This time the meme's on me

I just made up this meme to pass the time while I'm tired. If you read my blog, you are tagged but you should comment to make sure I pop over to read up.

1. How old were you the first time you had sex? Were you alone?

2. When is the last time you threw up? Bulimic episodes don't count. But tell us what happened, how long you felt sick before you gave it up to the porcelain god, and what color it was.

3. Describe the meanest thing you've ever done. If you could still get arrested for it today, you are excused. But then you have to tell us the second meanest thing you've ever done.

4. Have you ever told a complete stranger something pretty personal about yourself and then later had about two hemmorhages apiece because you were embarrassed? Describe. And be sure to tell us the pretty personal thing or you don't get credit for answering this question.

5. Have you ever picked up a trick at a bar and then when you got him or her into clear light you thought "oh God, no!" and then told him or her that you had to leave to drive your parents to the airport, knowing full well he or she wouldn't believe you?

6. Tell us about your experiences with re-gifting. Were you on the giving or receiving end?

7. Poor George says he actually remembers being in Mama Gin's womb as a fetus. Should we believe him or not? What is the earlist memory you have?

My answers are below.

Love and coasters,

CP

1. 16 was my first time with a person. It just sort of happened, and I regretted it. Still do. Things were very awkward after that and we never spoke again.

2. This is a gross. What a disgusting question. Why on earth would you write something like this, CP? Anyway, the last time I threw up was a few years ago when I ate some cheap Chinese take-out. I didn't feel sick for very long - all at once I was in the bathroom blowing major chunks. It was nasty. So nasty that I --- well, never mind.

3. Too many mean things to count. One mean thing I still feel bad about was when I made fun of my younger cousin in front of all her friends at her own birthday party. She had been crying a few days before that because one of her friends had called her a "dumb dumb" and I thought it was really funny so I kept imitating her crying and saying "Kathy called me a dumb dumb!" I was only 10, but still, what a complete little shit.

4. One time in law school I told a complete stranger this barely relevant story about how one time I was late to kindergarten and we had a substitute teacher that day and I got all upset because I thought I was in the wrong classroom. I told this story in front of about 10 other people, and no one made any reply at all. Then I felt shame.

5. No, but there have been too many times when I wish I had done that.

6. Just recently at an office party where we had a grab bag, I loudly proclaimed the one I received to be a re-gift based on the age of the box it came in. Someone groaned, and now everyone thinks I'm an asshole.

7. I think Poor George is making it up, but if it is true we should offer him up for medical experiments. My earliest memory is sitting on the couch eating toast. I kept saying "I'm two and I'm having toast."

Wow, that was all really stupid.

This inauguration can suck a bag of dicks

Obama taking away the ladder

Yes, it's an historic moment. The first (half) black president. More importantly, we're finally rid of Bush, although Karl Rove and the rest of the pit bulls will most certainly be back in four to eight years to put Jeb in office. So our period of relief is certain to be short lived.

And although we are supposed to be celebrating this great "change" we are about to experience by Obama taking the oath of office, there are also those who can rest quietly knowing that some things never change.


Case in point: Prominent "liberals" running for office always court the gay vote while they are running, and throw the fags and dykes under the bus the moment they get into office. The ultimate "fuck you!" school-yard bully trick.


At least Clinton had the decency to wait until he was IN office before kissing our support good-bye with "don't ask don't tell." Obama began pulling the ladder while planning his inauguration by choosing Rick Warren, a vocal supporter of Proposition H8, to perform the invocation.


Obama is an asshole. How many ministers of faith do we have in the USA? Is it just possible that there might have been another minister, anywhere, who has done the kind of good work that Warren has done in the world WITHOUT having made the inexcusable foray into politics?


Short answer: yes, it is possible he could have found someone who was not inordinately offensive to an important part of his constituency. It is entirely possible.


But did he want to do that? No. He WANTED to offend us - and guess why? Because in choosing to offend us, he is garnering support from the religious crazies who didn't put him into office. Just so he can call himself a "uniter." He did it on purpose.


