Snotty and Sniffling

Yep, I'm sick again. As is quite typical on my trips to Paris, I usually get sick a day or two after I get back. And while I usually blame the walking & talking viral factory that is my niece, I actually think it was my Mom this time. So I've been trying to lay low for the past week or so to try to recuperate.

Christmas in Paris was good. Ish. Five adults and two children does cause some interesting family dynamics. But I think it went better than I thought. And while the weather was pretty cold, atleast it didn't rain much. So we did managed to get out of the flat every day for little adventures or the daily chores.

Let's see, Christmas highlight? I have to say that it's my niece listening to my iPod and singing along to Pink's "So What" at the top of her lungs!

"So so what?
I'm still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don't need you"

Just too funny and too cute.

And the trip back rocked! I got bumped to business class (thank you United!) and the flight got in an hour early!

I stayed in on NYE. Museum Man and I watched a movie and had some kirs. Nothing too wild. Though we did have an exceptional brunch at Fahrenheit at the Ritz Carlton in Georgetown with the Glamazon on New Years Day. We had several cosmos and we were feeling pretty toasty by the time we left about 3 plus hours later. Definitely a good time.

Started the new gym routine yesterday. It's been three months since I started at my self esteem crushing gym and I need to mix up my routine to see some new improvements. And like any gay man, I normally ignore my lower body. Well, with the cardio I do, my lower body is fine. But I finally decided to add some legs to my routine. Plus I'm mixing up my other workouts. I want to lose 15 pounds by the cruise in March. So that's the goal!

Porn Star Playground

My gym that is. Or to be a bit more honest, my self-esteem crushing gym. I swear there must have been a dozen guys who looked like they just walked off a Titan or Colt movie set. Clothed of course. Big, muscled, short haircuts, a little bit of scruff going. I'm surprised there wasn't a little trail of drool across the floor as I went about my work out. Sure, some people may see it as incentive, or examples to aspire to. Not me. It just reminds me that I'm fat. Well, less fat than before, but still fat.

Oh, but I'm hot. Radioactively speaking. I took the iodine pill today so radiation is coursing through my body looking for any cancer cell. I go in for a CAT scan on Friday. Should be fun. Not. And that will be my fourth trip to the hospital this week. Enough.

On Saturday I'm off to Puerta Vallarta with the gays. I can't wait. And while I'm fat (see above), I'm less fat that when I went last year. Plus I was off my thyroid medication last year in prep for my quarantine procedure, so I was also really tired and run down. So I should hopefully have a better time this year. Have laptop, will travel. So I'll be doing a little bit of work, but hopefully not too much. But still, all I want is a beach, a pool, and someone to bring me a cold beverage while I read my books!

Sprained Ankle, Cockrings, and 150K Makeovers

Oy vey.

So I went to a church thing Thursday night. Had a good time. It ended just before 9PM so I thought I would join MuseumMan for a drink at the Duplex Diner. Well, as I'm walking down U St I step on some cracked pavement and sprained my ankle. Big time. And partially fall into the bushes which I'm sure kind of freaked out the very nice couple in front of me who realized that I wasn't going to mug them when I started to say "F#@k!" Repeatedly. Anyways, I managed to make it to Duplex which is quite the happening spot for the A listers on a Thursday night. We saw Andrew and his husband.

I stayed home from work today since I could barely walk, but I was fairly productive. And at 5PM I decided to risk going to the gym. I love my self esteem crushing gym and I've gotten into a good routine. And I've lost some weight. So I'm not going to let something minor like a sprained ankle stop me. So I lifted (yes I hobbled across the weight room floor) and then did the bike. It sucked, but I dealt with it. My ankle is still throbbing a bit. I plan to hit the endless pool tomorrow. We'll see how at goes.

