? I’m NOT THAT attractive. I’m decent, yes, but I should never have to write “throng of admirers.” Someone like Speedle might, but not me. However, I do recall Alexandria once saying “I have a theory: you haven’t been gay in Grand Rapids until you’ve had a crush on Jesse.” Which is just…silly. I make people feel awkward and uncomfortable. I appear [mostly] unapproachable. I’ll typically respond to compliments, introductions, and anything-you-would-say-to-me with a glare that will make you question whether or not you really want to hear my response because I MIGHT just make you feel stupid. The main reason I stand out at bars/clubs is because I’m generally as still as a statue when seated.

AND I play World of Warcraft! That makes me instantly not attractive! That makes me nerdy! And possibly greasy! (…I did shower today…and do most days.)

Ok, deep breaths. Heaving Breaths.

Whatever.

Heeee…because I’m random, I just texted Speedle “Beep Bop Boop…I’m a robot!”

To which he replied “When you get home, you have about three hours to play with your gnome. Heee, that sounded dirty”

We have much to talk about. I’ll go first.

I have officially reclaimed my status as Best Boyfriend Ever. This is cause for great celebration. Possibly a parade. Or a fancy hat at the least.

I’m going to try and run through all the events of the last weekend in chronological order. (please note that I said TRY. Sometimes I’m not good at time. I don’t even know what time it is RIGHT NOW, or if it is today or yesterday yet. Time is confusing and I don’t pay much attention to it. Fuck time.) So we’re going to start from…Thursday? yes, Thursday.

Speedle was working, as usual, but he was actually cut fairly early in the night so he could have some birthday fun. Once midnight rolled around, he becaaaaaaaame….21! yes! My boyfriend is now an adult that has nothing to fear but the looming death of being 30! Also, I no longer feel like a creeper.

Needless to say, shots were coming from every direction.

Speedle will not be drinking Superman Shots again anytime soon.

Also needless to say, Speedle got drunk.

Now what do drunk people do after getting drunk at the bar? They go get food! Greasy, fatty, possibly fried, most times breakfasty, artery clogging, i-can’t-believe-I’m-eating-this-right-now goodness that you can only get from 24 hour diners. Fortunately, there was one such diner handy.

Speedle’s kind of cute when he’s drunk. He forgets some of the basic things that everyone should know, such as: hot coffee is hot, food go in mouth not table/lap/floor, the ability to speak quietly. None of that is particularly cute, but he also likes to make it well known, by all, that he loves me and I’m “such a good/amazing person”

We finished our food, and wanted a cigarette, so we went up to the counter (it’s a mostly non smoking establishment). Speedle continued to profess his love and keep a hand on my leg. Unbeknownst to me, we were sitting in front of two drunk, out and proud, heterosexual men.

There will be a time in every gay person’s life where they will have to deal with a Dumb Straight Guy/Girl. DSG’s can not be avoided, for they come to you. DSG’s usually can’t be reasoned with, they have no known weaknesses for they are “Always Right.” Since you “chose” to be gay, that translates to “choosing” to be “stupid/fucked up/wrong”

I have dealt with many DSG’s in my twenty two years and feel that I handle with them with an unsettling amount of finesse.

(THIS IS A WARNING: the following conversation deals with a DSG and gay sex. It is crass, lewd, and vulgar. You may not want to read it. I don’t even like the fact that I’m going to write it…but it is kind of funny.)

Speedle and I stood up to leave but DSG 1 put up his hand to stop us.

DSG 1: Hey, are you guys gay?

Self & Speedle: yep.

DSG 1: So…you like to, y’know like…suck cock? And have butt sex?

Self: indeed

Speedle: yeah…we’re gay

DSG 1: have you ever like, gotten shit on your cock though?

Self: unfortunately, this CAN happen. I’m guessing this means you’ve never had anal sex with anybody…male or female.

Speedle: Dude, when you’re gay…shit happens.

