Oh no she better don't!

Just recently someone forwarded me an email about the winners of the 2007 Darwin Awards. For those of you who don’t know what those are, its pretty much a list of people who died doing stupid things over the last year. Topping last years list is someone who died from giving themselves a vodka enema to get drunk and two people who were found dead naked in the street because they were having sex on a steep roof and fell to their doom.

I’m not dead, but I think I had a few Darwin moments of my own last year. I could go on and on with the dumb things I do, (my thick beautiful blond locks run DEEP) but the one that certainly takes the cake was at the Folsom Street Fair back in September. It’s a warm Indian summer day South of Market and I am cruising around with my friends in a little leather jock strap and black harness as one does for Folsom. I’m enjoying the afternoon of sun, skin and skank with copious amounts of beer. As the day goes on the crowds grow, my better judgment shinks and the bathroom lines get longer.

These street festivals never have enough port-o-john toilets. Why should I stand be standing in line with a bunch of ugly people when the day is wasting? I’ve only got a few more hours to make sure as many people as possible get to see and feel my five star ass in this little black jock. Once the music stops, the street cleaners show up and all the revelers head to dark corners far too seedy for me. I’ve got to pee bad, and desperate times call for desperate measures. I grab one of my closest drunken acquaintances and head off the beaten path of the festival looking for a semi private place to drain my weasel. Ahhh… this spot will work fine.

I pull down my little jock strap, whip out big jimmy and the twins and take a deep breath, thank god we have some relief! As I am standing there during my pee, I can hear all kinds of noise. In situations like this you never know what kind of racket is directed towards you and whats not, most likely none of it is. All of the sudden, my buddy says “DAVID THEY ARE TALKING TO YOU!” “Huh? What?” This is when I look up and I realize my Darwin moment, I have decided to pee on a police truck full of cops. Yes, it’s true! And they are all looking out the window at me while I pee, threatening me on their megaphone that I will be arrested if I don’t stop urinating on their van.

Not knowing what to do, I just take off running (and peeing) into the sea of black leather and skin. Fortunately they didn’t chase me, maybe they did, but I didn’t look back. All I can think of at this point is that this is probably the dumbest thing I have done in a long time. I was so stressed about the whole thing, I needed another beer, so pulled $5 out of my boot and back to the beer stand I went.

I highly encourage everyone to raise a glass to your inner Darwin, get drunk, and screw. Just don’t do it in front of the cops or die. Cheers!

Dear faithful readers, Apologies for having not updated my blog in months. I have no better excuse other than the lame excuse of procrastination and being very busy. So busy, I even was able to land a new job and get involved with a fantastic ski group for the winter season! Just because I haven’t had any blog updates does not mean that I haven’t been having any fun. I was so busy having fun all summer I hardly had time to work or update this blog, but this update should bring you up to speed.

My Russian Accomplice and I kicked off summer with a bang in New York City for a weekend of dining, drinking, dancing, shopping and Broadway shows. He was able to negotiate a complimentary suite at the St. Regis Manhattan (he’s not my number one travel buddy for no good reason!) so when we weren’t out touring the city we had a very comfortable place to rest. Friday night was especially fun, we went to a very large well known gay nightclub where it turned out I knew the DJ. He spotted us on the dance floor and said “Thank god the California boys are here. They are the only ones that know how to have any fun!” He invited us to the VIP room with an entire hosted bar where we could drink with all our friends for free in the company of other fine specimens. While it was very fun while it lasted, we might have had a little too much to drink. The night (or the morning after) ended in a bizarre quartet of us getting thrown out of The W Times Square for trying to buy drugs off the large black doorman following a strange hookup with a Bi-curious Canadian and his girlfriend who had shaved her pubes shaved in the shape of a heart.

Our next adventure was down to sunny southern California where Pavel hooked us up with some fancy hotel in Beverly Hills….Rolls Royce’s and Bentleys lined up out front. The lady at the front desk instantly took a liking to us, comped our parking and sent margaritas to our room every night. We had a wonderful time enjoying the city with some very cool parties in the Hollywood hills, Paramount Studios and late night dance clubs. The hotel staff continued to love us and shower us with cocktails until I crashed my rented Hyundai into the wall. After that, they said I couldn’t keep the keys anymore and didn’t send any more drinks. That’s ok, we were about to check out anyway as we were invited pool party overlooking the city by some guy that lived next door to Johnny Depp. As much as I love LA, I was excited to return to San Francisco… here I don’t have to worry about crashing into a Bentley.