Oh, cockrings. So I'm now used to the whole cockring poolside. Wearing a cockring under your swim suit lifts the goods and make them a bit more prominent. And so when I'm on a cruise or at Ptown, I don't even think about it. Well much. But I think the new thing is to wear your cockring to the gym. All I'm saying is that there are some pronounced packages being displayed in gym shorts and sweats being worn by the guys at my self esteem crushing gym. Oh, and I think I'm beginning to see a trend in the guys at my gym. I think the muscle bears are taking over. And not so much bears in weight, but with the facial hair. I suspect that Resluts will end up being the twink gym and my SECG will be the muscle gym. And let me tell you how upset I am about that. ;-)

Wow, $150K on clothes? That's just insane. Though the Valentino jacket is amazing. I kid! Seriously, if I had $150K to blow, I'd hop on a plane to Brazil and hire the best plastic surgeon in the country. I'd have everything done including that procedure in Gattica where they made Ethan Hawke taller. I've be 6 foot tall, with a 50 inch chest, and a 30 in waist. Hey, you have to have a dream. The only procedure I'd recommend for Sarah Palin would be a lobotomy, but I suspect she's already had one. And I can't let it go, $150K for clothes? Really? WTF were they thinking? Can she just go back to her tanning bed in Alaska and leave us alone?

This Vacation Has Been Rated PG-13

So I'm hanging from a zip line careening down the side of a mountain under a jungle canopy. It's taken a couple of boat rides, including a zodiac ride across the bay of Puerto Vallarta, a really bumpy truck ride to the base camp, and then a mule ride to the top of the mountain to begin the journey back down, which will include zip lining into pool of water and rappelling down a cliff next to a waterfall. And I'm thinking that this vacation really is PG-13. And I think that because of the two girls who are ahead of me who are just precious. And yes this is a gay vacation, and I do mean girls, not gurls. One of them is here with her father, and her friend is tagging along as well. And I think it is awesome that they are here with their father and his partner. They are both 20ish, and just too cute for words. Actually it's kind of funny to see the straight tour guides work the two girls hard, just outrageously flirting with them, and then they completely get flustered when one of the boys tries to flirt with them.

So back to my PG-13 meme. Look, it's never going to be G. We are talking about a resort full of gay men. But the resort is not clothing optional, so no bare asses just hanging out. Which is not to say that there isn't plenty of skin. And quality skin at that. Really, if you want to go to a resort and see guys in speedos and square cut bathing suits, you want to go to one that's chock full of gays. Because just demographically I think we can pull it off a lot better that a resort full of straight folks. Not to say that we didn't have a small portion of bears with us, but really, the gays invented the Adonis complex years ago. As GreekBoi said as he looked around the pool, it's like an Ang Lee movie: "The dialogue is weak, but the scenery is just fabulous." Speaking of dialogue, sure there's some language, mainly the F-bomb, and some same sex PDA, but we're talking holding hands and kissing, nothing too wild and crazy. And I'm assuming that since both of the girls are in college, they've seen wilder. Of course this isn't to say that haven't been some late night "eXXXtracurricular" activities in the hot tub or on the beach, but nothing lurid or scandalous during normal hours. So basically it's PG-13.

Of course I didn't get the memo from Gay HQ that cockrings aren't just for evening wear any more. There were a lot of men who were putting their packages out for inspection by using a cockring under their bathing suits. Talk about not leaving a lot to the imagination. And while Abercrombie and Fitch is still the #1 age inappropriate clothing line, I think Hollister is coming up a close second. If this trend continues, in a couple of years men over 40 will be sporting too tight tee shirts from Sandbox Couture. Oh, and mangrooming is still the rage. I was chatting with D from LA who had a very nice chest and asked if he was naturally smooth. And he said of course, everyone in LA is naturally smooth, naturally tan, and naturally has white teeth. I really do hope his eyes were naturally blue. They were great. Now having said all of this, it was definitely not a resort full of perfect gay Ken dolls. The guy who won the best tan line contest was actually over 40, didn't have a size 30 waist, but he did have a great tan line and just seemed like a nice guy in general. So we had guys in all shapes and sizes. Oh, and we had two lesbians with us. Love them. And the funny thing is after two weeks of gay men, then next group coming in to the resort was from Olivia. We'll get back to that in a few moments.

The resort was great. A very nice large pool, great beach with little palapas for shade, several restaurants, and the rooms were fantastic. This beat the Atlantis Cancun trip in 2005 hands down! Like the Cancun trip, the pace was a bit slower than on a cruise. Which was good for me as I was having some minor issues all week (headaches, weird heartburn, etc) which I think was mainly related to coming off the cytomil. Again the group was very diverse from a body shape perspective to an age range. And like Malcom (the Altantis MC) said, "This is an attitude free" zone. And it really was. Having said that, there was one guy there who apparently lied about his age. If he's 22, then I'm 23. He was a complete hottie who I think was 17! And there was a persistent rumor that he was there "working." I think I saw him and the potential sugar daddy at the White Party getting a bit touchy feely, but I could be wrong. However, that is one way to make sure you have a "good time" on vacation.

