This Man's Life

Bubblegum Jones

2008-07-28T22:50:00.000-07:00

This is the final entry for This Man's Life. While this blog will remain active, you can read all the latest ramblings here.

Mahalo

I should just...DIE!

2007-05-04T15:54:00.000-07:00

Riding my bike in Balboa Park yesterday evening, This Man stumbled upon these signs posted throughout all of the park.

About a month ago, I'd seen one, but it was near the kids' playground so I paid no mind to it, thinking, "Good, [we] shouldn't be smoking near the kids." But damn it if that didn't include all of the park! And it's not just the park where you can't smoke--it's the beaches as well. I remember when it was in the local news that the city council was debating this ordinance, even then, This Man figured it would be a while before it became effective. Yet, here I was in Redwood Circle, gazing up at this sign--and smoking a Newport!

ARGH! I may as well stay inside. For the record, I'm down for not smoking in bars, nightclubs and restaurants, but no This Man can't even smoke outside. Where's the humanity?! And before I get lectured on quitting smoking, I'm going to (eventually). One day.
And it's sure as hell not today!

Mahalo

A puppy and God.

2007-04-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

Shhh, don't wake the puppy.

After a crazy & hectic week of getting settled into the new place and desperately needing some down time, John invited his friend, Sigma and his partner, Dennis to go to the Hillcrest Farmers' Market with us. Following that, John and I planned to drive up to La Jolla to PetSmart where they were having a dog adoption from the local Labrador Rescue. Even though we were still hesitant to commit to owning a dog together, we were just going to "look".
Sigma and Dennis arrived and brought us this housewarming gift.
"We have to get it ready," they shouted from downstairs. I couldn't imagine what they had for us.
In a cardboard carry box, was this little bundle.
"He's sleeping." Dennis informed us.
I was peering through the cutouts, trying to figure out whether it was a rabbit, a gerbil or--heaven forbid, a kitten. It was this little pup.
"We figured, since you guys might not get a dog that we would get this one for you." Sigma explained. John and I, both were struck--by its realness.
Our little puppy, is battery operated and when you switch it on, it moves to look as if it's breathing. They told us that they'd found it while in San Francisco and thought it to be the perfect gift.
They were so right!
Later in the afternoon, after driving all the way up to La Jolla only to be told that there wasn't a rescue adoption going on--"...otherwise, I would've known about it, " the sales lady told us.--John and This Man were driving back down I-5 when I spotted, way above us, on top of this cliff, Mt. Soledad.
"I don't see what's the point of that memorial being way up there, " This Man began. " I mean, you can't see it from the freeway unless you know where to look and not too many people know how to get up there to it."
It was then, with sweet clarity and the simplicity of a 2 year old, John replied, "God knows."

Mahalo

The Night Before.

2007-04-21T16:47:00.000-07:00

' Twas the night before moving day
and all through the house.
John was running all over the place
This Man was being a louse (well, not really--but it rhymes).

Up to this point, packing up for the Big Move had seemed to be a bit of a dream, yet I was watching John as he packed, all the while telling myself that this was it. We were moving in together. No, I wasn't having second thoughts about it. It just seemed surreal. This Man was actually going to live with another man. And that's what made me nervous.
How would he handle me? What about my moments when I want total silence? What about those times when I just want to be with myself? How would he tolerate my bad habits?
How? What? Why?
Ohmygod, I was getting anxious again. Once my anxiety resided and I was able to continue packing the kitchen up, This Man grabbed my camera and snapped these pictures of John working like a Trojan.

We were moving in together. And just like that, the anxiety turned to excitement.

Mahalo

Only Because...

2007-04-14T19:26:00.000-07:00

I only miss my former friend, Scott because I finally got a new frisbee and wish that I had someone who could play just as aggressively (and FOR HOURS) like he did. I've yet to find such a person.
I only miss my former friend, Scott because I finally got a new bicycle and crave someone to ride all over San Diego with me (until our legs BURNED) like only he could.
I only miss my former friend , Scott because sometimes I miss hanging out at the park, getting stoned and bonding. I still haven't found a replacement.
Whenever I think about how much I miss him, then This Man thinks about how badly he hurt my feelings.

Mahalo

Ditched--again!

2007-04-10T17:30:00.000-07:00

This whole misunderstanding started when This Man sent my friend, Jason the following online message:

hey...wanna go bike riding and play some frisbee before dark?

To which, he responded with:

you only message me cause you're bored. I need better friends than that...
I'll talk to you much. Much later.

I KNOW! This Man was shocked by it also!
Not only that, but he blocked me so I couldn't respond to that message. So I did what any guy in this predicament would've done. I switched to my backup screenname (DON'T act like you don't have more than one online profile--again, I can't be the only one) then sent him this counter response:

Have it your way. But you know you'll never find another person that is as good a friend as I've been to you. And you know it.

But even after I'd sent that last email, This Man was still wondering what I'd did to get this kind of reaction from Jason. I didn't understand it. I was doing what I thought friends were supposed to do--I was inviting him out because I wanted to be with him. I wanted to hang out with him and this was what I'd gotten in return.
I can't even call it being ditched.
So like my relationship with Raymond and my friendship with Scott, I've decided to let my friendship with Jason end strictly on his terms. I don't want to waste time arguing or trying to convince him to see things my way, but rather I'll give him what he wants.
Now the fucked up part is, I feel like shit for doing so.

Mahalo

Chew on It.

2007-04-08T18:30:00.000-07:00

Lying in bed with John after dining at a Greek cafe, we were fooling around with his laptop and looking up some word definitions. Over dinner, he'd used a few crazy adjectives (none of which, This Man dares to list here) to describe my personality and when we'd came home, he was showing me their meanings.
But one word that I didn't expect that there would be a definition for what the word, Byronic.
According to the Oxford American Dictionary, Byronic (adj.) means:

characteristic of Lord Byron and his poetry.
(of a man) alluringly dark, mysterious or moody.

I'm not kidding. It's actually there.
" Hmm, wait a minute!" This Man exclaimed. "Let me chew on that." Instantly, I reached for my small spiral notebook that's always nearby and scribbled down the definition. Then I started getting an idea.
" I think I can work with this." I told John. "How does this sound, 'That's so Byronic!' ?"
HA!
So I'm chewing on that name and I'm thinking about changing the name of this blog.

That's so Byronic!

Chew on it and let me know what you think.

Mahalo

The New Bitch.

2007-04-06T19:01:00.000-07:00

She's blue and she rides like a dream.
This Man planned on buying the yellow 2006 Diamondback Sorrento bicycle that I'd seen for months at the pawn shop in North Park. Finally, with cash in hand, I rushed down to the store only to find that the bike had been sold already! Never mind, that for months that bike was in the window (I know because I checked periodically), but once I was finally ready to commit, it was gone!
Off to Mission Hills Bike Shop I went. Since I couldn't have the yellow bike, I was going to have to spend a bit more instead for the 2007 Diamondback Sorrento in Electric Blue which was cool, considering it was my backup choice.
" We may have it in black, " the sales guy told me. But they didn't.
It didn't matter because finally, I was getting a new bicycle which meant that I could finally get past having my old one stolen (remember that).
My new Bitch. I haven't named her yet, but I will. She rides like a dream and I'd barely made it around the block before a guy stopped me on the street to compliment it.
So here she is.

And for the last time, This Man will post a picture of My Old Lady. I still miss her.

Mahalo

Madame Alexander

2007-04-05T19:01:00.000-07:00

This evening, while on my way to John's house, This Man stopped at McDonald's in Hillcrest for a quick bite. Walking in the restaurant, alone, I had the privilege of this exchange with the cashier.
" May I take your order?" The unmotivated Mexican woman asked.
" Yeah, let me have the...6 piece chicken McNuggets Mighty Kids meal."
" For here or to go?"
" Um, it's for me. I'll have it here." I said and reached into my pocket through the wad of bills.
" Will the toy be for a boy or a girl?" She asked without looking up from the register. And at this moment, I decided to be a smart ass.
" What's the toy this month?"
" For boys it's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and for girls..."
" Well, give me the girls' toy." I interrupted, "I never liked the Ninja Turtles."
She gave me a sidewards glance, but when I nodded my head, she got with the program. After all, this was Hillcrest, she should've been used to such gender bending.
When I got my Happy Meal, This Man immediately looked into the bag, past the nuggets and past the french fries to the bottom of the bag and there she was. A miniature doll in plastic. Her name is Madame Alexander. She's about 4 inches tall, wearing a white smock with yellow flowers and a white dunce cap also with yellow flowers. With blonde hair that can be fingered to resemble the old Farrah Fawcett-feathered look. She was mine...all mine!

I gave her to John once I got to his place.

Mahalo

Here's the Skinny

2007-04-04T18:04:00.000-07:00

So walking from John's house to the condo development that This Man has been doing some painting at combined with playing frisbee whenever I can find someone that wants to play with me and the fact that I've become so conscientious of what and when I eat, I've slimmed down from a whopping 205 pounds and a 36 inch waist to a nice 185 pounds and a 32 inch waist.
But the real fruit of my labor came when I made a pit stop at American Apparel in Hillcrest today and dared myself to try on the new Slim Slacks black skinny jeans.
SIZE 32s BABY!

Hell, I was surprised and amazed. I've always thought that skinny jeans looked great on skinny people and I've even thought that slim-fitting jeans looked great on men with nice, muscular calves, but I would've never imagined that This Man would be trying a pair on. But here I was--in the dressing room, reaching into my backpack and grabbing my camera.
I checked myself out from every angle, mentally thinking about what I could pair these slacks with and where I could wear them to (which was funny, considering I never go anywhere), but it all came to a screeching halt when I dared myself to flip over the price tag.
68 bucks!
Fuck NO!!! Not today, not tomorrow and not anytime soon.
However, if they do put them on sale, This Man will be all over it.

Mahalo

Thanks Anderson Cooper

2007-03-23T15:10:00.000-07:00

Last night, curled up watching Anderson Cooper 360 and cuddling with John, This Man knew what my answer was.

Diving into the Deep End.

2007-03-21T22:45:00.000-07:00

This was some serious shit--even for This Man.

Last night while at John's house, the conversation came up about This Man moving in with him. He'd recently sold his house and would soon be moving onto his property temporarily.
"...and I was wondering how would you feel about moving in with me?" He asked. Just like that.
Quite naturally, I couldn't be expected to respond at that moment, but even while he started listing some of the positives of it, I started mentally listing all of the negatives of it. The crazy part was: there weren't many negatives to list.
This wasn't something that This Man was going to be quick to give an answer to. To better give you an understanding of how serious this was (even for two gay men), this was the equivalent of a straight couple talking about moving in together. As you can see, it's the exact same thing. But with only 2 men!
Early this afternoon, I talked it over with Jay, Lucy & Jason. Then I thought about it. Then I thought about it some more. Finally, I called John and told him that I'd been thinking about it. So had he. To be continued...

Mahalo

Back in Baby's Arm

2007-03-15T16:46:00.000-07:00

This Man heard this Patsy Cline hit last night at John's house. I think that sentence alone tells the whole story.

I'm back in baby's arms
How I missed
Those lovin' arms
I'm back where I belong
Back in baby's arms

Don't know
Why we quarreled
We never did before
Since we found out
How it hurt
I bet we never
Quarrel anymore

Thought I didn't
Need his love
'Til he took it away
Now I'm back
Where I belong
And in my baby's arms
I'm gonna stay

Back in baby's arms...

Mahalo

That coffee thang!

2007-03-10T19:13:00.000-08:00

This Man was a bit surprised to receive an email from John, having been a couple of weeks since I last had any communication with him ('communication' meaning, he'd left the letter on the porch before his trip to Texas). It was an email containing only two words.

Coffee sometime?

That was all it said. So I sat there, looking at those two words and wondering should I or shouldn't I? I could think of a million reasons to do it. After all, it was just coffee. But then I could think of a few reason why I shouldn't do it. After all, it was just coffee.
Twenty minutes later, This Man was still looking at that email. I knew what my answer was. Finally, mustering up the nerve, I hit the keyboard and began rapidly typing my response.

John, I...

Mahalo

More pressure from the boil.

2007-03-07T14:23:00.000-08:00

It came in the mail today.

My bill for my visit to the emergency room. Remember when I blogged about having to have the abscess drained from my right knee the day after Valentine's Day?
$826.47!
Are they fucking kidding me? Sure enough when I ripped open the envelope, there it was, everything was itemized, complete with charges and costs. I don't have that kind of money just lying around so This Man will definitely looking to get some sort of assistance for it. But the funny part about this bill was, there's actually a return envelope included, should I decide to just send them a nice check for the total amount.
Yeah, Scripps...just sit there and wait for it. It's in the mail.

Mahalo

To Donovan from Daddy

2007-03-06T03:36:00.000-08:00

Donovan.
Just seeing these pictures got me to thinking about how much you've grown. I'll bet you can't remember these days, but I certainly do. It was January of 2000, you were 3 years old and we'd recently moved to San Diego. You were a little ball of fire! Your mother and I could barely keep up with you. Lucy took these pictures of you with the web cam and sent them to me when I was deployed to the Middle East. I imagine you were running around, in those Blue's Clues pajamas, working her last nerve! Boy, were you a cutie.

Then there was this set. Concerned that there was something wrong with your eyesight, Lucy took you to have your eyes checked. Again, Daddy was on another deployment to the Middle East, only this time it was 2003. She'd sent me an email, entitled "Four Eyes" and to my surprise, there you were looking just as handsome--wearing your new eyeglasses! Your mother told me that she talked with you about having to wear glasses and to help you get over the sudden change, she snapped these pictures of the two of you.

I sat looking at these pictures for the longest time today. I couldn't help but smile and marvel at how everything has changed (some things good and some things bad), but one thing has always remained a constant, Donovan and that's my love for you. Son, you have no idea how much I miss you, how much I love you and how I think about you every day. Seeing these pictures only reminded me of how you've grown into such an amazing boy.
Daddy misses you and loves you more than you will ever know.

Remembering the Old Navy

2007-03-05T15:34:00.000-08:00

This Man got a small package in the mail from Lucy this afternoon.

She'd found an old navy blue Abercrombie muscle shirt of mine and decided to mail it to me. Even though, according to the note that was enclosed, "the weather is chilly in San Diego..." she felt that I may have wanted the shirt. And I did. But the real treasure inside the envelope wasn't the muscle shirt, nor was it the denim iron-on patches, it was a zip disk that she'd found and decided to include it also. I couldn't even remember what was on the disk, but luck was on my side because in this house was an iomega zip drive.
It was pictures. Pictures from early 2002. There were pictures of Lucy. There were pictures of Donovan and there were pictures of me at work when I was stationed on my first guided-missile destroyer here in San Diego.
The first picture was taken while sitting in Radio during a General Quarters drill. We were training for a CBR (Chemical, Biological & Radiological) excercise which is why I have the gas mask and flash gear.

In this picture was my old watch team around December 2002. Our ship was on deployment so it's safe to say that we were in or around Hong Kong. We were standing the mid (7p.m until 7 a.m.) watch of a 12 on 12 off shift and even though it looks as if we're doing nothing at the time, we were actually working our asses off! From the left is Oziel, myself, my dear friend Shandra (we were reading an issue of Maxim) and Sindra's on the phone. Our radio shack was soooo cold, which is why they're wearing jackets and Oziel has the hat on. This was the best watch team that I ever had! Each one of them was smart and an expert in their specialized areas.

Mahalo

"You're...too...stupid!"

2007-03-04T13:14:00.000-08:00

Last night, This Man was having a conversation with my friend, Ty. He was going on about why the men that he'd met online would lie about so many trivial things. He just wanted to understand their thinking.