Because in the end, gays don't really matter, and don't have anyone else to turn to anyway. We are completely expendable politically. After all, it is still the common belief that any major candidate for the presidency has to support "traditional" marriage even to have a chance of winning the office.

It would be nice if that outmoded idea would change.


In case anyone is planning on commenting about Obama's subsequent choice of Gene Robinson, the openly gay Episcopal bishop, to say a prayer at a pre-inaugural event, I would simply say "too little too late." If he cared that much about not offending us, he should have invited him to stand up next to Warren and deliver a second prayer at the actual inauguration, the one that everyone (but me) will be watching.


Yes, I'm bitter. I was uninvited to the country's party at the 11th hour - why shouldn't I be?





Obama, you can suck my balls. God damned ladder-puller.

San Diego update: California now has two more cats!

Grover is San Diego's newest resident. He's not happy about it.

Happy New Year, Gentle Readers!

Poor George and I had a lovely Christmas together in Vermont with my family, where we convened from several different states to enjoy the quintessential White Christmas, sleigh ride and all. (I'm serious, we actually took a sleigh ride.)

Poor George and I have just arrived in San Diego with our cats in tow. Getting them here via airplane was just loads of fun, and they are both traumatized, although Ava has emerged from under the bed and has already figured out how to climb up the chimney.

Grover was so freaked out that Poor George and I had to extract him from under the bed and hold him tightly between us under the covers while we napped, all just to get him to stop shivering in fear. I think he's starting to feel better, but all the same I'm leaving him in the guest bedroom until he has enough of his moral strength back to allow for further house exploration.

Meanwhile Ava, is meowing her discontent and confusion non-stop as she sniffs every square inch of every room.

Our furniture consists of the following:

- one couch

- one twin bed (with just barely enough room for two full grown men and two larger than life cats)

- one dining room table/desk and six wooden chairs

- one coffee table

- six foldup camping chairs that my dad bought so that a few people could sit down during our marriage ceremony in the park last October.

Needless to say, it's not quite a "home" yet - - - but I have faith that it will get there. Poor George will relocate here permanently sometime over the next 3 months or so. Maybe he'll bring some more of our furniture with him.

Love,

CP

CPW Sleeper Series: Unconditional Love

No one messes with a dwarf in a red raincoat

CPW Sleepers is a new series in which I will pontificate on the relative worthiness of sleeper movies and insist that all my Gentle Readers watch them immediately.

The first in our series is the 2002 sleeper Unconditional Love. Poor George and I have enjoyed this as one of our favorite movies for a number of years now.

It features Kathy Bates, Rupert Everett, a dwarf AND Barry Manilow. What is there not to love about that? It is not even remotely possible to make a bad movie using that combination.

I watched it this morning and got unexplainedly weepy, which of course led me to call Mindy June and leave her a voice mail containing one of my favorite Barry Manilow songs.

Watch it today.

Love and coasters,


CP

CP has a new policy on Memes

This picture has nothing to do with this post. This is my new dining set that I bought for a song at a consignment shop. It's vaguely Mission style so it fits the style of my house. There is a beautiful wood inlay design on the top that you can't see in this picture. It's also currently located in my office (above) because I don't yet have a functioning dining room. Do you like my paint job? (Please ignore the inner parts of the window frames, as I was unable to get to them to paint them, and I was lucky enough just to get these three windows open let alone take on the project to remove the frames for painting.)

Gentle Readers,





Many of us do Memes, which can be fun. Sometimes we tag each other to do the Memes. (And for the record, I've gone all German with the word Memes and have decided it should be Capitalized on accounta it's a noun, but only because it's a noun that screams to have something all German done to it.)





Most of you know I'm horrible at responding to tags. I have a hard time making the rounds to all my beloved stalkees, and sometimes I don't even know I've been tagged until weeks later and then I feel like an ass. (Mainly because I am an ass, but it just make it worse.)





And now I can't even get Technorati to work any more to tell me when someone mentions me in a blog post, so if anyone has suggestions on how I can be more timely alerted to such things I will be your second best friend. (On accounta you probably already have a first best friend.)