Speaking of "fun", apparently there were a lot of people "working out", "taking naps" and oh I just need to "get out of the sun for while." But between being tired a lot, the headaches, etc, I didn't have as much "fun" as I would like. And there, I think I've completely over-used the quotation marks to imply sex. I did dance a bit and really enjoyed that. But mainly at the t dances as the late night parties were too much for me. I did a quick walk through the 80s party when it started at 11PM and that looked like fun, but I was just wiped out. And I did take a good alcohol & food induced disco nap for the White Party, but that really only got me to 130AM or so. Definitely not the early morning hours which is when it usually ends. Speaking of, I need a new white party outfit. My choker white uniform is getting old. And I can barely fit into it.

Greekboi and I both tried to take some personal photos, but not so much. So I'm declaring a photo moratorium on any new pictures of me until I look like this:
Really, I'm doing this for you. (okay, maybe not like that exactly, but less like a beached whale).

The last night was amazing. I heard a new song that's on my must list called Goodnight Tonight. I've ordered it off PerfectBeat so I should have it added to my dance collection by the end of the week. And we had the a perfect sunset as well. As the sun slowly slid into the Pacific, the sarongs came off as people dashed into the ocean for a quick skinny dip. It was great fun, but I did not participate. Maybe next time. Which I think there will be. I really liked the resort, and getting away for a little beach action before winter starts sounds pretty good. And I'm starting to know more people from these groups, so that's fun as well. We had a nice Italian dinner next to the water and then caught Shann Carr's show. She's going to be leaving Atlantis soon and I think her last show will be the March cruise which GreekBoi and I are signed up for. She'll definitely leave some big shoes to fill for Atlantis.

Sadly, I need to go grab some dinner and then start to work. I alteast need to read my email before I walk in the office tomorrow. And this is the week I start round two of the thyroid treatments. So more fun. Adios for now!

Life Goes On . . .

Anyways, I'm trying to get back into a normal schedule for my life. I still couldn't drag my big fat butt out of bed this AM to go to the gym, so I paid my penance this afternoon. Bike for 30 minutes (while reading Harry Potter #3) and then lifting (biceps and back).

And I'm *trying* to do the five meals a day thing. 8AM: Oatmeal. 1030ish: Broccoli with cheese. 1PM: Lean Cuisine. 4:30ish: Nectarine. 7PM: Salad with cheese and meat. And I'm enjoying a Fresca for dessert. My goal is to try to do that all week. We'll see if I can make it.

So I interviewed one of the Borg today. Nice enough guy, but not the right fit for the position I have open. But what kills me is just the lack of interview skills he had. He gave very short answers. He acted like he didn't even want to be there. And when I asked him if he had any questions (since I was frustrated trying to get info out of him), he pretty much said no.

That is not the right answer. If someone isn't obviously trying to get you out of their office and asks you if you have any questions, here are some starter questions. Please feel free to use them:
- How long have you been at (insert company name). (speaks to longevity, career progression, company stability, etc)
- What do you like best about working at (insert company name). (give insight into future boss or co-worker, also says something about the company)
- What do you like worst about working at (insert company name). (this is even more important: will the interviewer be honest, or actually talk about the downsides of the company?)

And then use the answers to those questions to try to sell yourself. "Oh, you've been here for 7 years? That's great, I'm really looking for a company where I can dig in and really invest my time and energy in making it a success in the long run."

This really isn't that difficult, but it's really surprising how many bad interviews I've had.

Tomorrow night is the First Tuesday Happy Hour at Nellies, so I hope to make that. I'll have to adjust my work out schedule. And NO alcohol. But I'll be there. And then Wednesday I'm going to hear Bishop Chane speak about the HoB meeting in New Orleans. Should be interesting.

Oh and I must quote Sean: "turning one’s faith into a conquest meme is gaudy at best and at their worst the exact opposite of what I feel Christianity should be." What a great line. And I whole heartedly concur.