"It's because they think that you're too stupid, " I explained. "That you're either too horny or too stupid to notice."
I imagined him doubled over in laughter.
"When a guy lies about his age online, Ty, it's because he thinks that you'll be too stupid or too horny to see that when he said he was 35, he actually meant 55. When he looks as if he's gained 20 pounds between the time that he sent you a picture of himself and the time that he shows up at your doorstep and he's hoping that you won't notice because [he thinks] that you're too stupid to notice such a thing."
I continued like this for a few minutes.
"When you see online photographs that look a little bit too perfect, it's because they're thinking that you'll be too stupid to notice. When a guy tries to invite you over for "just a massage", he's thinking that you'll be too horny or too stupid to stop him from going further. Simply put, you're...too...stupid!"

Mahalo

Raunchy, yet Tasteful.

2007-03-03T14:20:00.000-08:00

Remember the one day when you felt your sexiest? It maybe was that day when,--even though this may sound a bit shallow-- you looked your most attractive. It's the day when you're proudest of your physique, your skin glows, your hair does what it's supposed to and you radiate confidence. Your smile is the brightest and damn it--you just look so fucking fantastic! Even you would want to do you.
Well, a couple of days ago, This Man experienced that first hand. And while everything else going on in my life is chaotic (I'm 33, I've lost everything, I miss my son and things haven't been going according to my plans), this moment came after I'd gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed. Rather than let this moment pass, I figured I would snap some pictures of myself. There was just enough light coming into the room, but sunset was rapidly approaching so I knew that I would have to hurry (I hate taking pictures using a flash). So I suited up. I broke out my leather harness, which I hadn't worn since Leather Pride in Palm Springs last year, grabbed a leather slapper--What?! Don't act like you don't keep a leather slapper lying around your house for those spontaneous fetish spank sessions. I know I'm not the only one--so stop playing-- set the timer on my camera and snapped.
5 frames. 10 minutes total. That was all it took.
Perfect. Even if This Man says so.

I thought about cropping out the background, but the more I looked at the shots, the more I liked the grittiness of it. It's kinda raunchy, but tasteful. Kinda shocking, but erotic.
Hmmm, sounds like somebody that I know.
So here's the new picture of the day when I felt my sexiest. Here's what you don't see in that picture:
1. I'm wearing white calf socks and Adidas slip on sandals.
2. I need a hair cut.
3. I smacked the hell out of my right hand with that leather slapper.
4. I was playing music by The Killers in the background.

Mahalo

A Blunt and a Stroll

2007-03-01T00:22:00.000-08:00

It was around 1o:30p.m. when This Man decided to go for a stroll.

It was a bit chilly outside, so I had to wear the heavy parka and hopefully it wouldn't start raining while I was out. A few blocks from University Avenue, I ran into this woman on the sidewalk on the brink of tears.
She was trying to light a blunt--with some matches!
" Here. Do you need a light?" I offered.
"My fucking daughter pisses me off!" She started after taking a strong pull off of it and instantly passing it to me. I hit it also.
"What happened?"
"My daughter...she's 19. Tonight she was with her boyfriend and I told her--I live around the corner, over near Walgreens--so I asked if her and her boyfriend could drop me off on 30th. Then, that bitch tells me, 'Mama, you can't just TELL people to do stuff for you; you have to ASK!"
While she was telling me what happened, I took a long hard pull and let the smoke fill my chest. I don't particularly like blunts, especially when rolled with unflavored tobacco paper.
"...so I just told them to stop the car and let me out. I'm so sick of her and that low-life boyfriend of hers."
That woman and This Man were sitting in front of the art galleries on Ray Street, totally unaware of the people strolling across the narrow street from us. She continued going on and on about something, but I could feel that effects of that blunt taking over.
"Well, thanks for the hit, " I told her. It was time for me to keep moving.
"Thanks for listening to me and thanks for the light." She said. I noticed that she was no longer about to cry. Hell, I imagine because she was baked.

Mahalo

"And the Academy Award goes to..."

2007-02-25T23:58:00.000-08:00

"I'm going to the Redwing to watch the Oscars." This Man told my friend, Jason and my house mate, Jay.

I'd been looking forward to Oscar Sunday since this past December. And while there was a time when I would've watched the Academy Awards with Lucy, this was the first year that I would be watching them alone (technically).
Oscar Sunday. Sure it's exciting to watch the Red Carpet show and see who's wearing what and to get commentary on the nominees. This year, I planned to show up at the Redwing Bar & Grill just as the show started, thereby forgoing the long, drawn out pre-show. I couldn't have time my arrival better (I showed up just as Ellen DeGeneres was delivering her opening monologue). There was only a handful of people in the dark bar, watching the show on 3 flat screens and on 60 inch television. I found a bar stool and settled in.
About an hour and a half later, Jason showed up. He was going to meet his online friend, (read, trick) Ryan to play darts. An apple martini in hand, he settled in and munched on some free KFC ("...but you have to drink something!" the bartender informed me) that the bar provided.
"Ryan's getting fat, " my friend, Jason (forever the critic) started. "He's gained some weight since I saw him last."
"And you're saying this as you're scarfing down a 2 piece chicken dinner with a side?"
"It's a 3 piece, honey!"
I hadn't planned on drinking but here's how it started. One word: karaoke.
Somewhere in between the nominees for Best Art Direction and before the Best Supporting Actress categories, some queen got the idea to set up for karaoke.
"Okay, I think I'm ready for that beer now!" I declared as soon as one guy started singing. Budweiser number 1. No one was really paying attention to this queen trying to sing some horrible song, but once George Clooney came on stage to present the Best Supporting Actress award, things became serious.
"Shut that music off!" Jason screamed. Suddenly everyone was focused on the televisions.
"...and the Oscar goes to--Jennifer Hudson for Dreamgirls." And like the people in the Shrine Auditorium, everyone in the Redwing erupted into cheers and applause. I got chills! I was so excited that you would've thought that This Man was going to get an award also.
Mike, Jason's ex, joined us shortly and things started to really take off. Even Jason (who normally wouldn't be caught dead in a bar like the Redwing) looked as if he was having a good time. Even when he had to dash home for a brief conference call with his office and even when he promised that he would be right back, you have to imagine my surprise when he actually did return.
Sometime between one of my numerous trips to the outside patio to smoke, I'd ran into an old buddy, John (not the one that I was seeing recently) who I hadn't seen in almost 2 years. A ball of fire, he was still as feisty as when I'd seen him last.
"Oh my god! It's been, what--damn near 2 years since we've seen each other?!" I was so excited to see him. So we hung out. I introduced him to Mike and Jason, who by now were feeling super-festive (not to mention all over each other) and we all had a great time.
Initially, I'd planned on going to the bar, watching the awards then coming home, blogging about it, then going to bed. Instead, I stayed at the bar longer than I'd planned, I met more people than I'd anticipated and all around had a fantastic time. It felt good and I definitely needed it.
Once we finally left the Redwing, Mike drove Jason and I to Extraordinary Desserts and treated us to something sweet. Afterwards, it was home for me.
So that was Oscar night at the Redwing with some friends. And now here are the photos.
Jason and Mike looking adorable (and a bit drunk).

Jason had his boxing gloves in his car. It was a mishap waiting to happen, but the picture is cute actually.

Jason, Mike and myself.

The three of us and some drunk & frisky queen.

You gotta love Extraordinary Desserts!

Mahalo

The Power to Wow!

2007-02-23T01:33:00.000-08:00

My friend Jason.

There are times when he truly has the power to amaze This Man! This evening was one of those times. He worked from home today because he'd been a bit under the weather and I'd agreed to stop by his house to check up on him on my way home from the doctor.
"Where are you?" He asked. I was about to commence my 30 block stroll from First Street in Hillcrest down to 30th Street in North Park. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."
We agreed to meet in the middle (Park Boulevard & University Avenue).
Of course, we started with our usual argument of where to eat. I usually opt for someplace where the food is good but cheap whereas he goes for restaurants where the food is good and the patrons are young and attractive. This time we compromised and settled on Brians'.
We were looking at our menus when he noticed a nice looking guy, sitting at the counter, eating a starter salad. He was alone.
"That guy is hot!" I should point out that Jason has a thing for young, slim, fresh faced bois and sitting in front of us was exactly his type!
"Why don't you go up and talk to him, " I was still looking at my menu. "He's by himself. Why don't you go up, introduce yourself and invite him to come and join us?"
"I can't do that."
"Why not? He's by himself, what's the worst he could say?"
"Why don't you show me? Teach me how I should do it." Jason and I tossed this around for a bit.
" Just go up and say, 'Hi, I'm Jason and I was wondering if you would like to come over and join me and my friend over here since you're eating by yourself'"
"Okay, I can do that." And he did. He got up, walked over to the guy, introduced himself and invited him over.
And it worked! The guy came over, slid into our booth and joined us.
Turns our, our dinner companion was from Tennessee and he was in San Diego for his six month tour in the Navy Reserves. He was 28, a bit on the shy side, married (yes, married) and he was cute. But he was nice. Jason and I even managed to get him to relax and actually laugh a little (which was no easy task, I mean you try being a White guy asked to join two Black men at their dinner table and see if you relax) .
The conversation flowed and the three of us had a great time. Finally we settled our bills and parted ways. Jason and I still can't remember what his name was.
Back at Jason's apartment (which he got the place looking fantastic), he informed me that he was expecting a guy from Dallas at any moment.
"He's coming into town and I told him that he could stay in my empty room for a few days since he was new to this city and was looking for a job. He reminds me of when I first got to San Diego."
I instantly thought of the last 'roommate' that he'd offered his home to and prayed that there wouldn't be a repeat of that. The guy showed up half an hour later and actually seemed nice. Like Jason and myself, he was from Texas so that was a big plus. He started moving his things in. At first I thought that Jason, who isn't big on animals (namely cats) would frown on the small dog, but he was cool.
Again, I was amazed.
This evening, once This Man got home, I chatted with him on Gay.com.
"You know, " I typed. "You truly amaze me sometimes."
I explained that it was refreshing to see Jason going outside of his normal self. At Brians', he would've never have went up to a total stranger and invited them to join us at our table, normally opting to gawk at an attractive guy from a distance. Not tonight. And though he swore that he would never get in another roommate situation again, he was opening his home up to a guy who truly seemed to appreciate the gesture. Again, something that truly wowed me about him.
"I don't see what the big deal is," he typed back.
Here's the big deal, Jason: contrary to what you think, sometimes you truly have to power to wow me. The last thing I typed to him during our Gay.com chat session (he'd went to bed by then because he didn't respond) was, "You are truly a wonderful person and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Mahalo

Selfless Promotion

2007-02-22T11:18:00.000-08:00

I found this flier in the front yard.

Whoever he is, he sounds like someone worth getting to know.
So I did. I checked out his myspace site and This Man has to admit, his music is hot (my favorite track is Never Enough)! If you're reading this, go check him out.
He sounds like someone that's on the way up.
Mahalo

The Hand-Written Letter

2007-02-21T19:33:00.000-08:00

This Man was in the kitchen, washing dishes, when I saw him drive up.
I thought he'd left for his trip to Texas already. But here he was. I had no idea what I was going to say, but it didn't matter because by the time I realized that John was coming to the door, just like that, he was heading back to his car.
Then he was gone.
On the porch was a letter with my name on it.
It was over. Actually it was over on Saturday evening, but I'd been struggling with whether or not I could forgive and thereby truly forget and continue the way he and I were going or was it best that we stop and go our separate ways.
I stood and read the letter, then re-read the letter then finally just folded and put it back in its envelope and went back to what I was doing. Should I call him and let him know that I'd gotten the letter or should I just leave it alone? At first, This Man thought about calling John, but finally I decided to just leave it alone. It was over--I was fine and he was fine.
And that's all there was to it. Period. End of discussion.

Mahalo

First Names First

2007-02-19T23:50:00.000-08:00

This Man finally decided that it was becoming increasingly frustrating using initials when blogging about my friends, family and loved ones. So I've decided to start using first names only. The writing's starting to get a bit better as well.

Mahalo

San Diego Royalty

2007-02-16T20:39:00.000-08:00

Once This Man had made it to John's house and after I'd shared my story of torture at the hands of the doctor on duty at Scripps Mercy, John told me about his trip to Las Vegas. He'd taken his niece to Vegas for her 18th birthday (how cool is that). Then he presented me with a souvenir.

Quite possibly one of the--if not, the coolest souvenir that I've ever gotten from anybody. It's too cute to so much as flick an ash into it. It brings to mind a story that I'll share.
One Saturday, John and This Man went strolling through Hillcrest (for lunch and to grab some bread and pastries from Bread et Cie) and on our way back to his house, we passed a woman who was walking a small Yorkshire terrier.
"Hello princess, " I leaned down and said to the petite dog. Instantly, she sat and looked up at me.
"Wow!" The Yorkie's owner said. "She never does that."
"That's because she recognizes royalty when she sees it." I told her. Both she and John laughed. When we turned the corner onto John's street, This Man said, "It's true. Royalty recognizes royalty. I acknowledged her [the dog] and she knew what to do."

Sitting here, looking at the picture and seeing the actual ashtray to my left, This Man can't help but smile; just like I do whenever I look at the fur that John gave me for my birthday.

Mahalo

In Abscess

2007-02-15T22:50:00.000-08:00

So by Thursday evening, This Man realized that this bite on my right knee wasn't getting any better, but rather was getting progressively worse. The pain and swelling was starting to go down my calf and I could see my skin starting to redden. It was time to make an executive decision.
I had to go to the emergency room.
While heading to Hillcrest, I chatted on the phone with my friend, Jason. I hesitated about going to the E.R., but by the time I hung up the phone with him--I knew I had to go. So I walked the 2 blocks to Scripps Mercy.
There's a reason why they call it Scripps Mercy hospital. It's because [they] don't have any.
As expected, the emergency room was crowded and I figured there would be a long wait. The triage nurse (she was a real sweetheart) examined my leg and told me that I would definitely need to be seen and given an antibiotic for the wound. Now it was time to wait.
Next, I was called over to fill out my paperwork and get billing out of the way. During the wait, This Man called John, who was flying back into town from Las Vegas.
Hey John. By now you should be getting off of your plane and being held up and harassed at the airport. I'm just calling to let you know that I'm at Scripps Mercy in the E.R. and from the looks of it, I'm going to be here for a while. Anyway, rather than stop by my house, just swing by the hospital and we'll go from there. I left that message on his voice mail.
By the time I called John (his flight had been delayed) and Lucy (in Texas), tried to read a few pages of my book (Impeach the President: The Case Against Bush and Cheney), watched Animal Planet (it was on the waiting room television) and grew tired of being restless, This Man along with three other patients was escorted to another waiting room. We were told that we would be seen shortly.
In the second waiting room, it was me, a lady in a wheelchair and a young Mexican boy, who'd broken his right arm and injured his left pinky finger in P.E. class. Finally, after blindly watching an episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent, I finally was escorted to a bed to be prepped for the doctor. Sitting on the hospital bed with the hospital gown on (thankfully, I decided on clean underwear, heck thankfully I wore underwear PERIOD), This Man started snooping around and snapping pictures of myself. Then the doctor showed up. She looked at my leg and informed me that it was an abscess. In other words, I had a boil on my knee.