Since posting takes effort and I'm generally unwilling to make any on accounta I'm a lazy son-of-a-bitch, I now declare the following policy: If you tag me in a Meme, or if you just do a Meme and I happen to stop by your place, I too will do the Meme, but in your comments section rather than making my own post.





See here for my first installment.





Love and coasters,


CP

Moving on up

Even though the challenges of my daily life pale in comparison to what Lulu is potentially facing, I am nonetheless going to share my recent adventures with you. Just on accounta you need to know what's going on.

I have finally moved into my house! I spent the first two months here in temporary living quarters so that I could have a clean place to live (and work) while my house was undergoing various renovation projects like sanding and refinishing the floors, ripping apart bathrooms, rewiring, plumbing, painting and that sort of thing.

These things always take twice as long as you expect, so of course it's not all done yet. Poor George and I decided that "we" would do the painting ourselves to save money. Big mistake. Not only does "we" mean "CP" since George doesn't live here yet; this house is over 1600 square feet with 9 separate rooms/hallways to deal with, all with wood trim and moulding. Not a mansion by any means, but that's a LOT of painting, especially for a mildly retarded and uncoordinated Punchman.

So the long and short of it is, I'm not done. Most of the house is covered in contractor paper and currently only two rooms are completely move-in ready. I don't even have a bathroom yet because the one I intend to use is filthy and needs to be painted. (I hope to have most of that done today.)

Yet, I decided I didn't really need to pay a third month's rent on the temporary apartment, so I decided to move in "sometime" this weekend. I was stressing about it because it was a smallish job, and really the only thing I could absolutely not do myself was carry a sofa down a flight of steps.

So I didn't want to pay a load of money to "movers" for a job like this, but I did need to find someone to help me at least. (Which is difficult when you're in a new city and the only people you know well enough to ask are physically unable to accomplish such tasks.)

Craigslist to the rescue! Craigslist is the greatest thing ever. I clicked into the "labor and services" section and immediately found a "college kid with a pickup" who was available to help people move stuff.

I really wanted to move in Sunday (today) so that I could have the bathroom ready first - but when I called this kid, he #1 only wanted 40 bucks, and #2 was only available that day (Friday). So I jumped on it, although to set the record straight early on, I gave the kid $100. I couldn't take advantage of his naivete.

As an aside on the money issue, one guy I had talked to was going to make me do half the work and still charge me $250. Ha.

So....it was the fastest packing job I've ever done in my life. I had everything boxed up or otherwise ready to move in 90 minutes. That has to be some kind of world record for moving.

Within the space of three hours from my phone call to the college kid with the pickup, all my stuff was moved into the house.

It was so awesome to wake up the first morning in my very own house. Let's just pray the economy doesn't completely collapse and force me to lose it as is happening to so many Americans. Luckily, PG and I have saved up enough of a reserve for our protection in the event of such a calamity, but I'm still nervous.

************************

This is my second morning in the house. It's still a wreck and I have no idea where anything is, and don't really have anyplace to put most of it since most of the house is still unusable.

But I decided to make my own coffee this morning rather than go up the street to Starbucks. Here is my time-line on that project:

1. Locate coffee, mug, spoon, sugar, filters, saucepan for boiling water, and my smart little one-cup coffee dripper thing: 45 minutes

2. Clean stovetop after becoming aware that it was crusted over with soot from when the wood floors were sanded: 20 minutes

3. Adjust shelving in refrigerator so that water dispenser could stand upright properly (you don't drink unfiltered tap water here, it's disgusting): 10 minutes

4. Boil water and make coffee: 5 minutes

Total time spent: 80 minutes, or about 3 times as long as it would have taken to go up to Starbucks. But at least I'll be ready for tomorrow morning.

*********************

I just got done enjoying my coffee with knaackebrod and creamed fish eggs with dill that you squeeze out of a toothpaste tube. (Yes, I went to Ikea last night.) And one month from tomorrow, my cats will be here with me.

Yay.

A few random thoughts late on a Friday night

This is not our house, but it may as well be.

I really need to check in with my Beloved and Gentle Readers more often. Every now and again I go back and read some old post of mine and then I see the comments which are usually funnier than the post. I laugh and laugh, and then think "why don't we do this any more?" Then I down half a bottle of vodka and call it a night.