If It Weren't For Bad Luck . . . . . .

So I have strep. No fever, no irritation in my throat, but I do have strep. Which means that my surgery for tomorrow is probably off. I won't know until tomorrow AM. FU&K! I am not happy. And apparently my GP talked to the surgeon on call since mine was out and said they had a case where someone had strep and when they intubated him, they pushed the strep from the throat into the lungs and then he developed pneumonia and spent a week in the ICU. So that would suck.

Speaking of sucking. 3 units in my building were broken into this afternoon. Mom may have actually seen the guy. Just not good at all!

Again, if it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all.

Better Know A District!

Well, despite my attempts to keep track of Stephen Colbert's 427 part series called "Better Know a District", it looks like I need to take a step back and see what I really know about my District.

On Thursday I had to go see my endocrine-surgeon at the Washington Hospital Center. Umm, the what? I didn't even know it existed. I'm good with the Georgetown Hospital, Sibley Hospital, and George Washington Hospital. And yes I'm vaguely aware that Howard University has a Hospital, but WHC? First I'd heard of it. So I leave work and I drive up into North DC. Wow, this is no longer the Shire. And I'm kind of fascinated by the different neighborhoods that I wander through due to a bad combination of Google Maps and road construction. But once I make it up there, I realize that the WHC is just part of a HUGE hospital complex to include the VA Hospital, plus some other ones. It was very impressive. But a pain to navigate, much less find parking.

My appointment with my Dr went fine. I'm going to wait to go under the knife until I get back from my various vacations planned for this summer. I'm not going to let a little thing like cancer stop me from my gay and fabulous vacations lined up for this summer. So that's good. Plus that gives me time to arrange for Mom's visit etc. So that's all good.

The funny thing is that it took me an hour to get from my office to WHC. When I left, I asked for directions home and it took me about 10 minutes. So weird. And I'm still amazed that I didn't even know WHC existed. I live about 99% of my life in a strange 5 square miles that includes both Dupont and Rosslyn. And for me to leave my little comfortable section of DC is quite uncommon. But I do need to get out more and see more of the District. But that would require me to have a life, and that's a different discussion for a different day!

Post Pride Ponderings Brought To You By The Letter "P"

So my weekend was as expected, slightly disappointing with a couple of redeeming points.

The call to the parental units went okay. I had to tell my Dad twice that I wanted to speak to him and Mom at the same time. They don't play on the phone together nicely. There was no histrionics, but lots of concern. And I'll probably have Mom come out whenever I have to go under the knife.

I had really wanted to go out dancing Friday night, but I got told by TwigBoy that BeBar has a microscopic dance floor, and then the rain came, and staying home and nursing my depression sounded so much better.

Saturday, after the gym and a little pool time, I had a Pre-Pride Parade Party. So like 6 people RSVPed to my invite. And like 12 people showed up! Which was great since I hadn't seen some people in while. But I came dangerously close to running out of food. The beverage de juer was Fresca and Vodka. Very summery and light. And then we walked down to 17th to watch the parade. SuperLawyer had brought his children and there were a couple of times we had to distract them from some of the not quite appropriate scenes passing by. But overall it was fine. I was very glad to see that St. Thomas' had a big contingent in the parade and that Bishop Chane was there as well. My church rocks.

After the parade, and after losing some of my compatriots to the local drinking establishments on 17th St, we headed over to Levantes for dinner which was actually quite nice. But between the food and the previous alcohol consumption, the lure of my nice warm bed was too much for me. So no dancing for me.

Sunday, I went up to Woodley Park to have lunch with a high school friend who is here for a conference. He had come to my party, but we hadn't had a chance to really catch up, so it was good to have some quality time with him. Afterwards, GreekBoi and I went to the Pride festival. And that was fun. We hung out for a couple of hours and then I headed back to do some work.

So that was my weekend.

Oh, so I'm totally digging Fall Out Boy's: Thanks for the Memories! Kind of a weird video, but I'm loving the song:

Follicular Thyroid Carcinoma

So I found out yesterday and I go through cycles where I think of it and then where I push it to the back of my mind. I'm really too busy to be sick. And I'll just say sick instead of the C-word.

The good news is that it's the second most common kind of C-word. And one of the most curable. I've been doing a lot of research online in my spare time. And of course a part of me is going, "Finally! I can be the drama queen I've always wanted to be."

