Ever stop drinking and then do nothing but drink?

Alritey, so I went 13 months with no drinking at all. Not a drink, not a gulp, not even a freakin sip!!

I attended bbq's, concerts, clubs, parties, and yes, I was the loser in the corner not drinking at all.

On Monday to celebrate my new place, I decided to partake in a drink and I've been drinking every day since.

There's been beer to celebrate, wine for dinner, and a screwdriver as an evening tribute to myself. I've drunk with many, a few, and even solo. Yep, I've done the solo drinking thing.

I've even done the come home after being pissed off with the world, having a drink, and then just sleeping away the afternoon.

I wouldn't say I'm close to full all alcoholism, just that I'm certainly enjoying myself for the time being. :)

It's New Year's eve, drink up with me!!!

The One Night Stand

Wednesday, December 31, 2008

THE ONE NIGHT STAND

Copyright 2008 by Philip Cairns

I’m mooning over a delectable one night stand.

Rich black hair and skin the colour of porcelain.

A delicious ass to slurp over.

I walked home, afterwards, in the dark, with the snow falling.

Christmas lights were twinkling and blaring out their Christian message.

If it were summer,

I would have sat on a bench,

In the park,

And written this poem.

But a frozen ass wouldn’t have helped the words flow,

I don’t think.

Near home,

A crack whore and a tall man came whisking out of a parkette walkway,

Making me tense up and move faster.

She was babbling in a sluttish, low-class voice,

Telling her companion about one of her recent conquests

Where she almost got ripped off in the negotiating process.

Every third word she said was “fuck” or “fuckin’.

As I rounded the corner onto King Street in Parkdale,

There were more seedy characters smoking outside a bar

And still others scurrying somewhere, as the wet snow got deeper.

An eccentric young man, who lives in my building,

Was getting into the elevator with a shopping cart full of pop bottles

And other things.

I stayed back and waited so as to avoid contact with him.

Now, here I sit,

Replaying the tape, in my head, of the night’s sexual encounter.

I’ll spare you the gory details,

Except to say that he was rather passive

Yet exhibitionistic.

Physically, he was perfection.

Just my type!

Exactly what I was seeking.

Thank you, Goddess.

Yet I feel like I’m reaching out to hug a phantom

Who evaporates into mist

Just when I cuddle up to him.

You stretch out your arms

And the shiny golden being turns into grey ether

And then vanishes like a ghost.

I’m reaching out for a better life,

To make my dreams a reality,

And I wake up and there is nothing but a faded, ephemeral hope.

Last night, I dreamed I murdered my parents.

The scheme was very elaborate,

With the threat of a long prison sentence

Always hovering over the proceedings.

In reality, they have long been dead and I have never been to prison.

(Knock on wood.)

The sweet young man without a name

Left with his friend and I went home alone.

A tiny, sweet taste of Asian ice-cream is better than no dessert at all.

I know what you’re thinking.

How could I call it a sumptuous meal

When I feel so empty in the pit of my stomach?

I won an Oscar but when I went on stage to claim it,

The gold statuette melted in my hands

And dribbled down into a hot puddle at my quaking feet.

The star-studded audience roared with laughter,

As I ran to hide in the wings.

There’s nothing to be done except to wake up, tomorrow.

To move forward and live.

Just breathe through another optimistic day.

Now, I am smiling and singing.

New Year's Resolutions??? Why oh Why?

Okay, please clue me in. I make personal challenges all the time, goals and etc. I get it, seriously I do. I believe in both short term and long term planning and often scold myself for not being successful at them.

But I don't fucking get the need to make a New Year's resolutions. Like what's the point? Why? First of all, it's just a new year...what does that mean to you? Do you really think that you're going to wake up and everything just changes? Do you know how many New Year's resolutions don't come true?? Probably a good percentage!!!

Now if I were to make some new year's resolutions...here's what I'd do:

Let's Get Laid!!! (not just me, but everybody...cuz too many haters out there need to get laid)
Let's Do Yoga (daily, even if just for 5 minutes...and you can join me too...for a fee in my new yoga room)
Let's Eat (this may not seem like much, but for someone like me, eating 3 meals a day is a big deal)

There...them my goals, sex-yoga-eat, seems simple enough!!!

What are your goals???

Unrealistic Land: Leaving in a Yaris...

My bags aren't packed and I'm not quite ready to go...I'm leaving in my Yaris, I do know when I'll be back again.

Unrealistically, Chantal Kreviazuk is presently singing this song outside my new condo and taunting me for not being ready yet.

In a fantasy land, tomorrow I live for NYC and won't be in the least bit nervous about my first more than 8 hour road trip to a foreign city that I've never been to.

Oh dreamers, this is going to be a trip that'll run smoothly. Each morning, I'll awaken to the sounds of bird chirping, unobstructed city views and enough green space to make me feel like I've left the city and enter rural New York City.

Every day, I'll do yoga for 90 minutes with an incredibly attractive teacher, who will then show me around the city and all the cool hot spots that only true New Yorkers know about.

Unrealistically, my final moments will be made when on New Year's eve, I hit up a cool lil' queer cabaret and with my CD in hand, I get up on stage and 'wow' the crowd with my awesome-ness!!!

To conclude this dream, I'm able to sign with a small indie label and finally 'Don't Hate, Just Masturbate' becomes an underground hit and spawns t-shirts of hilarity. :)

Enjoy your week dreamers, I'll report back on my impossibly fantastic trip next week!!!

One hag per fag!

Alritey this argument isn't all that original, but let's do a one hag per fag rule and implement it hardcore across the queer scene.

Cuz lately, the queer scene is looking way too straight for my tastes and this from somebody that easily melds into the straight scene.

But if I wanted to chill w/ a bunch of str8 ppl, then I would...by going to their spaces. If I want to grind and tongue bathe a member of the same sex, I wanna do it in a queer scene surrounded by queer individuals doing the same thing. I can't do that when homo to my right has brought his girly hag posse of 7 to celebrate his 'coming out.' Such celebrations can be done at home! Then you put your pansy self onto the online world, find yourself some male friends and party it up right!

The biggest problem with girly hag posse is the damn huge purses. You're going to a club, not a day at the country club. You need: some $ and id! That's it, nothing else! If it doesn't fit in your pocket or you have no pockets, then whatever fits in your bra. My good girly pal puts her cell, money, lipstick, tampon into her bra and I can barely tell.

Another problem with girly hag posse is that your focus is on them and getting drunk, which leads to requesting terrible songs! I don't want to hear spice girls or anything from the 90s. Neither do you in your sober state of mind. But you're out w/ your hags and therefore just drinking away and being stupid. You're trying to recreate your lame ass gr. 8 parties in my queer space and it leads to me not dancing, while you're dancing too much and badly.

