and d(th)en…

the client called me, late but better than not, and we’re going to reschedule on monday.

as soon as my jeans are dry, i’m outta here.

a no-show

damnable client, not showing up and not calling to cancel.

…and now the breath. more calm now.

In other news, when my laundry is done, and returns from the gym, I’ll be driving to Sacramento to do some massage and work on TFO stuff.

bubble-wrap, plumpy

well, the bathroom is largely completed. i put the first coat of the trim paint on yesterday in the most obvious areas, so that when my massage clients came over, it would look finished enough. i’m going to have to finish it this weekend, maybe sunday afternoon.

i did two very intense massages yesterday, and with all that ladder standing and painting, i’m pretty sore today. i sure could use a massage. i’ve got another massage today at 13:00, need to do laundry, and other stuff.

rolling along, missing bob and jeff, trying to get enough money for rent. i have to go to sacramento for Trash Film Orgy-related program activities. the Friday the 13th show this coming February is looming on the horizon.

The Alias Meme

Taken from , taken from , who got it from , who got it from :

EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS = Favorite Spice + Last Foreign Vacation Spot:
Ginger St. Thomas

SOCIALITE ALIAS = Silliest Childhood Nickname + Town Where You First Partied:
Tinkerbell Greenhaven

“FLY GIRL” ALIAS (a la J. Lo) = First Initial + First Two or Three Letters of Your Last Name:
P. Bro

ROCK STAR ALIAS = Any Liquid on the Bar + Last Name of Bad-Ass Celeb:
Absolut Diesel

DIVA ALIAS = Something Sweet Within Sight + Any Liquid in Kitchen:
Honey NyQuil

GIRL DETECTIVE ALIAS = Favorite Baby Animal + Where You Last Went To School:
Kitten Massage (School)

BARFLY ALIAS = Last Snack Food You Ate + Your Favorite Drink:
WasabiPea Martini

SOAP OPERA ALIAS = Middle Name + Street Where You First Lived:
Vincent Valley

PORN STAR ALIAS = Name of first childhood pet + Street Where You First Lived:
Lawrence Valley

" rel="bookmark">The five questions of

1) If you had to live anywhere else in the world, but knew you could never come back to the United States, where would you live (let’s assume a healthy job and set-up would be made available to you in the destination)?

Oh, I’d probably choose somewhere in Canada or Western Europe, or Australia, but I’m all for trying to make the United States a better place, so leaving isn’t really an option for me.

2) If sexual performance were an event in the Gay Games, in which event would you be most likely to capture a medal? In which event would you fail to qualify for the finals?

Oh, I’d take the gold for the Oral Sex competition, but I’d be out of the running in the Anal Sex (Top) event. I used to be quite skilled in that event, but this past year, it seems I’ve lost the nerve to do it right anymore. sigh. This is a function of exploring my neglected bottomness, and that I only want to top a guy(s) that I love.

3) If you suddenly became famous and one of your friends were hired to write a “tell-all” about your life, who would have the best ammunition?

Gosh, I really don’t know, since I don’t have many secrets, almost anybody could do it up right.

4) Of the following terms, which is your favorite way to describe your Mr. Right, and why? Partner, Boyfriend, Lover, Husband, Significant Other, or Mate?

I used to call Rick my partner, or husband.

5) Do you think successful, high-profile gay men and women have a moral obligation to come out, or is it a personal decision everyone must make for themselves?

I don’t necessarily think that such people should have to make some momentous declaration of their gayness, but rather just live openly, as if their lives and relationships were as normal as everybody else’s.