"We're (as if I was going to assist her) going to have to lance it. That means, we need to..." she began.
"I know what it means." I told her. Which didn't matter because she was already filling the syringe with anesthetic.
"Okay, I'm going to numb this..."she was telling me this as she was doing it. Rather than wait a couple of minutes for me to feel numbness, right away she started with the scalpel, slicing into the abscess. "Now we drain the pus..." Again, she's telling me this--not before she starts, but as she's already pressing on my swollen knee and shin.
At this point, I have to tell you, This Man was screaming through clenched teeth in pain!
"I CAN FEEL THAT...I CAN FEEL THAT!" I grunted. She repeated the whole process, only before she started, the doctor told me that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't looking at her actually do the process. So I leaned back, clenched my eyes shut, gripped the sides of the bed and grunted.
Once I finally opened my eyes, all I could see was blackness. But the pain didn't stop there. Now that she'd sliced it and lanced it, it needed to be packed. And she packed it--just as roughly as she'd lanced it.
"You need an antibiotic. I'll prescribe one right now." And just like that, she was gone!
Another nurse showed up minutes later and informed me that he would be going over some instructions and giving me an antibody.
"...in your hip." He said. Okay, now we have my right knee which feels like it's been sawed at with a butter knife and here we have this nurse (who, I swear I've seen at Beer Bust Sundays at The Hole) snapping on a pair of latex gloves and gearing up to give me a shot in the--I don't care what they call it, it's in the ass. "And you're all set. Here are some instruction on changing your dressing and locations of clinics that you can go to should you have a problem. Or you could come back here. Do you have any questions? No? Okay, then you can get dressed and go."
I struggled to put my jeans and shoes on. Now, my right knee was in pain and so was my left ass cheek. It didn't matter, really because all I wanted was to get out of there. I was doing a kind of limp & slide movement and eventually I made it back to the E.R. waiting room.
Out of the double doors, This Man could see that it was still crowded, but there was only one face that I was searching for.
John's.
He'd just arrived and was at the desk, asking where I was. He grinned when he saw me.
"You look like you're ready to get out of here."
"You have no idea!"
And through the sliding glass doors we went.

Mahalo.

My Horoscope

2007-02-08T17:47:00.000-08:00

My horoscope today:

If amping up you career isn't on the top of your to-do list right now, it should be.

There it is. In black and white. Plain and simple. Time to get crackin'.

Spider

2007-02-07T19:43:00.000-08:00

It all started with this damned spider bite on my right knee.

Last Saturday, while working in the yard of John's house, This Man was bitten by, what I later concluded, was a spider. The bite left a nice, aching bump just slightly to the right of my right knee cap. Not paying any attention to the growing wound, Monday the bite grew and was pretty red and that's when I realized that it needed to be looked at.
"You need to get that looked at immediately." John precautioned.
"Oh my god, you HAVE to go have it treated." Lucy told me from Texas.
"...Yeah, you might want to have it checked out." My housemate, Jay, advised.
Rather than travel all the way to La Jolla to the VA hospital and rather than endure the emergency room, This Man decided to walk around the block to the neighborhood clinic.
This was late Monday evening.
The first guy working at the clinic briefly dismissed the red bump as merely an insect bite. "You'll be fine," he said. "Just put some calamine lotion on it [for the itching]." I ran into John, showed him the bump and he recommended that we go back to the clinic to have it looked at.
Back at the clinic (again) and that's where I saw him. It was Raymond. My ex.
He didn't see me.
That was a good thing.
The charge nurse informed me that the doctor had already left for the evening and I would, in fact have to return tomorrow, seeing as I would need to get an antibiotic. "Come back early tomorrow morning, " she advised.
Tuesday. 8:30 bright and early. This Man strolled back to the clinic and that's when I saw him again.
Raymond. Right there behind the counter. He was smiling.
" I thought that was you! How have you been?"
We stood there in the foyer of the building and exchanged pleasantries. He was good. I was good. Not much had changed. His mother was well. Even though we lived in the same neighborhood, Raymond and I hadn't seen each other since we'd called it splits back in early December.
"I still think about all the crazy times that we had," he told me. We did have some fun times together. We also had some turbulent times...some dramatic times and it was those that caused us to break up.
"I miss you," he said. That scared me because he was looking me dead in the eyes. "Do you ever think about me?"
How do you think I responded?

Mahalo

Who the fuck do you think you are?

2007-02-04T22:00:00.000-08:00

To my "buddy" Scott:

I can't even begin to describe the anger that I felt after I left the park and your house today. In fact, I should confess that the only reason that I didn't kick your ass, while we were walking down Texas Street was simply because I was walking with your bicycle. I've never and will never tolerate anyone talking to me the way that you did. You were totally out of line and I hate that you put me in the position, where I have to question our friendship. At first, I thought that cool down period would've allowed me to gather my thoughts before I spoke to you again, but now that I think about it, no amount of cooling down could ever tame my raging temper.
If there's one thing that I'm sure of it's this: all of my friends have faults. That's true , I know this and I accept it. But I would never, ever dream of telling any of them the things that you said to me. I would never stoop so low as to attempt to belittle any of them to make myself feel somewhat superior.
It's because of all of this that I've decided that I can no longer be friends with you. Initially, I said that the only way I would talk to you would be if you were to apologize for what you said, but now... I don't even need the apology. Anybody that tells me that they think pretty poorly of me just isn't a person that I need in my life.

(Just so you know, the only reason that I used these two pictures for this post is because I know how much you detest them.)

Happy Birthday Lucy!

2007-01-31T10:28:00.000-08:00

Remember when This Man snapped this picture of you?
Best Wishes, Sweetheart.

Yes, that's a fur!

2007-01-28T22:47:00.000-08:00

John snapped this picture of This Man this morning. He'd given me that fur (I really, really, really LOVE fur)for my birthday. How many of you can say that a man has given you a fur for your birthday--that's right, I didn't think so! I was so excited about it that I decided to wear it while eating breakfast.

Hell, it's my birthday and I can do what I damn well feel like it. And even though I closely resemble Winnie Mandela, it's a great pic, taken by a great man and I'm sporting a nice smile (even though I needed a haircut).
So here was the plan: I was spending most of the afternoon with John. Then I was planning to gather a group of buddies, namely my house mate, Jay, my friends Donnie, Scott and possibly Jason for drinks at my favorite Levi/leather/man bar, Pecs. Nothing more. Just me and my buds and some beers.
Jason (who hates Pecs) stopped by and brought me a beautiful cake from Extraordinary Desserts. Scott bailed on meeting for drinks, claiming that he "...wasn't feeling very social and would instead go for a bike ride."
"But it's not about YOU, " I declared.
Jay promised that he would still go for drinks after he finished his laundry. And I didn't call Donnie, fearing that he would be asleep, seeing as he works such a crazy schedule.
In the end, Jay and I went to Pecs anyway and we had a blast! We didn't do much, but we met a few new people, had a couple of pitchers of beer, chatted with a hot lesbian couple then went home. Easy. Breezy. Simple.
Smiling as I write this, I got to thinking about the gifts that I'd gotten. There's the fur from John ( he also got me a great book). The beautiful (and fucking delicious) cake from Jason. The chocolates and the "snake hose" from Jay And the Target gift card (that I truly could use) from Lucy and my son, Donovan. But what truly brings a smile to my face is the two birthday cards that I'd received. The first of which was from John. It featured a woman from the 1920s, wearing a pasted on bathing suit which read, "She knew she had a big fat ass and her attitude was 'Kiss It'" and the card from Jason which depicts a picture of Pope John Paul II, during his wake. Dressed in an ornate robe of red velvet, there's George W. Bush, (along with Bush 41, Laura "Hurricane Corrina" Bush, Bill Clinton & Condi Rice) looking confused with the caption that read, "What happened to Santa?"

Mahalo

10 things I like about JB.

2007-01-14T21:08:00.000-08:00

This Man met John a few weeks before Raymond decided that he needed to make some life changes. Who would've thought that those changes meant that he and I were through? A noted property developer, John was witty, smart and charming. We spent this weekend together and tonight while strolling through North Park, This Man got to thinking about the things that I truly like about him.

Those lips.
His salt & pepper whiskers.
His Jewishness.
I have to stand on my tiptoes to kiss him.
His sense of humor.
His hands.
The fact that he admits when he's afraid and isn't afraid to do so.
There's no pressure.
Simply put--9!
The morning after.

John, thanks for a relaxing weekend, buddy. I see that we both needed it.

Mahalo

A few hours later...

2007-01-11T14:48:00.000-08:00

So Scott and This Man has had a MANTASTIC night at Pecs and now we find ourselves walking back to his apartment. Sloopy, drunk and unable to walk a straight line, we laughed and amused ourselves the whole way.
After a brief stop we were on our way to Dennys. Camera close by, This Man continued to snap pictures to tell the story of our amazing night.

(Me and my good friend, Scott--he's the handsome one on the left.)

(Don't even ask!)

Mahalo

A Gentleman and his Accordion

2007-01-01T04:59:00.000-08:00

"A gentleman knows how to play the accordion, but doesn't."
This Man whispered to my good friend, Scott who was in the process of kicking my ass at pool. And it wasn't that he was beating me at the game (he usually beats me at everything). It wasn't that we were at Pecs and it was New Years Eve. It was because my friend, Scott was beating my ass at pool and he was making a big show of it.
But let's back up a bit, shall we?
The evening began with the two of us deciding that we were not going to the bars in San Diego on New Year's Eve, instead deciding to cook a massive breakfast feast, smoking some hash and watching satellite TV. We were in the middle of Desperate Housewives (don't worry, it was a repeat--you do remember the one where Mike Delfino comes out of the coma and by the time Susan gets to the hospital, she realizes that she's already too late) when we realized that we didn't want to stay in the house.
Since Pecs was only a few blocks away, Scott and This Man decided to stroll down there. I'm not even going to bother typing what happened. Instead, I thought that perhaps I could tell the story with pictures.
So here we go.

(On my left is my friend, Donnie and Scott is on the right. Which two of the three look hammered?)

(This is off to a bad start...)

(Scott shares a New Year's pec with some hot Latin guy--we still don't know who it was.)

(Of course, Jay showed up and made it complete!)

(Jay and Donnie under the blue lights on the patio).
And it was only a matter of time before This Man would get to snap photos like these down below...and I already know that Scott is going to kill me for doing it, but here we go.

(we'd joked beforehand that there would be no pictures of us wearing dorky hats and all of that New Year's Eve crap and here it is.)

(And here we have Scott convincing some guy that he was indeed the reigning Queen of the Gypsies).

Welcome to 2007!
Mahalo

Guess who's 2 years old?

2006-12-26T22:18:00.000-08:00

Wow, I can't believe it's been 2 years since This Man first started blogging. I was just thinking about it today and realized that I hadn't taken the time to blog on my anniversary.
I keep saying that I'm going to start dedicating more time to it, but these days, it seems like I'm constantly in motion.
A lot has changed in the two years...some of it good, some of it great and some of it down right horrible. But I'm still here--well, some days This Man is here. Other days, I just pass through.
To two years of blogging.

Mahalo (and see you in '07)

Found!

2006-12-06T21:31:00.000-08:00

Remember back in June of this year, This Man blogged about having my bike stolen out of the back of my Jeep when I while I was at my boyfriend, RH's, apartment. Then I blogged about San Diego Police Department's disregard in assisting me in locating the bike.
Today, This Man saw my bike.
And instantly, I developed a plan. Here's how it all went down.
After a rough day commuting around town, via public transportation, This Man had no sooner got off the Number 6 bus and was waiting to catch the Number 2 when I spotted, across the street a bicycle that looked strangely familiar. There was a man (which I would later discover was actually--a woman) at the newsstand (Paras Newspapers located at 30th & University) directly in front of me. With her was my bicycle. I watched from across the street and debated whether to dash across the street and fight with this person and recover what was mine. At the same time, I struggled with whether to miss my bus or to just let the incident go away. While watching this lady talk on the phone and allow my bike to crash on the sidewalk, This Man began to develop a plan.
I would use a more subtle approach. Luck was on my side.
The lady walked the bicycle across the street and around the corner from where I was now standing, shocked. I had to follow her. So I did.
At the bus stop around the corner, I approached her for a closer look and to put my plan into motion.
" Hi, " This Man began. "That's a pretty nice bicycle. You wouldn't be interested in selling it would you?"
" Sure. I'll let you have it for 40 bucks."
Forty bucks! Didn't this bitch realize that she was peddling around on a 300 dollar bicycle?!
"40 bucks? Really! Wow. I'll tell you what, " I said. "Why don't we exchange numbers and information and I'll call you in the next two days and pay you your asking price?"
Immediately, she agreed and wrote her name and phone number down.
" Call me tomorrow." She said.
"I most certainly will."
With her name and number in hand, I caught my bus, headed home and contacted the Police Department.
I asked the dispatcher on the phone how I could go about getting some police assistance in recovering a lost or stolen item that I'd found. I explained to her that I had contact information of the person who had the bike. At the same time, I began to wonder if I could really trust the SDPD to come out and help me.
" Once you check the model number and can prove that it IS indeed your bike then call us and we'll come out and recover it for you. " The dispatcher informed me.
So with or without the police help, I'm getting my bike back. What this woman doesn't know is that I'm not going to pay a single penny for it!
I'll keep you posted.

Mahalo.

My Favorite chatbuddy

2006-10-18T14:18:00.000-07:00

He's witty and ruggedly handsome too. Here's another one of our quirky, to-the-point conversations.

Heathboy27: here's a scenario for you. Say you
meet this guy online and you agree to
hook up. He has to check out of his hotel
before stopping by your place and it's
taking him forever. After telling him that
you'll phone him back in 20 minutes, you
decide that you really don't want to fool with
him. Do you call him back?
Appollyon: nope
Appollyon: NEXT
Heathboy27: it's SOOOOO nice when you and I
are on the same page
Appollyon: lol
Appollyon: happens more often than not
Heathboy27: I know

A Retraction

2006-10-17T21:08:00.000-07:00

Almost two weeks ago, my sister called my phone and left a disturbing voice mail.
She'd heard about my blog and was concerned and wanted me to call her immediately. Instantly, This Man began to panic. She had that tone in her voice that reminded me the day she'd gotten the letter in the mail, disclosing my homosexuality. I figured I would avoid making this call for as long as I could, thinking that I could wish the conversation away. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, " was all I could mumble as I began reading my archives. Was she bothered by the content? The way it was written? Maybe it was the pictures. What--for the love of God, could my sister be worried about?!!! I couldn't come up with an answer.
So finally, without giving much thought, I called her.
She'd heard about my blog through some distant family members of ours in Greenville, Texas. It seems that while doing a search for me online, my blog came up. After reading it, it was noticed the entry that This Man had made about the recent death of my brother. Her husband and son urged her not to read it, simply because they didn't think it was best.
"Byron," she pleaded. "Could you please that the entry down?"
Before I decided to blog about The Heartless Bastard on 9/11/2006, I'd spoken to my sister and one of my brothers about how I felt about it death. However, after listening to my sister explain why it disturbed her, I decided that I had to agree--simply because I never meant for that post to disturb anyone who read it.
So, at the request of my family, I've decided to remove the entry. And This Man also would like to apologize here to my sisters and family who read the post and found it disturbing. I apologize for coming off like the Heartless Bastard that I wrote about.

Mahalo

Out of the closet since 1996

2006-10-11T21:57:00.000-07:00

Today was National Coming Out Day. To all of you LBGT who decided to come out today, I say Congratulations and welcome to the world.

Mahalo

Moving Day

2006-09-23T13:04:00.000-07:00

A chat conversation with my friend, Jason. Courtesy of Gay.com This Man doesn't have to mention who's who.