When it comes down to it, it's a queer space and should be respected as such. You can go to a str8 space with your 6 girlies as one guy and nothing will happen to you. You might get picked up or you may find another closeted gay boi who can't make any male friends. When you come into the queer space, it limits the chances that I have of making queer connections. Which is why I go to queer spaces, to meet individuals that share similar thoughts, struggles, fantasies, etc.

So while I'd love to say 'fuck off to all str8s', I'll stick with allowing you your one hag per fag. :)

What rules do you want for queer spaces?

What sets you off?

Last Saturday, I discussed what my triggers were in a positive way. Now I'd like to discuss what sets you off in a not so positive way. What causes you to explode, lash out or merely act a little miffed?

Stupidity! This sets me off a lot. There just seems to be sooooo many stupid people out there doing really stupid shit!

It's most noticeable right now in the snowy conditions. You have the stupid person going way too fast and swerving along the road. You have the equally dangerous person going 20 km/hr and thinking this is the safe way to drive. NO! It's not!

Egos drive me mad too. Somebody who walks around with confidence is sexy, somebody who walks around with an ego is annoying. Here's how I define an ego: thinking that you are better than anybody else. We've all got our skills, talents, aptitudes and what not and we may be the greatest in our little circle of the universe; however, the world is a large large place...so get over yourself.

Those that are materialistic might as well walk far far far away from me. I have a Yaris, shop at Valu village, and like to donate on kiva.org. When you tell me that you have a nice car, buy only name brand clothes, and like to get your hair done at a salon for gossip time w/ the ladies - it indicates to me that we'll have little in common.

Finally, the biggest thing that sets me off are those that blame their beliefs on their religion. 'I don't feel this way, it's my religion that says it, so I have to follow it.' Go fuck yourself! Seriously, that's all that I have to say about that.

I've shared, now it's your turn to let it all out...

Let it be known - I have little patience..

There's a reason why I go out to a club for 10:30. There's a reason why I don't work with children under the age of 5. There's a reason why I hate going out to dinner. There's reason why I'm blunt and up front with my questions. I HAVE NO FREAKIN PATIENCE!

I loathe, loathe, loathe lines. Stick me in a line and be prepared to hear me bitch and moan and complain. When I was a 19 year old twink, I would very loudly complain about having to stand in line behind all the old and ugly people. Now I just go at 10:30 and avoid all such frustration. Plus, now I don't drink, so I'm not standing in line to get a drink or for the bathrooms. It's wonderful!!!

Children under 5 make no sense to me...literally. Ever tried having a conversation with one??? They just babble and you have to follow their visual cues to know if you are to laugh, look sad or be angry too. It's most frustrating. Plus, they cry over the stupidest shit. If I don't tell the girl that I think she's wearing a pretty dress after she robotically compliments my staff shirt, she pulls a freakin hissy fit.

Waiting for food at a restaurant??? Who came up with this crazy notion? How is it more convenient to sit down and have somebody else serve you? At my place, if I want a drink, I go to my fridge and voila, it's there! Plus, I don't up my profit margins by 300% on all my drinks. Plus, my food arrives when I want it too and is cooked to my specifications. Oh and I always wash my hands, so I'm never worried about a disgruntled chef's germs in my soup. :) I've no patience for lining up for a table, awaiting a server's arrival to take my drinks, and then the 45 minute wait for food to arrive.

Finally, the reason why I'm blunt and always seeking clarity in relationships, friendships, jobs, etc is cuz I've no patience for bull shit conversation. I want to know if you're into me during our first date (thou I'll usually wait till post-date wrap up to ask). If we're gonna be friends, I don't care about what school you go to or shitty part time job you work at. I want to know about your hopes, dreams, ambitions, etc. If we're working together, don't bother me with your personal shit, I don't care. I need to know what your skills are, strengths/weaknesses and how you like to be recognize. This helps me to know how to properly 'use' you. :)

What do you have little patience for? Or how do you find endless patience?

Is this about me?

Well, okay, so...not to be all vain and such...but is this about me? On my msn, I often do 'J-' and as we all know on Thursdays, I post my craigslist posting of the week. So obviously, I check out craigslist...

I have a few guesses as to who this could possibly be, if it is for me; however, I'm not inclined to write the person. What if it's someone that I don't want it to be?

Plus, I really don't care for anybody's heart right now. I'm in no mood to be in love nor to really be in a relationship with anybody. Ugh..just even thinking about a relationship just bothers me.

I wish the person would've given more clues as to who they were. For instance, age is pretty key. If they were closer to my age, then I'd definitely be more interested. Now it's all up in the air and again, I don't need to know if someone born in another decade is into me. :P

Plus, why didn't they give some clue as to who they were or how they knew me (if this posting is about me). The timing is a bit odd too. I just recently performed for first time in awhile, so maybe it's an admiring fan.

Or maybe deep down, I do want to be dating and want somebody to be interested in me, cuz it's been almost 2 months of just living this single life. Could this be why I think this posting is for me.

I've got a new place, so maybe that means a new relationship... :)

What'd you think?

I'll only come, if I know who's coming...

Admit it, if you have facebook, you check out who's going to an event. Now further admit that based on the attractiveness of the collective, this has been a deciding factor about attending said event.

While facebook is great for marketing, it's also horrible for this reason alone. Is it my fault if my event doesn't draw anybody that you want to fuck? You know, there's great potential that somebody will just randomly show up and they will be very much fuckable.

A recent private invite to a dinner party hasn't allowed me the opportunity to see the guest list. Alas, it's not a facebook event. Questions to the host as to the guest list have been unanswered. It appears that everybody is asking the same question of him. Why do we have this need to know?

For me, it's simple. I'm not good in large crowds of people, where intimate conversation can't be had. Put me on a stage in front of thousands and I can do my thing. I can strut, speak, and sex it up. Put me in a room full of a strangers and watch me cower in the corner huddled in the fetal position. :)

So when I get invited to an event, I like to know how many allies that I will have there. Plus, I like to know total number of people. A party of no more than 6 means an opportunity to engage in real conversation with others. I hate questions of 'where do u work?', 'what school do u go to?', and 'where'd u grow up?' I much prefer to engage about current events, your life's present purpose and favourite sexual positions. ;)

What about you? Do you need to know what's going on at a party or can you just show up? Have you ever only gone to a party cuz you knew some ppl, but didn't like the host?

I'll take one large please!

I was doing something, I really can't remember when I came across this book, 'The Big Penis Book." I don't think I was searching porn, I may have even just be looking for a book myself, but either way, I got myself to this book and it made think.