**********


I hate what Proposition 8 has done to my personality. It has made the world black and white for me. Everyone is either with me or against me. Every person I see on the street, I think "I wonder how he voted on Prop 8?" Sometimes I automatically assume someone voted "Yes on 8" based on their haircut, and then I spend ten minutes feeling violent hatred toward them. This can't be healthy.


**********


My life is really, really dull right now. I work during the day (pretty much a 9-5 schedule unless I have to drive to Orange County in which case I get home later) and then spend between two and four hours in the evening making repairs to our new house. Being Mr. Fix-It and Mr. Painter and Mr. "Open-the-fucking-painted-shut-windows" is REALLY BORING, especially when I'm doing it all alone. At least if Poor George were here it might be more bearable. But right now I'm cursing the fact that we bought a fixer-upper. I am ready to be done with all of it and enjoy the fruits of my labor. Ha, that'll be the day.


**********


The people we bought the house from should be lined up and shot for their criminal sense of style and color. Every room was painted in some barf tone, and there are all these "adorable" little accents like light switch covers with flowers all over them. Giving this house a makeover will be one of the nicest things I've ever done for humanity. No one should ever have had to look at this shit.


**********


It's kind of rude of me to complain about my house with the terrible state of the economy, with people losing their houses left and right. But I never claimed to be a nice guy.


**********

Good night.

Prop 8 Protest - San Diego - November 15, 2008

I'm standing near the front of the line holding a big white sign that you probably can't read. It says "GET YOUR CHURCH OUT OF MY MARRIAGE."

Saturday was a day of national protest against the passage of Proposition 8 in California. The bastards that organize the passing of these propositions are sure getting their come-uppance after doing this to California. Everyone understands that's how life is in Alabama, but when they start fucking with California (or New York) it's time for the masses to get pissed. And they are pissed.

Interestingly, San Diego had the largest turnout of any city in the country. I will take credit for this as I've been spouting venom to anyone who will sympathize for weeks now. I'm new to the city so I don't have a lot of friends yet, and now people think I'm a raving lunatic and will probably try to avoid me. I guess that's ok, because they're right.

But let's keep up the fight for equal rights.


CP

Waaaah!!! Why won't you let me talk????

This is a Prop H8 supporter crying.

Also, remember to protest Prop H8 this Saturday!!!

Right-wing groups and their supporters love to shriek that members of progressive movements are always interfering with their "right to free speech."

Not only are the Mormons crying because of the public backlash against them after their multi-million dollar campaign of hatred against the gay community, but now companies and people that are being blacklisted and boycotted due to their publicly documented financial support of Proposition 8 are saying things like "why should I be boycotted for exercising my right to free expression?"

The lawyer in me is always irked by this. Although frankly, it isn't even the lawyer in me that is irked; it's the semi-intelligent being in me that is irked.

Our right to free speech in the U.S. doesn't have anything to do with being civil to each other, folks. It doesn't have anything to do with being nice. The notion of free speech has to do with being able to say what you believe without the GOVERNMENT standing in your way, with occasional exceptions, mostly related to public safety.

So let's get this straight, Mormons and everyone else who doesn't understand this. It's LEGAL for you to say "gays should burn in hell. Or at least they shouldn't get Social Security and health care."

And it's LEGAL for us to reply "any Mormon who supported Prop 8, or anyone else who supported Prop 8, should be boycotted." Not only is it legal, it is fair.

Why is it OK for you to strip me of my civil rights, while it is antithetical to the "democratic process" for me to call for a boycott against you because of your beliefs? (Short answer: the democratic process works both ways, asswipes. If you attack me, you'd better expect to be attacked in return.)

If I read one more statment from the LDS church calling for us to be "civil" to them after this nasty stunt they pulled, I might actually go postal.

Love,

CP

A White Trash Christmas Story

Some of my Gentle Readers have been complaining that CPW has been too serious lately, what with all this political talk. Nothing like stripping people of their civil rights to kill a party- that's what we always said in my house growing up!

So I'm taking a break from pleading for your support to overturn Proposition 8, and will instead relate to you an amusing tale my pal Michael recently shared with me about his father's white trash relatives in Minnesota.