Next up was a wild weekend in Fire Island. Those New York City boys sure are frisky… I had a different guy each night… very strange for me. I usually have three hookups in one year, but three in one weekend was almost too much to handle. Especially considering the first one tricked me into having a three way with his gasian housemate. This hunk from Chicago said his housemate would go to bed once we got home. As soon as we got into the kitchen they both started ripping off my clothes…I gave them a look of confusion and they said “Surprise! roommates who stay together play together.” I normally don’t do gasians, but just to be polite since I was a guest in their home, I made a minimal effort and got out of there as soon as possible.

Mid August always brings Lazy Bear Weekend in Russian River. I’m not really into bears but Russian River is one of my favorite summer hangouts and they do have a great party so why not join the fun. I should have known I was in for trouble when the week before when two old bear coworkers of mine cornered me at the ferry building while I was enjoying lunch. Being the social creature I am I asked them if they were planning to attend bear weekend as well. They said that the bears will want to put donuts on my nipples and drizzle me in honey hoping to go for a dip in my honey pot. Yeah right!! I loaded up the Russian Accomplice and my good buddy AJ into my Saab and we headed north to the river. After copious drinking in the sun on Saturday we headed out to the bear bar for more fun. Now unless you were there to see this, you wouldn’t really know that they actually have big hairy go-go bears dancing around in g-strings and that they enjoy honey flavored shots that come of ice filled tubes. I think it was those strange shots that really put us over the edge because we were eventually ejected from the bar for being worse behaved than the hairy animals.

That’s all for now folks… I must rush home and pack as I am leaving for New York tonight with the Russian Accomplice to celebrate Halloween big apple style. Wishing you all well… and even if your adventures end tragically like all of mine here… in my opinion, having no adventure is even more of a tragedy, so get out there!

I work in online advertising; part of my job is to review potential websites and programs as potential places for us to buy ad space for our clients. The other day a gentleman came in to show us how we might be able to sponsor advertising on this game site. The game he was using as an example was called Ant War. I had a hard time staying focused on the Ant War game as it only made me think back to the time I had a real ant war right in my office. Yes, it’s true; we actually had an ant war on the sixth floor of an office building in the middle of the financial district at an internet company.

One Monday morning my good buddy and coworker Aaron arrived with a new ant farm. It was an impulse buy he had picked up over the weekend at the hardware store in The Castro. We cast our work aside fro the time being, assembled it on his desk and added the sand. The only thing that didn’t come in the kit was the ants, we had to send for them by mail and they would arrive in about ten days. Around this time Aaron was leaving on vacation in Miami Beach so I was left in charge of safely introducing our new pets to their new home.

My first order of business was to make the old Middle Eastern receptionist aware I was expecting some very important guests. Her name was Anjuna and would take the Bart in from Fremont every day. She seemed upset that I was having insects sent to the office but I was sure she would get over it, other people were having porn delivered and sometimes I would have my ecstasy orders delivered via fed ex, the ants shouldn’t be a problem either. A few hours later I was called into the HR managers’ office…Great… what have I done now? Apparently Anjuna was very upset that bugs were on their way to the office, she just didn’t feel comfortable getting the mail and put in a complaint to human resources. After explaining that the ants would be contained in their farm, and that there was no way I could stop the mail from coming I gave her some Banana Republic gift certificates and she let me off the hook without writing me up. These kinds of bribes worked every time with these ladies…but our employee manual did say that live animals were not allowed at work.

A few days later the ants arrived; they came in a little plastic tube and looked very angry once I took the tube out of the dark envelope. The instructions recommended I put them in the refrigerator for a while as the cooler temperature would help calm them down before they are introduced to their new farm. After about 20 minutes in the ice box I was ready to put them in their home. I called over our trusty lesbian Amy for help just in case I needed it, lesbians are so good with cats I thought maybe they could help with ants too. Unfortunately we had trouble getting the ants into their farm… they accidentally missed entrance and went running all over the desk. All the dike started to do was scream and start running around… what good is she!? I picked up all the ants that could catch and put them one by one into the farm and closed up the hole. Many of my coworkers stood around and just stared... "don't just stand there you dumb shits... DO SOMETHING!"

Over the next few days the ants were quite busy working on their new home. They started to dig tunnels, hills and holes while snacking on sugar water and apple slices we would feed them for lunch. These ants certainly worked harder than me and Aaron. But after about a week something drastic changed in the ants…they had started a turf war with each other and were fighting all day every day. Each morning AJ and I would come in to find a few more ants had met their doom. For the ants that were still alive if they weren’t trying to kill other live ants they would drag all the dead ant bodies to a big hole in the bottom of the farm and pile them up. When there was just one ant left living in the farm we decided to release him. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a room with a bunch of dead people either. So, we took him out to the deck overlooking the bay and freed him into one of the potted plants.