First, I wondered how does one have this book? Like do you leave it on your coffee table? "Oh yes, pass the sugar. Oh, now that's a big penis." "Why yes, it's actually from the big penis book." "Well I can see." *insert cheesy porn music*

Second, who buys a book these days with porn in it? There's a reason Playgirl shut down and Playboy loses money every day. Why buy, when you can get the milk for free? And the milk is freakin coming out of all ends online. You want pics? U can get pics! You want films? U got films! U want big penises galore? U can't blink without seeing a plethora of them coming at you!

Third, what's the point of this book? Doesn't society worship at the house of big cock enough? Do we really need a book about them? Go on craigslist (you should know I do) and each night there's a request for hung, BIG, large, etc. I don't know about you, but I could care less. Sure, a well proportioned one is much better looking than say a 6'9" guy with a 2" cock, but m'eh...as long as he'll bend over...why should I judge? :P

So here's the question asked many a times before, does size matter?

Unrealistic Land Presents: Holy X-mas!

Hello dreamers,

It's Monday and so another chapter in the land of unrealistic land. In this edition, we discuss the most unrealistic 'holy' day of the year, X-mas!!!

With many a hints of falsehood, this is my most favourite time of the year!!! It's cold, X-mas songs on repeat, and there's many a gifts to purchase for ppl.

In my land, there would be no gifts exchanged, merely hugs and kisses and the occasional stroke. :) Families would be barred from seeing each other and this would be the GREATEST thing ever! Imagine, you wake up and there's tons of presents, but no family to deal with. No Mama stressing over turkey dinner, no brother being annoying and no Grandmas figuring out ways to manipulate the situation. :)

Unrealistically, everybody merely teleports in for a few moments of good tidings and then zooms out. I spend the day wrapped up in a lover's embrace and celebrate the day with multiple O's instead of multiple 'Oh my, we're late for the next event.'

In a trippy haze, my final wish is that the presents received are items that one really needs and not more crap for one's car or new place or plaid boxers (eick to boxers).

So with much merryment, I eagerly await my unrealistic day of actual bliss this X-mas day!

What do you dream of for this holiday season?

Vanity Candy

Mirror Mirror on the wall,
Who's the fairest one of all?

His name is Bryan Thomas and he's a fitness model on fire now, chiseled adonis, and all around nice guy. (http://www.bryanthomaspa.blogspot.com/)
I thought I'd start something up and post hot guys, cool pics, amazing photographers...whatever catches my eye on that day. Hope that's cool.
If we're gonna be vain, might as well have some hot boys to look at while we gab...am I right?
*swoon*

You are not straight - fag!

As the midget to my right says, 'Liar, liar, pants on fire!'

Someone please explain to me the influx of straight guys parading around the queer community as of late. It's annoying enough that fellow queers are breaking the 'one hag per fag' rules at the clubs more and more, but now we've got to deal w/ the hetero men.

But wait...these aren't the hetero guys that come to 'check' out the scene in support of their homo buddies. You know, the one's that grind way too close with their girlfriends all night to ward off anybody from potentially thinking they might be straight.

I'm talking about the fags that call themselves straight, whilst taking it up the bum, down their throat, with one in each hand at the same time.

Three separate occurrences pushed me to post about this (new) phenomenon:

Case #1: An online buddy recently informed me that he's been sucking off a straight guy lately. To which, I said, "he ain't str8..." Now this is your typical confused homo. You see this one goes over to my bud's place, gets all romantic and sweet, and the sex begins. They swap oral, the str8 lad begs to get fucked, and when it's all over, he freaks out and runs off. I've no time for such ppl!

Case #2: A good friend of mine was chatting up some dude online for quite a few months. He kept suggesting they meet up, the guy kept being elusive. Friend finally confronts and is like 'dude, give me your #.' Dude reveals that he can't. You see, he has a girlfriend and is worried about her finding out. Annoying much???

Case #3: Alritey, so I met this guy through a friend a few months ago at an event. Guy claims to be 'straight' - I have my doubts!!! Guy starts gay clubbin it up and then in drunken-ness is okay with making out with whomever. Now what's interesting is that said guy now has profiles on gay sites and actually contacted one of my buds. Haha...so you see, this lad's no longer quite so straight. :P

So what do you think it is??? Why can't these homos just accept their new status? Or why not just go with saying 'I'm bisexual' or just 'I'm queer.' Queer to me is a pretty loose term. You can do whatever you please and be queer. In my world, if you're straight, you only mate with opposite sex.

Is that too narrow of a definition for the heteros?

What's your trigger?

What's your trigger? What sets you off? What gets you off? What throws you into an absolute tizzle, whether it be positive or negative? It can be turn ons or turns off. Likes, dislikes, pet peeves or whatever the opposite of that is. :)

These last few days, I've had some prominent one's on both sides.

For now, let's focus on the positives...

Tall is definitely a trigger for me, it could be that I'm slightly vertically challenged, but I'm attracted to height. I've dated otherwise, but I always think that height is automatic points. Haha...to be truly shallow, I've sometimes wondered what I'd be like tall...I think unstoppable. ;)

Another real turn on is creativity of any sorts. Writing, painting, dancing, sculpting, singing, good penmanship... ;). Anything creative is a complete and utter turn on for me. There's nothing to be more attractive than somebody exploring an artistic medium - whether successfully or not.

Individuality is awesome too. People that strive to be their own person and are 100% comfortable with it completely rock.

It may just be me, but being polite is incredibly sexy. Anybody that says 'please' and 'thank you' and especially at a restaurant is good in my books. Somebody that helps out others without being asked is even better. Those that stand around and choose not to assist as it's not their responsibility can sit on my shit list. :P

What gets yah going in a good way?

If Jessica Fletcher comes around, you better start running

Hey there,

So I see that others are telling about their secret confession, so I thought I should share mine.  I am not sure about you guys but I love Murder She Wrote.  There is nothing better than watching some middle aged woman who solves murder mysteries.  It is amazing how they were able to keep the show going for nine seasons.  What was great, was they had to make her travel in order to keep the murders coming.  She would go visit a nephew, a niece, a friend.  Every time she visited someone, they either died or were implicated in a murder of someone they knew.  Jessica always ran to the rescue and was able to solve the mystery.  She even was accused sometimes but of course she always found the true murderer.  Even though the basis of every episode was basically the same it never seems to grow old for me.  Every weekday night on Vision Tv at 7 she is one, and it is what I look forward to every night.  Yes it might be lame but I love her.  The show was so modern but in a classy way.  She had all types of different friends of every different type of background and she loved all of them.  It is amazing how she knows all these people, and boy does she ever travel a lot.  She always got herself into dangerous situations and it was truly surprising how the cops or a friend would show up just in time before she was going to get murdered.  That woman must have had a million different lives as she always got saved.  The show is amazing and I intend to keep watching it for as long as it is being played on tv.