DSG 1: but…you like to suck cock

Self: I feel that we’ve been over—

DSG 1: you like to suck shit off cock? Lick shit?

Self: um…have you ever even had sex?

Speedle: …

DSG 1: like…you like to eat shit? Lick shit off cocks? Cocks? Shit? Suck cock shit? Like, lick suck shit lick?

(this…is not an exaggeration. In fact…it went on longer than this)

At this point, I started to question whether or not that man had ever said a full sentence in his life. I couldn’t handle the rearrangement of those four words any more, so I walked up and put a hand on his shoulder.

Self: Alright, stop. Let me give you a little advice. You seem really interested in this. One might even use the word “curious” to describe you, and that sounds awfully gay.

DSG 2: (making his entrance) HA!

Speedle: O_O (that’s a face, yo)

DSG 1: ?

Self: So I’m just going to pass this along to you, and you can pass it long to the next man or women you would be lucky enough to have anal and possibly oral sex with: suck it before you fuck it.

Speedle & DSG 2: *snort*

Brain: um…Jesse…DSG 1 looks kind of angry. I mean…way to pwn but…

Self: And now I’m going to walk away before you punch me in the face. Have a nice night sir.

(THE CONVERSATION’S OVER, YOU CAN READ AGAIN)

Then we went home and slept.

The next morning, I took Speedle to the Omelette Shoppe so he could have his favorite breakfast: eggs benedict. He was still pretty sleepy when we got back from breakfast, so I let him take a nap while I proceeded to run around the world and be the best friend ever.

This involved a trip to the mall to buy a 16G IPod Nano (blue…his favorite color). Then a trip to Meijer to buy a picture frame, glue, and Reese’s. THEN! Off to a coffee shop to put all the music on the ipod.

While Speedle Deedle was synchronizing (yes…I named his ipod “Speedle Deedle”) I spent approximately TEN BILLION MINUTES (or ten) opening the Reese’s as delicately as possible. I managed to get it open without tearing the wrapper, then I took the Reese’s out.

Now…I didn’t know what to do with the Reese’s. I’m not really a big fan of A.) chocolate B.) candy 3.) anything sweet. The barista and his friend were sitting at a table nearby, so I decided they might like some candy…from a stranger in a strange land.

Self: Hey! So, um…want some candy? I mean…I just bought these Reese’s and I really don’t want them. I just needed the wrapper.

Barista: um…

Guy: Why just the wrapper?

Self: I just bought my boyfriend an ipod.

Barista & Guy: …

Self: oh! Haha…no, it’s his birthday and I’m putting the ipod in the wrapper and resealing it so he has no clue what it is.

Barista: aw, that’s cute…

Self: So have some candy. I don’t like chocolate. They’re not poisoned.

Guy: …

Self: ok, maybe they are.

Barista & Guy:…

Self: QUIT LOOKING AT ME SO AWKWARDLY! JUST TAKE THE FUCKING CANDY!

Then they had me locked away, in a padded room, forever and ever, amen.

I don’t know why I attempt to talk to strangers.

I must say, though, that I am quite impressed with how well I was able to reseal the candy wrapper. It looked real, y’all! Like, deceptively real. So real…that it was unreal.

When I got home, Speedle was just waking up. I sat next to him on the bed and made sure that my face looked like “I am so pissed off right now”

Speedle: what’s wrong?

Self: I’m sorry, don’t be upset but…I wasn’t able to get your present. I went to the mall, and that store didn’t have what I wanted, so then I drove around to a jillion other places and everyone was out so…I just got you some candy. Sorry.

Then I threw the Reese’s Pod at him. He held it, and continued to look concerned about my upsetness (for I looked upset. I can act!)

Speedle: It’s okay baby…when AM I going to get it though? What was it?

Self: Nothing…just –don’t worry about it. I don’t know. Just…eat your candy. I want one.

He didn’t seem to keen on having candy (I later learned he was still a little nauseous from drinking) but he started feeling the package more. I saw the light bulb go off in his head when he realized the Reese’s were full of trickery and lies.

