Saturday, August 30, 2014

It's a sad, sad day...

     I didn’t do a blog post last week mainly because I was just so busy and I ran out of time. My time seems to evaporate right before my eyes. Where does it go? Why am I not getting all the things done that I really need to get done? I think I’ve caught the ‘squirrel syndrome’. See something shiny, and I’m off to the races. Not today though. 

     Today, I’m sitting here looking at this vast amount of white space and my mind starts to wander. Right now, I’m just sad. Why? I think that there is just so much hurt, violence, political crap whirling about me that I just want to turn the world off. 

     Those who know me know that I tend to be a bit of a news junky. I like to know what is going on around the world. I know first-hand that what happens halfway across the world can have an effect on me and the way I live, as well as others around me. Today it just makes me sad. 

     I’m sad that our education system is now a complete train wreck because of this ‘No Child Left Behind’ crap. It was doomed to fail, and it has. No one wants to admit it because of the billions of dollars spent on it. Again, it comes down to money. Bonuses for teachers, administrators and others only cause cheating in the system, which it has. So sad. They have sold out our kids is the way I see it. Our poor teachers are suffering terribly because of it as well. 

     I’m sad that a longtime friend felt it was okay to lie to me and break a trust that took years to build. Not only is the foundation of that friendship now cracked, I feel used on top of it. That is a real bummer. I guess it wouldn’t have been quite so bad if it hadn’t happened with another friend, or who I thought was a friend, earlier this summer. Perhaps I trust to easily? Probably. 

     I’m sad that someone pointed me to one of the pirate sites where I saw several of my books had been downloaded, more than I’ve sold, for free of course. I guess these people don’t know that I need new brakes on my car. I’m sad because people are making hats and scarves for homeless kids in Chicago for Gay Rom Lit. Isn’t growing up hard enough without having been tossed out like yesterday’s trash, by those who you are supposed to be able to trust? To have what should have been unconditional love withdrawn, leaving them vulnerable and perhaps open to abuse for the rest of their lives. Not only does it make me sad, it sickens me. 

     I’m sad that some people do not want to open themselves up to new experiences, to learn, taste, hear or feel new things. To constantly gravitate or keep a death grip on things that are comfortable, refusing change. I’ve always said that knowledge is power. It is a power that no one can ever take away from you. Yes, my head is full of useless trivia, things that I will probably never need, but I cherish those bits of information. To me, it is part of life’s little experiences that makes living fun. 

     I’m sad that some people think power comes from money, position or social status. Real power comes from what you know and those you love and for those you help along the way. Real empowerment comes from what is inside of us, not what comes out of our wallets or what we are wearing or even who we know. 

     Earlier this year I received a hug from another male author, a big burly bear of a man. His not quite scruff, not quite beard, rasped against my own bearded face. His large muscular arms enveloped me, pulling me against his firm chest. He had a clean masculine scent that surrounded me. For that brief moment I closed my eyes and sighed, the world fading away. It was over way too fast. I wish I could have that same hug right now, only longer. Never underestimate the power of a hug! 

     What I would like to do today is lie on the couch, eat a bunch of junk food and maybe watch some really depressing movies with my razorblade charm bracelets on. Let the dogs curl up around me, feeding them popcorn while lying beneath a thick black blanket trimmed in dark blue. Keep all the blinds closed, blocking out the rest of the world, but I’m not going to do that. Instead I’m going to go out and pick up a few things for a small care package that I’d started putting together for a family in need, who could really use a little moral uplifting. If that doesn’t improve my mood then I’ll think about making scarves and hats to take to Chicago. 

     Never do unto others what you would not like done to you. Live with your eyes open to others needs. Never stop learning new things, no matter how trivial they may seem at the time. Always remember to stop and take in the wondrous beauty of nature’s gift to us. Remember to be kind or at least respect all living things. Make sure to tell those you love that you do indeed love them. Instead of saying ‘I need’, look to see who may need it more and then try and give it. It is a gift to yourself as well as to who may receive it. 

     Until next week, 


Sunday, August 17, 2014

Oh What a Week!

**NOTE: After writing this I had some doubts as to whether to post this or not. I had a few people read it through. Some said no, but most said yes. I didn’t want to come off as whiney. I am so not that. I don’t like to whine and no one likes a whiner. Anyway, here goes. 
Thanks everyone.** 

     Howdy y’all. Here goes another week and yet another blog. Funny how last week I struggled with coming up with a topic, and this week, it…well it came rather quickly, unfortunately. It’s been a rough week. 

     I happened to read another blog which addressed some things that spurred me to remember things that I’d rather not remember, but that wasn’t happening. It is like turning on a light and then trying to recapture that light. That isn’t possible, and neither was the rush of memories that came and hammered my head into submission. 

