Thursday, June 23, 2005

Gay Pride San Francisco 2005

Check list:
  • hotel reservation
  • car
  • moolah
  • friends
  • pink party clothes
  • walking around the city clothes
  • sunday pride gear
  • travel grooming kit
  • booze
  • pepcid ac
  • socks
  • sexy underwear
  • pj(s)
  • condoms (just in case)
  • mr big stuff (just in case nothing happens)
  • rosie palmer and her 5 sisters (embarrassed that someone might see mr big stuff)
  • Mr. Chess (still looking)
Leaving for San Francisco @10am Friday morning. I know it doesn't officially start until Saturday but as I was trained in the military, I like to go in early and scope out the territory! I'm actually very excited. Not because it's Gay Pride, but because I'm going to be with lots of friends this year. And for most of them, it will be their first time going!

Also, I will be canvasing for people to sign up for the AidsWalkSF during pride (1:30-3:30pm)! Hope to see ya guys there!

PS I'm such a Liberal!

Friday, June 17, 2005

Flea Asleep In My Car

Things like this make my friends want to strangle me!

Flea awakens

I love!

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Lesbian between my legs!

That's Jen. She's a pro!

Friday, June 10, 2005 Lodi, CA!

Apparently, my town has been the talk of the nation. Thanks to recent news. If ever the allegations are proven to be true, why Lodi? Well, duh! Strategically, Lodi is the perfect spot for terrorists and commuters. We're 45 minutes away from Sacramento (the capital of California), less than 2 hours away from San Francisco and Silicon Valley, 5 hours drive to Las Vegas, 3 hours drive to Reno, and pretty much near everywhere else. So is it surprising to find Al Qaeda cells forming in Lodi? In theory, no. But to actually hear/see it happening, is very shocking.

I signed up for Aids Walk San Francisco July 17, 2005.

Do something! Join a team, sign up for one, or you can help my team! I hate asking for money but this is for a CAUSE. Click here to help my team and myself reach our goal!

Coming out is a constant thing. Every time you meet new people there is that moment where you 'come out' all over again. It could be, "Hi, I'm gay, name's Jake! Yours?" or "Oh fuck yeah, I love Madonna!" But I never would have guessed that I would come out 'again' to drunk college students while playing Kings Cup, a drinking game. It seems that if whenever someone draws a 7 card, we would then each state "I have never..." and if you have done what that person stated that he/she has never done, you drop one finger. And if your hand turns into a fist, meaning there you were the first person to have done 5 things. You drink. It turns out, not a lot of people at my table has:

1) Taken it up the ass
2) Given another guy a blowjob (there were girls)
3) Had a homosexual experience
4) Licked an asshole (another guy said yes, very promising)
5) Had sex outside
6) Swallowed
7) Had sex with shoes on
8) Masturbated in the tub

Yeah, I was sticking out like a big sore thumb in the group. One girl actually stated that she should take me back to their side. Bitch what? I was thinking, if I ever wanted twat, it will never EVER be from your crusty clam! Oh well, atleast the guys thought I was cool. They never thought a gay man could out chug them.

They're just inexperienced boys!

Friday, June 03, 2005

Blast from the Past

Yep, I'm still awake. Ugh. Have been surfing the net. Spent $100(+) worth of tees and stumbled upon this:

Wear sunscreen...

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.


Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.


Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.


Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen...

by Mary Schmich

I can't believe it's been 8 years since this came out. I was part of the majority who believed it was penned by Kurt Vonnegut. And why not? I have read all his books and figured I was somewhat of an authority; knowing his quirks and written wit. Alas, I was bamboozled like everyone else. Loved it the first time I've read it and still do.

Now if only George had someone tell him this when he was younger!

Thursday, June 02, 2005

File this under: WTF Was I Thinking!

It's now 11:51 pm. 30 minutes ago I was craving a venti iced caramel macchiato; quad shot, soy, no whip. So I thought, "Why not?" And drove to the nearest Starbucks which just happens to be open 24 hours. I finished drinking the whole damn thing within 3 minutes.

I have the nagging feeling that I'm going to regret it.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Chapter One cont'd...

Contrary to popular beliefs, I never saw the light at the end of a tunnel or that of my life flashing before my eyes. I really thought I was going to die that day. I didn't think about what happens after death before nor during my suicide attempt. When I regained consciousness two days later on a hospital bed, I didn't receive any heavenly or spiritual dawning. Instead I found myself peeing through the catheter that was still connected to my bladder. I was awaken three hours later by a female nurse casually pulling the tube out of my penis. The pain was so unbearable that I fainted back to sleep. A different nurse woke me up for my first meal. A covered tray was brought before me. I wasn't hungry, in fact I felt full. Still I checked what was on the menu. It was a good thing that I didn't feel like eating. Before me were a tiny glass of orange juice and water, along with what seems to be vegetable soup containing a pea, a bean, and a sliver of carrot, and a bowl of watery red jello.

I was consistently tired the first day after waking up. I kept dozing off intermittently. Whenever I'm awake, I familiarize myself with my surroundings. The whir of machines, the tacky green colored curtains that enclosed the area of my bed giving me an air of semi privacy. Comings and goings of medical personnel. Sometimes I could hear them gossiping, once they were chatting about what I presumably did to be in this state.