People…Speedle almost lost his eyeballs. They almost popped right out of his head.

Then we spent the next while playing with the ipod. I showed him all the bells and whistles, and how it already had 7 gigs of music on it, plus pictures of him and me and things that I like. Then he put on the head phones and jumped around the house, listening to things like Aqua, Air, and Imogen Heap.

That’s how I became best boyfriend ever 2.0

If you were paying close attention, you would have noticed that I also bought a picture frame. That’s because I made him this:

Speedle, us, and me

For I am crafty, and cheesy. Much like Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Whatever gets your noodle goin’

Anwyay, eventually we made it to dinner with his friends. Then we went to Throwbacks to visit Alexandria and have a drink or two. Then we made it down to Diversions for the real party. Then it was good times, many drinks and shots, and a bunch of weird old drag queens. However, Speedle never got sick (I’m so proud!) and he never got TOO drunk.

But we still took a cab home.

Lucky for us, we know a gay cabbie that decided the ride would be Speedle’s present.

I still threw some dollars his way.

Now we’re crossing into Saturday. We went to breakfast at a Chinese buffet where we were the ONLY smokers. So we sat in a HUGE pretty room…by ourselves. That really doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but…it was something I felt you needed to know.

So, Saturday night is when Gay Drama 2008 started. Alright…it had already started, but I didn’t get involved until Saturday night.

(If you’re not a regular reader, please go to the cast page and read the profiles of Jayda and Alexandria)

(don’t worry, I’ll wait.)

(ready? Ok.)

Apparently, Jayda had been interested in a boy that I’m going to call Shoulder (don’t worry, this will be explained)…then Alexandria some how sort of stole him…or, whatever. (I don’t know how to talk about drama…Fun > Drama…Self =/= Drama…let me use more equations: Self + Drama = Brain Popping) So of course, Jayda got all pissed off (justifiable, I suppose) and Alexandria didn’t show any remorse or…whatever, and him and Shoulder are kind of a…a thing? Now? But Shoulder likes Jayda more?

So…we were all at Throwbacks. Shoulder, Jayda, and I were all drinking and discussing the weirdness of our lives (like sands through an hourglass) Jayda, I think, could no longer soberly handle the situation so…magically shots started appearing. Many of them. And my glass of vodka cranberry was approximately 19 parts vodka to one part cran.

Fast forward to home and drunk.

I insisted on cuddling with Jayda because it was FREAKING COLD in our house. COLD. I don’t know HOW cold other than VERY VERY COLD. Negative Warm.

Then, Shoulder felt the need to keep me up until four in the morning, discussing what he should do about the boys.

This is where his name comes in.

He kept putting his head on my shoulder, any time he was upset. So…I figured it was fitting.

Now, we’ve bled into Sunday.

Speedle and I spent a good portion of the day shopping, then he went to dinner with a friend. The whole gang later met up at Rumours for a drag pageant. Speedle and I ended up getting to sit in the little balcony, which was fun…and made me feel important even though we did not have things to sit on, like chairs.

Other than the fun shows, nothing too exciting happened there, other than the owner of Throwbacks telling me I am very sexy and “exotic” looking.

(exotic = not white)

And that’s basically what I’ve been doing with my time.

But guess what else happened Sunday!?!?

IT SNOWED.

And it’s cold.

And I don’t like it.

Take me somewhere warm.

Or send wine.

“do you know how fast you were going?”

“uh…like…70 gay bars an hour?”

Anyway. It was their grand opening, and of course, it was PACKED. Alexandria is working as a server, and will be working as a cook there…so Jayda and I went to visit! And OH MY GOD PEOPLE…DID YOU KNOW THAT I AM HOT? I only had to buy two drinks. Then eeeeeevery gay man had to buy me something. (not really…that would have been like…500 some drinks) needless to say, three rum and cokes, one bud light, two shots of rumpleminz and one shot of 43 later…I was good and toasty.