Mason Wyler made me start this blog!

It's Friday and it's time for me to make a confession.

While I wanted to give myself a new challenge, that's not the only reason that I started this blog.

Granted, I did just end my one year of of sobriety challenge and so I needed a new challenge, so I've been writing every day and will continue to do so for 30 days.

But the real reason that I started this blog and on blogspot.com of all places is Mason Wyler (visit www.masonwyler.com).

I have been following Mason's career since he first was 'straight' on corbinfisher.com and to his many many many others vids that involve topping, bottoming, orgies and solos.

I found out about his blog on blogspot through gaypornblog.com after they did an article about Mason being raped. There was some controversy around him being raped as apparently some other porn stars thought that it was a publicity stunt. Well rape kits and police reports later, it was revealed to be true.

There's something about reading Mason's posts that makes him seem more 'human.' It's not every day that you chat up a porn star (lol...well it does happen to me on occasion) and get to know about their favourite video games. ;) Sure, he certainly does love to talk about sex, but who doesn't? He's a bottom cum slut and apparently proud of it. But he's a geek too and proud of that aspect as well. :P

So now how does Mason's blog lead me to my blog?? Well it's simple, I have a side to me that not everybody always gets to see. While I'm not into material goods, care deeply about human rights, and love to joke around, I have many very vain moments. These moments aren't always apparent to everybody. Now they should be. :)

What is interesting is how people that don't know me (or the other writers) will decide to judge us based merely on these postings? I used to post for another site (pitcher.wordpress.com) but haven't for awhile. A lot of my stuff on there was very serious queer issues oriented and it takes me much longer to come up with good thorough arguments on that.

Here, I can write a usual post in less than 10 min and edit it in less than 2. Plus for a Virgo who can definitely be a perfectionist, it's definitely more about the quantity vs. the quality here. :)

So thank you Mason Wyler for starting your blog, cuz without it, this place wouldn't exist.

No, I'm not going to fuck your bitch (aka female dog)

There are some things that I don't get and this would be one of them. You want a guy with a dog? I have to send a pic of myself with my dog? For what possible reason? Do you get off being watched? Do you want to fuck my dog? Is my dog going to fuck you? What the fuck is going on here?

As somebody who dated somebody with a dog, the last thing that we both wanted was the dog in the room. It's just odd to be naked and getting your freak on with furry company. We'd always throw the dog out of the room. No dog needs to watch 2 humans go at it, nor do I want to watch 2 dogs go at it.

I don't even know what I'd do, if somebody was like 'hey, do you mind if my pet watched?' If heavily intoxicated/drugged, I may be up for trying something different. But the pet would have to stay on the floor, it's not coming up on the bed. ;)

Alritey, so let me know am I just being really shallow and judgemental here? How do you interpret this guy's asking of you to send pics of your dog to him? Would you do it? Have you answered such ads before? What kind of guy posts this?

I LOVE Parking Wars!!!

If you don't have cable or watch TV, then this post isn't for you. Unless, u watch TV online and in the case, we can be friends. :)

A&E is home to some of my favourite shows. Dog the Bounty Hunter is always entertaining. Airline was also one of my greatest guilty pleasures for the longest time.

Now I have this new show called, Parking Wars. It's another show about regular people just doing their jobs and yet, it's sooooo entertaining.

They show you the people who simply walk about and issue parking tickets. They get yelled at, people curse at them, and they try to keep their calm. I wouldn't want this job and you couldn't pay me to do this job. Yet, it's great to watch what happens to them on a daily basis.

There's the partners who are in charge of putting the boots on cars that have a lot of tickets. I don't know if we even have this Canada? Has anybody ever seen a parking unit putting a boot on a car??? I don't even know how that is effective? Like how can I pay my ticket, if I can't drive to work or to get $ from the bank?? Either way, tis still fascinating to watch. :)

Finally, they have the impound lot office and that's always fun. Nobody ever has valid insurance or even ownership papers. So drama always flies!

All in all, if you're bored on a Sunday afternoon, they usually run Parking Wars marathons and I highly recommend that you check it out. :)

Job Interview....how I hate them

Ok everyone, I have an interview tomorrow.  Oh I am stressed, well not so much now, but I am sure by the time I go to bed I won't be able to sleep.  I will be thinking of all the possible questions they will ask and how I will respond.  When I do fall asleep I will have those dreaded dreams of doing something embarassing during the interview.  The worst thing is I somehow have to hide the interview from my current job.  How does one go to an interview in a suit when you never dress in a suit at work?  

Anyways I hate interviews.  I don't know how people can figure out who the right candidate for the job is by meeting them for 30-45 minutes and a piece of paper.  How does that really judge ones character.  You can be anything, say anything and do anything to pretend to be something you aren't.  I just think interviews are so awkward and lame.  You don't want to be there anymore then they do.  You just hope you can prove you are the best.  Well I hate having to talk about how "great" I am.  I am not a person who goes out and likes to show off and speak very highly of ones self.  I hate talking to people I don't know and not knowing what to say.  They ask a question and you have to come up with some answer on the spot.  Of course it is that one question you didn't prepare and you turn beat red trying to come up with the answer.  You start slurring your words.  Then I start getting sweaty palms and when the interview is over I don't want to shake hands.  

So everyone tell me some bad interviews that you have had to cheer me up and calm me down.  Plus wish me luck tomorrow.  Who knows I might be the best "liar" of the bunch.

What could you not live without?

Well the 7 votes are in and it's a tie between food and water. So it look like people took things pretty literally. :P

People can live without sex (liars!), family (harsh!) and booze (liars! x2).

Personally, I chose warmth, cuz I hate being freakin cold. Tonight, I was outside for maybe a few minutes and the wind was strong and it put me into a foul mood. The cold sucks and so even if I had all the water and food that I needed, but I was cold all the time, I'd rather just die. :)

I got heat in my room in the basement last week as I had to close the vent over the summer and forgot to open it. The A/C blowing in July was no fun at all, so now I'm more than warm and it's awesome!

On hot summer days, I could care less about being too hot, there's really no such thing. If u're too warm, run an ice cube over yah (do it sexy like), and then all is well. In the Winter, one has to wear gloves, hat, scarf, boots, etc. It's just too much of a hassle!!!

So I'd like to know why you 6 people chose either water or food???

Trapped

Monday, December 15, 2008

TRAPPED

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2008 by Philip Cairns

In the dark of the night,

The ghost said, “I am trapped.

