Thursday, May 15, 2003
I so need a new format for this site. I want a new template so badly. Everywhere I go, everyone has the same template as me and when I return to my own site, I want to puke all over it. I am so bored with it. It might be time for a change. As with the human body, the body of a journal should evolve as well. Body BODY body. Body.
Fucking body. Now I hate the word body. Bodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybody. Not YOU hate the word body. Body.
After work yesterday, I ran over to meet up with Miss Kambri Crews to pick up the tickets for Urban Cowboy. When she came out of the elevator to greet me, my jaw hit the floor. I forgot what an absolute KNOCKOUT she is. My god! Seriously, I gagged on myself in pure intimidation. And why is it that she is so incredibly sweet and wonderful? Total package my friends. Totally total package.
The tickets she gave me are in the orchestra! I immediately went home and looked up the seats on the Urban Cowboy website and was shocked to find out where I am sitting. I tugged on my penis in pure joy. When Paul arrived at my pad, I explained that I had a “surprise” for him. He was like “Oh great”, cuz every surprise I give him is pretty lame. Sometimes it’s a candy bar, sometimes it’s a coupon for free french fries at Burger King, sometimes it’s a whack in the nuts. So when I pulled out the tickets to the show, he looked at me in pure shock.
“But how Joe? HOW? How did you get these? Did you buy them for us?”
“No Paul. I got them through my online journal. This really nice girl who works for the show was giving them out and I jumped at the chance.”
“Holy shit that’s great!”
“I KNOW! And you hated my journal up until now.”
“No, I still hate it.”
“Oh. Cool.”
After giving him the surprise tickets, I took us out to dinner at this place called DinerBar in Spanish Harlem. Paul peed in his pants from fear when he saw the neighborhood that the restaurant was in. I told him to walk fast and make no eye contact. Instead, he rips a huge fart in front of a group of ghetto dwellers. They immediately turned in our direction and I just picked up my pace, praying that we wouldn’t hear them call out to us. Luckily they didn’t.
The food at the restaurant was fucking amazing. Paul enjoyed himself thoroughly. We ordered two entrees as appetizers and then we ordered two entrees as entrees. The waitress looks me directly in the eye and says “Are you SERIOUS?” I look her back in the eye and go “Have you ever seen the face of serious? Cuz this is definitely it.” I think she got the point. One of our appetizers was their homemade macaroni and cheese with chicken cutlets in it. um!?! YUM! It is just about the best thing I have ever put in my mouth. Or rubbed on my chest for that matter. I could have bathed in it all night long.
When we were eating our entrée entrees, the chef walked over to us and in a VERY loud voice says:
“I need to meet the two gentlemen that are eating me out of house and home. I am VERY impressed with you two for eating all of this food. I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you going to finish it all?” At this point everyone in the restaurant is staring at us. I reply “No, actually I am getting pretty full now. I’m going to have to take it home, I think.” (I glance around at the rest of the customers and kind of half smile)(They stare blankly back at me) The chef responds “Then you’re a pussy!”
My jaw hits the floor.
A pussy?
um………………………………………………..A pussy?
I lower my head in “pussy” shame and Paul responds “I’m going to finish mine. Don’t you worry!”
I secretly kick Paul under the table while giving him and the staring crowd my most impressed and supportive look. “My boyfriend’s a fat hoss! I am so proud!” But at least he’s not a pussy. A FUCKING PUSSY? Come on now.
As we ate our dinner, we discussed our relationship problems a bit further. He was surprisingly supportive during our talk and was very open to suggestions as to how to improve our current situation. I explained again that I have a strong desire to go out and meet other guys, especially since he won’t be physical with me. He told me that while it hurts him to know that I am going to meet other men, it’s only fair that I be allowed to do what I want to do. He asked me to not hook up with anyone that wasn’t a bodybuilder. He understands that I want to be with a man like this at some point in my life and he respects that. He would not, however, respect me hooking up with just any guy off the street. I’m down with that. I don’t want to hook up with any guy off the street. I want to hook up with BIG. Thaz it.