Speedle took me to breakfast the next day…and I immediately asked

Me: Did you know that I’m hot?

Speedle: yes.

Me: Like…ridiculously hot?

Speedle: mm-hmm.

Me: Like…so hot it’s hypnotizing?

Speedle: Baby, why do you think I’m dating you?

Me: Um, my massive sexy brain?

Speedle: That too. But no, you’re hot! That’s why I never understand why you get in those low self-esteem funks.

Me:…meh.

To explain the hypnotizing hotness…I’ve been told that Speedle claims me, at the bar. This must be true, for when he’s not within claiming distance (I’m still not quite sure how that mechanism works) there were guys just gawking…like…wouldn’t even say anything, or blink…they would just stare. So, of course I made them buy me things.

Don’t start thinking that I really find myself to be some mystifyingly attractive Adonis or anything. I’m not, I swear. I mean, I think I’m slightly above average in the looks department but…whatever. I don’t want to talk about it.

ANYWAY.

At breakfast…I accidentally went from Best Boyfriend Ever to…Worst Boyfriend Ever. I had been asking Speedle to try and remember some of our inside jokes, or things that we only really say to each other. He finally asked why, and I told him that it had something to do with his birthday present…

Speedle: Why won’t you tell me? Are you making me something?

Self: You’ll just have to see. But no, I’m not making you anything. Well, not quite.

Speedle: ?

Self: Well…it involves planning and some personalization, but I’m not MAKING it.

Speedle: But…why the jokes? Huh?

Self: well…it might involve some engraving…I’m not sure yet.

Speedle: …   ……? ….

Self: sigh, I’m getting you a ring.

Speedle: [speechless]

Speedle: [eyes turning into saucers]

Speedle: [face turning into pure joy]

Speedle: [face looking questioning]

Speedle: [face turning into pure terror]

Speedle: [back to joy]

Speedle: …uh…um…really?

Self: No…not really.

Speedle: [face turning to pure rage] Don’t you EVER do that again! I’m about to BEAT YOU WITH THIS KETCHUP BOTTLE!

Self: SORRY! Sorrysorrysorry! See my face? [points] Sorry!

Speedle: [glare]

Self: Really though…if I were going to get you a ring, of the engagementy variety…do you really think I would have it engraved with “BAM! NAKED!” ?

Speedle: …heee, yeah.

Self: …yeaaah…probably.

So…that makes me the Worst Boyfriend Ever. But…kind of in a good way. Y’know? I do.

Let’s see…what else is going on in my little world…

Speedle beat Bioshock yesterday. I think it will take me a few more days…but, I can’t devote the time to it right now. PLUS!!!!! FABLE 2 HAS BEEN RELEASED! I HAVE NO MONEY TO BUY IT!!! BUT I PREORDERED IT FOR I AM STOOPID! Now I have to wait until FRIDAY before I can play the game I will eventually want to marry. (until something better comes out)

Best part?

TWO PLAYERS CAN PLAY.

I’LL HAVE A PUPPY.

MY LIFE WILL BE MAGICAL.

Yes indeed folks, I am a nerd. Fo’ realz. It’s okay. Speedle is a nerd too. We are mighty sexy nerds. And our mighty sexy video game heroes will surely be having mighty sexy gay sex.

FOR THAT IS ALSO POSSIBLE IN FABLE.

My heart is a-twitter.

I really have nothing else to blog about. Apparently, if I had showed up to work an hour early, like I was supposed to, to go to the Service Recognition Breakfast, like I was supposed to, I would have had more blogging material, like I was supposed to.

I guess the president gave a fun speech about team work that involved many quotes from unknown poets. Then told everyone they should remember those poets from highschool. Receptionist and I are just about the youngest people here, and have only been out of highschool for four years…but we could not recall these poets.

Since I generally despise team work, funtivities, team building exercises, and the like…It would have been good material.