Forlorn and confused.

Without hope or love.

Screaming, endlessly.

Not knowing who these people are that I see.

Help me. Help my soul.

I don’t feel dead.

But not alive, either.

No hope of redemption.

No sex. No life.”

I can feel the ghosts all around me,

Like watching movies of my past life.

Having sex with the well-hung dwarf.

It was slurpy and awesome.

But I don’t even know his name.

The gorgeous Asian man

Walked the halls in a white towel.

Thick hair sticking up,

Like a frightened cat.

He paid no attention to me.

I hate it when I can’t have what I want.

The ghost said, “Find my roots.

Give me some clothes to wear.

Is this purple ectoplasm fashionable?

I wouldn’t spend that kind of money

On a Fendi bag.

Did I do something wrong?

I’m so tired.

I’m feeling the effects of the enormous full moon.

No trust. No nothing.

I don’t even have Casper to talk to.”

The lilacs burst into bloom in the white winter.

Their bouquet was fragrant and pungent.

The dwarf is like a phantom in my life.

Fabulous sex, once a year, or so.

He said he shaved off his hair

Because it was too grey.

“What’s wrong with grey hair?,” I asked.

The ghost shrieked, “I’ve been trapped here

For endless time.

I love children.

I don’t want to scare them.

Have they been street-proofed against

Talking to me?

I’m frightened and lonely.

Everyone screams when they see me.

What am I, some kind of a freak or something?”

Hello, my name is Virgil and I am an alcoholic.

I can’t get the line to answer.

The ghost said, “I’ve been walking these halls for centuries.

Where is God when I need him?

What day is this?

What century?

Why can’t I sleep?

I want a hug.

I need a dwarf to put some passion in my bed.”

The palette is gray,

Like some colour-blind painter.

He should stick to graphite drawing, then.

Penetrating a vagina is not one of my goals in life.

However, it might be nice to come back

As a lipstick lesbian.

I could wear fabulous evening gowns

With sequins and blue chiffon.

Do the red carpet bit

And not have to worry about getting pregnant.

I don’t aspire to performing the missionary position.

The ghost shouted, “ Listen to me.

Hear my pleas.

Doesn’t anyone understand me?

I speak but no one seems to listen.

I’m frightened of the dark

But I can’t turn on the lights.

What did I do to deserve this fate?

Can anyone change $5 so I can do my laundry?

Fuck you all.

Leave me alone.

I just want to sleep

And see an angel or two.

Dracula is not my cup of tea.

This perpetual bleakness is haunting me.

I don’t know what I’m saying, anymore.”

The waves lapped against the sand.

It was hot and sticky.

The salt water soothed my burning feet.

I love the sounds of the ocean.

The seagull said, “I’m happy and free.

This is the greatest life.

I scream for joy.

I’ve got it made.”

He wasn’t even aware of the presence of ghosts.

The painter stood in the sand

With the perfect colour on his brush.

He had money and fame and talent.

The artist was at peace with his life.

Slapping gorgeous colours onto the canvas.

Life was very good, he thought,

Planted in the wet sand, barefoot,

Painting a blissful scene.

He was contented and secure in his talent.

He acknowledged everything.

The ghosts of the past had been laid to rest.

The ghost squeaked, softly, “What about me?

Am I merely dead?”

Life was extremely good for the Beatnik painter.

Enough money and paint.

Yes.

A talent to rival Monet’s.

Sexual Ambiguity: Is It Betrayal?

Sexual Ambiguity: Is It Betrayal?

Is it always unethical/cowardly/irresponsible to remain quiet about one's sexual orientation when challenged to reveal it?

The other day at teachers college, one of my colleagues lead a class activity designed to promote an environment of inclusiveness.

He argued that this activity would be ideal in a High School setting. However, after going through the activity, I am not convinced that it would be ideal at all.

Essentially, the aim of the activity is to reveal student differences, reduce judgment, eliminate personal insecurities/anxieties, and promote unconditional acceptance. The logic is that one cannot learn in an environment where feel afraid of expressing themselves.

We were warned in advance that this activity would evoke powerful emotions.

We placed all the tables and chairs at the back, and then, the 35 of us were asked to line up on one side of the classroom.

The activity was conducted in the following way: the activity leader would make a statement, and then, if it applied to you, you would have to walk to the other side of the classroom, and then look back at everyone else.

Approximately 15 statements were made. Some of them included:
-step forward if you have ever been made fun of because of your weight
-step forward if you have ever been discriminated against because of your skin color
-step forward if you have ever bullied or been bullied by someone

It appeared that everyone was participating with honesty and bravery. Judging by facial expressions, powerful emotions were being aroused.

Personally, after the first two statements, I knew it was only a matter of time before the leader posed a statement regarding identification with a sexual minority group.

From the beginning, my heart was beating extremely fast and my legs were shaking with nerves, however, I was determined to respond with sincerity to every statement that was made. It was apparent that many of my classmates were also feeling unsettled.

Nevertheless, before I could settle into any remote state of comfort, the statement I was fearing was made, and my determination was compromised.

When the leader asked those who identified as a sexual minority to step forward, I felt like I stepped out of my body, went up to the cealing, and started observing myself as if someone else. What was I going to do? The pressure was on.

You may be thinking that I am not completely out and that my spirit is weak. And I can totally understand why one would think that. But I do consider myself out. However, while being out I am still introverted by nature, I am reserved and I do not feel comfortable having the spotlight on me. Should I feel guilty for not having stepped forward? Did I have an obligation to myself and other sexual minorities to step forward?

When the leader posed that statement, it forced me to identify as either straight or LGBT. And I do not think that was fair. I liked being ambiguous. I never expressed myself in such a way that would label me straight or gay. However, when the statement was made, I could no longer remain ambiguous. If I crossed I was labeled, if I did not, I was labeled too.

In hindsight, I could have argued that I felt that the activity was inappropriate and that I could no longer participate.

In any event, I chose not to cross, and now, most of the class would assume that I do not identify with a sexual minority. Do I feel guilty? Yes I do. I feel like I let myself down, my family, my friends and all those people that also identify as a sexual minority. I feel like I had a moral responsibility to cross; a duty to act and be a role model. I felt an overwhelming sense of shame for a number of days.

As a gay man, living in the specific society we live in, one where tolerance and homophobia are both produced and reproduced by our social institutions, is it not ok for me to remain anonymous? Or do I have an ethical duty to act?

How do my personal traits (e.i. introvertedness) and practical fears (i.e. fear that prejudice will somehow affect my chances of landing a teaching position next year) factor into all of this? Although it is illegal to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation, people who are homophobic can always think of clever ways to disguise their bias when rejecting you. Am I just paranoid? The more I write, the more I feel I am. Maybe I just need to relax, have a bit more self-confidence and be a little less cynical.