Bviper2006: Hey
Heathboy27: hey
Bviper2006: you called me?
Heathboy27: Answer your phone, honey!
Heathboy27: I was returning your call
Heathboy27: what's up? what are you doing
today?
Bviper2006: i'm moving into my 2bdrm today
Heathboy27: LMAO!
Heathboy27: I suspected that
Heathboy27: need some help?
Bviper2006: i would love that
Heathboy27: have you started yet?
Bviper2006: not yet
Heathboy27: okay...what time did you plan on
starting...I'm free this afternoon, so I can
help you from start to finish
Heathboy27: and it'll be good to see you and
hang out
Bviper2006: awww
Bviper2006: thanks
Bviper2006: it's just next door
Heathboy27: I know
Bviper2006: shouldnt take us more than an
hour
Heathboy27: doesn't matter
Heathboy27: I could bring my CDs down and
we could play some music and take our
time
Bviper2006: that's so sweet
Bviper2006: i would love that
Heathboy27: okay
Bviper2006: i get the keys at 1
Heathboy27: okay
Heathboy27: I'm just sitting here at Jay's
listening to John Elliot
Bviper2006: oh this is funny
Bviper2006: they finally got my car
Bviper2006: but i have a truck now
Bviper2006: so it's cool
Heathboy27: NOOOOO!
Bviper2006: i dont care
Heathboy27: they took the Audi, child?!
Bviper2006: the guy at work gave me his truck
for free
Heathboy27: no way!
Bviper2006: yep
Bviper2006: F150 truck
Bviper2006: 97 model
Heathboy27: LOL
Heathboy27: you must look as if you're sooooo
butch
Bviper2006: yeah a true lesbian
Heathboy27: ROFL@
Heathboy27: so I could come down around
1:30
Heathboy27: and I have a bicycle so I'll be
there on time
Bviper2006: sure
Heathboy27: this should be fun!

And it was!

Mahalo

Happy Birthday, JS!

2006-09-21T14:50:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday, Jay!

Don't worry, This Man wouldn't dare think of posting your true age.

(But just know that I do know how old you really are--you sexy beast!)

Thank you for being a damn good friend and tolerating me and my shit even when I couldn't bear to tolerate myself.

The Heartless Bastard

2006-09-11T14:10:00.000-07:00

At the request of my family, This Man decided to remove the contents of this entry.
Mahalo

DAMN

2006-09-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

Friday evening was This Man and my son, Donovan hanging out while his mother went to see a girl friend of hers. Typical night with us watching cable TV, going outside and lounging. Later, he and I decided to take a walk up to the corner to Jack in the Box. Which brings me to an interesting conversation that he and I had. Allow me to set the scene.
So we're walking up the street and my son is on my Razor scooter when he decides that he wants to take a short cut through a restaurant parking lot, cross the street and end up at Jack in the Box. I informed him that that was impossible, seeing as there was a brick wall that posed a problem.
"DAYUM!" my ten-year old exclaimed.
Did he just say what I thought he said? I wondered. So I gave him a sidewards glance.
"What did you say?" I asked. He responded with a blank stare and a look that admitted his guilt.
"So we're cussing now?" Even though it was dark, I could still see that he was blushing.
"Well, "I said, calmly. "I guess I really can't say anything to you about it, seeing as I curse all the time. "
"Exactly! "he said.
"But I'll say this; do not use those words in front of adults, teachers, your granny and God forbid, your mother."
"She knows!"He said, matter-of- factly.
Instantly, I reached for my phone and called Lucy.
"Are you aware that our son has started using curse words?"I yelled into the phone.
"I sure am." She fired back.
"Well, did you talk to him about it?"
"Yes, I told him not to use those words around adults, teachers, his granny and God forbid, in front of you!"
This Man couldn't help but laugh. She and I were on the same page. I mean, I don't have any problems with my son using 'sentence enhancers' around his friends, but when around adults, he'd better get it in check. It was nice to see that Lucy and This Man were on the same page.

Mahalo

Only a Friend...

2006-08-28T21:46:00.000-07:00

So of course, This Man has been crashing at my buddy, Jay's house in North Park this past week. Saturday night, he invited me to go with him to a party over in Logan Heights. Desperately needing to brush up on my conversation skills, This Man accepted the invitation and off we were.
The party was fantastic! The crowd was energetic and the host, while completely stoned out of his mind, was lively. Jay and I set about working the room and mingling with the crowd. Of course, there was alcohol and I set about familiarizing myself with the SKYY vodka that was readily available. It wasn't too long before I was completely cocktailed and found the closest chair and planted myself.
Finally, Jay drove us back to his place where I crashed into a deep slomber. Which brings me to the photo that I posted with this entry. Apparently early on Sunday morning, Jay thought it funny to snap this shot of yours truly calling the hogs. Never mind that my hair needs to be cut.
Don't worry, I can hear everyone laughing at me.

Mahalo

Lost!

2006-08-25T21:14:00.000-07:00

This entry is dedicated to my good buddy, Jay. I had the privilege of staying at his home this week and he was more than hospitable--and his cooking was like going to a different restaurant every night! Jay, we'll never forget this incident--and This Man will never forget you. TGH

"I washed it and set it near the window so it could dry, " my buddy, Jay explained this afternoon, while pointing to the spot of the nightstand where he'd supposedly left his Bam realistic dildo.
First, allow This Man to tell you that this isn't a dildo that one looses easily. Yet here we were, perplexed on where it could possibly be all while attempting to retrace Jay's steps on where he could've left it. So Jay and This Man went about searching for the massive hunk of plastic, amazed that such a thing could be misplaced. It wasn't in the bathroom, the kitchen or the living. We didn't see it near his desk, his bedroom or the backyard. It was GONE!
"Shit, " This Man asked, exasperated. "Is it still in your ass?"
"No, but this is certainly one of those times when the old saying, 'If it was up your ass, you'd know' would really be true." Jay remarked while looking on the side of his dresser. Once, during our stint at playing detective, we even considered the possibility that maybe someone could've come into the house and took it. But then there was nothing else missing.
We truly could not find this dildo!
Finally, Jay took another look behind his dresser and found the thing lodged between the dresser and the window. Apparently, it had rolled off the dresser and got caught in the curtains. We laughed it off and but the real jem was when Jay explained, "There aren't too many people outside of us who would find themselves searching for a dildo...but then there aren't too many people like me who would use one so much that it needs to be washed and dried!"

Mahalo.

Happy Birthday, RH

2006-08-11T16:10:00.000-07:00

Raymond's birthday is today. This morning, This Man showed up at his apartment, with a cake and balloons.
And he wasn't there.
Somehow, rather than get pissed off, I figured that he was teaching me a lesson about being where I say I'm going to be and the power of a phone call. I thought about leaving momentarily, but then I dreaded having to walk through North Park, carrying the balloons and the cake so I decided to linger around and wait for him.
I can't believe he's not here! The last thing I said to him when we spoke yesterday was that I would be at his place first thing this morning and now he's not here! ARGH!
For a split second, I thought that maybe he'd walked around the block to get a cup of coffee, but then quickly erased the thought. I knew he was doing this on purpose.
An hour later, he showed up. He'd went around the block--to get a cup of coffee. He seemed happy with the balloons and he struggled through a piece of the chocolate cake and we--well, he agreed to go see the San Diego Symphony tonight.
I plan to do my best to ensure that he has a wonderful birthday. Hell, I'm more than flattered that he wants to spend it with me.
See how lucky I am.

Mahalo

Lazy Boy

2006-07-21T20:27:00.001-07:00

" You know, if your mother knew what I did to you on this chair, she would never sit on it again," This Man said to Raymond one morning, while I was cleaning his living room after one of our sessions. We'd recently discovered that a lot of fun could be had on his La-Z-Boy recliner.
"I'm sure she would sit on the floor. " I added. Raymond who was in the kitchen, making coffee didn't miss a beat. He came back with, "Sit on the floor?! She would stand up the whole time."
We tend to get wild on his floor also.
Raymond, I'm missing you like crazy, . I hope you're having a good time in Chicago.

Mahalo

The Dutchman Again?

2006-07-19T14:24:00.000-07:00

This morning, This Man woke up confused as hell!
Come to find out, This man had dreamt about The Dutchman last night and this morning I woke up slightly aroused. The crazy part is, I have no idea what the dream was about, but it was centered around him. Maybe I dreamt about him because around this time last year, he and I started seeing each other (and we all know know that ended up).
His birthday is next month and the last that I heard, he was planning another birthday bash like he'd done the previous year.
Hopefully I can make it.

Mahalo

On Hiatus

2006-07-14T16:19:00.000-07:00

This Man's Life is on hiatus right now, but don't worry because I'm away, armed with a pen and plenty of paper so I can still record my thoughts and other things of interest.
Where am I, I'm sure you're wondering. Here's a hint: It's and exclusive place. Only a handful of people get to go, but when you think about it, you really don't want to be there.
Check back here for the answer.

Mahalo

Snippets of Dialogue

2006-06-30T12:22:00.000-07:00

I really didn't have anything that I wanted to blog about, but lately This Man has had these tidbits of conversation playing in my head over and over that the only way to get them to stop is to write about them. And they're conversations that I've had with my buddies and even complete strangers.
Enjoy the Holiday

When my best bud, Jason and I ran into each other in front of the North Park Adult Video store, we finally started talking about the issues and drama that had us not speaking for over a month. Upon seeing, Jason we had this tidbit of conversation.

Jason: "Damn bitch! You looking GOOD!"
This Man: Thanks, I've started back running."
Jason: "Yeah, you're looking better than me! But don't loose too much otherwise you'll be looking like Oprah with a little body and a big head!"
This Man: "BITCH!"
A few minutes later, once Jason told me how bad I'd hurt him, he quipped with this tidbit.
Jason: "I thought I was your best friend. I thought I was Gayle King, Oprah...and your ass is treating me like I'm Steadman!"

One Sunday evening, This Man was at The Hole with my buddy, Jay. We were drinking, stoned and cruising the men. I'd noticed a guy, and anesthesiologist that I'd seen a few times there.
This Man: " I really think Dr. Art is a big ol 'HO!"
Jay: "Oh really. Compared to who--YOU?"

Last night on the phone with Jay, talking about his bud who'd came down to visit him from L.A.
Jay: "It's been great having company and having someone to fall alseep with. I guess I'll drive him to the train station and then return back to my lonely life."
This Man: "Lonely, my ass. Knowing you, you'll have some hot guys lined up to meet you at your place before you get back from downtown."
Jay: "So what are you trying to say?"
This Man: "I'm saying, when it comes to hookups, you like to stack 'em deep and have a few lined up; not just one."

Two nights ago, while fooling around with Raymond while The Empire Strikes back played on the television. Through clenched teeth and in a high pitched voice he said:
Raymond: "Jeezus, I wish you would hurry up and cum so I can watch the movie."

This afternoon when I was sitting at Bread et Cie, having lunch, This Man overhead this joke. The man at the next table was talking about his travels to New Zealand when he made this joke.
" Ah New Zealand...where the Men are Men, the sheep are nervous and all the children are BAAAAA-stards!"

After finishing up my run in Hillcrest, I saw this banging Asian woman. She was working it! Tight Citizens of Humanity jeans, a nice stiletto sandal, a breast-enhancing top and a Louis Vuitton clutch. She was going to get her hair done (why, I don't know because she looked flawless!). I couldn't help but remark to the stranger walking next to me.
This Man: "DAYUM! She's enough to make a guy start dating women again!!!"
Stranger on the sidewalk: "Yeah, man...tell me about it!"
Mahalo

Morning chit chat...

2006-06-28T19:01:00.000-07:00

This morning, Raymond and This Man were having coffee and talking. The news was on the television and across the bottom of the screen rolled the following about Star Jones-Reynolds.

Star Jones Reynolds was booted from "The View" Wednesday, one day after surprising ABC and Barbara Walters by saying on the air that she wouldn't be returning to the daytime talk show in the fall.

This Man: "They're broadcasting the fact that Star Jones is leaving 'The View' as if anyone seriously gives a damn!"

Raymond: "Who's Star Jones?"

Must I go on?

Mahalo

Crossdressed.

2006-06-22T11:36:00.001-07:00

"She" walked from the viewing booth area back into the front of the bookstore. Dressed in micro-booty shorts, a cheap frilly polyester blouse, covering a dingy wifebeater, "she" was about to get 'her' stroll up and down 30th Street. This Man couldn't help but shake my head and smirk--partly because 'she' looked hideous (I mean, out of shape, ashy legs and the ugliest, cheapest wig that this Man has ever seen) and partly out of sheer disgust. I'll admit, I've never been a fan of cross dressers, transsexuals or drag queens, but I am cordial and respectful whenever I find myself in their company. I suppose I can somewhat understand the struggles that they have to endure on a daily basis all while trying to maintain their identity.
So I'm browsing the video shelves filled with movies that feature black men, Latinos and twink boys , but not really caring what I was picking up (check out Gang ed 3: A cum-filled Ass) when BAM! BAM! BOOM!
"She" rushed back into the store, wig in hand, crawling to the safety contained within the store. I could hear the punched being landed even though I couldn't see the action going on. Someone outside the door was hitting 'her'.
"Are you alright?" the cashier asked.
"Could you please call the police." 'She' calmly requested. At this point, 'she' was in the corner of the store, near the s, butt plugs & magazines.
The other customer and I didn't make eye contact, but even I could sense that he was just as on edge as This Man now found myself. Then, I did something that even now I hate myself for doing.
I giggled.
I tried not to, but I couldn't stop myself. And I knew the situation wasn't funny.
Continuing to browse the likes of Dawson's 50 Load Weekend, Raw Thugs 2, Daddy s the Boys and The Twinks of Amsterdam, This Man could feel a sickening feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. No, it was guilt of being in the bookstore at 1a.m., browsing and kinda cruising. It wasn't that at all.
It was SHAME...at myself.
That's when I started to feel horrible. I tried to reason with myself by saying that maybe just maybe 'she'd done something and deserved the attack. Or maybe some guy had 'her' mistaken for someone else. There could've been a million and one reasons why that guy attacked her for all This Man knew, right?
Right?
I ed around for about 20 more minutes. The San Diego Police Department still hadn't showed up to take a report (see, why I feel the way I do with SDPD), but I was still among the shelves feeling like dog .
Meanwhile, 'she' was calmly waiting at the front of the store waiting for the cops to show up. I had to marvel at the fact that this 'woman' had just been sucker-punched, ridiculed and humiliated, 'she' still hadn't broken down and cried (the way I know I certainly would've). It's as if 'she' willed herself not to.
But maybe, just maybe if these cross-dressing streetwalkers would learn to defend themselves, I reasoned with my mind, then attacks like this wouldn't happen. I truly believe that. I've always felt that there would be less attacks on gays and lesbians if we learned to defend ourselves against those who like to attack either from behind or spontaneously.
Finally, feeling like a complete ass, I managed to get myself out of the video store. The incident had dulled my mood and This Man was no longer in the mood to cruise...or browse, or whatever the I was doing in North Park Video at damn near 2 in the morning.

Mahalo

Lover or Boyfriend

2006-06-21T13:31:00.000-07:00

No sooner than This Man had finished blogging yesterday did I get a phone call from Raymond. He sounded a bit concerned. I took the phone call while I was strolling along University Avenue in North Park.
" I was wondering, " he began. " Remember when we were at the bread shop and you introduced me to your friend Mike. How did you introduce me as?"
"Ohmygod! Have you been reading my blog?" I couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.
"No."
"In that case, I believe that I introduced you to Mike as my lover."
"But I thought you said boyfriend."
"Did I? I thought I said lover. Why--does it bother you?"
"Well, no it doesn't bother me. Actually I think boyfriend is kinda nice."
"Yeah, so do I."
So there you have it. Raymond and I are about to enter those waters that This Man has for as long as I can remember, tried to avoid. My buddy, Jay and I chatted about it today and actually he encouraged me to take the plunge, but to keep in mind that relationships take work and that it was indeed time for me to try one out. I'm nervous and excited so keep on reading because This Man's Life is about to get interesting.