There’s no “I” in “Team”…however there are the following:

·          Me

·          Tame

·          Mate

·          Meat

·          Ate

·          Eat

·          Mate

·          Tea

·          At

·          Tam

·          Met

·          Eta

·          Ma

·          Am

·          A

·          Mat

·          Em

That’s all of them…I think. I like Text Twist.

“A tame mat ate meat”

“Ma met Tam at tea”

“A tame mate meat met me” (heee)

C’mon guys…come up with some more…comments! I demand them!

So, I do have a story related to the title, but first! A completely unrelated paragraph or two (seven?) about the cuteness of kitties! See, I like cats. More than dogs. Throw your tomatoes now, I’ve got my rain-slicker, and umbrella (ella). I am prepared to be told dogs are far superior…just know that you’re wrong.

I live with three furry little beasts. My cat, Leo, is three years old. Tatem and Spunky (my roommate’s cats) are something more like…four months? Leo has lived with many different animals in his life, two rats, a guinea pig, a mouse, three cats prior to the current household and extended stays with a little yippy dog.

He was scared of the guinea pig, felt that the rats were beneath him, and he would not stoop to their level, and the mouse was always in a cage. He was wary of the dog, but that’s just because the dog was yippy and barked, howled, and jumped around a lot. Leo not like jumpy yippy dog.

Leo is kind of a special cat. That’s not because he’s MY cat. If he were stupid, I would tell you “I have a stupid cat” But Leo likes to play fetch! With bottle caps! He’ll also obey most of my verbal commands (which is more than I can say for any dog I’ve ever owned) He’s not catty at all. He loves attention. In fact, he DEMANDS attention. You MUST pet Leo, and if you don’t he will MAKE you. Then EAT YOUR SOUL. How DARE you not pay ‘ttention to Leo? LEO IS GR8! LOLZ

Ahem. Hi! Oh yeah! The kittens love Leo, now. I’m sure that Leo loves them as well…except when they bite his tail. I woke up the other morning to them in my bed:

Leo: mrow?

Tatem: I CHOMP BIG KITTEH TAIL! NOM NOM NOM!

Leo: MOW! [then one solid THWAP! To Tatem’s head]

Tatem: owwwwwww

Leo: TAIL IS NOT CHEW TOY! NEXT THYME, I KEEEL YOU. KEEEEEL U DED.

Tatem: whimper

This morning it was a wrestling match on the stairs. Leo let Tatem think he was winning, then with one mighty movement of A paw flipped Tatem over and pinned him down. Leo is teh strong.

I’ll post a picture, someday. Speedle apparently took a picture of Leo impersonating Superman. I have yet to see it, but I’m sure it’s cute. Leo is always cute. And he has GOLDEN EYES. Like a certain sparkly vampire.

I, um. Right. Circus Boy.

I ended up at the bar last night. There was much frustration that the little hole in the wall would not play Justin Timberlake (I was not frustrated by this, but certain members of my party were very relieved to hear that Justin was bringing sexy back. I was totally oblivious to the fact that it ever left, however), and that the main bar would not play Michael Jackson, but would play Janet Jackson sounding like Michael. Oh! By the way! Did you know that strobe lights make everything sexier? It’s true, Janet said so. And it’s safe to say you can believe anything that the Jackson family says. Especially if it’s from the one that got tazed. (I believe this was on a reality show circa 2005?) We tried to listen to people sing karaoke, until some guy who thought he was The Shit decided he would sing Evanescence. Y’know, that super overplayed song? Which one? Um…I’m so tired of being heeeeere/ somethin’ somethin’ childish feeeeears. That one. So that made The Shit, The Shitty Guy. He not only ruined the god awful song, but ruined my ears while simultaneously destroying seventeen minor brain cells.

We decided to nest near the dance floor. I do not dance. Let me rephrase: I DO NOT DANCE. I will bob my head, and maybe get a little groove thang going on. But I WILL NOT DANCE. People get hurt when I dance. Do NOT underestimate the sharpness of my elbows. I CAN dance, sort of. But I DON’T dance. I knock people over, I slice them with my elbows, and somehow I always end up getting humped OR WORSE. One time, a man I NEVER SAW THE FACE OF [EVER] started kissing my neck and tried to get his hand down my pants. Not just my pants. MY UNDEROOS AS WELL. He felt the full wrath of my elbows.