One Christmas, one of Michael's uncles offered to "host" the extended family for a party on Christmas Eve day. When the day arrived, people were told to convene at the local bowling alley instead of at the uncle's house.

When Michael and his parents and siblings arrived at the bowling alley they discovered a group of their white trash relatives mingling in the bar area; the uncle hadn't even reserved private lanes for them to bowl in. It was basically like any other Friday night in Cow-Shit Minnesota.

After Michael had resigned to relax and enjoy himself, one of his cousins came up to him and said "Hey Michael, someone's choking your brother over there."

Michael turned around and saw a large plaid-shirted lumberjack attempting to squeeze the very life out of his small-framed brother. By the time he went over to intervene, several other men had already tackled the lumberjack, setting the blue-faced brother free to retch and try to catch his breath.

Michael asked him what happened.

"Well, he was being really obnoxious trying to talk to Darla, and it seemed like she wanted him to leave her alone. So I went over and stood between them."

Apparently the lumberjack said "my, you're fragile little man" and proceeded to choke him.

Yeah, that's Christmas with the trashy relatives. Good times.

NATIONWIDE Proposition 8 protests - Saturday November 15

Gentle Readers,

Thank you SO MUCH to all of you who commented, donated and took other action to protest the abomination that occurred in California on election day.

Here is the latest on what we can do: there is a NATIONWIDE protest scheduled THIS SATURDAY, November 15 in many cities across the US. The protests are supposed to occur in front of city hall of whatever city you are in.

They will take place all at the same time (10:30 am Pacific, 11:30 Mountain, 12:30 Central, and 1:30 Eastern.)

Check this site to see where to go in your city.

Please keep this fight alive for all of us.

Love,

CP

A few things we can do now

Hi all,

I have the greatest Gentle Readers of any blogger. You all have said "what can I do?"

I have been wrestling with this question, since there has been some debate in the "No on 8" community as to the best course of action. E.g. some are saying "lay off the attack on the Mormons."

While I agree it would be unwise to kill, maim or torture any Mormons physically, that does not mean we have to be quiet about what they and their Evangelical brethren have done to us.

Many are calling for a re-evaluation of their tax-exempt status. They may have the right to their political opinion, but we as taxpayers most certainly do not have to subsidize their illegal campaign of hatred.

Since they have so many bazillions of dollars, we should make them pay their fair share of taxes. Wouldn't that be a nice boost to the economy, and so badly needed at this time?

To see what to do, please visit this post at Katie Schwartz's blog to sign the petition (and a few other helpful items.) It is also possible to donate to the "No on 8" campaign through the link on her site as well.

Love and freedom to marry to you all, Gentle Readers.

CP

Post Prop 8

This is me on election night. I stood with my sign outside the voting site until the bitter end.

Sorry for my absence, Gentle Readers, but I've been a little preoccupied since the Mormons convinced 52% of California voters to put discrimination right into our state constitution this week by approving Proposition 8.

It is the first time a constitution was changed to take rights away from people who already had them. Isn't that charming?

Californians are offended that such a strong out of state push caused this. And if there is any silver lining in this at all, it's that everyone else now hates Mormons almost as much as I do.

People are pissed. I mean, really pissed. We marched 10,000 people strong through the streets of San Diego today - I don't have any pictures, but they are all over the news.

We are not going to stand for this, Gentle Readers. You have my solemn vow that from here on in I will do whatever is necessary to protect MY marriage to Poor George. I hope you are with me.

More coming.

CP

It's official: Mormons are Spawn of Satan

I want everyone to watch the video below. (Thanks to Skyler's Dad for sending me the proper embedding code!)

Not surpisingly, the Mormons are upset by this ad. I can't understand why; the effect of what they do has the exact same outcome. They just like to pretend they are so nice, that they don't hate gay people and that when they spew bile and hatred against us they are "just expressing their opinion" whereas we....

Well, I guess since we aren't full citizens, we don't have the right to our opinion. So I guess their anger is justified.

Enjoy the ad. I did.