Mahalo

Label Queen

2006-06-20T16:19:00.000-07:00

" I told my buddy at the nutrition store that I had to hurry home because my sex partner was meeting me later." Raymond told This Man over the phone. He was pissed at me (as well, he should've been) because we didn't get together Friday night for dinner. In turn, he'd lost a whole evening, waiting on This Man's sorry ass.
Sex partner?
Surely we were more than that. Or so I thought.
"You referred to me as your sex partner? Hmmm." I responded with.
"Well, I guess it's because I don't know what to call you. You're more than just a sex buddy, but even you've called me just your sex partner."

And that's how it began. The conversation in which Raymond and I are supposed to sit down and discuss what exactly we're doing. It's also the point at which, Lucy and This Man has said numerous times, is when relationships take a dive! The point where labels are given out.
'Are you my boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner? Acquaintance? Lover or what?'
I'd driven to his apartment because we were going to spend the afternoon together, tending to an errand that he had to get completed. And it would be better if he and I had this conversation in person rather than over the phone.
"You're more than a fuck buddy and I care about you, " he said, while moving around in his kitchen. "But I can't really call you my acquaintance."
For a while we were calling each other 'sex partners'--as if we'd been paired up for an experiment (a la chemistry class), but we were more than that. You see, This Man really likes Raymond and I'm pretty sure he's as into me as I am of him. So yeah, he's more than a sex partner, but not quite my lover--but then I suppose he is my boyfriend.
See why This Man hates labels.
Later in the afternoon, this conversation was tested. Raymond and I stopped in Hillcrest for a brief snack at Bread et Cie when I ran into my buddy, Mike. It was time for introductions.
"Mike this is, um...well, my...he's kinda...Mike, this is my lover, Raymond." That's what I managed to stammer out.
I couldn't tell if Raymond noticed me hesitating on it, but I guess, this relationship thing is going to take some getting used to.
Be patient with me.

Mahalo

Snort this.

2006-06-18T15:58:00.000-07:00

Even though the young, Indian, belly-dancing instructor with the banging body made the proposition to This Man on the Sunday before Memorial Day, the conversation has been ringing in my head every since. No matter what I find myself doing, I keep hearing the words that he'd suggested to me--all while asking myself what, if anything would I stand to gain from the situation were I to oblige his demand.
Here's how it went down.
Sunday, the night before Memorial Day, This Man was at Pecs with my buddy, Ray. The only reason we'd went in the first place was because, 1) It was Sunday night 2) there was no cover charge and 3)there would be MEN. So we get there and I run into a few men that I knew (read, had already slept with) before I spotted the belly-dancer. He was wasted and possibly high, I couldn't quite tell. At any rate, we get to talking and getting caught up and it's just a matter of time before there's a lull in the conversation (I guess, usually this is where he and I would find ourselves naked) when he mentioned that his birthday was next month. The only thing that he wanted for his birthday was the following.
He wanted to get "... gang fucked by a big group of Black men who all had big dicks. The more the better--he just wanted to do it." Oh, he also mentioned, " and I would need about an ounce of coke."
What the fuck?!
I mean, This Man was slightly cocktailed but I sobered up instantly. He was asking me to arrange all of this for him. So I would have to hunt for Black men in San Diego (that, in itself, is a hard enough task) AND I would have to provide him with an ounce of Tina. Was he fucking serious?!
He was dead serious.
"If you could make that happen, you and your buddies could have me for as long as you wanted." He said. But at this point, all I was thinking was, "Was this little fucker for real? He was asking me to do the grunt work while he gets all the rewards. HAPPY...FUCKING...BIRTHDAY!"
Here's why that whole thing bothers me. It's not that there would be other Black men like This Man involved. It's not that the belly dancer was truly being the 'brat' that he likes to describe himself as. And it's not the fact that it would be his birthday and I don't know about you, but I would never ask for a gang bang for my birthday (not when I could do something like that on a week night--hehehe). It's the fact that he thought that I would find it all amusing and would immediately jump onboard with the idea. Sadly he's mistaken.
I have no intentions of calling anyone to set up anything. And I'm sure as hell am not about to go out into the streets on a scavenger hunt to score some powder for this guy who's convinced himself that it's the only way he could get gang fucked is by having it.
So I made a decision right then and there. I'd realized that I'd spent too much time 'gassing his head up'. Don't get me wrong, his body is banging and the ass is tight, but not to the point where This Man would go against my own morals to satisify his greed.
And surely any Man worth his salt would agree with me.

Mahalo.

SDPD can kiss my ass!

2006-06-14T14:45:00.000-07:00

"You have reached the San Diego Police Department Western Division telephone report unit. Please leave your name, telephone number, incident number if known or address where the incident occured and someone will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you and have a great day."
At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press pound for more options.
BEEP.
"Hi, This is thatguyheath (of course, I gave my actual name, silly) from This Man's life. I've called this line numerous times in regards to incident number 14774. My car was broken into on June 8th in the neighborhood of Utah Street & Lincoln Avenue in North Park. I'm still waiting to hear from a police officer so I could give you further importants details, regarding what was taken and also I would like to give you the serial number on the bicycle that was stolen. If someone could please contact me as soon as possible it would be greatly appreciated. Oh yeah, I'm getting a bit irritated whenever I call this number, I get this stinking recording. You have a great day."

This Man is really starting to think that San Diego's finest is laughing at me.

Mahalo

(and contrary to what my friend, Jason says about my Seven for All Mankind 'A' Pocket jeans with the studs on them, these are not women's jeans)

The Kindness of a Stranger.

2006-06-13T10:46:00.000-07:00

In regards to the email that This Man received from Lucy, it turns out to have been an interesting twist in the tale. Let's recount:
I responded to Lucy's email, informing her of where I was and I pointed out that I wouldn't be at the computer for much longer. An hour later, she met me at the public library in North Park. She had both my backpack and messenger bag that were stolen from my car.
How was this possible, you're wondering. Here's what happened, it seems that whoever the fucker was that broke into my car, really didn't have a need for a messenger bag full of junk (it was all there) and they didn't need a backpack full of toilettries (even the mouthwash was still there). So they tossed both of my bags into the bushes around the block from Raymond's apartment. And that's where a man named John found them.
Rather than throw them away, John attempted to locate me. Through a crazy stir of events, Lucy was located and she, in turn went to meet John and recovered my things.
When L was retelling the story to me, This Man was speechless. My mouth fell open and I could feel the tears welling up in the back of my eyes. In fact, just writing about it makes my eyes water because just as I'd given up on the human spirit, a complete stranger and my dearest friend in the world both had my back. Later this evening, I tried to locate John. He lives in an apartment building for senior citizens. Sadly, he wasn't home when I stopped by his place.
I simply have to--if I don't do anything else tomorrow--thank him in person.

Mahalo

An email from L.

2006-06-11T13:55:00.000-07:00

Today, This Man got an email from Lucy that read:

Please call me when you get a moment. But that wasn't the interesting part. The interesting part of the email was the Subject line. It read:

"I have your two backpacts (sic) and car key!!!"

Suddenly, not only am I stressed out about all the other bullshit going on in my life, on top of being the victim of a robbery this week, now I'm wondering if my things were stolen by a friendor did she get a message from the person that broke into my car. Either way, nothing makes sense anymore and frankly, This Man is starting to get really fucking pissed off about it all.

Mahalo

FUCK the Omen, I'm still seeing him.

2006-06-10T13:34:00.000-07:00

After my last post, This Man had an inkling of wonder about whether I should continue to see Raymond even after my car had been broken into while parked out in front of his apartment. Last night, I got to thinking about Raymond and realized that I did want to see him. So since I couldn't call him (1. Remember, I no longer have my phone and 2. I didn't know his number), This Man had to take my chances and linger on the sidewalk in front of his apartment and toss rocks up at the window. But before I would do that, last night at Claire de Lune coffee house, a group of drummers called Tam Tam Mandique were performing and I wanted to catch Raymond and invite him to see them as they bought some West African flavor to North Park. When I couldn't get ahold of him, This Man went and saw their performance alone. Later I did get to see Raymond and he invited me to stay at his place, watch a movie and spend some time together.
After having my car broken into, This Man was happy that I hadn't bothered to park near his place, but rather parked a few blocks away and walked.
I spent the night again and this morning, we were talking and I went ahead and confided in him that I'd secretly thought that the burgulary was some sort of omen that maybe I wasn't supposed to see him. Even after I'd played that tidbit of conversation in my head before, I hadn't expected his reaction to be the way that it was. He kind of had a look of genuine hurt on his face. I'm pretty sure that I'd offended him, even though I didn't mean to.
We're seeing each other this evening. I'll blog later, but now it's time for my run.

Mahalo.

"Hey, that's my bike!"

2006-06-08T13:08:00.000-07:00

Last night, This Man spent another night with Raymond (who, I must say, I'm really beginning to enjoy). I don't have to go into details about what happened but things turned out great because even though, This Man has said on several occasions that I wouldn't spend the night at his house, however last night, I did. This morning, after scrambled egg whites & coffee (he is a bodybuilder, after all), Raymond and I were looking out his window and happened to notice a young guy peering into the car parked on the street behind my Jeep.
We both noticed that it was odd, but then Raymond informed me that the car was in fact, for sale so I paid it no mind and went back to my breakfast. However, once in my car that's when I noticed that my bike was gone and that I had been robbed also! My messenger bag (don't worry, it was from Old Navy) was gone! And my other backpack that I carry when riding my bike was gone also (inside it was a pair of sweaty running shorts and a 12 dollar bottle of Kiehl's body lotion, as well as my CD player).
I couldn't believe this shit!
Oh yeah, and I have to mention that in my messenger bag was my wallet and my phone. So as you can see now, I'm officially triple fucked! No bike, no wallet, no phone. Why didn't the robbers just take the car also?
I hollered up to Raymond's apartment and informed him of what had happened. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when, after calling the San Diego Police and with it being a 'non-emergency', the dispatcher told me that a cop would call between 7a.m. and 10 o'clock that evening.
Needless to say, my day was already ruined. I spent the next few hours contacting Cingular to stop service to my phone, I had to alert the credit agencies as well as, call my bank to cancel my cards. Later on that afternoon, I was strolling through North Park, peering in the pawn shops in hopes of finding my bicycle but to no avail. But that's when, in the middle of all of my drama, who did I run into but The Dutchman. He was hanging out in his usual bar and came out on the sidewalk to say hello. Of all people to run into today, he he was. Tanned and dressed down in his work clothes, he invited me into the bar to relax, have a beer and to hang with him and his buddies. I know I shouldn't have taken him up on the offer, but it was refreshing to see his handsome face. So let's just say that This Man spent the rest of the afternoon with The Dutchman and every once in a while, I would ask myself, " How did a day that started off so bad, end up with me having a great time with a man that I used to be crazy about?"
Somewhere between my fifth and tenth Budweiser, This Man started questioning whether my having my car broken into was some sort of omen. I mean, was it possible that this was all a sign that maybe I shouldn't be seeing Raymond? Or maybe I shouldn't be spending as much time with him as I have been? I discussed this with The Dutchman and even though what he said, I agree with ( that this could've happened anywhere and to anyone), but still there was that part of me that wondered.

Mahalo

The Angry Side of You

2006-06-06T17:05:00.000-07:00

"You jump off of my dick one more time then I'm going to flip you over and I'll be on top! Then where are you gonna go!"
This Man told Raymond while screwing him from behind. We were in the middle of some hot, sweaty sex that would later leave us exhausted and drained.
But I have to blog about the evening that I'd spent with the Latin, firecracker-bodybuilder last night. We'd agreed to see each other around 8. This Man was around the block at my buddy, Ray's apartment--about 5 minutes away when Raymond called (just as I was calling him), saying that he needed to groceries and that we would need to go shopping. A quick trek to Trader Joe's then Ralph's, this ma was happy to be with Raymond while he foraged for our dinner.
It was in the deli of Ralphs that Raymond showed This Man a side of his true character (and man, was it sexy). We were standing in line waiting to get some sliced meat (pastrami, I think) when, in front of us was some anal-retentive, pretentious queen (we were in Hillcrest, after all) who decided at that moment, regardless of us growing restless, he was going to have the butcher slice his provolone cheese to his exact measurements. Not only that, but this ass-clown insisted on sampling each one of the cold cuts that she sliced for him. Raymond and I were starting to get a bit pissed.
"I'm about to go off on this asshole!" Raymond declared.
Did I mention how sexy RH looked in his new Cerruti 1881 eyeglasses.
"How about we grab the bagels and then come back?" This Man suggested. Even after grabbing the bagels and returning to the deli, Mr. Anal-Retentive was still there! Finally, he grabbed his meats and cheeses(sliced to his precise measurements, I'm sure) and was met by a piercing gaze from Raymond.
"Is there a problem?" the guy asked.
"Fuck yeah there is," Raymond began. "What the fuck man, we've been waiting here FOREVER behind your ass!"
"Hey, I waited my turn just like everybody else..." his voice was cracking. And that's when Raymond took the first step towards him. Mind you, Raymond is a pretty big guy. He's not a man that you mess with and not expect him to retaliate. That's when This Man's arm reached out and grabbed him. Just as the other guy decided to walk away.
In the car later, Raymond was apologizing that he'd showed that side of him, but I wasn't fazed.
I kinda liked it.
We had some amazing steaks later, good conversation (we joked about using a steak bone as a ball gag) and some amazing sex later on. While I was pounding Raymond from behind, that's when This Man asked if he would like for me to grab a steak bone for him to chew on, in order to muffle his screaming & moaning. It starting to seem like Raymond is winning This Man over more and more every day.

Mahalo.

Bonquesha

2006-06-04T15:37:00.000-07:00

I met my friend, Bonquesha back in 1996 while on my first ship in Bremerton, Washington.
Actually, he and I didn't speak to each other until my second tour to the Persian Gulf. We'd met through a mutual 'fag hag' and hit it off instantly! I can still recall the night. We were in the Persian Gulf, outside the city of Dubai in the Port of Jebel Ali. The aircraft carrier was with us so the local businesses set up shops on the pier and to keep sailors from venturing too far, a "beer garden"(complete with barbecue, beer & music) was erected. That's where This Man partied on that balmy summer night.
"Come and meet my friend, " she said, pulling This Man away from my umpteenth can of Fosters beer.
Bonquesha, as I would later call him was with some of his friends. True to his club-kid style, he was dressed in some super-wide leg jeans, a Diesel button down and whiter-than-white sneakers. He was a cute Puerto Rican with a look that made him pale enough to be considered white, yellow enough to be considered high-yellow and feisty enough that you knew that he was a 'Rican.
We chatted for the rest of the night. At the time, This Man was still in the closet, but there was something refreshing about his flamboyant behavior that made me want to be around him. For three years, Bonquesha was one of my best friends. He was one of the guys that was there when This Man came out of the closet. And whenever, one of us needed a good laugh, we never failed to cheer the other up.
I found myself thinking about Bonquesha and some of the crazy antics that we got into. So armed with my notebook and pencil (I haven't written with a pencil in years!), This Man got to writing.
"Bonquesha, remember that one time when..."

