I... ummmm... *sigh*

Most of the time, I cycle to work. This isn't news. At my office, there's a lovely locker room for me to shower and change clothes in. I think this is fabulous. In the evenings, however, I don't go down to the locker room to change. Oh no, it's three floors below me. I simply close my office door, close the blinds, and change.

No longer.

Today, as I was preparing to give a presentation, someone pulled me aside. "Cary, I really need to tell you something."

"Sure, what's going on," I inquire.

"The blinds. Your blinds. They don't work."

"Ummm... what?!?"

"You were wearing dark underwear last night, right? And you have a white towel hanging on the back of your door."

*blank stare*

At this point, the realization hit. For the past six months I've been changing clothes in my office in the evening as everyone leaves work, walks out to the parking garage behind my building, and gets in their cars. The parking garage that my office windows face. All these people. There must be hundreds in my building. Walking out to the garage. Not realizing that they're about to get a show.

You have chairs for those too?

A friend of mine is a staffer for a member of the Texas legislature. Earlier today I stopped by his office to say hi after a meeting, and found him in discussions with the "furniture people." Apparently, his boss was unhappy with the big, comfy chair for his desk. The big leather chair with the seal of the State of Texas across the back. The one that no less than three cows had to give their hides to make. Yeah, he wasn't happy with it. It's not large enough.

So, my friend was in talking with the furniture people. "My boss is looking for one of the high-back chairs. I've seen them in other offices."

"Yeah, I can get one of those for you," the furniture lady stated. "We actually have two models of that chair. They are basically the same, only one is larger than the other."

"Well, which one would you suggest for my boss?" my friend asked.

"Well, that all depends," the furniture lady said. "How large is your member?"

I had to leave.

It's inside my head!

Music has always played a big role in my life. I played musical instruments for the better part of two decades, and have always really enjoyed having music as a backdrop to my life. There are not many times when I do not have some sort of music playing, be it at home, on the go, or at work. When I don't have music playing, I tend to have an internal stereo to take up the slack. Sometimes this is a good thing. At other times, not so much. The other day, for instance, the theme song to Dynasty was stuck in my head for hours. This, unfortunately, was not the first time this has happened.

Today started out with a relatively harmless tune, but quickly morphed into Barry Manilow's infamous "Copacabana (At the Copa)." It stuck with me for HOURS. Even as I played other music in my office, whenever I left to go to a meeting or talk to other people, it came back. Luckily, by the time I left work today, I had been able to shake it. However, on my ride home this evening, a different, more insidious song crept in.

I was riding past Lady Bird Lake in downtown Austin, and spotted the Oscar Mayer Wiener Mobile. Instantly, "I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener..." flooded my internal speakers. In an attempt to not be consumed by the song on my ride home, I decided to play with the lyrics a bit. This is what I came up with:

If I had an Oscar Mayer wiener
It'd mean I have a small, pencil dick
And if I had an Oscar Mayer wiener
No one would come to sit on top of it

There's just no surprising this man!

Brit Boy leaves in one week. Since he has to connect in New York City for his return trip to the UK, he decided to spend the last weekend he's in the states enjoying a weekend in the city. I was a little miffed at this cuz, due to my job, I couldn't join him. Plus, his last weekend in the states is Valentine's Day weekend. Now, for all of you that are haters of the forced, Hallmark holiday, I'm more or less in agreement. However, I haven't been dating anyone on Valentine's Day since I was in high school. I was really kinda looking forward to it. And then he sprung the trip on me.

Well, I schemed a bit and worked it out with my job to be able to be able to make a whirlwind trip to NYC and surprise him. I coordinated with our friend that he's staying with so that I could simply show up to wherever they were planning to be that Friday night. I even arranged it so that we flew out of the same airport, him to the UK, me back to Texas, with an hour of one another.

Then he went on a ski trip this week (snowboarding to be precise) and tore a ligament in his knee. When I picked him up from the airport, he stated that he was thinking about canceling the trip to NY as it would be to challenging to maneuver through NY with all the luggage he was taking back to the UK. He stated that trying to figure out all the logistics was weighing on him.

I buckled. I told him.

"Wow, I seem to mess up all of your surprises, don't I," he responded. See, this isn't the first time circumstances have changed and I've had to inform him of my plans, lest he change his plans completely and the surprise be, well, completely fucked. Actually, I think this is the third time in the last three or four months.

Curses. Oh well... he's still pleased as punch that we'll be spending the weekend in New York. Albeit with a less robust itinerary.

It's just so...

I woke up in the middle of the night last night. That, in and of itself, isn't anything unusual. I normally wake up at least once a night. Sometimes it's cuz Brit Boy comes to bed after I have fallen asleep. Sometimes the fluids I drink before going to bed result in my body waking me up so that I can relieve myself. Sometimes, and this has been happening with some regularity lately, I'm in the middle of a disturbing, vivid dream, and I wake up with a start.

Last night, however, I was awakened due to the second situation. Sometime around 3am, my body decided that it was time to get up and "use the facilities." There was one little... well not so little... problem. I was experiencing a nocturnal erection. A rather severe nocturnal erection. Urination was, well, challenging to say the least.