     What did I read you ask? It was about a young boy who was gay bashed in high school. I could relate. I was also. I also happened to get thrown into the dumpster next to the kitchen. Eeewww. But that was where the similarity ended. He somehow thought it was his fault. I never felt that way. Of course, being outted in the seventies was no picnic either. It was pretty rough there for a long time. Tires slashed. Locker painted pink. Another dumpster visit. A good ass kicking. Yeah, it was tough, but at no time did I think it was my fault. Never even crossed my mind. 

     I’m not saying that he wasn’t justified in his feelings. We each have our own way of dealing with the crap other people put us through. I felt very sad that he thought that way. Of course it wasn’t his fault. It was a bunch of insecure youths doing stuff that hopefully they will regret the rest of their lives. Oh, and trust me, they do. They have a huge amount of guilt, well most of them, for a very long time. Karma’s a bitch that way.  

     I also told a longtime friend, for the first time, of my sexual abuse. I think I mentioned it here briefly a long time ago. Well, only touched on it. It isn’t that I’m ashamed of it, or try to hide it. It was a long time ago and it happened and that’s kinda all she wrote. Not something I go back to remember. Why? It wasn’t pleasant. It isn’t something that pushes its way into my conscious. It…just happened. Move on, and I did. My friend gently pushed for details, so I told her. When I was 6 my parents divorced. My father knocked up my sister’s best friend and then married the girl. His third marriage. So he left us. He didn’t pay child support or alimony or the car payment. Things were tight for a while, but my mother trudged on. Anyway, I went to spend the summer with him when I was eleven. 

     He was doing the track circuit by that time, racing horses. He needed to take his horses and the ones that he was training to Montreal. We were currently in Maine. So he basically dumped me with these two college age guys, the sons of someone he knew, for two weeks. Yep, you guessed it. It was a long two weeks. In case I need to explain it to you; I was raped repeated during those two weeks. Orally and anally. The day he was supposed to pick me up he called and said that he wasn’t coming. That the two guys were going to take me to the airport and send me on home so I’d be sure to get there in time for school to start. They did take me to the airport. Of course there was one more ‘party time’ to be had first. I didn’t see my father again until I was sixteen, and that was the last time I saw him. I told him what had happened and he called me a liar. Yep, last time. Never saw him again. 

     Which leads to another thing that pissed me off: I found out that a father was willing to leave his family, destitute, for another woman. Some men are just pigs. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the mother has decided that her eldest son is to raise the youngest son. The father said okay. He wouldn’t fight for him. H just wanted him every other Christmas. 

     Sorry, but I came unglued. Wasn’t even willing to fight for his own son? Really? When will people realize that children are not disposable? Now, realize I think that this probably for the best, since the jerk has done what he has in the first place, but still. I can’t even wrap my head around that one. Just, okay. That’s fine? Yep. He didn’t even flinch I was told. I actually had to go and take a nitroglycerin pill my blood pressure shot up so high. I’m sorry, but that man needs to be neutered. 

    Then I get some more news that just made me see red. I blind Army Veteran is being put out of his mother’s house by the stepfather because he is gay. Right. Not so fast there. It gets better. Not so much because of that, but because this guy wasn’t willing to hand over every cent he had. Yeah, it came down to the money. Yeah, well, he is leaving and keeping his money. He will be much better off without having to deal with that dangling, bleeding hemorrhoid. 

     The topper to my week? Oh, yeah, there’s more. Told you it was a bad week. A friend of mine blatantly lied to my face. I can take all kinds of things. I really am a strong person. But when someone can so easily lie to me, and break that trust, then I’m pretty much done. Not only is that trust gone, but there is the hurt and that is far worse. For me, when I trust and love someone, I do it all the way. But when that is violated, it fucking hurts. I’ve already been through this once this summer, and then to have it happen again? Yeah, I’ve not been so pleasant to be around this week. I think this is why I’ve become such a recluse. 

     I honestly will give anyone just about anything they want if they truly need it. Hell, I’ve even given the shirt, coat and socks off my body for someone in the middle of winter! I really will try and help anyone who needs the help. However, they need to be willing to help themselves also. At least make the effort. I’m all for giving a hand up. I’m not going to do handouts. 

     Yes, I am strong. I never thought about it. Never had to. I take of myself and anyone else who needs me, as much as I can. But do not take advantage. I guess I take after my grandmother and my mother in that regard. My sister is the same way. We are strong individuals. We were a strong family. My sister and I are still very close. Actually, we scare my brother-in-law, which I find rather amusing. Just don’t try and fuck us over. I’m warning you, she’s red-headed and can shoot a twelve-gage from the hip! 

