Me, I like the sexy-thing. You?

It should, by now, be abundantly clear that I'm a pretty open-minded guy when it comes to sex. "Whatever juices your pickle" is pretty much my mentality. Do what you wanna do, but be informed about it. Which is one of the reasons I love Sue Johanson so much.

Well, with Sue leaving the tv airwaves (she's focusing on her Canada-based radio call-in show) there is now a gap in the availability of sex-information that needs to be filled. The need for frank, to the point, truthful information about our bodies, sex, and our sexual interactions with others is paramount. Ignorance is not bliss in this matter. Its dangerous and deadly.

There is a group in the midwest that is doing their part to chip in. Yes, the midwest. The red states. The flyover states. The states where it's not appropriate to talk about such things. Well, they're talking about it . In a funny, engaging, and open manner. In the midwest. Which means their job is doubly hard.

And they need help. They're raising funds to keep going. Stop by and see what you think. And contribute if you can.

I like the countdown...

17 days. Brit Boy arrives back in Austin in 17 days. Excitement doesn't begin to describe my emotions right now. However, this wasn't always the right descriptor.

Some off y'all aren't aware of this, but when Brit Boy arrives here August 17, it's not just a visit. He's moving in. He's moving from London to Austin to give this thing a go. Excited? Yes, very. Scared? You better believe it.

As recently as two weeks ago I wasn't sure that this was something I could do. It was the usual "what-ifs" filling my head. "What if the connection is no longer there?" "What if we can't stand living together?" "What if he gets annoyed with my cute little waking-up noises?" (Yes, I make little whining noises as I wake up. Someone once referred to them as pterodactyl cries.)

Needless to say, those concerns are pretty much gone. We've spent a good deal of time living together already (before he went on his round-the-world journey), we've traveled together (domestically and internationally), and we really have this great skill called communicating. We seem to do that rather well. Go figure.

Anyway, 17 days. 17 DAYS!!!! (thanks be given to Shiva, cuz lord knows I need to get laid)

Let's Buy Some Shoes!!!

I. Like. Shoes. I mean, I *really* like shoes. I feel it's just so important to have a large selection of shoes to choose from when putting your outfits together.

These are my shoes. Well, most of them. Some of my friends say I have an addiction. Some have tried to stage interventions. All to no avail. I keep searching for new acquisitions.

Especially after this past week. Cuz this past week, tragedy struck. I lost a pair of boots. Brown suede Kenneth Cole ankle boots, to be precise. To recount the events that led up to the loss simply fills my eyes with tears.

I was at the gym. I had changed into my workout clothes and put my street clothes into my locker. I worked out. I came back into the locker room to shower and change. That's when I realized. That's when I realized I had basically abandoned my boots. I had left them out when I put everything else into my locker.

So, someone, somewhere has my boots. Someone took my babies. I hope they treat them well, cuz they deserve to be loved. Caressed. Brushed on a regular basis. Paired with a cute pair of jeans, dark button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up.

So what does this all mean? I need to go shopping. For there is now a vacancy in my shoe rack. And we all know that nature abhors a vacuum.

Visit to the Coast

Yoakum, Texas. Population: 5,731

Goliad, Texas. Population: 1,975

These are the locations that comprised my business trip today. I know, I know, glamorous. Don't you wish you had my job? Thankfully, the day has ended in Corpus Christi, Texas. Population: 277,454. A city with an Omni Hotel. That overlooks the bay.

Now, there was this tiny, almost insignificant, little storm called Hurricane Dolly that slammed into the Texas coast yesterday just South of here. Which has resulted in a rather wet and windy trip. But, it's all worth it. Tomorrow I head out into the gulf for a weekend diving trip. Here's hoping I'm not susceptible to sea sickness.

Homo-say what?

Let me set up the situation:

I'm out having a few drinks with friends. The watering hole where we are partaking of these libations is giving away tickets to the current running of The Altar Boyz. I end up winning a pair of these tickets. Immediately, several of the other gayz start asking if I'll take them with me to see the show. (Really? Tickets aren't THAT expensive, just buy one). Several of these individuals know of my current situation with Brit Boy being gone, and me not having had sex since I last saw him in Thailand. Several of these individuals joke that if I take them with me to the show, they'll put out.

After a few times, I finally look at one of my friends and say, "You know, I don't even really care about sex anymore. I don't think I've masturbated in over a week. Put out, don't put out. Fuck me, let me fuck you. Or don't. I really just don't care about it right now." To say that my friend was shocked is the understatement of the month. Me. Mister take care of things four times a day. Me. The guy that has had sex six times in a 24-hour period. Several times, actually. Me. The guy who's laptop hard-drive is over half-full of porn. Yeah, I'm not really feeling the sex thing.

Which I guess is a good thing since I don't really have an outlet for it right now. But it does kinda concern me. Since when did I become an old man?

ouch... OUCH!!!

I am of the opinion that it is a good idea to keep yourself in a presentable state. Keep your hair maintained. Shave or keep up the trimming of your beard. This even applies to body hair. Legs, perhaps not, but chest hair should not be all out of control.