Talked with my sister who I just adore. She was good.

Going to call the parents tonight and talk with them. Not a conversation I'm looking forward to.

If you haven't made it over to Joe's to read his Pride blog entry, you must. It's amazing. And despite the C-word, I'm going out tonight dancing because there's a Madonna party and atleast I'll know all of the songs. Plus, I do think I need to get my groove on.

Fat

I know I am but what are you!

But seriously.

So I've been watching Work Out on Bravo. LOVE IT!

During my weekend spent in bed trying to suffer through migraines, I watched a couple of episodes. In one, Jesse is talking about how he's probably in the worse shape of any of the trainers on the show. "I'm not fat. Well, I may be gay fat," he said. And that just killed me. It's true. You can be in "normal" shape and be considered "gay fat". It really is quite strange/sad. Body Dysmorphic Disorder is just rampant in the gay community.

The other episode I watched Jackie is talking about a lesbian couple who want to lose weight. And I think it's Jesse again who says, "They aren't fat, well they are nesting fat. Happy fat." That I've found someone who loves me and it's alright if I have dessert more than once a week kind of fat.

I wish I was either.

After losing almost 14 pounds, I fell off the diet wagon and then rolled downhill. Today was the first day in probably 3 weeks that I've been to the gym. I did 50 minutes of cardio. Which didn't completely suck. I want to do some cardio for a week before I get on the scale. I'm afraid to get on the scales. Very afraid.

The Ole Rock Climbing Injury

That's my new story.

See back in the day I was backpacking through Patagonia with some friends. We had just hiked over into southern Chile looking to climp up into Torres Del Paine National Park. We had crossed several mountain passes, waded through cold rushing streams, and were climbing up the face of a steep rock wall to get to the top of the mountain when one of my ropes slipped, I fell, only about 20 feet or so, but landed on my foot badly and tore my achilles tendon. I was lucky, but to this day it still bothers me. Some days more than other, but hey, that's the kind of guy I am.

The truth?

OH MY GAWD my foot hurts. It's fricking killing me.

I think it's THE GOUT! Part DEUX!

So I had the problem with my foot (mainly in the toe area) before I left to go to Paris. I take drugs, and like in a day or so, I'm fine. I stop taking the drugs. I walk all over Paris. No problems. Yesterday I start to notice that it's hurting again. Today, oh yes, it's hurting alright. It's f&cking killing me. And I've been hobbling around like a stupid gimp and I hate it.

Sure I get a little bit of sympathy, but then when I tell people it's the gout, they look at me kid of funny and just sort of shake their head and walk away.

So, the next person to ask me, it's just the ole rock climbing injury acting up again.

Versailles, Paris, and Home Again

Friday I got up early and went to Versaille. The BNL helped me navigate the RER (local trains) and I got to Versaille a little after 1030. My foot was feeling better and I walked under the grey and drizzling skies to the front of the palace. Holy Cow! I just hadn't realized how huge it was. And it was amazing how crowded it was that early on a cold, rainy Friday morning. The line for people with tickets was easily 200 people long and I stood there for a good half hour before I got int. I was worred that it was going to be like the Louvre where a gazillion people are there and every one is jostling each other and I was right. Luckily the ticket also included the audio-tour guide so I could use that to drown out the noise from the masses. And I just tried to ignore the constant bumping from the masses. Lots of kids, and some of them were definitely not interested in listening or learning, it was more like a sprint to get through the museum so they could stand outside, under some of the archways and smoke their stinky french cigarettes. But I took my time and enjoyed it. Afterwards, I walked down into the gardens. The fountains were not on, and it is still early spring there, but the gardens were pretty and huge. I walked all the way down to the Grand Trinon and the Petit Trinon. These were the "summer palaces" when they (Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette I think) wanted to get away from Versailles. Pretty cool. As I walked back up to the main palace, they turned on some of the fountains and I got some cool pics. I'll try to download them later this week. I got back on the RER and made it home just about the time the kiddos got home. So more quality time with them.