     Even with everything that has gone to shit this week, I am still optimistic. I will still go out and try and do something good for someone else. It is as much for me as it is for them. It makes me feel like I’m a better person. Who knows, maybe I’m earning Karma bonus points, like I get gas points at Winn Dixie! 

     There is a song that has been going through my head today, and I’m going to share it. Here is a link with Tennessee Ernest Ford, who I met as a youngster. There's another story for another time. I also found the sheet music. Maybe some of you will be able to sight read it or play it for yourselves. It was my grandmother’s favorite hymn and she told me that if I lived my life like this, everything would work out. I still believe her.
In case this link doesn't work.
Open in new tab to download

     So just do it. Go forth and do something good for yourself and someone else. Amen. 

     Here’s to a better week, y’all! 


 Sorry, no sexy picts this week.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

A New Beginning

     Well here we are again and here I sit wondering what the hell to write about today. I haven’t had a clue until a reader asked how long I’ve been writing. As most of you know I have pretty much covered this, a few times. Maybe what I haven’t covered is why I retired. Some know, some don’t.
Yeah, I wish I looked like this.
     I am now just shy of my fifty-fifth birthday and I am retired. That may be over simplifying it. I was forced to stop working and go on disability. Now, before everyone jumps to conclusions, I did everything within my power to not stop working. I went to doctor after doctor. I did the acupuncturist. I did massage therapist. I followed every doctor recommendation. Nothing was working. My feet were simply shot from standing on them for over thirty-two years on concrete.

     Years ago, when I first started working in professional kitchens, and I use the term loosely for some of the places I worked, there were no such things as fancy pads to stand on. No one warned us to get better shoes, other than sneakers. Of course, in your teens and early twenties, you know everything anyway, so most of us probably wouldn’t have listened. It wasn’t until many years later when I went to culinary school that it sunk in that I was killing my feet. What I didn’t realize was the damage was already done, I just didn’t know it yet.

     Side note here: I went to culinary school years later because for me to advance, I needed that little piece of paper. I may need to do a separate blog about going to school so late in life. I had a blast, and that is all I am going to say for now. 

     Anyway, back to the story at hand. I really was at the pentacle of my career and having the time of my life. I’d gotten much further that I had ever thought I could go. I loved my job. I was doing something that I truly loved. It didn’t hurt that I was finally making really good money. It’s amazing what a difference that little piece of paper did. Yet another reason I push education. 

     Yeah, well that ended and rather abruptly. I had my first heart attack at age forty-nine. That set me on my ass for a while. Between that and the feet, I was done. I might need to also say here, that it isn’t just my feet but my knees also, although not as bad. Oh, and now the ticker. I had my second heart attack three years later. It was worse than the first. 
Yeah, I wish my doctor looked like that!
     My doctor sent me to a Social Worker and she got me all fixed up and sent off all the forms to Social Security. Now I had been warned that it sometimes took several times to apply and that I may have to appeal the decision, not only from the Social Worker herself, but from others who had been unfortunate to go through the process. One guy told me, while sitting in a wheelchair, that it took a year for him to get approved. To prove how bad a shape I was in, I got a positive response in only six weeks. Yep. I have a train wreck for a body. 

     I was damn lucky. I had already emptied my savings with paying all the doctor bills. I then cashed in my 401K to pay other bills and to have a little something to live on. That first year after quitting work was the worst year of my life. Not only did I feel like crap from the heart attack but I was depressed because I really missed my job, and the money. 

     Like most jobs, once you leave, the friends you had slowly start to fade away. After all, you’re not part of the group anymore. You don’t know about the daily grind and the things that went on “at work”. Yeah, I had a few friends outside of work, but the majority of colleagues I had been working with or had worked with in the past. Trust me when I say that the people in the food industry are a tight-knit group. Well, tight-knit until you’re no longer part of the group. 

     Basically, what I’m saying here is, I was looking at losing everything I had worked for because I didn’t have a paycheck. I was sitting in a house that was quickly going downhill because I couldn’t take care of it, alone. I became so depressed I truly thought of suicide several times. I felt worthless. I couldn’t do anything and I am the type that can’t just sit still and do nothing. I later moved into an apartment, which was killing me. I hated it. 

     That is when I was contacted by an online friend (about the only friends I had at the time) who said there was a woman who needed some advice and a beta reader for a book she was writing. It was a crime/romance type thing that had a couple of gay guys in it. She wanted to make sure that the two gay guys were true to life. 