CP

The Mama Gin Files: Queen of the Wicked

Whatever else you may say about Poor George, he's certainly good for a chuckle now and again. I'm not sure how publicly I have announced this yet, but Poor George and I are FINALLY rid of the daily hassles that are Mama Gin- I because I have moved to San Diego, and Poor George because he shipped her off to live with her Number One Son, Stanley, in San Francisco.

Mama Gin is getting along famously in SF as per the photograph below - a photograph that reminds me of one of PG's great moments in domestic comedy.

One day I came home from work to find George in a state of particularly high agitation. I asked him what was wrong. His reply:

"What's wrong? What do you mean 'what's wrong?'" he said, pointing to Mama Gin who was as usual hovering outside, trying to peer in our window. "How am I supposed to feel with Miss Elphaba spying on me all day?"

The characterization was so dead on that I probably howled for thirty minutes.

For those of you who are not fans of "Wicked," Elphaba is the main character who later became known as the Wicked Witch of the West in the Oz books.

I'm married!

PG's hand on top of CP's. You can't tell from the picture, but our rings are white gold.

Gentle Readers,

I never ever thought I would see this day. I am almost entirely beyond words at this point, so this post will be short.

The day I met Mindy June, playing Trivial Pursuit at college back in 1984, I never would have imagined in a million years that she would, twenty-four years later, be standing in the middle of a park in San Diego pronouncing me legally married to a guy I loved.

In 1984 I never ever would have imagined myself standing amongst a circle of twenty-two beloved friends and family members getting married to Poor George. Yet it did happen, on October 25, 2008!

Poor George left for New York this morning, where he will have to live, apart from me, for the next few months while he sorts out our affairs there. PG was followed by my sister and her husband. And this afternoon I said farewell to my parents and to Mindy June; everyone had to travel a long distance back to their own lives. I cried for half an hour after the last good-bye.

I don't know why I should feel so sad, because marrying George was one of the happiest moments of my life. I guess it's just the rush of emotion after such an emotional weekend. But even with the post-partum sadness, I wouldn't trade this weekend for anything in the world.

Mindy did such a beautiful job with the ceremony that I can't yet describe it adequately. Instead, I simply suggest you read her transcript here.

I'll blog more details about everything once I've gotten a grip on myself.

Love to you all,

CP

Five Things I Hate is back!

Gentle Readers,

Many of you remember Five Things I Hate, the blog where you can rant, anonymously, about the things you hate in our world. But not everyone knew that I was the wizard behind the curtain of that particular blog.

I had let Five Things I Hate fall by the wayside for a number of reasons, none of them very good ones. (I hate that!) Then eventually I just assumed Yahoo! had turned off the email account associated with Five Things I Hate due to lack of use - and so I stopped trying. (I hate that!)

Well, as many of you know, I am getting married to Poor George on Saturday! Last night I got a sore throat, so I am facing the possibility of having a cold during my marriage weekend. I hate that! I hate it so much that I thought to myself "self, I wish you could post that on Five Things I Hate."

So I logged on, and lo and behold it still works! (I don't hate that!)

So go ahead and proceed to email me the five things you hate to fivethingsihate@yahoo.com. As often as you'd like.

We maintain a strict privacy and anonymity policy at Five Things I Hate. We will NEVER divulge the email, identity or any other information about the people who email us their putrid bile. This is meant to be a community art project and as such the integrity of the project is sacred to us, the proprietors of Five Things I Hate. So as long as you don't give anything away to divulge yourself, your hatred is safe here with us.

As always, we reserve the right to deny posts that are just too offensive. E.g. a post that lists "N***ers, fags, women and Jews" will not likely make the grade.

So, Gentle Readers, let's hear it. We want your bile. Today.

CP

Last fling before I get hitched

I don't know what it is about Pink that has always thrilled me. It's not that often that I fall for a girl, but this one just drives me insane. I'm so glad this song has been getting so much replay because I think it's one of her best - and if you're anything like me, her every movement in this performance just shudders with sensuality.

I don't know why I've fallen so hard for this woman. Probably because she's a guy.


Poor George, will you forgive me?

Please help fight the bigots in California!