My time in France is weird. It's good because I'm not rushing myself. I'm very relaxed. There's no pressure to see everything in 2 or 3 days. No insane schedules. I get to spend some great quality time with my niece and nephew. Kind of like when I went to LA to visit them, I really don't go out much. I do dinner with my sister and her family. I play games with the kids, we watch movies. All kind of relaxed. I did end up going out once to a french gay bar. With a very interesting downstairs cruising area. But I don't know, between the basically unattractive French guys, the smokey bars, the jet lag, the crappy weather, I just don't see the point in going out much. I'm getting old, aren't I?

The other thing that is weird about my time in France is that I sleep like a rock. Every time I went to sleep I had such great restfully sleep I never wanted to get up in the AM. I'm not sure if it's the mattress, or if I'm not thinking about work at ALL, or what. But it was amazing.

My last day in Paris, we took the kiddos for haircuts (which are EXHORBITANTLY expensive) and then to the Paris Air and Space Museum. It was cool and you got to go inside a Concorde. For some reason I thought they were bigger, and the seats looked really small. I think it's good the flight was so quick, becuase I think being on those seats would have sucked. It rained again most of Saturday and for my last night we went out to dinner at the local equivalent to the Olive Garden. Hey, it was cheap (for Paris), the food was decent, and they put up with the noise of the kiddos. So that was good.

My flights back were the usual. My foot is hurting again. This time not the toes, but the heel. I'm taking the gout medication again and I hope that's what it is. If not, it's back to the Dr. Oh joy.

This Old Body . . . .

is hurting. Badly!

I woke up this AM to excruiating pain in my left foot and the tell-tale sign of a scratchy throat that means a nice cold is on it's way. Not sure what the deal is with my foot. I suspect it's gout. And yes, it's an old person's disease, but it's also apparently genetic, and can be triggered by diet. Especially a high protein diet. Which is what I've been on, up until Thursday that is. So I'm not sure what triggered it. I'm going to try to hobble along until I get an appointment with my Dr tomorrow. So much for running up and down the Champs in Paris. I'll just be happy if I'm not limping. And ironically enough, this will be the first time I've been to visit my sister and gotten sick before I get there. Usually my little lovely virus factory niece infects me and I'm sick when I get home. Of course, this could all be allergies, but I'm thinking not.

So I went to Truro for church this AM. I wanted to experience their service, I wanted to sit in their pews, I wanted to listen to how they worship to see if I could figure out why they feel the need to leave the Episcopal Church. Before I left, I had read their website, and while they claim to welcome gays and lesbians, they also refer to several of the ex-gay ministries. So I'm not sure how welcome they really are. Unfortunately with my gimp foot I got there late and quietly sat in the back. While the format and many of the components of the service were the same, it just felt odd. I'm not an evangelical, and there were several evangelical and/or charismatic moments in the service. I'm also pretty conservative when it comes of my church music. And there were several songs/hymns that seemed more at home in a big tent revival than in an Episcopal (or Anglican) church. Unfortunately as I sat there, I realized that I was listening to the lessons, the songs, the sermon through a very jaded perspective. Almost everything I heard I was probably taking the wrong way to fit into the mindset that I had already created. So I got up and left. I wasn't being honest in my attempt to listen to them, to figure out how they feel. So I left. And to be honest, my foot was trobbing so hard that I could barely focus anyways. I'm not sure I'll go back. I'd like to figure out a way to have a meaningful conversation with someone from Truro, but I'm not sure how to do it.

Like Athena Springing Forth from Zeus' Forehead . . . .

I'm hoping some hot, muscled Greek God will spring from the amazingly gigantic and quite disturbing ZIT on my chin. Seriously, I think you could see if from space. It's that big. Oh, the irony, as I approach 40 I'm breaking out like a teenager. Just BITE ME, okay?

Even the Dr. I saw today was scared of it and gave me some antibiotics. What fun. Anyways, I went to get a physical since I haven't had one since I left the Navy over five years ago. Gee, time flies when you're having fun. So in addition to being the human pin cushion, I got the ole prostrate check as well. He was so quick I didn't even have a chance to enjoy it. I wonder if it's bad form to bring poppers to your prostrate exam?

Here are some pics of Paris.



















Speaking of irony, the pleather man bag I bought in Paris? Guess what's it's called in French? Queer Sack. I kid you not. It's really Cuir Sac, but it's pronounced Queer Sack. How funny is that. And so perfect for me, right?