     That day changed my life. I felt somewhat useful for a change. We became friends and she sent me a few books. Then she said that there was a whole M/M genre and that I should check it out. I did. What I found was a plethora of books that I could relate to. Okay, for the most part. Many of them made the same mistake as my new friend had made and tried to put a dick on a chick. There were some good ones out there and then some really rank ones. I became a reviewer for a short while. I wasn’t very good at it. I have a tendency to speak my mind and I don’t hold back. Not a good thing if you’re reviewing books, I found out. 

     So this friend pushed me into writing. She really pushed me. Made me join a writing group which pushed me into writing very short shorts. I’m talking five hundred words or less. That was tough. BUT I did master that. I got very good at it actually. I then wrote a short story and the moderator of the group pushed me to see about publishing it. Yeah, right. That’s going to happen. Well I’ll be damned if they didn’t take it. I made $25.00! Woo-hoo! 

     Hey, it wasn’t much, but it gave me some hope. I was pushed some more, this time from another woman. This little English woman pushed, and pushed, and then pushed some more. See, I had written several other short stories and a novel of sorts. Okay, maybe it was more of a novella than an actual novel. Anyway, she pushed me to self-publish a short story and then another one. I wrote another novel and it went over pretty big. Oh hell, it was number one on Amazon for a short while in gay romance. I was over the moon! 

Now this is the way to celebrate!
     That first published short story saved my life. Even though this hasn’t been the easiest last few years, I’ve learned a lot. Made a lot of new friends and have had a good time. I also was able to go to Paris, a lifelong dream of mine. I must have gained ten pounds in a week! 

     I would just like to thank those who pushed me, encouraged me and took the time to help me. Without you, I don’t know that I would be here. 

     This is a good time to say it. You know what I’m gonna say, don’t you? Yep, it’s that time again. If this doesn’t prove to you that what you do can help someone along the way can make a difference, I don’t know what will. Even the smallest of things can give someone hope. Lift them up just enough to get through another day. May even safe a life. I know this to be true. So please, take just a moment to do something nice for someone. It doesn’t have to cost anything except a little time. Believe me, you will benefit from it as much as the recipient, if not more! 

     Have a great week, y’all! 


Yep, just because I can!

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Who needs COFFEE!

     Okay, now what? 

     UGH. Not enough coffee. Had one of those nights where sleep didn’t come and now my butt is really dragging. Need more coffee… 

     Coffee: how does anyone not like coffee? To me, coffee is the nectar of the gods. Coffee is how I survive the mornings. Coffee is like my life’s blood, which without, I would surely die. For those who follow me on Facebook, you know how I like my coffee, served up by a hot man!

     When the lovely K. C. Wells and I arrived in Paris, I downed like three double blacks, one right after the other. Damn, that was some good coffee. In London, I also had a mega cup of coffee. Costa is the equivalent of Starbucks here, only it’s much better coffee. Not quite as good as what I had in Paris, which would put hair on your chest, but good. 

     Speaking of hair on your chest… I recently saw an article pleading with men to stop shaving, waxing or manscaping. I whole heartily agree! Personally, I like men to look like men, not prepubescent little boys. Hey, I’m a gay man, not a pedophile. I remember way back when, when I looked at porn, men had full pubic bushes and hair on their balls. None of this plucked, waxed or shaved bull shit. They looked like men. Of course it was also the age of the Castro Clone, which of course I never managed to replicate. Oh well, that was then. Now I just don’t give a rats ass!

     It was a comment that the wonderful author, G. A. Hauser made on that same post that made me sit up and take notice. What was her comment you ask? Her comment was that crabs were about to become extinct! What? Really? No, not the crabs you eat, silly people. Pubic lice! Sheesh. Yep, those little critters also known as crotch crickets, dick scorpions, snatch monsters (ewww) and Bucky’s pets are near extinction! Oh. My. God!

     Think about it! We have yet another species, being wiped off the face of the planet, all because of depilation! What’s to become of the little dears? I say stop! Save the crabs! Stop shaving! What is to become of the little gay boys, whose rite of passage into slutdom going to do without crabs? No little Bucky biters crawling up the crab tree, often referred to as the treasure trail for some of you?
No. No. No. 
Yes. Yes. Yes.

     We need to act now people! I think we need T-shirts, buttons, bumper stickers or whatever it takes to save ‘em. “Save pubic lice! Quit Shaving!” Of course put a cute little picture of the adorable crotch pets so people know what we’re talking about. Who’s in? Wouldn’t you want one of those T-shirts? I know I want one.


     Kinda catchy, don’cha think? 

     Okay, short one this week. I have lots to get done. Finish a few books, make up T-shirts, mow and grocery shopping. Busy, busy I tell ya. 

     As always, please take the time to do something for yourself by helping out a fellow human being. It really doesn’t take much. Everyone needs a helping hand from time to time. 