Ultimately, I wonder: did I betray sexual minorites when I chose not to step forward? Is it really my introverted nature that makes me want to remain anonymous or is it just the possibility that I am still struggling with demons from my adolescent years of sexual repression?

Any thoughts?

Unrealistic Land: Magically Moved In

Hello fellow dreamers,

We're at week 3 of this blog and it feels like a 30 day writing challenge is going to be quite easy, unrealistically so. :P

Last week, I sent out to Miss Universe (the goddess, not the pageant show) that I wanted an apartment and she delivered quite quickly.

In a moment of unrealistic and realistic worlds colliding, I got a 3 bedroom condo for a more than decent price with everything included. Pool, fitness, indoor parking, and even an enchanting gift of a storage locker. The landlords seem nice and it is my fantasy that they will be the perfect landlords. Only seen to fix any problems and problems fixed within 24 hours. No job too big, no complaint too small. It's too hot, I say! They gallop over and turn down the thermostat for me!

Of course, the most unrealistically easy task of a new place is the joyous transporting of one's treasures. We all know what a simplistic process this is in make believe land. It's merely a wiggle of the nose and a shake of the booty and everything simply arrives. With a whistle and a song, my magic forest friends have already cleaned the place top to bottom as well.

The large evil man with the negative speak (aka Dad) will be nothing but a happy go lucky Santa Claus clone while assisting. Merry friends will come in droves to welcome me to the new space and do any final dressings that are required.

Unrealistically, I will be nothing but a calm ocean throughout and the stress of the venture will only bring perfectness to my presently unaltered visage.

In only my dreams will by this time next week will my new place be done, fixtures all up on the walls, clothes put away, internet up and running and I'll be doing the back stroke in the pool all by my lonesome.

Until next week dreamers, what's going on in your world?

Seeing the ex, what do you do?

This is more of a question than a post, but I'll flesh it out a bit.

I ran into the ex for the first time, since we broke up last nite at a club. It's crazy how quickly time flies by. We haven't seen one another for probably a month and so to run into him again, was a little random.

I saw him at the start of my night walking down to the coat check. No hug exchanged to greet one another and I was a little out of it. I had just run to the club to ensure I could get in for free. :) Plus, this guy that was with him, I didn't recognize as a friend, and he was making some mean eyes at me. So I figured this was his new boy and I didn't want to prolong the conversation.

Throughout the evening, I saw him dancing with 2 ppl that I didn't recognize. I never went over to say 'hi' or like engage in dance or convo. Cuz well, why would I want to cause for awkward-ness of 'oh hey, yah this is my ex...'

So I'm dancing away the night, having a good time w/ friends, and then all of a sudden around 1:30ish, there's a tap on my back. It's the ex...

He says 'he's out' (which he's never said before) and questions why I'm going out so much nowadays (it's called being off of school), I tell him about my new apartment and he looks sad. One of the reasons we broke up was our distance. So he says 'he's out' again and heads off.

So folks, the questions is, when you see your ex's, what do u do?

The Weekend Was Cancelled

Saturday, December 13, 2008

THE WEEKEND WAS CANCELLED

Copyright 2008 by Philip Cairns

Slithering, withering, frightening, foe.

Blue ectoplasm morphing across dreams

Of past imagined triumphs.

The shimmering form, looking like the Phantom of the Opera,

Standing beside my bed when I was ten years old.

Pastel pink and mauve washing across acid-free paper.

Pipedreams of glory sitting tight inside my left brain.

Halloween goblins jumping out to scare me.

Janet Leigh being stabbed in the “Psycho” shower.

The theatre director demanded that I use a real knife

When I slit my fellow actor’s throat.

A similar incident mistakenly drew real blood

In a silly play in Italy.

Thank God I have more sense and control.

Soothing music seeping into my clean-as-a-whistle ears.

Fantasizing about Tony,

With the innocent face

And bad breath and long nose hairs.

Nothing has come of it

For that’s the ways it always seems to work out.

Stuck in the red brick well,

Like the plus-size woman in “Silence of the Lambs”.

Some asshole is hammering on a sub-zero day.

Give the fucker a sketchbook and crayons

Or tie him to a chair, for Christ sake.

Painting barefoot in the sand on a hot day at the Big Sur,

Just like Liz Taylor in “The Sandpiper”.

She’s had a glorious life, Liz has,

For the most part,

And now she’s on death’s door.

I want her to leave me her jewellery collection

But fat chance!

Old friends drift away

But they still send Christmas cards.

No cheque enclosed, this time,

Part of Daddy’s estate.

Lucky bitch!

Is life one big disappointment or do I simply expect too much?

There’s got to be more than

Aloneness and television,

Credit cards and telemarketing jobs.

Listen to more Joni Mitchell.

That’ll make you want to slit your wrists.

Van Johnson and Odetta just died.

They probably never met down here.

Neither will come back to haunt me

Since they don’t know me from Adam.

The hammering is pissing me off.

There’s nothing to be done

But to continue the day

And try to fill it with joy and pleasant activities,

As best I can.

There’s always so many thoughts rushing through my head.

Last night, the full moon was so bright, big and beautiful.

It hasn’t been that close to Earth in 15 years.

That’s worth the price of admission

On this run down movie screen planet.

What's with December?

Can somebody please tell me what's up with December this year?? It seems like it's drama freaking central.

Let's see, I've had 2 friends end relationships. I've had one friend run away from home, move in with boyfriend of 4.5 months and find out she's 2 months pregnant. I've realized that one friend isn't much of a friend at times and have him prove it out right this month. It just keeps going and going...

I guess a better question is why is EVERYBODY else having so much drama??

My life = relatively drama free. Or so I think. Lol...I'm sure that I must gripe like crazy to my friends and maybe my life is more drama filled than I believe. Feel free to correct me those that know me.

Is it the holidays, is it the end of year nutso time, is it the fact that we're in a fucking recession and our Prime Minister opted to take a vacation instead?

What's up with everybody???

Here's some suggestions...if you don't like your family, don't go visit them for Christmas. Who cares about family guilt? If it's gonna stress u, get over it? If u're working and it's year end and there's a real rush to get things done, then just deal with it. You've been slacking the rest of the year, so why not just work a little harder??

This year, we've got X-mas, Boxing Day and then the weekend!!! So that means that after family stuff on X-mas eve and X-mas...u've got 3 whole days to relax. If u're me...u've got 2 whole weeks to relax (hooray for vacation!!!).

