Cut the Shit

JUSTIN MOTHAFUCKING TIMBERLAKE!

Give it up. GIVE it up.

It's exactly 30 seconds after he opened the MTV Video Music Awards...and C'MON people!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY. SHIT.

This is my BOY! He and I go WAY back (embarassingly, yet proudly so).

This bitch TORE it UP tonight. The expert at poplock...the expert at falsetto...this dude's the fucking king. The ultimate performer.

U may think I'm overboard...but u gotta understand...I committed to this dude years ago. For him to come on stage and do what he just did...I am PROUD - to say the least. He just evolves, knows his place in the music world, and OWNS it. Justin knows who he is and it shows in his performance...every time.

As long as he doesn't end up drug addled on the street...he's my personal entertainment hero.

The most talented, humble, and classy of guys.

Total respect.

My Biggest Fault

Please note, first of all, that I’ve been posting much more than usual. I told you I’d come back in full force and well…well!

You know how when you go for a job interview, they almost always ask “What’s you’re biggest fault?” Everyone has their own answer to this question, some actually revealing a negative and some using their fault as a total positive. When I answer the question, I always say “I’m a perfectionist.” Sure, most of us say this, no? Cuz it makes you look good. But if it’s a completely honest statement, you understand how that could be a definite fault.

My biggest weakness is that I really am a perfectionist. Everything I do, I try to do to the fullest; whether that’s job responsibilities or aspects of my relationship or even friendships that I make on a daily basis. I am completely caught between trying to be perfect for everyone else, but also struggling to accept who I am and allowing my lesser qualities to be part of what makes me, me.

My close friends know my insecurities and my weaknesses, but even then I find it incredibly difficult to disappoint them in any way; or to drop the ball whenever it’s passed to me. Yet, considering that I’m a big mouth, that tends to speak before I think (hence speaking directly from the heart), I do run into many situations when I hurt people’s feelings by what I’ve allowed to come out of my mouth.

This would be fine and good if (considering my need for perfection), I could take criticism. But I really can’t. I’ve worked very hard on that over the years (yes? Kelly and Rita?), but although I’m no longer lashing out at the bearer of said criticism, I still can’t help but think about my transgression all day, every day. It’s a nagging voice in my head that says “Everything is going well and feeling great, but don’t forget how you hurt so and so’s feelings). It’s an ugly way to live.

I wish there was a pill you could take to make that voice shut the fuck up.

I’m way too sensitive. I care way too much about what other people think. In one way, everyone in my life seems pretty happy with the friendship I’ve provided them. In another way, I’m so afraid to truly be me that I censor myself and end up feeling misunderstood a lot of the time. And for someone that speaks more than they breathe, this can create an intensely defeated feeling. And cause low self-worth.

How important is identity in relation to treating people like gold? Do you be yourself regardless of the consequences? And then if someone critiques what you represent, do you stand up for yourself to the point where that person may change their opinion of you?

I want to be the fun guy. I want to be the guy who is a great listener. I want to be the guy who can keep a secret and provide the ultimate shoulder to cry on. I want people to focus on my sense of humor and huge heart. I want I want I want…I can’t figure out how to just…be.

But I also want to be the selfish guy. The guy that wants things a certain way. The guy that cares mostly about his own well-being rather than that of everyone else. The guy that is whole, in and out.

It’s a conundrum that I face and have yet to find the answer to. Most would say it’s a need for balance. And that is probably the answer. But today it really feels one way or the other.

And it kind of makes me sad.

The Anatomy of a Crush

This morning I was standing in my usual spot on the subway platform when HE showed up.

For the last six months or so, there has been this guy that gets on the subway at my stop, although he tends to ride it sometime between 8:45am and 9am. I usually enter the station around 8:25am, so the chances of me seeing him are pretty slim to none. But when it happens, I have an internal freak out.

This morning, he walked by and stood about 10 feet away from me. We made eye contact, both recognizing that we’ve seen the other person there on numerous occasions. Usually I’m a very collected, non-invasive subway rider, but when he looks at me, I get all discombobulated and end up making the most cheesetastic faces (ie: I blink too much or I choke on my gum or as in the case of this morning, the latch on my watch pops and hangs limply on my wrist).

This dude is like 6”3 and very lean. I typically go for the big and buff, but ironically this guy isn’t that whatsoever. He has dark curly hair and the most perfect skin I’ve ever seen. His lips are small, but perfect as well. And his dark eyes have this way of piercing right into my soul. To top it off, I love his style (black dress pants with “French Connection” type button downs). He doesn’t wear a necklace (I wear a chain link) and he doesn’t wear a ring or a watch (I wear both). The best part…he’s got a killer ass. Like big time killer ass. And asses aren’t usually in my top five favorite physical attributes, but this one can’t be denied.

On the flip side, I look pretty great today. I’m wearing my best fitting khaki cargos with a long-sleeved white thermal and a stylish polo over that. My hair even looks half-way decent and I’ve got my favorite flip flops on. Overall, I felt pretty confident about my presentation today.

The subway came and we both got on. I tried to covertly get as close to him as I could, just so he would somehow feel my energy. Today, more than ever before, he made eye contact with me a few times (the basis of gaydar, y’all!). A seat opened up at the far end of the subway car and he took it. I continued to stand and tried to divert my attention with my Ipod. After a few stops, a seat opened up near me and I sat down as well albeit on the same side of the car as him so there was no more possible eye contact to be had.