Paul agreed to work on himself a bit more. He agreed to try and take a step back before judging me and my life. He agreed to delve deeper into himself to figure out what the problem is with him and sex. He also agreed to be more available to me and to not be as unnecessarily cruel as he has been over the last few months. He was a sweetheart last night and for the first time in a while I wanted to be with him and only him. The one thing I love about mine and Paul’s relationship is that it is based on honesty. There is no fear about holding anything back to spare each other’s feelings. There is no worry that one person will secretly cheat on the other. We are very vocal about what we want. We may fight a lot, but ultimately, everything gets said and then put to rest. I am very lucky to have him during this whole growing process. It’s hard to be 25 years old and in a committed 3 and a half year relationship. It’s hard for both of us for different reasons. But I never worry that we won’t do what is right for us, whether that means staying together or breaking up. Our relationship is a job that we are both committed to seeing all the way through.
A couple of weeks ago, I took some seeds out of my bag and put them in two of Paul’s plants.
Now, if you don’t know drug lingo, let me translate that for you:
A couple of weeks ago, I took some marijuana seeds out of my marijuana stash and put them in two of Paul’s plants.
Ok, that translation was totally unnecessary.
Pennyhow, I didn’t (lol pennyhow) tell Paul that I had put the seeds in there, thinking that nothing would happen anyway. Well, since Paul is Scientist/Gardener extraordinaire, the seeds have grown immensely. At first he was pissed that I just stuck old nasty Mary seeds in his beautiful Armarillas. But when I promised to take care of them on my own and to transplant them into a new pot, he agreed to go along with the process.
The day I met Paul, he was getting ready to go to court for having been busted with growing Marijuana plants. He was having a party and the cops broke it up and found him growing four plants in his closet. They had just bloomed too. Getting Marijuana plants to actually bud (the bud is the part you can smoke) is like impossible, but Paul did it. Gosh, he makes me so proud.
So my seeds are growing and fast! They are already 6 inches tall! They are pretty weak and Paul thinks they will die soon. He says that they definitely won’t bud, but they may spawn better seeds. So we will see. But how fun! My own little illegal project. I love myself.
YAY off to Broadway tonight. Two shows in one week. I am a SUPERSTAR.
But without the smelly pits.
Bodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybody
Bodybodybobodybananafannafofadi. I had a friend named fadi once.
Ok, I’m done.
Fucking body. Now I hate the word body. Bodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybody. Not YOU hate the word body. Body.
After work yesterday, I ran over to meet up with Miss Kambri Crews to pick up the tickets for Urban Cowboy. When she came out of the elevator to greet me, my jaw hit the floor. I forgot what an absolute KNOCKOUT she is. My god! Seriously, I gagged on myself in pure intimidation. And why is it that she is so incredibly sweet and wonderful? Total package my friends. Totally total package.
The tickets she gave me are in the orchestra! I immediately went home and looked up the seats on the Urban Cowboy website and was shocked to find out where I am sitting. I tugged on my penis in pure joy. When Paul arrived at my pad, I explained that I had a “surprise” for him. He was like “Oh great”, cuz every surprise I give him is pretty lame. Sometimes it’s a candy bar, sometimes it’s a coupon for free french fries at Burger King, sometimes it’s a whack in the nuts. So when I pulled out the tickets to the show, he looked at me in pure shock.
“But how Joe? HOW? How did you get these? Did you buy them for us?”
“No Paul. I got them through my online journal. This really nice girl who works for the show was giving them out and I jumped at the chance.”
“Holy shit that’s great!”
“I KNOW! And you hated my journal up until now.”
“No, I still hate it.”
“Oh. Cool.”
After giving him the surprise tickets, I took us out to dinner at this place called DinerBar in Spanish Harlem. Paul peed in his pants from fear when he saw the neighborhood that the restaurant was in. I told him to walk fast and make no eye contact. Instead, he rips a huge fart in front of a group of ghetto dwellers. They immediately turned in our direction and I just picked up my pace, praying that we wouldn’t hear them call out to us. Luckily they didn’t.