After out ant experience was over we had to move onto bigger projects, like getting our boss fired. That’s a story for another day.

Love thy ant as thy self!

Gay men and lesbians are both considered homosexual, one would think they get along…not so much. Even I, who gets along with just about everyone, have had a few conflicts with Lesbians. Now I try to engage in lesbian culture as much as possible, that is one thing I feel is missing from my life is a good lesbian buddy. I have two pairs of Birkenstocks, I like to camp and really enjoy the Indigo Girls. I even went to one of their concerts in support of the lesbians. The fact I showed up at the concert after taking three ecstasies in a muscle tank and ended up getting hit on by granola gays in plaid shirts is a story for another day. But regardless of my efforts to stay Switzerland with these girls they continually do things that spoil my fun.

I used to work with a lesbian at my last company, her name was Amy and she had a very butch she-man for a girlfriend. One year it was the weekend of gay pride. Amy had asked to leave early so she could go practice for the dyke march. Practice for the dyke march!? All they do is take off their tops and chase a beat up pick up with a large vagina in the back down the street while blocking traffic and waving vibrators in the air. How much practice can they possibly need for this? Anyway, my Jewish boss and his big nose gave Amy the permission to take off and go practice her march. Upon hearing this I asked the Jew if I could take off early to go practice my gay pride. All I got was a big no, and that I needed to stay and help cover the workload since Amy was going to be gone.

One night I had ventured out to the big lesbian nightclub with my possie of gays, breeder girls and boys. My roommate happened to be the DJ so we liked his music and wanted to support his groove. I’m glad we were all on the guest list because since I am not lesbian I really shouldn’t have to pay. Now in gay nightclubs the guys are free to use the ladies rooms otherwise they would just go unused and overcrowd the mens room. The same thing happens in the lesbian club, they use the mens rooms. But since they need like real toilets the mens urinals go relatively unused. Some of them try to squat over them… not my idea of a good free show. Even though all the lesbians are waiting for the mens stalls, I step right up to the urinal and pee. One particularly tough and angry dyke with a shaved head and a wife beater tank top got so upset that I didn’t have to wait in line threw me up against the wall and yelled at me. Now I am getting beat up just because I have a penis?

It was day two of an all gay cruise I took last year and on this particular day we had a full day at sea. So of course all us boys plan to enjoy ourselves in and around the pool all afternoon. But around noon that day we were all instructed to get out of the pool while the pool was covered with a large net. Apparently someone had broken their Corona bottle in the pool and someone had cut themselves. The whole pool needed to be emptied, cleaned and refilled, a process that takes three hours. This puts a huge damper on our pool fun. Upon further investigation, I found out that it was one of the lesbians that broke her bottle in the pool, they do get very messy when drinking. I walked right up to those butch women and said: “Lesbians! I am glad you are enjoying yourselves on our cruise, but if you are going to ruin our pool party then STAY ON OLIVIA!” (Olivia is the lesbian cruise line). They were very apologetic but what was done, was done! After waiting around for a while for the pool to open, I decided to have a few Coronas myself but having a pool party with no pool is no fun. I knew something had to be done. I told the Chinese pool man that if he opened the pool earlier I would bring him some sushi from the buffet (they didn’t have any pot stickers or orange chicken). My bribe worked and I even helped them remove the net from covering the pool. I was applauded around the pool for my efforts! Strangers even offered to buy me drinks as they were so impressed with my tact in dealing with the lesbians and the Asian pool help.

I am somewhat glad the lesbians were on the cruise as they did wear their flannel shirts and Tevas while helping the gays climb the rock wall. But for the most part these dykes are just messing up my day!

I just arrived home from vacation. It was an all gay cruise on the biggest cruise ship in the world and it was probably one of the most fun trips I have ever taken, we absolutely had the time of our lives. One thing happened during the cruise that bummed me out, similar to what I had done on a previous cruise (minus the cameltoe factor), I had hung a camera on my cabin door for people to take photos of whatever inspired them. Just a few days into the cruise the camera had almost all of its 27 photos used up, I was excited that people were using it and looking forward to seeing them developed.