So, there I was, stumbling toward the bathroom, still rather groggy from having just woken up, trying to figure out how I was going to quickly relieve myself, return to bed, and get back to sleep.

I start thinking about car repairs. Tree-trimming. Longitudinal studies of student's performance on standardized tests in public schools. Nope. Nothing happening. Or, more accurately, a lot of the same thing was happening.

A few minutes go by, and the blood in my body started to move away from where it had been residing. Finally I was in the... um, position... to be able to experience relief. Once I have that all taken care of, I shuffled, as quickly as possible, back to bed. I curl up with my pillows (one of which is called Brit Boy 2 for when he's away) and hope for sleep.

Nope. I've been awake to long, and my attempts to think on things other than the situation in which I found myself had brought my mind fully online.

Damn it!

A countdown of another sort.

Ten days. Ten. One and zero. That's how much longer I have with Brit Boy before he heads back across the ocean. His visa is up and he has to head back. Also, this damn economy is creating a need for him to find a job.

So, back he goes. Of course I'm not happy about it, but these things happen. It's been a good six months, though. We've learned a lot about us as a couple. I've learned a lot about him as a person. I can only assume he's learned a lot about me, and the fact that he's still here tells me that he's: 1) extremely understanding and patient, 2) oblivious to my idiosyncracies, or 3) a glutton for punishment. I'm not gonna say which choice I'm going with.

Oh the British...

Me, struggling with proper Sanskrit spelling of Yoga pose: p-a-r-i-v-r-r- what the hell?!?

Brit Boy: Don't you wish Yoga was invented by the English?

Me: Oh, hell no!! Then it'd be all stuffy. And there's no way the Kama Sutra would've been developed.

Brit Boy: Well, aside from that...

I will not let my personal tragedy interfere with my ability to do good hair.

Stress [stres] -noun

-physiology. a specific response by the body to a stimulus, as fear or pain, that disturbs or interferes with the normal physiological equilibrium of an organism.

-physical, mental, or emotional strain or tension.

Apparently I'm stressed. This isn't really news to me, but waking up in the middle of the night with a pounding/racing heart and then not being able to return to sleep is a new development. Well... over the past couple of weeks, I guess. It's that age-old "life" thing that's getting in the way of me living my life. Funny that.

So, what does this mean? Better living through chemistry. Hopefully this will stop the middle of the night panic attacks (which is apparently what the waking up with a racing heart is). My only question is, "Can I chase the meds down with an Old Fashioned?"

What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas.

Upon arriving in San Francisco from Las Vegas, I had a number of things I needed to attend to. Number one on the list? Go to the hospital.

See, apparently not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. After one night in Vegas, my left arm was sore, red, and swollen. It got progressively worse during our stay, until it was throbbing with pain and demanding I see a medical professional. Thing was, there's not many hospitals that are easily accessible from the casinos. So I waited until we got to San Francisco.

Well, the doctor in San Francisco was unimpressed with my reasonings for not seeking medical attention earlier. "Right, they don't have any medical care in Vegas," he said to me as I'm lying on a gurney. All I can do is give him a look.

"Ceullulitis," the doctor says flatly. You've got cellulitis." I look at him in shock. "But I don't have any fat dimples on my legs. How can I have cellulitis?"

"Not cellulite. Cellulitis," he says. "You need IV antibiotics. Actually, you're not far from being admitted to the hospital. You should've come in earlier."

So there I was. Just arrived in San Francisco, lying on a gurney in the emergency room, IV antibiotics flowing into my body. While a homeless man who seems to have lost his cane is yelling at the nurse about having to pee. And about losing his cane. And being hungry. And about losing his cane. And about being hungry. He seemed to be a broken record.

I was rather happy to have remembered my iPod and a book.

Las Vegas. *blech*

We have now left Las Vegas. I couldn't be happier.

Now, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the time I spent with my brother and my mom. Mostly. Well, all of the time with my brother. I was prolly a bit too apprehensive about my mom's reaction to Brit Boy to enjoy all of the time I spent with her. So there you go.

This was my first trip to Vegas. And while I won't say that it will be my last, I'm not sure that I'll be rushing back there any time soon. "Why?" you might ask. "Oh, the humanity," would be my response.

The Vegas Strip. It's... cute. Glittzy. Flashy. And has no more substance to it than a grain of displaced sand in the former desert that is Las Vegas. The throngs of people going to and fro. The massive traffic jam that is the strip. The sheer idiocy of the people wandering with no comprehension of other people around them. The... I think I might actually be at a loss for words.

However, Las Vegas did have one redeeming place. And that was actually Las Vegas. The old Las Vegas. See, The Strip, other than one major casino, isn't actually located in Las Vegas. It's located in "unincorporated Clark County." It was the old Las Vegas that I kinda liked. It had a more local feel. There were still lots of people (but not as many), there was still traffic (but not the parking lot that is Las Vegas Blvd), and there were some idiots out wandering around. But for the most part, it was comfortable. Sure, there were the lights, the sounds of the slot machines, bad carpeting, and tacky displays of consumption. However, it was just a little less... in your face. Just a little. And I liked that.