On that deployment, during the Crossing The Line ceremony, you single-handedly represented for your whole division during the talent show. Even though many of the crew pointed, giggled and whispered while you strutted and danced, it was then that This Man learned about COURAGE and SELF-CONFIDENCE.
We'd got an early day from work and a gang of us crammed in Deena's beat up Honda Prelude, got stoned and went to see the Seattle Mariners' midday game at the Kingdome and unlike the rest of the crew, we scammed and scored seats behind home plate instead of out in the cheap seats (we were even on TV!)
You took me to see Kristine W. when she performed at Neighbours at the start of Gay Pride weekend. In fact, it was with you that I went to Pride for the very first time.
How about when we left work early, drove to Tacoma to that Korean wig shop to buy all of that hair, with me and Victoria later that evening, giving you a bomb-ass hair weave (you truly did look like Aaliyah!)
Or when This Man snuck out on my duty day to go out and party with you and the rest of our crew at Neighbours. And how I couldn't get drunk or stoned because I had to be back at work and ready to stand my watch at 4 a.m.
How about when you and Victoria went to see the Spice Girls' SpiceWorld concert at the Tacoma Dome and you whores didn't tell me until afterwards. BITCHES!!
And I couldn't ever forget how you outed and confirmed that Kevin (my crush) was indeed gay. How did you do this? By sleeping with his boyfriend (whom you'd met at Neighbours the night before) and telling me about it. Ironically, two weeks later, I would also sleep with Kevin's boyfriend and then tell you about it.
OMG, when we went down to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Sitting in the Rainbow Room with you flirting with the boyfriend of the bar's owner. After working him over with your elementary-school Spanish, the owner, his boyfriend came over and asked us if we could leave the establishment.
And I could never forget dancing with you at that club in Cabo--the one that had no ceiling. If only we could acquire that video!
"The next time those guys fuck with you, you go to the ship's store, buy a knife and stab the bastards!" Remember that was the piece of advice that I'd told you when some of the guys in your division were starting to harass you.

Bonquesha, This Man misses you even to this day. I hate that we lost contact with each other. I hate that, against the pleas of your mother and me, you took the coward way out and got yourself discharged from the Navy. I needed you more than you'll ever know. I'm pretty sure you ended up in NYC or back in D.C., but wherever you landed, know that there's a man whose life you impacted and this is my small way of letting you know.

Mahalo.

500 bucks

2006-06-01T14:17:00.000-07:00

This Man owes my good friend, Samantha 200 dollars and I owe my buddy, Jason 300. Thinking about how the hell I'm going to pay them both is enough to drive me crazy. But I know I'll manage it.

I just gotta figure something out.
And fast!

Mahalo.

A Contradiction

2006-05-13T09:20:00.000-07:00

A week after meeting, Raymond, the hot Latin bodybuilder, This Man was happy when he called me on Thursday, asking if we could get together on Friday, once he'd finished at work and the gym. It would be later in the evening, but if he was willing to make time for me and to tell the truth, I was looking forward to seeing him, then it didn't matter that it would be close to 10 o'clock before I would get to see him. I was at my friend, Jason's house, hanging out but the whole time, This Man was looking forward to seeing Raymond.
Finally, after dropping Jason and his boyfriend back at home, I flew around the corner to Raymond's apartment. He was making chicken tacos, but that didn't matter because I was all over him!
I don't even need to mention what followed.
In bed together hours later, This Man and Raymond were holding each other. Now, if you've been reading my blog then you know this is where things get kind of awkward for me. This night was no different. It was kinda warm in Raymond's apartment, combined with the fact that he snored so loud and that he didn't want me spooning him, This Man realized early in the a.m. that it was time for me to go. Even now, I'm not sure if he was upset that I left but I did wait--more like, hope that he would call me again.
You see, I enjoy being with Raymond, but I don't want to get too excited. Eventually, the time will come when he and I will be comfortable around each other that it won't matter that he snores (hell, I've been told that I do also), or that it's a bit warm at his place or that This Man doesn't get to press my sweaty body up against his. Eventually the time will come, when Raymond and I will fall asleep in each other's arms.
I'm looking forward to that night already.

Mahalo.

The Bodybuilder.

2006-05-10T00:43:00.000-07:00

A great man AND he looks fantastic naked! (There's so many small details to add to this post, but because it's so late, I'll add them some other time...TML)

The crazy thing about screwing a bodybuilder/gym bunny isn't that you constantly have to hear about how their gym session went (he never mentions it), it isn't that massive amount of supplements strewn throughout their apartment (haven't seen them) and it's isn't the vast array of body building tank tops that are part of their wardrobe (now his posing trunks are a different story). The crazy thing about dating a bodybuilder, This Man has recently discovered is, it always seems to be meal time! I met Raymond last week and we spent this past weekend together. Raymond is a sexy, Latin bodybuilder who's not stuck on himself and, from what This Man could see, appeared to be relatively low maintenance. We hit it off instantly! So much in fact, that when he invited me to come to his place to watch a movie on Saturday evening, This Man didn't hesitate. We were supposed to have watched Tristan & Isoldte, however after numerous attempts to try and follow the plot, we gave up and settled on making out instead. Hours later, This Man and Raymond were curled together on his living room floor asleep.
Guess I was spending the night at his place.
Sunday morning, I awoke to fresh coffee, sesame seed bagels and a nice egg white omelette. We spent the morning talking and looking out his apartment windows at the people passing by. It was great. Later in the afternoon, we strolled through North Park to return a video, stopping along the way to check out some new condos--it was fantastic. Raymond was a great man and This Man was enjoying my time with him.
Finally 24 hours later, we agreed to see each other this week and to definitely talk on the phone. His schedule, he said is kind of hectic but he would find time to give me a call. In the midst of all of This Man's drama, he made of a great weekend--even if he temporarily took my mind off of my problems.
I'm looking forward to seeing him again.

Mahalo.

Two Nights Ago.

2006-05-04T16:46:00.000-07:00

Two nights ago, This Man and The Dutchman got together. It was great seeing him and already I'm hoping that I'll get to see him again soon. He looked great, smelled wonderful and was all around MANTASTIC (he knows what I'm talking about).
GRRRRRR...

Mahalo

The Phone Call.

2006-04-25T03:24:00.000-07:00

This evening, I was out riding my bicycle to Food4Less, when This Man's phone rang. It was my sister. Odd, certainly, seeing as only this past weekend, I'd mentioned that I should call her.
And for her to be calling me just out of the blue and there being no major holiday coming up, had me immediately nervous.
Something was wrong. It had to be.
Once the formalities were out of the way, my sister wasted no time in getting to the point.
"Victor isn't doing too good. I figured I'd better call you now just to let you know." She was talking about my second oldest brother. His liver was about to completely shut down. The result of too much drinking, poor health and a plethora of other bad conditions, it's suspected that he doesn't have much longer to live. She was talking so fast and at this point, I'd stopped pedaling my bicycle and came to a stop on the sidewalk. I couldn't take it all in.
My brother, Victor. Whenever This Man thinks about my siblings, I'm reminded of a scene in The Pianist. In the scene, Wladys Szpilman (played by Adrien Brody) and his sister Halina are walking among the mass of other Polish Jews, on their way to the German labor camps when Wladys says to his sister, "I wish I knew you better." That line is so moving that his sister, holding back the tears can only stifle a, "Thank you."

Of course in the next couple of days, This Man will go out of my way to start contacting family and friends--if only just to let everyone know what's going on. But at the same time, I got to thinking that I truly don't know my brothers and sisters the way I should.
My sister informed me that it may be too late for my brother to get a transplant and that from the waist down, his legs were black & swollen. It wasn't looking too good.
And as if I don't have enough to worry about, now This Man is really a mess!
I'll keep you posted.

Mahalo.

Sexy Chocolate Daddy

2006-04-24T23:30:00.000-07:00

There's this hot masculine, muscular brotha in Lucy's apartment complex. He's so sexy, with caramel colored skin, a massive chest and a great smile. Even Lucy has called This Man to let me know when he's out and about--she think he's a sexy specimen also.
Today, strolling to my car to get away from my son, Donovan and to listen to the Randi Rhodes show on Air America, This Man passed him. He and I had spoken before, but today as my luck would have it, This Man was looking like shit!
My hair was nappy (I'm letting it grow out), my Von Dutch sweatshirt was dirty and worst of all--my legs were ashy and my flip flop covered toes looked as if they belonged on a creature!
Of all the fucking luck--ARGH!
Meanwhile, he looked great--red nylon sweatpants and a flesh colored, military-issued, pec cuddling tee. Oh yeah, and that smile...WOOF!
This Man smiled.
"Hey man, what's up?" He spoke-to me.
"I love you! I love you! I only want to be with YOU!!!"
YEAH RIGHT. Here's what I really said.
"Hey man, how's it going?" That was all This Man could manage.
We're picking out a new bed tomorrow.

Mahalo

(in reference to the picture at the top of this post, This Man did get a parking ticket--of all the fucking luck!)

An Update...

2006-04-23T23:56:00.000-07:00

I know it's been a while since This Man has blogged but this evening I figured that what I would do is go back and submit some posts that I'd been working on but hadn't either got around to finishing or that I'd written freehand and finally got around to posting. At any rate, still trying to figure out where This Man is going to land after all of the drama that I've been dealing with.
There are a few entries that This Man has added. Feel free to go back and check them out.

Mahalo.

After Hours at Brians'

2006-04-09T03:20:00.000-07:00

From lower left: Ty, This Man, Dennis, Mike & Jason. We took this picture at Brians'. Dennis, Mike & Jason. I took this one from outside.

Mahalo

Welcome to the world, baby boy!

2006-03-12T21:41:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to my good friend, Shandra Marie and her boyfriend Jerome on the arrival of their second child. He was born Sunday afternoon in Atlanta, GA weighing in at 7 pounds .06 ounces.

Welcome to the World, Marquise Khamani...

Mahalo.

The Man from Uranus

2006-03-11T01:30:00.000-08:00

"...so you mean to tell me that with men, it's always about sex?" Lucy asked while rubbing This Man's shoulder.
"Absolutely!"
She and I were standing in the backyard, talking with This Man, once again, giving her insight into the male psyche. And, as usual, she was amazed at what I was telling her. Our conversation started when she was telling me about a co-worker of hers who was unhappy with her present boyfriend and how she was sick and tired of him. From there we'd ventured into the miscommunication of men and women. Lucy was going on about how women use displays of affection as merely that--displays of affection. This Man was informing her of how men usually interpret those gestures--as preludes to sex. So we discussed this scenario. A woman rubs up against a man's shoulder and rubs her hand across his chest. Lucy commented, "A woman is usually just making her presence known and she's being affectionate."
I countered with, "But a man sees that as, 'if he plays his cards right, then he could get lucky in a few minutes.'"
"But , " Lucy protested, "a woman isn't wanting sex at that moment."
"But to a man," I countered, "she's asking for it."
We tossed this conversation back and forth. Then we turned to homosexual men. Suddenly, This Man became a real expert.
"If I'm rubbing a guy's shoulders, then I'll kiss his neck and so on. I'm being more than affectionate, I'm letting him know that I want to have sex." I told her.
"OH MY GOD! And you mean that the guy that you're with will know this?" Lucy asked. She'd finally caught on.
"You've learned lesson Number One, my student." I told her.
"So if Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus..." she asked, "then where are fags from?" Without missing a beat, This Man responded with, "Uranus."

Mahalo

Ass for Sale.

2006-03-02T15:27:00.000-08:00

"I'm thinking about becoming an escort, " the small-bodied fashionista said. We were laying across his bed, catching our breath after an okay romp session.
"You are?" was all This Man could ask. The look on his face let me know that he was serious. "Man, who's going to pay you for sex?" He could barely take my dick!
"I've decided that if I'm going to have sex, then men may as well pay me. I used to get paid two hundred dollars an hour."
"No one will pay you to let them fuck you." Instantly, I knew this conversation was about to be interesting and I'm glad I hadn't already gotten dressed to leave. "Why should they when there are thousands of men here that will get screwed for free."
"Old men will. And men who can't get laid anywhere else. I know I can get the money."
For what? This Man wanted to ask. There were men out there who could take a pounding better than he could--not only that, but this guy likes to think that he's in control. And now, here he was telling This Man that he was going to start charging for his ass--he had to be out of his fucking mind!

Today was the second time that This Man and the fashionista had gotten together this week. We'd fooled around before--usually ending with This Man leaving, frustrated and still horned up. Today, however, everything was different. Let's start with the choice of music to thrash around to--two words, show tunes! I thought it was a big joke, but there blasting out of his stereo was Liza Minelli singing a bunch of Broadway songs. And let me tell you, nothing can make This Man go limp faster than show tunes! Even when I asked if he could change the music, it played on. It took all I had for This Man to maintain "interest". Then midway through, he decided that he couldn't take any more and was finished.
I was so pissed off!
So here we were, This Man listening to him go on and on about how he's going to start escorting. I don't know, but it just seems like every other guy in San Diego swears that he's escort material. And heaven forbid if we call them what they really are--hustlers and prostitutes.
It was time for This Man to wrap this conversation up and get the hell out of there, before he decided to hand me a bill for his mediocre "service". But I had one more thing to say.
"I guess I feel like escorting would take the joy out of sex and thereby turn it into a job. The spontaneity of sex would be replaced by it becoming a chore." And lord knows, half the time this fashionista was rarely "prepared" when it came time for him to deliver the goods.
Finally, This Man got up, got dressed and got the fuck out of there. He could try and see if he could get money for his ass, but This Man knew one thing--I would be damned if I pay for him.

Mahalo

Leave it to The Dutchman.

2006-03-01T00:58:00.000-08:00

The email was brief but it brightened This Man's day. It read:

Nice to see that face and body again. I have to run.

And he was sure to include his email address (which This Man knew already). It was from The Dutchman and I was so happy to get it that I had to force myself to stop reading it over and over. It had been a few months since The Dutchman and I had spoken to each other. I still remember. We'd had lunch at a Lebanese restaurant in North Park and then I tagged along while he went to Costco, grabbing some last minute things that he needed before heading out to the desert for a couple of days. If you've been following my blog, you'll know that The Dutchman and I went through quite a ride before finally agreeing to just be friends. You'll recall that it was after I first professed to having feeling for him--only for him to turn around and get back with his ex. Then later, he turned around and confessed to having feelings for me--months later after I'd finally forced myself to get over him. It was a big mess and we just couldn't get it right! So it only seemed right that we end up as buddies. It was This Man's belief that, since I couldn't have a relationship with him, I didn't just want the sex and I didn't want to lose him altogether so it only made sense that we just be friends. He agreed and that was that.
Lately, however This Man had found myself thinking about him so much. I didn't exactly get all obsessive the way I did with PJ, but I would just wonder how he was doing or what was going on in his life. Quite frankly, I missed him.
So immediately, I responded to his brief email. Here's my response:

LMAO! You have no idea how this message made my day! This is going to sound crazy saying it, but I miss you so much some times that it drives me crazy.

I didn't regret sending it. In fact, I was glad that I did. His email had made me happy and This Man just had to tell him how I felt. Later on in the afternoon, I got a brief response. Again, This Man was beaming.

you miss me??? That is so nice! So whats been up stranger?

I haven't called him yet and I'm hoping that he'll call me. I just want to hang out and see him again. And that's not too much to ask.

Mahalo

Shoving on the Playground

2006-02-22T11:58:00.000-08:00

It was over a hundred guys that all looked exactly alike. It was a gang of straight women who felt comfortable enough to be surrounded by the clone of manufactured boys. The pushing. The shoving. The numerous times that strangers brushed up against This Man and then on top of that, it was the bunch that grabbed my ass. It was a gang of boys attempting to display their feminine qualities. Oh and I can't possibly forget, the bartender who, on the worst night to start a job was attempting to please everyone.
In short, it was Welfare Wednesday at Flicks.
To follow my own advice, This Man decided that what better time to get back out into the gay San Diego nightlife than Welfare Wednesday. I mean, the drinks are dirt cheap. The liquor is one notch above generic and on numerous previous occasions, This Man has had a great time hanging out in the mini lounge. However, of all Wednesdays to pick, I decided to go out tonight. Originally, I'd planned on being out for about 2 hours. Groomed and dressed somewhat decent, all of this would fall by the wayside as I was pushed, prodded and shoved all in attempts for other fags to get drinks for, not only themselves but the other gang of queens that was part of their entourage. It was downright ridiculous! Then tainted by the fact that This Man's favorite bartender wasn't working tonight, I found myself standing in line for damn near 30 minutes for one one dollar drink. Drink in hand, my next venture was to the patio, where (thanks to California law) everyone was smoking. Let's just say that on top of the 30 minute wait for the drink, the 10 minutes of pushing and shoving to get outside and finally manging to find a small corner in which to enjoy my cocktail & cigarette, by the time all of this was accomplished, This Man was no longer in the mood to be social or cordial. Everywhere I looked, everyone looked the same, they talked the same and (I'm sure) they even fucked the same!
Frustrated but observant, it'd finally dawned on me that there was a reason why I'd taken myself out of the "scene". It had all become so premature and there was no reason that This Man could think of why I would continue to torture myself by being there. But I have to say, the best part of the night was when a guy, barely standing next to me looked over and asked why I looked as if I was having a miserable time.
"Because I am..." This Man responded. And I'm sure that drunk homo has no idea how much sense he made when he asked, "Then why are you here?" It was with that comment that This Man trashed the drink, stubbed out the smoke and headed to my car. But I couldn't help but start to question myself and why I was miserable in a place that I'm normally so comfortable in.