     Have a great week, y’all! 

Because I can!

Saturday, July 26, 2014

How's it hangin' y'all?

     Howdy y’all. 

     It sure has been an odd week. I’ve been hosting a fifteen year old boy this week. I’d forgotten what it was like to have an eating machine in the house. I feel like I'm sometimes working to keep an all you can eat buffett going!

     Okay, now I feel a rant coming on. I just can’t help it. I’ve got to get this off my chest... or leg. Ladies, this is pretty much guy thing, so if you don’t want to hear this, go off and do something girly. I won’t be offended. 

     Here goes: About the only thing I don’t like about summer is… Well… I absolutely hate it when my balls stick to my legs. I know you guys know exactly what I mean. You’re standing there, shaking your leg trying to get your nut to let loose. It doesn’t work, so then you try the other leg. Nope, still stuck. Then you go and do the pelvic thrust, like you’re some kind of moron imitating something out of Rocky Horror Picture Show.

     Of course you look up just in time to see a woman, or worse, a group of women looking at you like you’ve just arrived from Mars. Hey, at least you hadn’t gotten to the point where you just reach in and readjust all your junk, an audible POP resounds around you as that sucker finally lets loose! And guys, just admit it. Once you’ve done that, you want to smell your fingers. Go on. We’re all men here. We all do it. However, when you’ve been busted, you feel like the perviest of pervs. Well… most of you do. Me? I really don’t give a shit. I’m a guy. I’m not ashamed of it. We’re just pigs at heart. Once you’ve realized this, your life will be so much easier. Trust me on this one.

     I think the worst thing is, when it is so warm, your balls hang so low you end up sitting on them. Fuck that hurts. There’s nothing like sitting down on a hard chair and busting your own balls. And if you’re in public, you try not to scream or let your eyes roll back in your head. But damn, that shit hurts! 

     This happened to me recently. I was going out to have lunch with a friend of mine and I did just that. She asked me what was wrong and when I told her, she almost was hysterical with laughter. Then everyone was looking and I still had that pained look on my face. I noticed one guy looking at me with total understanding written all over his face. He tipped his head and I nodded with that unspoken bond of brotherhood. Yep, we’ve all done it. 

     So guys, I’ve been thinking on this the last couple of days. As much as I hate being all bound up, my stuff all squeezed together, I may have come up with a solution for those low-hanging, heat-tortured nuts. I’ve got an old jock with the cup-sock. You know the type, the ones that most football players wear with the little pocket built in for that hard as steel cup that protects the important stuff. Instead of the cup I’m going to get some of those flexible cold packs that you put in your lunch boxes or coolers. Slide that bad boy right on in there and let it cool the boys down. I don’t know about you, but I have a feeling that putting your balls on ice when it is ninety-plus degrees outside sounds like a pretty good idea to me! I mean, think about it: you’re outside mowing, the sweat dripping down your face, your back, your chest, but Mr. Happy and friends are all nice and cool! Great idea, right? I am soooo going to try this. I’ll let you know how it goes. 

     Alright, ladies… it is now safe to reenter the room. 

     Now I’m going to give y’all a little update. Since I’ve been home I have been busting my ass getting things back together. For those of you who know me, or have been following along on Facebook, you’ll know I had been working very hard on this yard. When I left, it was really looking good. I got back…and it had gone to hell in a hand basket. 

     While I was gone the rainy season had started here in Florida. No surprise there. I knew it was coming. I thought I was prepared for it. Or so I thought. My house-sitter was supposed to be mowing. Well that didn’t happen. At any rate, I’ve been playing catchup ever since. It has been a lot of hard work. I was disappointed, hurt and mad all at the same time. Oh well, it is what it is so moving on. I’ve gotten it back under control and looking good once again. 

     Yeah, I know, a lot of you think I’m nuts for spending so much time outside sweating my butt off in the Florida heat mowing, weeding, watering, feeding, clipping, edging and such. Yeah, I’ve heard it before. What I try to get people to understand is, I love it! I truly love working in my yard. I get instant gratification as well as having patience and the anticipation waiting for things to grown and then bloom. I just get off on it. It is like entertainment to me. It is my joy. 
Aren't they cool?

     I once had a friend actually fuss at me when I told him I couldn’t go somewhere because I didn’t have the money for it. “You’ve sure got enough money to spend on these plants!” I had just gotten some really nice native azaleas. They were gorgeous! They were burnt orange with flutters of bright red. I still remember them. I tried to explain to him that this was my entertainment. Not going off on some river diner cruise. That would last just one night. Those plants would give me years of pleasure. He didn’t get it. Oh well. 