UPDATE! See Mindy June's blog for an important post on this topic!

Gentle Readers,

It breaks my heart that this is happening. Right wingers are just so bent on hurting gay people that they are going out of their way to try to solidify their bigotry and hatred right into California's state constitution by eliminating the newly-acquired right of same-sex couples to marry.

I have been watching the TV commercials the right wingers have paid for and they SICKEN me. Scare tactics that all hell will break loose if the fags & dykes continue to marry. Messages that we are forcing our lifestyle on the schools and children, etc. It makes me so mad I want to kill someone.

What really burns me is that something like this does NOTHING AT ALL to help them. Nothing, that is aside from quenching their thirst to do harm to others for no good reason.

IF YOU KNOW SOMEONE WHO LIVES IN CALIFORNIA, PLEASE TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS BEFORE THE ELECTION AND CONVINCE THEM TO VOTE "NO" ON PROPOSITION 8!

You can also click here to learn more and to donate!

Thank you, Gentle Readers.

Love,

CP

My life would seem sad if it weren't funny

I was telling Mindy June yesterday that I had finally reached the "oh fuck, I moved" freak-out phase which is an inevitable part of any significant relocation. It came about as I was tackling my first home-improvement project, which is to open all twelve of the painted-shut windows in our new fixer-upper house.

I had gone shopping for supplies at Lowes on Friday night after having my In-N-Out Double Double, alone, where I sat next to a teen couple that I assumed to be newly dating. I was practicing my eavesdropping skills, which don't come easy to me these days as I grow increasingly hard of hearing wherever there's background noise.

Just as I was grasping the late-teen drama as it unfolded, I up and spilled my root beer, creating a coolio dark brown waterfall over the edge of the table. It would have been really pretty had it not splashed the legs of my teen dining neighbors and caused a general commotion in the surrounding area.

The kids were nice about it, but the whole thing made me feel like a sad-sack middle-aged loser without a dinner date. Of course this didn't stop me from refilling my root beer and finishing all my food. I also hope I set a good example for all the teens in the restaurant by thoroughly sopping up my mess with a stack of wet napkins.

After dinner I proceeded on to Lowes where I spent $200 on sundry house supplies such as garden clippers, trash cans, putty knives, box cutters, razor blades and the like. I dropped it all off at my house before proceeding "home" to the apartment I rented for a few months so that I could have a clean place to live while I get the house ready for regular habitation.

Yesterday afternoon I began the task of opening the windows. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say I now have two fully opened windows and one which I got open two inches before breaking the window pane, which will now require my purchasing two new windows on that side of the house. (I know I only broke one window, but they will have to match on accounta I'm a gay man.)

That process took about two hours, which is fine except that it was REALLY REALLY BORING. And I was all alone. Lonely, sad-sack house-poor me. Poor George won't be able to get here until early 2009, so this is my life until then: really boring house tasks that I have to do all by my sad, sad self. I called Mindy June.

"You've been working hard all week getting settled, shopping for a car and all that. Maybe you should take the night off and do something relaxing or something that you enjoy," she said. Great advice. I wasn't really in the mood for much, but all day I had been craving some Mike's Hard Lemonade - I love that stuff. I decided to get a six-pack, some fish tacos and tamales and rent a movie or two to watch back at the apartment.

In about an hour I was sitting on the couch in my temporary apartment watching "The Office" and "Superbad," eating tacos and tamales with Cool Ranch Doritos and drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade. I capped off my meal with a Kit-Kat bar and some new-fangled combination Butterfinger-Reeses thing that I was not very impressed with.

The lemonade didn't make me drunk, but I must have been a little tipsy or something because by the end of the night, after drinking four of them, I grabbed my laptop and started composing a deeply felt blog entry on the moral worthiness of the movie "Superbad." I didn't finish it because I was distracted by an impulse to play a few rounds of Yahoo! Pop & Drop, after which I lost the inspiration to write. Probably a good thing, but the fact remains that my life has temporarily been reduced to drinking alone while eating junk food and watching silly teen movies.

Hmmm, it doesn't really sound that bad now that I describe it. I guess I'll let you, my Gentle Readers, decide.