Late one boozy night I arrived back at my cabin with my cruise husband David (AKA: Vacation boyfriend for the week) to find my camera gone. Someone had cut the string and just left it hanging there with no camera. I think pretty much everyone knows how it feels when you have been a victim of theft for vandalism…it sucks. But usually being a victim of such crimes in San Francisco I can just chalk up to city living and get on with my live. One of the great things about these gay cruises is the ability for just a week for us to create an environment onboard where the regular things that are shitty about life just don’t exist. I was just so upset that someone would take my camera, especially something that had absolutely no value to anyone else and spoiled my fun. Still bummed out about it the next day I just decided to take down my door art and the frayed string with no camera. My door would just remain boring and undecorated for the remainder of the trip.

The last night of my cruise David and I headed back to my cabin exhausted and ready for bed. When I arrived at my cabin there was a package of developed photos taped to the door with a note that said: “To the Photo Booth Guys, We took your camera and developed the photos for you. Enjoy!”

News flash! My neck brace is back. My neck surgery was exactly one year ago Monday and I guess the universe sent me a friendly little reminder of this anniversary. Not sure what happened but I think I just over exhausted myself between my boozy trip to Vallarta and then coming home to immediately go skiing and snowboarding in Lake Tahoe, but Monday I was bending over the sink shaving and something back there went terribly wrong. So off to the doctor I went, getting old sucks.

The good news is that the doctor said he didn’t see anything wrong and was pretty sure I would feel better in a few days. He wrote me a few prescriptions for pain killers, muscle relaxers and a soft cervical collar (neck brace). I was happy to hear that it wasn’t anything serious as initially I was pretty freaked out and very worried that I might need emergency care. But was also feeling very down that I had to go back to the embarrassing life of living in my neck brace (the stares on the street and on the bus never stop) with the instructions of “no driving and no snowboarding for at least two weeks”. With my head hung low and in severe pain I headed off to Walgreens with my stack of prescriptions. After some help from the pharmacist I found the neck brace on isle 3, it was between the Kotex, Monistat 7 and control top pantyhose. I thought about getting the whole outfit but I already have so many clothes!

With the return of my neck brace it reminds me of other things that you think are gone for good and good riddance but seem to find their unwelcome way back into your life. Like your good friends on-again-off-again boyfriend that you hate, they just keep getting back together. You think that trash is long gone but they there they are, all the more pathetic than the last time you saw them. Or like when I take my Saab in for these strange mechanical issues, the dealership claims its all fixed but sure enough a few days later while driving home drunk from the club with my trick, the steering is malfunction and the horn starts to sound at a stoplight. This actually happened to me, how embarrassing! I don’t know what’s more high maintenance, my car or my friends boyfriends.

My faithful readers, I encourage us all to think of the silver lining for everything in life. It just so happens we are having record cold temperatures this week in San Francisco. Yes, it’s colder than it’s ever been – way below freezing! Thanks to my new neck brace, my neck is toasty warm. Here’s to us all finding our silver lining, if you cant find it, give me a call, I’ve got loads of time on my hands.

Today there is a story on the front page of Yahoo today about a man who was stung by a scorpion on a plane flight from Chicago to Vermont. This reminds me of my younger days and when I lost my crabs on a flight from Hawaii.

Growing up I wasn’t raised totally on the silver spoon but one of the values my parents did pass onto me was the importance of vacation. To this day if I don’t go on vacation once a month I think the sky might fall. Somewhat like that button they push on Lost, they aren’t sure what was going to happen if they didn’t push it, but I don’t want to find out what will happen if I don’t frequently travel for fun. Anyway, my folks had a condominium in a nice beach resort in Hawaii while I was growing up, so we went there quite frequently to escape cold winters on the weeks I wasn’t busy with my ski team and school. I remember waking up to the sounds of the tropical birds, my younger sister and I would spend our days playing in the pool, trying to crack coconuts with our heads and chasing sand crabs on the beach.

My sister and I would take the half gallon paper milk cartons with pictures of missing children on the side and use them as cages for our newly captured crab pets. The milk cartons worked out well as it would hold a fair amount of sand and we could fold them closed at the top. As our vacation came to an end we didn’t want to set our new crabs free and decided to take them home with us. I took my milk carton containing my new crabs on as my carry on item, I even put them through the x-ray machine and then placed them under the seat in front of me during our flight home. Mid flight I decided I had better check on my new friends only to find them missing from the milk carton. I crawled around on the floor of that plane looking for my crabs until the flight attendant insisted I get back into my seat to prepare for arrival. I still think about those crabs and wonder who might have found them and how their trip to the mainland turned out.

I think Yahoo news has completely missed out on the point of this scorpion on the plane. So what if some guy with bad hair got stung, he probably deserved it. Someone somewhere is missing their prize pet!