Anyway, some guy came up to me and was all like “HIII! How ARE you?” Usually, when people come up to me like this, I’ve met them before. It’s the emphasis on the ARE that implies I should recognize them. He had a fairly generic face so I responded “GOOOoood! How about YOU?” We then hugged, because…I, um. I don’t know why actually. (BEER) I hug most people I know? Or they hug me? (beer) So…I just figured. Y’know. Hug, right? Right. (BEER)

Turns out I had never met him. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small group of people that appeared to be conspiring. They watched my awkward interaction with hawk like intensity.

Awkward Guy: Tho, I have a friend who’th a little shy, but he’th REALLY interethted in meeting you.

Self: Oh! Swell! Sure, I’d like to meet him too!…?…I mean…it’s always nice to meet new people? (did I just say swell? Like, in an actual conversation? Yes. Yes I did. I’m awesome.)

Awkward Guy: Well, he thinkth you’re VERY attractive, he wanted me to tell you that. He’th REALLY interethed in meeting you. Hith name ith Circus Boy (ok, not really) and he’th 24, and he’th FABULOUTH!

Self: Ohhhhh…ugh. Well, I mean, I guess I can still meet him, but um. See that server over there [point at Speedle] (hi Speedle!)? That’s my boyfriend.

AG: Oh! Well! Are you two excluthive? Or would you like a guetht thtar (guest star, for those of you not fluent in OBNOXIOUS GAY LISPS. I AM NOT.)?

SELF: I, um. Haha…ha? Um, we’re pretty exclusive. By pretty I mean, we ARE exclusive. We’re the uh, Main Stars. (really? Did I say that?)

AG: Oh well, I’ll let him know.

Self: I mean, he can come talk to me, that’s fine! I really don’t mind meeting him and letting him buy me a drink. REALLY! It would be my pleasure. (DRINK DRINK DRINK)

AG: I’ll jutht let him know you’re taken.

Awkward Guy then did something I HATE. It FREAKS ME OUT. He…touched me. Not just any touch, but like, CREEPY GAY TOUCH. To perform the Creepy Gay Touch, you:

1.)    Place the base of your palm just under their collar bone, so that your finger tips rest on their neck.

2.)    Trail your hand down some, choosing which pectoral you’d rather run your hand over

3.)    As your palm covers their pec, rotate it so your fingers move toward their side

4.)    Run hand over their abdomen moving either to their hip, or

5.)    Down to their belt buckle

6.)    If you want to be a CREEPER, when you go to pull your hand away, you let your fingers linger on the belt buckle/pants, so that you end up giving it the gentlest of tugs.

Awkward Guy was a CREEPER. I don’t even understand WHY people do this to me. There is nothing to feel up! I’m 6’0” and weigh somewhere around (under) 140lbs The only reason to feel up my torso is to check the notes my ribs sound off when you hit them with a mallet.

Regardless, AG walked away….to THE CONSPIRATORS! Using peripheral vision (like a ninja, or a spy!) I took stock of the little group. There was Awkward Guy, Some Other Guy I Once Met Who’s Name Is Not Circus Boy, and two girls…which meant the only other guy HAD to be Circus Boy. I’m smart enough to use the process of elimination.

Naturally, my mission at the bar is to see how many free drinks I can get. It’s a fun game, if you haven’t tried it.

The conspirators moved away, and eventually, Circus Boy came back. I figured I would start some idle chit chat, and warm him up to the idea of buying me a drink. Unfortunately, my mind went blank. The internal dialogue became:

Right Brain: You should ask him if he liked those fuzzy posters with unicorns and rainbows and butterflies—

Left Brain: Shut up! That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. Should we start off with politics? I mean, not like debate, but I’m sure we can agree that Sarah Palin seems like a bitch.