     Any who… This is just part of who I am. Now understand that while I’m out there, sweat running down my ass crack, I’m also plotting and getting ideas for stories. So, you see, I’m actually doing double duty. In a roundabout way I’m working on my yard and gardens and working on stories too! Doesn’t that count as multi-tasking? Yay me! 

No, they are not mine.
     Time to wrap this up…my fingers are getting itchy wanting to pull my balls off my chair and get some actual work done, i.e., go outside and play in the dirt and think how I’m going to tie this next chapter up and put a bow on it.

     Now as always… please take the time to do something nice for someone else which in turn is actually doing something for yourself. 

     Have a great week, y’all! 


Yeah, I can still do it becuse I want to. Ha!

Saturday, July 19, 2014

     I've been trying all week to try and figure out what to blog about. I had nothing. Then a friend, Gladys Morreno, posted something on FB that really made me pause. 

     It was a music video that blew my socks off. What really intrigued me was that it made me flash back to my recent travels. The video was nothing like anything I saw while in England or France, but it did make me focus on what it was that I really liked. 

     Yes, seeing the Eiffel Tower was cool. Doing the bus tour of London was great, but that wasn't what really pushed my buttons. Yes, yes, the urinals were fun and so were the strippers, but that isn't what I’m talking about. Damn it, you pervs. Do you think that is all I think of? 
Okay, maybe sometimes that's all I think of.

     What I’m talking about here are the little things that make a trip so good for me. Walking through the side streets where there are no tourists. Finding those little jewels of caf├ęs, restaurants and taking in the local colours. That is what makes it special for me. 

     So, Glayds’s video was a Latin video, which took me back to my mother talking about when she and my father used to take a cruise over to Cuba and spend long weekends there. Of course, this was before Castro fucked it all up. She would tell me stories of the great night life and fantastic music they experienced. She also liked to sample the local fare, instead of doing the touristy things.
Trinidad Street, Havana

     Years ago, when I was doing a bit more traveling, I would go to a grocery store, or local shop and just look around. Yeah, I’m such the total foodie. One time I got ballsy enough to approach this woman and asked her to take me home with her and let me help her cook dinner for her family. 

     Her name was Pamela. Her father was Hispanic and her mother Italian, so she often did a fusion of old family favorites. The food was amazing. Her family was very cool and they welcomed me into their home, and even asked if I wanted to stay with them while there, instead of the hotel. I didn't do that because I didn't want to impose and I also like my independence. 

     Now I know this is really off the wall and strange to some people, but hey, I usually like people and I love food. So hey, why not? I did the same thing once in New Orleans. 

     This time I found Gloria in a specialty shop, buying sausage. She told me she wasn't cooking that night, but was going to her sisters, and that the sausage was for the following night’s dinner. However, she let me know that if I was interested, I should be there around noon the next day, and gave me her address. 
Royal Street, French Quarter. LOVE this street.
     I didn't know at the time that it was her eldest daughter’s birthday and that her entire family would be there. Once there, I could see why she didn't mind the extra helping hand. Damn, they had as much food cooking as the restaurant I was currently working in. We had a blast and the payoff was some of the best, most original creole cooking I’d ever had. It was then I really knew what it was supposed to look and taste like. 

     Yes, I worked like a dog but it was worth it. Of course, as her family started arriving, they all looked at this white man in their mother’s kitchen and asked what the hell was going on. It was quite different, but they eventually warmed up to me. I ended up passed out on her sofa that night. Let me tell you, those people can party! 

     Another place I did this was in New York City. That is where I learned how to do real Jamaican Meat Patties. I made such a pig out of myself. I got to experience the open market in Brooklyn, which was so amazing. Salt fish, all the open herbs and the different ways they used them blew me away. I am soooo going back there one day. Of course, New York is a foodie’s wet dream! 
Oh, and yeah, there are hot guys there too! :D
     So, let me ask you folks this: How strange would it be for a stranger to walk up to you while shopping and ask to come help you cook. Would you do it? Let me know. Who knows, there could be a book in there somewhere. What’cha think? 