The Bathroom at UGH, continued

Well, I got the wallpaper scraped off the walls, and this morning, I washed the walls with Jasco’s TSP Substitute, and just finished putting on a coat of Killz Premium primer. You can see the pics here.

so, i was met at the airport last monday by , whose back wasn’t as bad as i was led to believe it was.

i started work on the bathroom, stripping off the old wallpaper, and scraping the ceiling. tomorrow i’m going to get the TSP and primer done, hopefully.

and i drove down to los angeles on thursday night to help get ready for the mover’s arrival saturday morning. i was faintly hoping that some of the work would have already been done, but that was a faint hope. we got down there at 03:30 friday morning, and the place was as chaotic as ever, with computers and consumer electronic equipment all over the place. sigh. a couple hours of sleep later and we began packing stuff up. now i knew that with john’s back, my low energy, and frank’s chaos-mind that we were not going to be able to get it all done, and not surprisingly, i was right.

the mover’s arrived saturday morning and frank had been lead to believe that they were also going to be packing as well as loading the truck. they seemed to have other ideas. after a somewhat tense couple of moments with them, and frank’s phone conversation with the company’s management, they left. an hour later, we received a couple of phone calls from them again, trying to salvage something of the deal.

frank and i came to some agreement with them, and then headed out to get some breakfast. when we got back from brunch, john was on his way back from his lunch with his friend phideaux (pronounced fI-dO), and the two of us decided that since we could be of no further assistance, we’d head back up to Frank-Baby.

john has had this wild hair up his ass for the past week regarding video poker, so before we had headed down to los angeles, he looked up the nearest indian gaming casinos to i-5. lo and behold, there was one a 30 minute drive from the 5, off of highway 41, known as the palace, a part of the santa rosa rancheria. don’t ask me to describe the hideousness of the situation. a large, three-story cube in the middle of the flat that is the southern part of the great valley, the palace was garish and noisy, and un-fun. the smoking laws don’t apply to the reservations, because the patrons were smoking to their heart’s content. i find gambling to be boring and non-entertaining, but i decided to humor john.

well, i did find a way to amuse myself: he was 6′4″ about 285 with blondish-brown hair, but as this is a family channel, we’ll just say that he was delicious.

john’s purse slightly lighter than when we started, we headed back to the car, continuing our trek back to Frank-Baby. our dinnertime stop at santa nella and andersen’s pea soup was about what one expects from a perennial tourist trap: relentlessly mediocre, although the friendly and efficient service was a highlight of our meal.

the next stop was at westley for some gas, oops, i mean “fuel” to quote john. we filled the benz with diesel at joe’s truck stop in westley, and john oggled this tall cubbish guy, while i cruised the guy who was digging through the wastebins for plastic bottles, his sweatpants covering a shapely butt.

tank full, the last leg of our journey was brief, traipsing up over the altamont pass, into the tri-valley, through castro valley, skirting the edge of the east bay hills, across the bay bridge, and home. i brought in my stuff, and hit the rack, letting ny-quil put me to sleep - my throat is tender and swollen from fiesta’s version of kennel cough - no cough, but a mean set of swollen glands and difficulty swallowing.

this morning, i rose and dressed, heading to church. no singing this morning, though, as we had a parish meeting on the rent increase that the episcopal church who is our landlord is pressing upon us. the meeting was very productive, though, and i got to hear many ideas from people who usually are so quiet. that was very nice.

home, and rest. i’m going to start the next step of the bathroom tomorrow. the default sunday dinner awaits.

i may as well lemming up, too



join the lemming colony, too

If I were a tad less “my sainted mother”…

I’d be telling that I can’t make it down to Los Angeles to help him pack up his apartment in time for Saturday at 08:00, when the mover’s from Pop-Eye’s Moving come to move his belongings to some storage place.

Sigh.

In other news, I got the wall paper scraped off the walls above the tub and linen closet in the bathroom. I’ll post pictures when I get back from LA.

Now it’s time to have a wank and pack my shit for the drive to LA. and I are driving soon.

the end of the bathroom

If you’ve been reading my journal for a while, you know that I hate living in a dirty place. Well, the bathroom is one of those places that always gave me the willies. I’d been discussing with and the idea of removing the old wallpaper and re-painting the place. The old bathroom was disgusting and mildewing and the paint peeling off the ceiling and crackled all over the walls. You can see pic of the progress at my site tawdry talk!