Right Brain: Ooo, she does seem like a bitch. BUTTERFLIES! SPARKLES!

Left Brain: What are you even—You know, I don’t care. I’m just not going to pay attention to you. I know! I’ll just ask him what he does! It’s a generic enough question. Or maybe I’ll ask him if he lives around here. What he does for fun? Maybe—

Right Brain: Creeper creeper! Look at those peepers! You’ve got the eyes of a big ol’ creeper!

Left Brain: I, um.

Right Brain: Let’s sing him a song! Is it secondary motion? Or Second to emotion? Hot sex and devotion? WHAT ARE THE WORDS?

Left Brain: What song? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!!!!! OH! LOOK AT THAT!! LOOKITLOOKITLOOKIT!

Right Brain: I second THAT emotion!!! That’s it! Y’know? By The Miracles?

Left Brain: LOOK AT CIRCUS BOY! NOW!

Right Brain: Huh? Oh….why? All he’s doing is lighting a cigarette…

Left Brain: EXACTLY! AND WE WANT A CIGARETTE RIGHT NOW

Right Brain: Ooo, you’re right. We do want a cigarette. And Twinkies.

Left Brain: What? We hate Twinkies…you’re missing the point! He just lit a cigarette, we want a cigarette, we ALSO want to to talk to him. Sooo….what does that mean?

Right Brain: That I should light a cigarette!….then I’ll get us Twinkies.

Left Brain: No! You IDIOT! We should go ask HIM for a cigarette.

Right Brain: That was mean. You shouldn’t say things like that. Some hemispheres are very sensitive.

Left Brain: Fine. Sorry. I’ll buy you a Twinkie later, but right now Team Brain needs to spring into action!

Right Brain: Twiiiiiiinkies

At this point, I had sauntered up and taken a seat right next to him. I asked him if I might be able to bum a cigarette. He agreed and handed me one. I lit up, and was about to put my arms up on the counter when I realized. MY DUMB ASS IS HOLDING A MOSTLY FULL PACK OF CIGARETTES. “Shit shit shit” is what Left and Right said in unison. Luckily, a friend who knew my plan was standing nearby. When he wasn’t looking I shoved my hand in her face, madly waving the pack of cigarettes and gesturing with my head at my current cigarette and Circus Boy. I don’t think she understood, but, she took them away from me anyway.

Anyhoo, Circus Boy and I got to talking. He told me that it was his friend that came to talk to me, to which I replied “Oh! That was YOU?” He agreed and went on to say that he wasn’t in town very often, and that his friends would always try and set him up with people when he was. I’m not sure if I believed this to be entirely true. Passing it off on friends? In fact, sending people to come talk to me!? How middle school of you, Circus Boy. Hand me a note next time, with check boxes. I like you, do you like me? Check yes if you do! So simple!

Turns out he’s not in town very often because he works for……c’mon……guess!……an airline! Ok, ok…for the circus. Turns out he does wardrobe…or something…and he really wouldn’t mind being set up with someone because out of all the 360 circus freaks, there are only five gay circus freaks.

I don’t know why, but I always imagined the circus to be this roving band of omnisexuals that performed lewd acts in a variety of otherwise impossible positions.

I told him I was a contortionist, and he TRIED TO RECRUIT ME.

TO THE CIRCUS.

No no, that’s alright. I’ll just keep managing people in India from the comfort of my cubicle. (it would be kind of fun though.)

FINALLY, after referencing drinks more times than a cat says meow (hi leo!)

Self: do you want to buy me a shot?

CB: I would buy you anything…

Self: a shot shall surely suffice (hi alliteration!)

And then we did a shot! Hurray! Go me!

So, back to my list of Ways To Get Free Drinks, this would be a #2 (see: ________ Lickin’ Good). The list works people. Use it. Just don’t try to use it on me.

Also, I abhor Twinkies. I think it was 1989 when I last consumed one of those evil sponges of tumor seeds and cream.