Then the answer came to me; it had all gotten tired. I didn't go out to meet men. And the crowd of boys and girls weren't exactly people that I would even want to waste time getting to know. So I drove myself back home and concluded that I was happiest being home alone. I didn't need to be out being deafened by music that I didn't enjoy, I didn't need to be snubbed by complete strangers and I just didn't need the nightlife. This Man figures just because it's expected doesn't necessarily mean that I should partake, right? And with that being said, I'm finished with gay San Diego. This Man doesn't need it and I sure as hell won't miss it.

Mahalo

This Man & the fellas

2006-02-20T00:43:00.000-08:00

Last night, This Man spent the evening with some fantastic buddies, having drinks and cruising men at Hamburger Mary's. Nothing too out of the ordinary about it--after all it was Sunday evening and everyone's usually out. So after standing in line for damn near 30 minutes, waiting to get inside, This Man, fellow blogger and good friend JS and two more buds hung out, danced around and had a few laughs. JS snapped these photos and they're too good not to share. Yours truly is in the center of both of them.

To the fellas, This Man had a mantastic time tonight. Let's do it again some time.

Mahalo

Was I really there?

2006-02-19T16:46:00.000-08:00

"Didn't I see you at Rich's tonight?"
"No, I haven't been to Rich's in ages. Why?"
"There was a guy that looked like you and I figured it was you."
"Nope...wasn't me."
"Are you sure?"

A few minutes later, from the same guy...
"Were you at Numbers?"
"Um, no...Like I said, I haven't been out in a while. And I don't party around lesbians."
"Are you sure? You look strangely familiar. You don't have to lie about it."
"Look man, I have no reason to lie about something so trivial. I've been in the house all night." "I think you're lying!"

Then came this bunch of messages from a completely different guy.
"Were you at the Brass Rail tonight?"
"Nope, been here all night."
"I could've sworn that I'd seen you...anyway they're stopping Brown Suga night on March 17."
(Good Riddance, Brown Suga night sucked--BIG TIME!)

Then This Man received this series of emails last night.
"Were you at Top of the Park Friday night? At the buffet area with the killer shoes on?"
"No, I haven't been out all weekend."
"That's okay, the guy really looked like you...so anyway...how are u?"
"I'm good and I'm crazy about nice shoes. What kind were they?"
"Gucci and they looked FLAWLESS!"
"Then it definitely wasn't me."

From the looks of it, This Man has been missing out on some really good times and I've apparently passed up numerous opportunities to meet some great-looking men. And not only that, but apparently there's a fucking clone running around San Diego, with a great sense of style and meeting all of the men that I could have. It just might be time for This Man to get back out there into the San Diego gay nightlife because staying at home is holding me down.

Mahalo

(Photos taken in and around LaJolla Cove, CA)

On the Left Nipple.

2006-02-14T00:18:00.000-08:00

I guess This Man could've used this entry to whine and moan about not having anyone to cuddle and smooch today. To tell the truth it's not necessary because I'm quite happy with what I have--a wonderful family, great friends and fantastic lovers.
Who could ask for anything more?

Happy Valentine's Day

Oh yeah, and Happy Birthday to Marquise Ahkari...your uncle can't believe that you're 2 years old!

Mahalo

Double Penetrated!

2006-02-12T19:42:00.000-08:00

From the moment that we stepped into the H&R Block office in Mission Valley, This Man knew that it wasn't going to be a good afternoon.
It was time to pay the government.
Normally, whenever tax time came around, This Man would always look forward to getting a nice lump of change back only this time, that wouldn't be the case.
I was going to have to pay the government!
After the tax preparer went through all of the numbers and even stopped to double check his work, it was finally evident that he didn't, in fact make any mistakes and this would be the first year (I'm sure of many other years to come) that I wouldn't be getting a refund.
ARGH!
What did this mean, This Man is sure you're wondering? Well, it means that I won't get to look forward to the time when my bank account would suddenly, one day, have more money in it than the day before. It meant that I wouldn't be able to treat myself, L or my son, D to anything as a token of another tax year gone by. I meant that I would have to set up a payment plan to arrange to pay just over 2600 dollars back!
Just over two thousand six hundred dollars!
There were two things that went wrong in This Man's household this year. 1.) I'd received a tax-free bonus. and 2.) Some how, some way, there was more money coming through my house than I'd imagined. That's odd because looking back now, This Man can't seem to recall where any of it went.
So it's official, I'm actually having to pay taxes this year. As if I hadn't been raped enough this year by the government now I'm going to have to pay for the double penetration.
What else could possibly go wrong?

Oh yeah, funny I should ask. Did I mention that Friday morning, This Man was in a car accident? Don't be alarmed, I'm perfectly fine. I was rear ended by some Minnesota college chick blonde dreads, an expired license and insurance that she wasn't on. She rear ended me. The damage to my Jeep is very minor, but she's going to pay as soon as I get out and get the estimates.
More on that one later...

Mahalo

A Couple of Fuck 'tards!

2006-02-09T23:36:00.000-08:00

There's nothing like spending a late afternoon with my best friend in the world, L!
Today, once she'd gotten off of work, This Man and L went running around town. Actually, we went to the bank, followed by a brief trip to the neighborhood park and just hanging out before picking my son, D up from school. Even though it was the early evening, it was still sunny and nice out and she and I took full advantage of it. Thankfully, the line at the bank was short and she and I, talking at the top of our lungs, causing everyone to send us evil stares didn't falter our spirits. We were truly the poor folks version of Whitney & Bobby--only This Man was acting like the crackhead and L was the level headed fool!
From the bank, we dashed up to the neighborhood park so This Man could take some pictures, purposefully for this blog while L engaged herself in some "herbal refreshments". Since there wasn't too many objects of interest, I ended up begging her to photograph me on the playground. Forty frames later and her complaining about This Man having too much of a good time on the swings, we captured our shots and headed for the school to pick up D.

D hopped in the car, exhausted as usual--but even he couldn't get us down. L and This Man were in the front seat, laughing, singing and cursing about pretty much anything that came to our minds.
Finally, it wasn't until our trip to Tardville (aka WalMart) that she and I really acted like a couple of asses! We got into the store and instantly grabbed two shopping carts and granted we would be taking everything into the same household, we played it safe and paid for the purchases separately. And even when L somehow got separated from This Man and I surrounded by the riff raff that patronize WalMart (me, personally, I'm a Target kinda guy) and just as I was tempted to scream across the store, "Please, please don't leave me amongst these FUCK 'TARDS!" , we ended up back together, paid for our things and headed back home.
And in true fag form, This Man finally broke down and bought the Kelly Clarkson CD (I'd been meaning to get it for quite some time), L and I were singing, in my Jeep at the top of our lungs--like the 'tards that we truly were!
All in all, the perfect evening and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Mahalo

No Gag Reflex

2006-02-07T15:17:00.000-08:00

Okay, so there's good news and bad news. This Man will start with all of the good news that's happened since I last blogged.
After somehow managing to go the whole weekend without speaking, L and This Man are back on speaking terms. It's so funny how we can actually go a whole weekend from Friday until Monday and not speak to one another. Usually once the gag order has been lifted, we'll find ourselves sitting and getting caught up on everything that's happened from the time that we stopped speaking. I know that sounds so crazy and unhealthy, but hey, it works so we don't fuck with it.
Somewhere between my birthday and this past weekend, my old chat buddy and I started back speaking. It started when JJ invited me to a movie and dinner for my birthday and to return the gesture that I'd done for him once when he was at a low point in his life. Needless to say, This Man didn't take him up on the invitation, but we did run into each other and just kinda picked up where we left off--5 months ago! I'm happy that we're back on speaking terms, but I'm still a bit disappointed that he's up to his same old tricks. And sure, This Man is so tempted to tell JJ about himself, only now, I use restraint.
Here's a piece of bad news. Right now as I sit here at the desk, typing this entry, my fucking car is acting up again! It's seems to be some kind of electrical problem or maybe the connection to the battery is all fucked up again. Whatever it is, the problem has really fucked up my afternoon and I'm dreading having to walk across the alley to my neighbor's house to pester her to give me a jump.

Well there was supposed to be a long list of good news and a few things that were bad. Before I actually came in to blog, I had a long list of things to mention and now, I can't remember shit (don't you hate when that happens). Oh yeah, one more thing before I end it.

Happy Birthday, DB!

I know This Man sent the text message a few days early, but I did remember. Have a good one, buddy!

Mahalo

Say What?!

2006-02-06T15:43:00.000-08:00

Come to find out, it is possible to leave comments on This Man's Life.
"How is it possible, This Man?"
I'm sure you're asking. Here's how...

Next to every title of my blog entries is a number (usually a zero). Place your cursor on the number and a link to "comments" comes up. Click it.
At the bottom of the blog entry near "Leave a Reply." You'll see an area for name and your weblog URL. In both areas, there's a LONG string of code. Highlight and delete all of it. Once that string of code has been deleted. Type in your name then your blog URL then add your comments or remarks. Hit post.
And that's it. Trust me, I've been testing it and it works. The key is to delete all of that unnecessary code.
It works--for now.

Happy Birthday to my nephew, TOW!

Mahalo.

She's a Big Girl now!

2006-01-31T15:11:00.000-08:00

L, you didn't think that This Man for one minute wasn't going to blog about your turning 30, did you?
You're finally in the Grown Folks league now.
Happy Birthday from This Man!

Readers, if you want to wish L a Happy Birthday, stop by her blog. You can reach it here.

Flawless!

2006-01-30T21:14:00.000-08:00

Today while at the grocery store, I passed the magazine rack and had to do a double take, after seeing Beyonce' looking stunning on the cover of Cosmopolitan. Now normally, This Man would never use the word, FLAWLESS, but it's the only word in the English dictionary that could possibly describe how she looks gracing the cover!
And don't even get me started on her latest video.

...And one to grow on!

2006-01-28T23:15:00.000-08:00

Surprisingly, This Man woke up without feeling depressed.
It was that time again. That's right. My birthday.
And looking back on everything that happened today, I'm kinda glad that I didn't find myself in a deep depression like I normally do. Let's see, I got some nice gifts.
My buddy JS, sent me a great gift certificate for 75 bucks to use on Amazon.com (he knows about my love for books). I got two nice pens with my name engraved on them. L and my son, D got me balloons, a cake and ice cream (yum) and even offered to have my car washed and cleaned.

My oldest sister sent me a card ( no money--just the card). Usually she includes money to reflect your age. And a dear girlfriend of mine SML called from Atlanta.
So all in all it was great. This Man has absolutely nothing to be sad about. But it's the conversations and cards that I'll definitely remember. Let's start with the e-greeting from my buddy, JS. It read;

happy 32nd birthday mr. heath. i was trying with no luck to find a vendor for fresh cut flowers via email gift certificate. so yr stuck with an Amazon gift certificate. i have a copy of a DVD at the house ("Fuck House" T.I.M.); you can pick that up whenever. drive by the house in june to see the roses and calla lilies in the front yard in bloom, if i dont kill them before then. enjoy your day
your friend
j

Then there was the conversation with L. She always manages to keep This Man in check.
L: Here's your cake, balloons & ice cream. Now get over here and cut us some cake and scoop us some ice cream.
This Man: You mean I have to serve y'all? But it's my birthday!
L: Look, it's only your birthday for two hours! That's all you get. Two Hours!

And my conversation with my dear friend, SML, in Atlanta went something like this...
SML: So are you doing anything fun & exciting tonight?
This Man: Nah, I'll probably stay in. You know, I'm not exactly looking my best.
SML: You must need a hair cut?
This Man: OMG, how does everybody know that?!
SML: ...because when your hair isn't right, you don't go ANYWHERE!
Sadly, she's telling the truth!

Then later on in the day, This Man was pacing and wondering why I hadn't received a card or a phone call from my sister. I mean, she never forgets to atleast call (and I do the same for her). Just as it was making me anxious, I commented to L.
This Man: I guess I should go check the mail to see if my sister sent a card atleast.
L: OH GOD! And so the depression begins...
Fortunately, she sent the card so I was all good.

So to close out this post, This Man would like to say Thank You to all those who wished me a Happy Birthday. This turned out to be one of my better birthdays in that it didn't involve a Paxil prescription, a trip to the therapist and This Man bawling his eyes out.
Thanks a million for the cards and gifts.

Love Ya,
This Man

The Smurfs

2006-01-21T18:09:00.000-08:00

Remember growing up and watching the Smurfs? For This Man, I never got up early enough on Saturday morning so I never watched the cartoon, but I remember the characters well enough.
So it seems that This Man and my best friend L, were sitting & watching a commercial for the Smurfs when the following conversation started.
L: I wish I could live there.
(Instantly This Man gives her a sidewards glance.)
This Man: You would want to live there?
L: Yeah, I wish I could live there.
(Another sidewards glance. This chick is dead serious.)
This Man: But they lived in mushrooms!
L has a big grin on her face.
This Man: And there was only one girl there.
L: Yeah...and? She gets her period once a month!
Had I not been there, I wouldn't have believed the conversation myself!

Mahalo

From the Chairman

2006-01-19T02:46:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,
I've gotten word that it's become impossible to leave comments or remarks on This Man's Life. Believe me when I say that I'm working on it and keep in mind that I'm an amateur at this so it's going to take me a while to correct it. Nevertheless, keep reading and I promise the problem will be fixed soon.

Mahalo.

Crying on the Inside

2006-01-17T20:41:00.000-08:00

This Man will be back in a few days.

Mahalo.