2008 will soon be gone, let's take a quick look back at all that's been accomplished and see if we need to fill it with a lot more joy before it's over.

Let's end it off with a bang and I'll allow you to interpret what that means...

Janice Dickinson is my latest confession...

It's Friday and I feel the need to confess my love for the world's first self proclaimed super model, Miss Janice Dickinson.

I haven't followed her career and I know nothing about her rise to the top. Apparently, she has a few books detailing them, but unless she does an audio recording of them herself, I'll never give them a go.

What I do know is that Miss Janice makes for some fucking awesome TV. Back three ex's ago, we had little in common, so we'd watch tv to pass the time. One of the shows, we watched was ANTM (that's America's Next Top Model for any straight males that read this blog). As a judge, she brought the sass and the attitude that was needed. When I broke up with the ex, I lost Janice too.


Then something happened last Friday that I'm finally prepared to confess. Instead of working on my assignment, like I told many people that I would be doing, I discovered the Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency. I had heard about this show and I think caught an episode before, but this is the first time that I went online and watched and watched and watched. One would be correct in inferring that I stayed up till 4am to watch all of season 4.

Now what's the show about??? Well Janice has started her own agency, so she can find the next big thing and impart all of her knowledge to the next crop of models. The show is high drama, high on eye candy, and actually high on good advice.

Janice makes for good TV, cuz she's loud, rude, and blunt. She says what she wants and most of the time, it makes sense. :) She's been in the biz for 30 years and she knows what to expect out of her models and clients. This season is great, cuz she builds a model house and the models move in with Janice living in the basement watching all the going on's.

The eye candy is AMAZING!!! Janice seems to book her males/females for all sorts of bathing suits and underwear gigs. Her favourite saying seems to be 'take off your clothes' and the people just do it. I know I want to be able to walk into work and say 'take off your clothes' but alas, I'd probably get arrested for that.

Finally, there's actually some good advice too. Fake or not, Janice cares genuinely for those around her. As a former addict and alcoholic, she flips on any mention of drugs and actually fires one model over a joke about crack. When working with a model who cuts herself due to childhood trauma, she self reveals about growing up with a pedofile father to offer some comfort and guidance. Plus, when suspecting a model has an eating disorder, she hounds her to get at the truth. Finally, 2 seasons in a row, she's rejected allowing a model to join the agency until they graduate high school.

Yah, if you caught that last slip up, I'm now watching season 3. I'm only a few episodes in, but I'll be done this and probably the first 2 by the time you read this post.

What's your confession of the week?

I need a little trust, before I let you rape me...

Call me old fashion, but I like to know a person before I do anything sexual with them. There's no thrilling sensation in meeting a stranger, fucking them bareback and then going off to the next one. In fact, the only sensation is a burning one and that requires a quick visit to the kind nurse at the Hassle Free to get rid of it.

So my craigslist posting of the week belongs to this one.



I just don't get it. If you want to get raped, then go to prison. Or dress up like a girl and hit up a frat party on a Sat. nite. Or if you want to get 'safe raped' or aka fucked hard and nasty by your mate, then find one, gain some trust, and then go at it.

I'm tempted to write this person and discover why they feel the need to be degraded, but that's personal choice and I'm all for it. I guess my concern is the type of people that one attracts with such an ad.

My first complaint is the gun. I can do role play, but I don't believe in the use of hand guns, and certainly not as a fantasy. Guns are a reality, but they scare me. Perhaps a dildo shaped gun with a longggg pistol, but that's it. :P

My second complaint is the lack of recruiting 'nice guys that just like to pretend.' I feel it's important to send out to the universe exactly what you want. If you're not specific, you end up with a replication of your ex, but just with a better job, and then you're still unhappy. Oh my, that was a tangent.

Back on track with complaint #3, what's the feasibility of being able to arrange with a total stranger a kidnapping off the street without attracting public attention? I can work out an arrangement with you sneaking into my backyard, that's fine. But for a realistic kidnapping, people need to hear screams for help and see me knocking you unconscious. This should result in 911 calls for all around us. If it doesn't, then I've failed and I won't be in the mood to now rape-fuck you.

Finally, complaint #4, I sincerely doubt that this is the guy's picture in the posting. In fact, he mentions nothing about his age, stats, etc. He could be simply doing what I occasionally do, which is write fake postings for the mere fascination to see who responds. :)

All in all friends, I encourage the use of creativity in the bedroom. Nothing is more dry than humping your lover in your bed 2-3 times a day for years on end. One needs to take advantage of the shower, the balcony, the chairs, counter tops, floors, elevators, closets, etc. Never shy away from a sexual request by your partner, cuz it just means that they'll be thinking about that fantasy while you're enjoying the reality of another lame fuck.

Play safe, play often, play nice!

How does one move on?

Okay so say you're madly in love with somebody and there's this place called Proposal Rock. So you take your special lady or male friend there, cuz you wanna sweep them off their feet. *contains giggles*

You get the ring together, you ask their parents for their blessing, you tell your friends, and you're all set for this momentous occasion.

Now what happens, if things don't go quite as planned. What would you do if things took a turn for the worse?

http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/capress/081205/world/proposal_death

Well things went terribly wrong for this guy's proposal. He went from down on one knee to turning away from a huge wave (coward!) and then turning back to find his girl literally swept off into the sea. The body has still not been located. Her family is obviously devastated.

Can you imagine seeing this in a movie, you'd be on the floor howling. Beautiful sunset, 2 ppl in love, and then bam! The waves come crashing in, the girl is gone, and the guy is left on his own.

But this is reality and I'm curious as to how this guy moves on. We've all got our baggage, but wouldn't you be scared shitless to propose again? Would you risk falling in love? Do you stay single for a lifetime in the hopes that one day your lover will return? After all, this one could've been taken ashore to some island, nursed back to health, and then spend many a years journeying back to this guy.

I guess the real question is after your fairy tale is over, how does one move on?

A New Poem

Monday, December 8, 2008

EVENTS IN A LIFE

Copyright 2008 by Philip Cairns

If only I could sleep through the night.

Glazed pottery,

Bisque-fired ceramics and vivid, electric blue.

Swirling dust.

Neon dreams and a black and white life.

Money and quartz crystals pouring down from the clear indigo sky.

Mauve coloured pencils skimming across bumpy, expensive rag paper.

Gorgeous tapestries draped across the pale walls

Of a trendy, renovated hotel.

Talking with strangers and snotty babies giving attitude.

Pornography is a poor substitute for wet, animalistic sex.

Screaming kittens dumped at the Humane Society.

Good friends turning into nasty, bitchy monsters.

Gardens blooming in yellow, red and green.

Orchids attached to the side of Billie Holiday hairdos.