     Where next? I really, really want go to Italy. Pompeii is at the top of my list. Then I want to do Rome, Florence, Naples and then Venice. Yeah, that would be a dream trip for sure. I’ll have to go on a very strict diet before I went. Hell, I gained at least ten pounds just in France. Of course, all those pastries didn't help, I’m sure. 
And they don't put stupid figs leaves over the goodies!
     I've always wanted to go to St. Petersburg, Russia, but that is out now. Make me sad. There is the largest collection of art there from all over the world that I’ll never be able to see. Of course, I’ll miss out on fantastic cuisine as well. Damn, I would love to have smoked sturgeon and vodka there. Oh well. Maybe before I die, but I’m not holding my breath.
This houses some of the best art in the world.
     Another place I would love to visit is Cuba, but our stupid government keeps us away. I don’t agree with the politics there, but there is so much to see and experience. Just makes me mad sometimes. If you've never seen or heard of the Buena Vista Social Club, check them out. They are amazing and another reason why I would love to go to Cuba. I've had Cuban cuisine from low to high end and let me tell you, those people can really cook! Don’t forget, that is also where Desi Arnaz was from, as well as some other great artists. 
Okay, yeah, Cuban men.... just yeah.
     Yes, now I have to say I do want to go down under. (Minds, people, outta the gutter, if you please.) Yes, Australia and New Zealand. The vineyards of Australia have got to be amazing. One of my favorite vineyards is there, and I would love to visit. Don’t know that much about the food, but I am sure that I would find some amazing talents there as well. 

     New Zealand just looks beautiful. Not so sure I want to go during their winter, however. Of course, those accents make me week in the knees, so there is always that! That’s just a bonus I’m sure. LOL Oh, and they also play rugby...naked! Now who wouldn't want to see that?
Naked Haka anyone?

     So, for those of you who might be in a city where I may be visiting, don’t be afraid. Take a chance on the guy carrying big knives.

     As always, let me remind you that doing something for others makes you feel better and makes you a better person. Doesn't have to cost anything, or very little. Just do it!

    Till next week...

     Max ;-)
Because I can! :D

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Home, but with memories that will last a life time!

Sorry this is a week late, but hey, shit happens. 

     I’m going to start here by saying thank you to everyone who has sent me messages of support after the chaos when the person house sitting for me abandoned my poor dogs. It means lot to me. It was a nightmare I never want to go through again. But it is all over and done with now. So moving on…

     Now…onto the fun stuff! My traveling around the UK and Paris!

     Bugger. Bollocks. What the hell is wrong with you English? You use these words so offhandedly and in such a derogatory fashion. 

     Bollocks. Now for my uninformed American friends, that means balls. Bollocks! Yay for balls, I say. I love balls. Balls are fun. Balls are juicy, in more ways than one. Balls are great to play with. Of course my personal preference is nice furry balls, but all balls are nice. So why in the world would you people disparage such lovely creations? Okay, I actually like the word bollocks, but when I say it, it will be with admiration!
Oh yeah!

     Bugger. Another word that I wonder why you English throw around in such a belittling way? Bugger off! Oh bugger. Of course the source is slang for gay fucking, which is to be taken as an insult. Bah! You have it all wrong. Buggering is wonderful. We love to bugger, or fuck as we on the other side of the pond would say. So lay off, would ya? 

     May I suggest you just say fuck and be done with it. It is much more versatile anyway. It is a verb, noun, pronoun if you choose or an adjective. So much more useful if you ask me and it doesn't single out gay men. Remember now, I don’t really give a rat’s ass what some of you English think of me, but then I really don’t care much of what anyone thinks as a general rule. I’m old enough, and my ass has been around the track enough times to slough it all off without much thought. But again, that’s just me. But come on… find another word please. 

     Poof. Well now, that is just downright rude. Where did poof come from? Hmmm. Let me see. The only thing I found is that it comes from the word puff, as in powder puff. Used to be used to describe an effeminate male who wore face powder. Basically it is just another word for fag. “There were a couple of poofters here.” Translation… “There were a couple of fags here.” 

     Yeah, whatever. Bite me. The last time I had a powder puff touch me was when my mother changed my diaper, so you can just kiss my powdered ass. So bugger off! He he he 

     The way you English phrase things is just bizarre. When are you going to learn to speak proper English? Eh? There are times I have to turn to the lovely Ms. Wells and ask for a translation! So much for speaking the same language. Of course, I had no better luck in France, since I don’t speak French. Hey, at least they looked good while talking. Oh, not to say there weren't some very handsome men in England, quite the contrary. 

     I have to say, I've never seen so many dark-haired men with blue eyes in my life, one of my favorite combinations by the way. They were everywhere! I swear there were times I thought my head was going to rotate right off my shoulders. 

     As I write this, I’m sitting and listening to the waves roll in. Sharing Ms. Wells’ writing spot in Steephill, Isle of Wight is a joy and a privilege. (Yes, Will, it is Steephill NOT Sheephill, as much as you’d like it to be.) Lovely. It’s quite lovely. Lovely, lovely. Simply lovely. Would you like to know how many times I've heard that one single word in the last hour and a half? Let me put it to you this way…there has not been one person, out of many, that has NOT said it. Arrrrrgggghhhh! 

