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Today as I approached the Texas jokester I realized my tshirt said: London.
He looked at me and said, "Damn, I ain't got no good London jokes."
I snickered, "You ain't got no good Texas jokes either."
I rendered him speechless as he just laughed.
But he seems to enjoy my sarcasm cuz I got another high-five.
Now I'm getting requests from people to be Coke Bottle Glasses models!
I love True Blood. I especially love Pam on True Blood.
She is a raging vampire b!tch. With some great one-liners.
A witch recently cast a 'rotting flesh' spell on her.
The other day I was with my friend Jeremy...
I chewed a bit of my lunch and a piece of my tooth broke off.
I spit it into my hand and Jeremy howled,
"Ewwww, you're rotting just like Pam on the True Blood."
Earlier today I was walking down my street to meet a Jeremy for lunch and mimosas. I was wearing a tshirt that simply said TEXAS in large letter across my chest. A guy (above) working on my neighbors fence asked, "Hey are you from Texas?"
It never fails that when I wear this shirt at least 3 people will ask me if I'm from Texas. I replied, "I'm not."
As I walked passed he asked, "Hey, you wanna hear my best Texas joke."
Now normally I would have kept walking but as he used the word 'best' I was naturally intrigued. I turned around and approached him, "OK, hit me with it."
He proceeded, "A tourist walks into a Texas bar and asks for a glass if beer on tap. The bartender sits a pitcher in front of him. The tourist says, "I wanted a glass not a pitcher." The bartender says, "That is a glass, we just do everything bigger in Texas.""
"A little later the tourist gets hungry and asks the bartender for a steak. When the bartender returns with his meal he brings him a whole hind-quarter of a cow. The tourist says, "I just wanted a steak." The bartender reminded him, "That is a steak, we just do everything bigger in Texas.""
"Finally the tourist asked for the restroom. The bartender says, "It's out back, you can't miss it." The tourist walks out back and falls into a pool and begins to flail his arms and screams, "DON'T FLUSH. DON'T FLUSH!""
I looked at the guy and said, "That's your best Texas joke?"
He said, "I get laughs when I tell it to an actual Texan."
I said, "I've got one. I read this on a bathroom wall once: Here I am alone and flexin' about to squeeze out another Texan."
He gave me a high-five.
So yea, I'm having fun with this.
The last few years, where I am concerned, the month of February has but one certainty - that I will be spending a long weekend in Puerto Vallarta. It's a three hour flight from Los Angeles and a super fun city to hang-out with fellow gays from all the cold places in the US and Canada. They tell me that there is no better way to escape the 'real feel factor' of two degrees than by spending part of the winter at the beach basking in the generous Mexican sun.
I always enjoy the same accommodations just off the beach - Hotel Mercurio. It's gay owned and operated, affordable and it has its comforts - especially the poolside bar with its domestic beers for a buck-fifty. The staff is friendly enough and every morning they serve a nice breakfast for their guests. There are five tables around the pool so inevitably you have to sit and talk to someone new each morning. It's fun to compare notes on the scandals of the prior evening; conversations often begin with, "Bitch, I was sooooo drunk last night..."
I was in Puerto Vallarta recently and the hotel hosted about ten men in their late 50's/early 60's who were part of a Kansas City AIDS organization in the 80's. They had all long-ago scattered and chose PV as a good place for a reunion; many had not seen each other in some twenty years. Each of my first three mornings I encountered three of them on differing days and over chilaquiles, a common Mexican breakfast to cure 'la cruda' (the hangover), I enjoyed some rather interesting conversations - naturally.
THE FIRST MORNING
I wandered over to a table that was occupied by a single gentleman who was utilizing two chairs, the second to prop up his right leg.
I asked him, "Do you mind if I join you?"
He replied, "Not at all. But you will have to forgive my leg."
I said, "Oh, no problem." I noticed that his leg was bloodied and bandaged which led to an obvious conversation-starter, "Mind if I ask you what happened to your leg?"
"Not at all," he said. "On our first day here we were walking down the street and I wasn't paying attention and walked right into a freshly cut tree stump."
That's the thing about Puerto Vallarta, you really must pay attention to where you are walking. Between the cobblestone streets that one can easily twist an ankle on, the sudden high curbs that one can tumble from, and the random over-hangs that jut out of nowhere to bang ones head on - serious injury lurks. Somehow, bumbling drunk and in the dark of night, I have managed to negotiate all of these hazards with great success.
I said sympathetically, "Ouch! Was it bad? What did you do?"
He explained, "Well, yeah. It was cut to the bone. Luckily we were just three blocks from the hospital. A local escorted us there and here I am - fifteen stitches later."
I asked, "Did your health-care cover it?"
He replied, "Well, no. But it was only a little over $400."
I nodded and asked, "Have you been able to keep up with your friends?"