"I could hear you." I hoarsely shouted. To my dismay, they just shushed me right back and reminded me that there were other patients in the ward.

Tubes and needles were still poking me all over my arms. I was admiring the IV that was stuck in the back of my right hand when a male nurse I've never seen before opened up my curtain and began flipping through my charts. A smile on his face.

"Good morning. I see you're up and about." He was handsome. I was suddenly aware that I was not wearing any underwear underneath my robes that were riding up my thighs. I was trying to stealthily cover myself when he moved to my right side.

"Don't bother. I need to put my hand up your robe anyway to check your stomach." That didn't stop me. I was tugging one last time when he snatched my right arm and brought it up to heart level and proceeded to take my pulse. I was startled, not because of his abruptness but because I could now feel my testicles and patches of my organ exposed to the cold air. After he was done, he scribbled something down on my chart then lifted my robe until his calloused and very cold hands were touching my abdomen. As I gasped, he began to knead and press all over.

"Does this hurt?"


"How about here?"



"A little but not really."

"Hmmm. You seem to be doing fine. Don't worry about the latter. It's just the charcoal." He said and started scribbling again on the chart.


"Yes. After they pumped out your stomach--which by the way they found 20 muscle relaxants and 30 codeine tables--in went the charcoal to absorb the rest of the poison that were already broken down and may have been left still."

"Oh." Was all I could say. I was imagining the charcoal churning in my belly and wondered if they used briquette. He must have known what I was thinking as I rubbed my stomach when he said, "It's the powder and paste kind. It will pass through your system in a few days. You'll have one hell of a time when you first take a dump." Once more eh gave me his smile. He was really good looking. I'm sure he wasn't coming on to me. He is a soldier like myself and is probably trying to comfort me with his small talk. It was working. I saw him the next two days. Always with a smile on his face. Calling me by my first name which he constantly mispronounced and corrected each time. The name on his tag was Landoll. Eaton is his first.

The last time I saw him at the hospital, he was pulling a night shift and would stop by every two hours to check up on me and chat.

"Still awake?" Poking his head in between the curtains. It was a little after 2 o'clock but seeing his wide eyes expecting, woke me up instantly.

"How many cups?"

"6 but that's not the question. Are you awake?"

"I'm talking to you, aren't I? What's your diagnosis?"

"All right smart ass. Just for that I'll pencil in an order for an enema. STAT."

I laughed and was instantly shushed as he pulled a chair next to my bed. We talked for almost an hour. He said that he didn't need to do anything until his rounds 15 minutes before 4 o'clock. He told me not to eat the cake for the next day since the 'nasty' cook was working the night prep. Whom he once caught scratching the inside of his pants while kneading biscuits. He also told me a story about a patient who fell on his ass and ended up having a second hole. The patient was then carried by his wife and neighbor to the emergency room wherein the physician's assistant patched up the extra hole. Unfortunate for the patient, the PA was laughing so hard that he accidentally patched the wrong hole and had to redo the procedure.

The conversation went melancholy when he recounted the last time he worked on ER duty. The night was awfully quiet and slow. A few of the staff had started playing scrabble whine on-call residents retired to a room to catch much need shut-eye when they were notified of an accident. An unlucky motor cyclist was sideswiped by a car as it was making a right turn. The biker and his bike was run over, trapped under, and was dragged a good 80 feet before the driver of the car managed to stop. The biker should have died but he was still breathing and coherent by the time the paramedics arrived. He was conscious as they wheeled him in the ER but started coughing up enormous amounts of blood and later died, 5 minutes from the moment nurses and doctors started working on him.

"So, why did you do it? Everybody is saying that you were drunk. Your blood alcohol level was 0.06 and that you mistakenly drank the pills. I think it's about something else."

"I don't know. I wasn't drunk. I was sober." I turned on the TV hoping he would drop the question.

"Ok. I wont bother you anymore. It is the last day that you're staying here."

"I'm not going to see you again? I mean, I'm leaving the hospital?"

"No. They're just moving you to the 4th floor for further evaluations. As for seeing you again, maybe we will. Here's hoping that it's not back here." He had his hand on the curtain, about to make his exit, when he turned back towards me.

"One more thing. The next time you feel like doing this again, make sure you go talk to somebody instead. If not this Crousteau you've been calling in your sleep, find someone else. Just don't do it again. Ok?"

I didn't know what to say. I was just hoping that nobody else heard me talking in my sleep. If word got out that I was calling Crousteau's name, someone in my chain of command might go find out who he was to me. Killing myself was one thing but to be found that I was gay would be detrimental to my career and his. All hell would break loose.


"No one else knows. Just promise."

"Promise." With my word, he left, closing the curtains behind him.

I never did see him again. I thought I did once while getting a hair cut. I still think of him from time to time. He was the only one outside selected friends and my mother that knew of the reason why I tried to kill myself that day. I never did get to thank him. I hope he reads this someday. Thank you.

To be cont'd...