Teacher...student

2006-01-14T17:05:00.000-08:00

Here's the beginning of a conversation that I had with a buddy of mine on Gay.com...
«Heathboy27» let's chat for a bit...
«SevenDeadHookers» ok
«Heathboy27» the subject is...
«Heathboy27» guys who have potential to be excellent bottom boys and whether or not it's worth it to invest the time in teaching them
«SevenDeadHookers» lol
This Man was telling my buddy (SevenDeadHookers) about an experience that I'd had with a young guy who lacked, um--experience.
«Heathboy27» no joke
«SevenDeadHookers» well.. me personally... I like being a teacher sometimes
«Heathboy27» I met this bomb ass, young brotha the other night
«SevenDeadHookers» makes me feel important.. and they remember you forever!
«Heathboy27» he had a banging body and a cute face
«Heathboy27» but he lacked experience and it was very obvious
«Heathboy27» but I could sense the potential
that part is self-explanatory. Read on.
«Heathboy27» and wouldn't mind hooking up with him again, but I would have to completely break him down to square one and reteach him everything that he thought he knew
«Heathboy27» and it's clearly obvious that he's merely a product of the guys that he's been letting fuck him
«Heathboy27» have you ever had anyone like this?
«SevenDeadHookers» oh one of those.. that shouldn't be hard really.. if you tell it like it is.. and say. you know.. sex can be better.. and the guys you've had up until now haven't taught you anything
«Heathboy27» hmmmm...very true
«Heathboy27» we'd have to start with the obvious...
«Heathboy27» recreating his "Booty Bag"
«Heathboy27» I mean, this is 2006, who the fuck still uses Vaseline as lubricant?
«Heathboy27» he pulled that out and I was like, "Oh no, man...I brought some."
«Heathboy27» because I was NOT about to put that gunk on me
«SevenDeadHookers» vaseline?..
«SevenDeadHookers» how old is he?
«Heathboy27» vaseline
«Heathboy27» 26
«SevenDeadHookers» how did he even fucking knwo about it?
«Heathboy27» man, I don't even know...maybe he'd been to jail at one time or another
«SevenDeadHookers» that crossed my mind too
«SevenDeadHookers» I say go for it
«Heathboy27» I thought about saying it to him or sending him a message, but I didn't want to sound downright offensive
«Heathboy27» teach him that body contact IS a good thing
«SevenDeadHookers» yeah.. exactly
«SevenDeadHookers» you can say it like it's for his benefit.. you want to show him a few things.. etc
«Heathboy27» he would tense up whenever I would touch him or kind of man-hold him while I was fucking him
«SevenDeadHookers» maybe he was raped
«SevenDeadHookers» prison sounds more and more right
«SevenDeadHookers» ok.. speaking of fucking
«SevenDeadHookers» gotta go
«Heathboy27» this is why I like chatting with you!
«Heathboy27» okay
«Heathboy27» I'll finish with you later
«Heathboy27» don't let me forget
«SevenDeadHookers» keep me updated!
«Heathboy27» k

Mahalo.

RACIST!

2006-01-04T08:53:00.000-08:00

Racism: n (rac-ism)
1. The belief that race accounts for differences in human character or ability and that a particular race is superior to others.
2. Discrimination or prejudice based on race.

Okay, so there it is in black and white (literally). I put that definition in this post because I swear, if This Man reads another online profile that reads something like this :

"...Not into Asian, Latin or Black men. I'm not a racist, I just like (White) men. It's my preference, sorry."

I will start dating dogs because even they aren't that damned selective. But don't get me wrong, contrary to my example, it's not strictly White men that do this. You can mix and match the arrangement and you'll see what I'm so frustrated about.
Because profiles like the one above are precisely what racism is! Here's this man definition of a preference...
" Braids and dreads are nice, but This Man prefers men with close cuts or waves."

But I think the reason that I'm frustrated about the "racist" profiles is the lame attempt at trying to justify it and then summing it up with a tired ass "sorry". As if that softens the blow.
I don't know. I just want to respond to all of these profiles with one of my own that reads.

"There's nothing wrong with being a racist. In fact, more men would respect you if you were upfront about it."

This Man keeps telling myself that the way things are going in Fag world, it's just a matter of time before 1.) I swear off sex and men altogether or 2.) I start to date women.
Neither of which, This Man really thinks he would be able to do successfully.

Mahalo.

Happy 2006

2006-01-01T12:48:00.000-08:00

From all of us here at This Man's Life (that includes This Man and all of the many voices in my head) Happy New Year.

Mahalo.

The Gentleman and his Accordion...

2006-01-01T02:07:00.000-08:00

"A gentleman knows how to play the accordion, but doesn't."

I whispered that tidbit of wisdom to my friend, SS as he continued to kick This Man's ass--BIG TIME at a friendly game of pool. It was New Year's Eve and we were at Pecs, working our way through what would be one of several pitchers of beer all while still feeling the pot that we'd smoked back at his place. What was originally supposed to be the two of us hanging out, watching TV and eating everything in sight, was about to very rapidly turn into a night with the two of us having what was certain to be This Man's prelude to a fantastic year to come.
And to think, it all started while we were watching Desperate Housewives. Don't worry, it was a repeat (the one where Susan finally gets to the hospital to see Mike after he came out of his coma).
At any rate, we ended up at Pecs and fortunately This Man thought to bring my camera so I'll allow the pictures to tell the story.

(with good buddies, DB on my left and SS on my right)

(JS and DB on the patio at Pecs)

(SS making out with some hot Latin guy--we still don't know who it was.)

(and it was only a matter of time before the cheesy New Years paper hat showed up).

Finally, 2006 is over! I was fortunate to spend New Year's Eve with a few close buddies.
Hopefully, 2007 is better than last year.
Stick around for the ride.

Mahalo

Grey

2005-12-29T15:50:00.000-08:00

This Man found it this morning.

I was at work. In the bathroom, checking myself out before heading back out to see what everyone else what doing and that's when I spotted it. It's about two inches above my left ear.
A grey hair.
At first This Man thought it was merely the sunlight coming through the window and casting a reflection on my head. When I looked closer, I thought it was a piece of thread. Only when I began to pull on it, that's when I realized that it was attached to my head.
I couldn't even pull it out! ARGH!
And the crazy part is, it's not even the first grey hair that I grown. L used to tell me all of the time that I had a few of them in the back of my head near the center, but I paid that no mind. But to spot one myself, This Man was, for a brief moment, shocked.
I'm getting older. I suppose it's better that I find it in my head than down below.
Thankfully, I'm going to see my barber tomorrow.
Mahalo

Something to Remember

2005-12-26T22:15:00.000-08:00

One year ago today, This Man started a humble blog merely as an outlet for the voices in my head. I'm still amazed that I've managed to continue blogging even when there were times that I just wanted to lay the whole idea of blogging to rest.
One year ago today, I was onboard my favorite warship, enjoying a brief port visit (and what would be my last time there) in Hong Kong. Blogging became a source of entertainment for me. I was interested in what others had to blog about as well as what I would actually blog about.
One year ago today, I was missing my family. But the deployment was supposed to be brief and it would've been just a matter of time before I was home with them again. Had we been able to forsee the natural disaster that would occur two days later then I would've been more prepared to settle in for the extended stay overseas.
That's right, it's the one year anniversary of This Man's Life! I can't believe I made it this far! I kept telling myself that I would go back and read all of my entries if only just to see if my writing style had improved any. But for some reason, I'm afraid to only because I know This Man and how he operates and I would probably go back and start proofreading and correcting and possibly even giving myself grades on my writing style.
Since I don't plan to dwell too much on the past, I will give a brief overview of all that has been covered in my small blog.

the countless stories of life in today's Navy's all covered while onboard my favorite Arleigh Burke class guided missile destroyer.
the anticipation of getting back to San Diego after being extended in the Indian Ocean during the tsunami.
finally returning to San Diego.
falling in what I thought was love.
professing my love for a few men in my life
getting dumped a few times
getting my heart broken
breaking a few hearts
transferring to shore duty
finally getting a social life in San Diego
going on dates (finally)
met some fellow bloggers

The list goes on and on. It's amazing. I guess all I can really say is, I'll plan to keep blogging until there's absolutely nothing else that I could possibly blog about and only then will I lay it to rest.
Hopefully my writing gets better and the voice that I'm desperately trying to find continues to get clearer. The changes that I made to the look of my blog were good, now it's time to work on the content. The first year is over. Now it's definitely time to capture more tidbits of This Man's Life. You may need to sign a waiver.

Mahalo

House Arrest

2005-12-25T23:58:00.000-08:00

Christmas at the home of This Man was not your average wake up, run downstairs and marvel at the gifts stacked under the tree. No, Christmas at my house was everything but sweet scents filling the house and presents being opened with care. There was no big dinner with millions of desserts and even as I blog, I can't recall what I ate--if I even ate at all!
Here's how Christmas at my house played out. I woke up around 5:30 a.m and with a great amount of effort, managed to pull myself up, get dressed and drive down to Naval Station San Diego. You see, I had duty, but don't be alarmed because this wasn't typical-24 hour duty. I was expected to be on duty for approximately 1 hour.
1 Hour!
So I got to work just before 7 o'clock, mustered and commenced to throughly clean and empty building. That's right--EMPTY!
With two other pissed off sailors, we cleaned the building only to be told afterwards to go outside and sweep the adjacent parking lot. Yeah, you don't have to tell This Man how ridiculous that was. Finally, just after 8 o'clock, This Man was back on the road and headed home. By then, my son, D had opened all of his gifts and desribed them all to me while This Man changed back into my pajamas. After sleeping way into the mid afternoon, my son, anxious to go outside and play with his buddies took off leaving me restless and bored. Suddenly I was tired of being in the house but with everything being closed, safe for Denny's, the grocery store & perhaps Starbucks down the street from my house, what was there possibly for me to get into?
A buddy of mine sent me a message online, asking were there any bars open and if there were would I be up for hanging out and having some drinks. Thank goodness for Hamburger Mary's!
As it turned out, there was quite a few guys out and about, all tired of being forced to stay at home on "house arrest" which I've come to think of Christmas as. I met up with him and another handsome fella and ended up hanging at Mary's for most of the evening. As it turned out, DB was home alone and sent me a text message, checking to see what I was up to. He ended up coming down to hang out as well. I ended up staying at the bar with DB and the new guy TJ and having a Mantastic time so fun in fact that the next time I realized the time, it was almost midnight (and I got to Mary's at 5 o'clock)! Once the crowd took off, DB and I went to Denny's, had some warm tea and talked before finally calling it a night.
Once back home, I got to thinking about Christmas and when had it become House Arrest. I mean, I almost dread the holiday, knowing that I'll be stuck in the house all day with no means of escape and god forbid, there's company in town--ARGH, that makes it that much more difficult to handle.

Mahalo & Happy Holidays

Navy Times

2005-12-22T13:02:00.000-08:00

Last night, This Man was going through the list of blogs that I like to read and I happened to come across Overheard in New York. That blog has snippets of randoms conversations heard throughout the city and they're so hilarious that This Man decided that I would take a shot and record some pieces of dialogue that I happened to hear throughout my day at work.
I have to mention, that being around sailors all day, one can hear some pretty interesting stuff. Some of it, I just want to interrupt and add my own two cents and others I have to walk away, holding in the laughter. Since it is the military and we're not allowed to have any types of recording devices anywhere, This Man was going to have to rely on my memory and my trusty will book to document the conversations. The first, I overheard while outside having a smoke. Two guys were discussing one dude's girlfriend. Here's what happened...

Sailor One: Man, last night Trish came over and gave me the best head!
Sailor Two: (inhaling his cigarette) I thought you were gonna get rid of her.
Sailor One: So did I! But after last night, I'm thinking I may just keep her around if only for her sucking skills.
Sailor Two: (laughing & coughing) Awww, man that's fucked up!
Sailor One: What would you do?
Sailor Two: (stubbed out his cigarette) Probably the same thing.

Two hours later, This Man was passing across the quarterdeck and heard this one. One guy on staff was trying to familiarize himself with the hot areas in San Diego. Two other sailors were trying to help him out.

Sailor One: So where are the happening spots in this town. I feel like doing some shit tonight.
Sailor Two: Whatever you do, don't go to Hillcrest (the gay neighborhood).
Sailor One: What's going on over there?
Sailor Two: It's nothing but faggots running around, holding hands and shit. Even the sign has a bunch of rainbow colors on it.
Sailor One: Oh FUCK THAT!
Sailor Two: Yeah, that's what I'm saying.
Sailor Three: (finally looks up from his work) Say dawg, you sure know a lot about Hillcrest, don't you?
Sailor Two: Well...my girl likes going over there.
Sailor One: Yeah, of course she does!

And how could This Man forget about the two women who were sitting in the lounge. I was merely passing through and overheard these two talking. The first girl was (she was pregnant) rubbing her stomach. They were staring at the TV screen.

Sailor One: I don't care if he has the money or not, but that nigga betta get me a bomb ass gift for Christmas.
Sailor Two: But girl, you just said that you didn't get him anything.
Sailor One: It ain't about what I got for him--this is about what he better have for me! Hell, this baby is his damned Christmas gift.

Mahalo

Winners that Lose

2005-12-17T21:05:00.000-08:00

I suppose waking up early this morning, after having only 3 hours of sleep would be enough to make any man crazy. For This Man, I had to be up, literally, at the crack of dawn because it was the first day of regional playoffs for my son's soccer team. So shortly before 6:30, we set out for San Marcos, CA up in the north part of San Diego county. It was frigid out, and the fact that L hadn't had breakfast and This Man hadn't had my morning cigarette, it was best and recommended that we ride in complete silence during the 30 minute drive. As for D, he was in the back seat, engrossed in yet another one of his Gameboy video games. My son's team was scheduled to play two games that morning, however the most important one would be the first seeing as it would determine whether there would be a second game. The team currently held a 15-0 record and I have to admit, it was easy to get caught up in their cockiness. However, the team that they were to play today was equally skilled and just as aggressive. Even the parents, on the sidelines were nervous. The two teams went head to head and it wasn't until just before half time before the first goal was scored. 1-0. Ultimately the team from Tierrasanta, CA managed to score, locking up the game. It wasn't until they scored another goal early into the 4th quarter that This Man was able to observe, not only my son, but his teammates' spirit starting to diminish. Finally, with a score of 2-1, the undefeated team from Kearny Mesa had succombed to being beat for the first time this season.
They were devasted.
This Man had never seen so many 9 year old boys display raw emotion. While us parents were proud of them, they were disappointed in themselves. There was nothing that any of us could say that could stop the flow of tears. It was at that moment that L and This Man realized that it wasn't about the fact that we'd gotten up at 6 this morning to bring D to play. It wasn't about the fact that it was just below 50 degrees outside. And it wasn't about the fact that they wouldn't be advancing on in the playoffs. At that moment, those boys cried, screamed and stormed off because they'd failed themselves.
On the drive back down to San Diego, This Man and L just kinda let the silence linger because the last thing, I'm sure the last thing, D wanted to hear at that moment was how it was clear that he'd given 110% and yet they'd lost.
In other news, we finally got the Christ mas tree put up. After some serious deliberations on whether to put it in the living room or the den, it finally went up in the den. The house is looking festive (in a tasteful way--but certainly not over the top). The more I look at the tree whenever This Man is at the workstation, it kinda reminds me of Little House on the Prairie, seeing as it's about 2 steps from the kitchen. Nevertheless, I guess now I should work on getting in the holiday spirit.

Mahalo.

Partying in Point Loma

2005-12-12T05:29:00.000-08:00

As you can see, the new look of This Man's Life is starting to take shape and I have to admit, I'm actually kind of impressed by it. Granted, I finally got the header completed this morning all while a bit woozy from all of the wine that I drank last night at the Christmas party that I went to with my best friend, L. But it was kinda cool though, I woke up this morning around 4:30 and had suddenly figured out how I would do the header--what you see is the final product.
So last night, This Man and L went to her office's Christmas party, held at one of her manager's beautiful home up in the hills of Point Loma. It was crazy trying to navigate our way through the dark streets (I mean, rich people really hate the concept of street lights) , but it wasn't until I pulled the car over and actually studied the map that This Man realized that I did, in fact, know exactly how to get us to the location. A few minutes later, we were mingling with some of the more prominent doctors of San Diego County. The guests were all nice, but This Man found the party to be slightly still, but thanks to the abundant supply of wine, I'd attacked that liquor table like an alcoholic at the Last Supper! All in all, I had a great time. It wasn't like being surrounded by men, drinking pitchers of beer at the Hole (which by the way, was about 3 miles down the road), but sitting by the pit fire on a clear San Diego night can't be beat either.

Mahalo

Under Construction

2005-12-11T03:33:00.000-08:00

So I'm in the process of changing the look of This Man's Life. Bear with me as I have no experience in creating a blog template from scratch and I'm trying to get everything in place in time for my 1 year anniversary of blogging.
Don't worry, I'm still posting. The page just looks a bit incomplete. Oh yeah, if anyone knows how to create a header--hit me up.
If all else fails, I'll just return to the original look.

Mahalo