Judy Garland pounding out a vibrato high note,

Right in my ear,

Sending me into minor ecstasy.

The white ocean waves slapping and lapping outside my bedroom window.

It’s only a fantasy and a Dan Gibson CD.

David Amram’s sombre score for “Splendour in the Grass”.

Odetta dying only a few weeks after she played Toronto.

Too many tears pulling me into the pit of Hell.

Wanting to kiss my young co-star but probably never getting the chance.

His turquoise eyes staring so innocently into mine.

The brilliance of John Cassavetes’ movies.

And never enough money.

Pushing the heavy wheel up a steep, dense cliff.

Psychedelic music played by old friends

In a crowded café on the Danforth.

Waiting endlessly for crowded streetcars.

Violins soothing my fears and torment.

Purple, mauve, lavender and violet dancing all around me,

In every nook and cranny.

All the actresses I adore sitting in piled-up boxes and on my shelves.

Optimism and helplessness sparring and wrestling with each other,

Like the romantic dance of two sea horses.

Walking in the cold in brand new winter boots,

With a Dollarama budget and Tiffany tastes.

Amethyst smiling at me all over my apartment.

Drawing with coloured pencils in an acid-free notebook which arrived in a fancy gift bag.

I would enjoy these things,

To a greater extent,

If I could sleep right through the night.

Waking up gasping for breath with vivid dreams that seem like reality.

Judy Collins singing and talking on the radio.

Moonstone necklaces happily lying around my fat neck.

Books and paintings and precious knick-knacks

Always wanting to be dusted.

Not enough hours in the day.

A perfect sunrise outside my kitchen window

Framed like it was shot by Conrad Hall.

What good is a posthumous Oscar?

It makes your heirs happy, I suppose.

A long, leisurely sleep for 12 glorious hours

In a silent, dimly lit room.

Not enough hours in the day.

Not enough time at night.

We all end up in a body-bag, eventually,

Even if it’s 50 years down the road.

Ravishing beauty turns to dry dust.

3 Eggs? Check. Cup of Milk? Check. 2 Tablespoons of semen? Umm...

Lie all you want, but at some point, you've sampled your own fluids. Or even that of your partners. Whether it's for your own gratification or to save on clean-up...well that's your own prerogative.

So now you're looking to the picture on the left and hopefully clue-ing as to where this all going.

That's right we're continuing the series brought up last week on using body fluids and this time, it's not for drawing. It's for cooking!!!

Check the link and return... http://www.lulu.com/content/4956212. They say that write what you know and apparently Fotie knows cum!

Now before we judge Fotie, let's take a step back and see how one could utilize this book. Frankly, I think just having a bunch of friends over for a dinner party and leaving the book in a semi conspicuous location would be great. You know, just to fuck with ppl's heads.

Then if you wanna take it a few steps further, invite some people that you don't like. Feed them and then casually ask, 'So who wants to guess the secret ingredient?' I'm pretty sure you can't be arrested for feeding people semen without their knowledge. But check your local laws first.

Now the only way that the second way can backfire is if the guests there are actually turned on by the idea of eating up your semen. Then you're fucked!!! Cuz every time you see them, they'll mention to everyone within ear shot...'Mmm...your semen in that wrap was amazing!!!' And then you have to look all awkward and beat 'em silent. :)

Sooooooo anybody gonna try out any of the samples?? If you preview the book, you get a few recipes...

Finishing Last??

Now boys,

Mind out of the gutter, please.

In this case I am talking about the old adage that "Nice guys finish last". It seems to be a saying that has rang true for anyone since the dawn of time. From old to young, gay to straight or bi or tri...anything once.

Did Lancelot not take Guinevere at least once from Arthur?

What of Romeo taking Juliet from Paris?

Do these nice guys finish last because they are trampled on by the bigger, overbearing bad boys? Or is it because they allow others to finish before them out of their polite good natured upbringing?

I guess you gotta figure out first what "nice" really encompasses before taking on the whole enchilada.

Is it something subjective, changing views from one person to another? (like physical appearance) or something more like manners? Where it is something that you have or have not been taught. If that's true, then Hannibal Lecter was a very nice person.

Charm and confidence to the point of narcissism are classic bad boy traits that are desired by others. Sure their bed posts are notched down to matchsticks and hell yeah that's a boost of confidence right there knowing that you could get anyone anytime. But these traits are also their downfalls when it comes to sustaining monogamous lasting relationships.

So which is the finish line?? Maybe the Hare in the old childhood fable wanted to get to the end to do the nasty with a "wascally wabbit" and it just wasn't the Tortoise's cup of tea. I'm sure if there was a French chef at the end making Lapin a L'Orange, the Tortoise may have just had the upper hand.

And I think that maybe it's a good thing that Nice Guys do finish last. At least everyone will finish. Maybe everything is really worth the wait. Delayed gratification and all. Ok...that one you can let your mind wander in the gutter for.

So, do I have an answer?? uhm...no...hahaha. I was just putting it out there wondering what other people thought. Me...I dunno where I sit. Some days I think I'm sugar and spice, but then other days I just wanna go out there and feel the thrill of the hunt.

When I was younger and debating on this little saying, I had someone say to me

"Ok...look at this way. Do you really want to wait for the Cinderella float at the end of the Disney parade or enjoy the ones in between?"

Which is it for you?

Smoking Obituary

Hey all,

So I am quickly approaching the one month mark (December 13) of not having a cigarette and let me tell you I feel great.  I was able to run 45 minutes tonight and not be too out of breathe.  I can climb stairs without wanting to pass out.  I don't have a sore throat in the morning anymore.  Now I didn't do it cold turkey, I am wearing the patch.  So technically I haven't broken the addiction yet.  It is a ten week program and everytime I tried before, I never followed through with it, hence I consider that a reason why I started smoking again.  This time I intend to follow through on the plan and I can be proud when it is over and I can officially be smoke/nicotine free.

It has been tough.  Over the last month I have had exams, I live with my mom who smokes, been out clubbing and been going nuts at work with nothing to do now.  I realize that was my biggest reason for smoking, it passed the time.  I also have much more money in my pocket.

The interesting part is I can be around it now and not have the urge to have one.  I just find something else to do with my hands and mouth.  ; ) (write on here and chew gum)  I was out on Friday and I could actually be outside with my friends who were smoking and not have one.  Yesterday I was in a car with a friend of mine who was smoking and no problem.

Anyways this is me being proud of accomplishing something.   In the future when I think I want one, I will remember the struggle over the past two and half years of starting and stopping and hopefully that will ward me off from having a puff or just one.  I am not longer a smoker but an X-Smoker and proud of it.