He said, "Nope, not at all. I can't really walk. But I told them not to worry about me - to go on ahead. I didn't want to hold them back. At first I was bummed, being on vacation and all, but then it kind of turned out to be the best medical emergency I've ever had."
I took the bait, "How so?"
He smiled wryly, "Well, I just sit here all day by the pool and pop the over-the-counter Vicadin I got from the pharmacy down the street like candy and drink these margaritas Juan Carlos over there keeps making for me free of charge. Next thing you know - I'm stupid. Honestly, this is the best medical care I've ever had."
THE SECOND MORNING
I had actually just finished breakfast and was heading up the stairs to my room to ready myself for a day at the beach. I was half-way up the last flight when I heard a hurried voice behind me warn, "Watch out, coming up behind you."
I moved to my right so that he might pass but instead he saddled-up alongside me. I recognized him as the gentleman at the next table carping about his intestinal troubles in Mexico. A little squirm accompanied his slight bread-basket accented breakfast-table proclamation, "Well, the food here sure is 'muy delicioso' but damn I sure am paying the price. They're gonna have to call the plumber out here in about ten minutes." He turned his head toward reception and bellowed, "And tell them to bring the snake."
We climbed a step or two before he asked me, "Are you familiar with the term 'brown-cap?'"
I knew this was going to be trouble so I replied with a hint of disinterest, "No, I am not."
At this point we were standing at the top of the stairs and about to head-off in different directions to our rooms when he held me there in continued conversation, "Well, it's a military term. See, in boot camp when the men are out in combat training they are not allowed to take a shit. They have to hold it until they get back to the barracks. They call that a 'brown cap.' That has been my deal here every damn day at the beach.
I didn't know what to say so I just said all sitcom-y before I walked away, "The ol' dreaded brown cap."
THE THIRD MORNING
The man I was sitting with took a long drag off of his cigarette and asked me through a smoke-filled exhale, "Are you enjoying yourself?"
I replied, "Oh yes, I love Puerto Vallarta. And you?"
He said as if drifting off into a daydream, "It is absolute heaven here. My lover and I came here for 13 straight years. This is our first time back in 6 years."
I swallowed my food and asked, "Will he be joining you for breakfast soon?"
He stamped out his finished cigarette and as he reached for another he responded matter-of-factly, "No. I scattered his ashed on the beach three days ago."
I was taken aback and then offered my condolences, "I'm so sorry. That must have been very difficult for you."
He continued, "Well, yes of course. We were together for over twenty years. It's what he wanted, to be scattered over our favorite beach. I know you are thinking it was AIDS, but it wasn't - it was lung cancer." He looked at his cigarette for a second, "Funny, you'd think I'd have given these up, huh?"
His story had touched me so I simply shrugged, "I suppose."
He continued, "The night after I scattered Jerry on the beach Jerry returned the favor and sent me a really cute guy to hang out with."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, "And Jerry doesn't mind?"
He laughed, "Oh goodness no, honey! Jerry has been gone for five years now. He's dying for me to move on. That is, until we meet again. In the meantime, it's time to start having fun again - post Jerry style."
I smiled warmly and said, "As well you should my friend, as well you should."
***
I wrote this in February of 2008
I started a new photo project.
Featuring a pair of Coke bottle glasses I bought at a joke shop years ago.
I even got the iconic West Hollywood "Rosas Lady" to do it...
She's been selling those damn roses on Santa Monica Blvd for 20 years.
***
Will you be my next model?
I woke this morning wishing I were in Mykonos.
Here are a few photos from my last visit to the island in 2007.
Now I bet you wish you had awakened there too.
About 12 years ago I met a guy at last call. Not just any guy - THE guy.
We spent the next few hours having an amazing time together.
Yea, that... but it was so much much much more.
We also talked for hours. As the sun came up he finally bid his departure.
We had planned to go to dinner the next night.
He said, "Call me tomorrow and we'll set up our first official date."
Now this was at time in my life when I didn't call anybody.
I guess you could say I was a real man about town.
But in this case I was excited about him. I called and got his voice-mail.
And I waited for a return call. It never happen.
For days I was confused. And hurt, I'll confess.
***
About 6 years ago I saw him again at the airport.
He approached me, "I really owe you an explanation and an apology."
He told me that he had started dating someone that same week.
And it got serious. In fact, he was with him at the airport.
I told him that I was happy for him. I even smiled over at his boyfriend.
My body tingled with a sour hint of jealousy.
***
Last weekend I saw him again at happy hour.
He approach me, "Do you remember me?"
I replied, "Of course I remember you. How could I ever forget you?"
We proceeded to have a five minute conversation.
I'll spare you the details but he said things I've not heard very often.
It was extremely flattering.
He hugged me when our talk was over. It was a hug of missed opportunity.
For the next few days this one question continued to nag...
(to the simple strains of The Man That Got Away):
How might my life had been different had he just called me back?
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