And yes, this also applies to where the sun don't shine. Not only is it nicer to look at a well maintained crotch, it's just polite. I mean, really. Who likes to be picking hair out of your mouth when you've been rather friendly with someone?

Seeing as a group of people see me naked at least once a week, it is rather important that I keep up with all these personal hygiene routines. Well, for anyone that has ever had to shave anything on their body on a regular basis, you might very well be familiar with a certain malady that accompanies frequent shaving - ingrown hairs.

Now think about having an ingrown hair in that special place. An ingrown hair that is irritating and painful. An ingrown hair that is preventing me from... umm... taking care of other matters.

This is not a good situation.

Demon Spawn

I'm in a coffeeshop having lunch, taking care of a few matters for my next yoga fundraiser. There are two toddler boys running around, screaming, yelling, climbing on things. I have tried to trip them no less than 4 times.

They are annoying me to no end. And the parents? "Matthew Collin... will you please sit down." "Andrew... if you sit down I'll get you a cookie."

Great. Just what's needed. Bargaining with sugar.

Tasty, flavorful snacks

I ride my bike to work most mornings, and I have a fairly set route that allows me to dodge most traffic heading into downtown. Since I travel this route regularly, and am quite familiar with all the houses, potholes, and dog walkers, I do tend to zone out slightly. However, when I round a corner and see a tall, attractive, naked man leaning over a series of grey plastic trash barrels, it definitely catches my attention.

I slow down slightly and give him a slightly gutteral “morning.” He quickly lifts his head from his task, his bright eyes instantly connecting with mine. “Morning,” he replies with a smile. When I ask what he’s doing, he very casually responds that he’s washing peanuts in order to season them and sell them as snacks.

“Washing… peanuts…” I think to myself. Kinda odd. Only after I myself lean over the trash barrels do I realize what he’s talking about. In each of the three consecutive barrels are hundreds of Styrofoam packing peanuts floating in water.

“Interesting,” I finally say out loud. “Need some help?” I ask, as if it’s the obvious reply in such a situation. I mean, really. Attractive naked man. Washing Styrofoam packing peanuts. What would you do?

As I start helping him dunk, strain, and lay the peanuts out to dry, another cyclist rides up, also asks what we’re doing, and offers to help. He’s cute-ish. Not my type (translation – shorter than 6’2”), but not bad eye candy.

At this point, the entrepreneur states, absent-mindedly, that he needs to apply sunscreen to his legs. Nothing too out of the ordinary about that statement. This is Texas. In June. It’s damn hot. However, the not-totally-cute cyclist offers to help. My ears perk up. I look over and watch him apply sunscreen to hot, naked guy’s calves. To his thighs. To his inner thighs.

At this point I’ve stopped washing the peanuts and start to think, “Hey, haven’t I seen this porn?”

It’s when not-so-cute guy starts to ensure that our studly entrepreneur won’t get sunburned where the sun don’t shine that I drop what I have in my hands and walk over to… help.

The rest… well, I can leave that up to your imagination. All I can say is that with two and one-half months left before I get to see Brit Boy again, I can only imagine that my dreams are gonna get more and more… um… explicit.

There's a hole in the bucket, Dear Liza...

Apparently, butts can make holes in walls. I was informed of this earlier today.

While I'm stuck in suburban, midwestern hell, Sincerity is having a lot of fun back at the house. There were... shenanigans on Friday night. I like shenanigans. Shenanigans are lots of fun. Partly cuz the word, shenanigans, is fun to say.

These shenanigans, however, made a slight detour somewhere along the way.

Headstands and handstands are difficult yoga poses to master. It takes time to learn all the intricacies of the poses, as well as to learn how to best use your body to hold each pose. I should note, as a professional, that yoga while inebriated is not a wise idea. Especially poses that flip your legs up over your head.

The consequences can be rather severe.

Fucking Kansas!

I'm in the suburbs. Suburban hell. Suburban, midwestern hell. Suburban, midwestern hell, with my mother.

Everyone kept telling me that it's only for a weekend. Only two days. Well, it's been less than 24 hours, and I'm ready to be home. My brother is here with me, for which I am very thankful, but there are reasons I only visit my mom once a year.

I might not be as upset if my mother hadn't started chastising me for chatting online with Brit Boy last night, rather than talking with my family. Well, that was the first opportunity in at least a week and the last opportunity for me to chat with Brit Boy for the next two weeks or so, as he's buggering off into the mountains of some-such-i-stan in Central Asia. I tried to inform my mother of this, but she was insistent. So now I'm being a grumpy Gus. A pissy Peter. An annoyed Andre. I swear, I feel the urge to revisit my teenage angst and just turn on my iPod, start reading a book, and completely ignore her.

Dramatic?!??! Moi?

Oh, and I'm trying to put the final touches on a yoga fundraiser I'm organizing for next weekend, while I'm several hundred miles away. And it's so NOT working. Frustration level is high.