The food at the restaurant was fucking amazing. Paul enjoyed himself thoroughly. We ordered two entrees as appetizers and then we ordered two entrees as entrees. The waitress looks me directly in the eye and says “Are you SERIOUS?” I look her back in the eye and go “Have you ever seen the face of serious? Cuz this is definitely it.” I think she got the point. One of our appetizers was their homemade macaroni and cheese with chicken cutlets in it. um!?! YUM! It is just about the best thing I have ever put in my mouth. Or rubbed on my chest for that matter. I could have bathed in it all night long.
When we were eating our entrée entrees, the chef walked over to us and in a VERY loud voice says:
“I need to meet the two gentlemen that are eating me out of house and home. I am VERY impressed with you two for eating all of this food. I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you going to finish it all?” At this point everyone in the restaurant is staring at us. I reply “No, actually I am getting pretty full now. I’m going to have to take it home, I think.” (I glance around at the rest of the customers and kind of half smile)(They stare blankly back at me) The chef responds “Then you’re a pussy!”
My jaw hits the floor.
A pussy?
um………………………………………………..A pussy?
I lower my head in “pussy” shame and Paul responds “I’m going to finish mine. Don’t you worry!”
I secretly kick Paul under the table while giving him and the staring crowd my most impressed and supportive look. “My boyfriend’s a fat hoss! I am so proud!” But at least he’s not a pussy. A FUCKING PUSSY? Come on now.
As we ate our dinner, we discussed our relationship problems a bit further. He was surprisingly supportive during our talk and was very open to suggestions as to how to improve our current situation. I explained again that I have a strong desire to go out and meet other guys, especially since he won’t be physical with me. He told me that while it hurts him to know that I am going to meet other men, it’s only fair that I be allowed to do what I want to do. He asked me to not hook up with anyone that wasn’t a bodybuilder. He understands that I want to be with a man like this at some point in my life and he respects that. He would not, however, respect me hooking up with just any guy off the street. I’m down with that. I don’t want to hook up with any guy off the street. I want to hook up with BIG. Thaz it.
Paul agreed to work on himself a bit more. He agreed to try and take a step back before judging me and my life. He agreed to delve deeper into himself to figure out what the problem is with him and sex. He also agreed to be more available to me and to not be as unnecessarily cruel as he has been over the last few months. He was a sweetheart last night and for the first time in a while I wanted to be with him and only him. The one thing I love about mine and Paul’s relationship is that it is based on honesty. There is no fear about holding anything back to spare each other’s feelings. There is no worry that one person will secretly cheat on the other. We are very vocal about what we want. We may fight a lot, but ultimately, everything gets said and then put to rest. I am very lucky to have him during this whole growing process. It’s hard to be 25 years old and in a committed 3 and a half year relationship. It’s hard for both of us for different reasons. But I never worry that we won’t do what is right for us, whether that means staying together or breaking up. Our relationship is a job that we are both committed to seeing all the way through.
A couple of weeks ago, I took some seeds out of my bag and put them in two of Paul’s plants.
Now, if you don’t know drug lingo, let me translate that for you:
A couple of weeks ago, I took some marijuana seeds out of my marijuana stash and put them in two of Paul’s plants.
Ok, that translation was totally unnecessary.
Pennyhow, I didn’t (lol pennyhow) tell Paul that I had put the seeds in there, thinking that nothing would happen anyway. Well, since Paul is Scientist/Gardener extraordinaire, the seeds have grown immensely. At first he was pissed that I just stuck old nasty Mary seeds in his beautiful Armarillas. But when I promised to take care of them on my own and to transplant them into a new pot, he agreed to go along with the process.
The day I met Paul, he was getting ready to go to court for having been busted with growing Marijuana plants. He was having a party and the cops broke it up and found him growing four plants in his closet. They had just bloomed too. Getting Marijuana plants to actually bud (the bud is the part you can smoke) is like impossible, but Paul did it. Gosh, he makes me so proud.
So my seeds are growing and fast! They are already 6 inches tall! They are pretty weak and Paul thinks they will die soon. He says that they definitely won’t bud, but they may spawn better seeds. So we will see. But how fun! My own little illegal project. I love myself.
YAY off to Broadway tonight. Two shows in one week. I am a SUPERSTAR.
But without the smelly pits.
Bodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybodybody
Bodybodybobodybananafannafofadi. I had a friend named fadi once.
Ok, I’m done.