     I’m glad that she can write so much here. I on the other hand had way too many distractions, half naked men being one of them. That’s what happens when you sit on the beach I guess. Well, that and the crying babies. I’d never get as much work done as she does. Amazing. 
A very wet K.C. Wells with a blue cock!

     A few days later we found ourselves in London. During Gay Pride in London it poured the rain. Of course that was the ONLY day it really rained the entire time I was there. Oh bugger. (Crap, now I’m stuck with that one too! HELP ME!) It really did kind of ruin it for me. I didn't think my ass was ever going to dry out. Anyway, we decided to go have a bite to eat and take a nap. The nap didn't happen. 

NOTE: I no sooner got back to the hotel when I got a phone call informing me that my house sitter had abandoned ship. Totally fucked up the rest of my stay, but enough of that. 
Later that night, the lovely Ms. K.C. Wells and I went in search of entertainment. When we got to Soho, the gay section of London, it looked like Mardi Gras. I found myself encased in throngs of vibrating men in the middle of the street. Wow. I was like, OMG. Actually, I think I did a post to that effect. There were these two very hot men, snogging their faces off, right in the middle of the street. Oh, snogging is the Brits way of saying kissing and making out. So sad they can’t just speak simple English. 

     After we got through the thickest part of it, stopping for a quick beer first, we came to a clearing, and low and behold… a urinal! YAY! Not just any old urinal mind you, but one of those that are just open to the world. I really think they are amazing. What a great idea! Of course, I’m just pervy enough to appreciate it for other reasons. Of course I had to get a few pictures! 
     I think it is hysterical that guys will simply whip it out, take a whiz and then forget where they are and turn around to zip up. “Oh look! Penis!” BWHAHAHAHA! I love it. Of course, I had such a good time we went back the following night, when it wasn't quite so crazy, with the charming Ms. Petronella Ford. That is when I got the really good pictures! We sooo need some of these in the States.

     Now leave it to me to find a bar with either strippers or go-go boys. Yep, I found one. And yes, we certainly went. The Village in Soho is a great little pub/bar. Nice men dancing around in next to nothing. Unfortunately, the Brits are a bit on the prudish side, so no full out stripping. Oh well, one must make do with what one has. *sigh* 

     Now then, earlier I said something about the British currency in another post. Remember the whole thing about no one pound notes, only coins? I proved my theory that night. Those poor dancers didn't get tipped once. Not one solitary sole gave those lads any cash. I felt so sorry for them. There they were, shaking all their goodies for all they were worth, and they got no appreciation for it in the way of monetary payment. Wise up England, you NEED one pound notes. Your go-go boys (and girls I’d assume) are going broke! They need help! Get a pound note, support your strippers! Sheesh. 

     The next day I took a bus tour of London on one of the open air double-decker red buses. Quite the experience, I must say. The history there just amazes me. Interesting to see how closely the States and England are tied. (So why the fuck can’t they speak English!?) Again… prudes. There was this amazing statue that was erected in the 1800’s I believe, of a nude man. A lovely statue it is. (crap…am I ever going to get that out of my head?) Of course they went and covered up his junk with a fig leaf. I could only shake my head in dismay. So sad… 

     The rest of my trip was mostly spent in pubs. (I was a bit stressed.) The highlight of the pub crawl was ending up in a Bear Bar/pub for karaoke night, where the lovely Ms. K.C. Wells sang! I kid you not. The only female to do so. Girl’s got some balls, I’ll give her that. She did quite well by the way. (Of course that song has been stuck in my head ever since. Grrrr.)

     I got a little drunk, slept well and got up, washed London off and caught my plane back to the States. Hard to believe that I was there twenty-six days. It was the trip of a lifetime. 

     I’d like to thank the lovely Ms. Wells and her equally lovely hubby, my buddy, for hosting me and showing me such a great time. (And yes, he says lovely just as much.) I’d also like to thank all those at the UK Meet who made it such a memorable experience. Rumor is that next year it may be in Edinburgh. IF it is, you can count on me to be there! 

     It is great to be home, sleeping in my own bed, with my pups around though. There is no place like home. 
Ms. Scarlet
     Now, I have to wonder what happened to that homeless young man, Alexandre, from Paris. I wish I knew. It wasn't much, but I hope what little we did give him had a positive impact on his life. So, remember everyone…it doesn't have to be a lot. It doesn't have to be anything big, but you can make a huge difference in someone else’s life. Take the time to do something nice for someone else. Trust me; it will make you feel fantastic and a much better person. Pay it forward or back, whatever the case may be. Just do it! 

     Have a grrreat week, y’all! 


p.s. I'll soon be doing a special blog post on the food! Stay tuned.

Because I can!