The subway rode on to Times Square and I stared off into space. Since this is such a huge subway stop, many people got off and went about their business. But then it happened…the moment that will have me questioning this experience all day.

The dude got up out of his seat, walked over to an open seat directly across from where I was sitting and plopped down. My heart went in to my throat and my stomach started to churn. As though it was a sign or something, the advertising above his head was from LAVA LIFE and it said “Find your soul mate” and there were butterflies coming out of the woman’s stomach as she looked at a guy on the street. ODD? Or meant to be?

I, against my will, started fumbling in my seat and tried to keep my shit together . When I looked into his eyes he was looking back into mine, but we both quickly looked into another direction. As the subway rode on, I eventually got myself as relaxed as possible (although I thought I was going to throw up) and made an effort to make my most attractive, serious faces – you know what I mean…we all do this in order to showcase what we perceive our best “looks” to be.

A number of times along the ride our eyes connected and repeatedly looked away. At one point I swear I noticed him slightly smile and that caused me to slightly smile as well. When he wasn’t fully paying attention, I was trying to memorize every detail about him, from his feet ALL the way up to the farthest reaching hair on his head.

Since we’ve taken the subway together before, I know that he gets off at my stop at 96th Street. While I transfer to the local train, he exits up the stairs and I’m left to catch my breath. As the train neared our stop, most people got up and waited by the door. He and I sat in our seats until the very last second, made one more eye connection and then we both exited the train, me following behind him.

“Please let him talk to me…PLEASE let him talk to me…”, my mind was screaming. But he didn’t. He walked up the stairs and left without looking back. Thankfully my train pulled up right away and I left.

I don’t know what it is about this guy that gets me so worked up. I see lots of attractive men in the city every day and I never get so bent out of shape. When this feeling has happened to me in the past, it has usually (almost always) turned out that there was a mutual attraction. But how do you strike up a conversation on the subway without risking the fact that he is most probably straight and going to punch you in the face?

As you know, I met a guy on the subway earlier this year, but it was he who came up to me and started a conversation. I’ve always considered myself to be “the approached”, not “the approacher”. This current situation is no different. But maybe I need to get the balls out of my purse and just say “hi” at some point. God, I wish I could do that, but I know I never would.

As I said, this is a “crush” and nothing more. But are crushes supposed to ache and hurt this deeply? It’s been a very long time since I’ve had my last “crush”, so I feel a little out of practice. Plus, I don’t know anything about him: age, career, background, the fact that his purpose in life is to hunt down adorable gay men and slice their heads off…

I had to come to work and immediately write all of this down. If I didn’t get it out of my brain immediately, I know it would consume me for the rest of the day.

How do I let this guy know that I’m interested without letting this guy know that I’m interested?

The Title of This Post Is: First Friday back In My NYC Life and What the F?

Bullets...cuz it's late and I'm drunk...

1) One of my best friends confronted me on a serious issue that I was (ironically) guilt free on...yet it still rocks me to my core. This friend doubted me on something she SHOULD NEVER have doubted me on.

2) I went to see one of my other best friends sing at a cabaret type act...within the first 15 minutes of being at the "event", I was pulled outside by a girl who told me that a YEAR ago, I called her anorexic...and she's STILL not over it. Considering that I'm NOT that guy, I asked "Who ARE you????" This chick says "One of MARIAH'S BEST FRIENDS. I'm way too drunk to get into the logistics of this whole thing...but the culmination was me sobbing in a cab about how deeply this "Conversation" affected me. Mostly cuz it turned out, that a YEAR ago, I did (somehow) call this girl anorexic. I'm confused...ur confused...I dont even know how to explain it right now...but let's just say...it was a massive issue and I walked into it like an ignorant fuck. I...I really can't explain this issue right now, Cuz I'm still surprised by the whole experience. I call people anorexic? I DO? I....DO???? I do? I what???? I will own up to ANY of my wrong doings...I AM a big mouth and I DO say stupid things...ANOREXIA? I say things like THAT???? NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. NO. I don't care if I'm falling down drunk (which is never)...that's not something I would EVER accuse someone of. I mean...my GOD. The whole situation still has me thrown for a loop. What? If you only u knew how big of a deal it was and the retribution of what was to follow...

And I thought it was just going to be a care free evening...dumb. So dumb.


3) I have a lesbian best friend that's getting married next year. This girl is my heart. Out of NOWHERE...I met the guy that she's asked to father her baby. I'm not even making this shit up. I met...the guy...that my best friend has asked to father her baby. MOTHER FUCKING....WHAT!?!?!?!? Am I mad cuz she asked a stranger before she asked me...or am I mad that she is diving into this HUGE LIFE CHANGE without even looking in my direction...for help...for advice...for a sounding board...for a friend...? Oh my God. Oh. My. God. Do YOU have a best friend that wouldn't consult you on this sort of thing?????

4) I got called a "fat ass" tonight (considering the comment Paul made to me last week...I've been uber SENSITIVE to the fat ass dialogue - and...out of nowhere - by a complete fucking asshole...(RACHEL, Y'all! - u know...the chick who blew joey Fat One - 4 months before he got married...) Yeah... She and I are passive agressive and are mutually SMARMTASTIC to one another...but are we gonna throw around the FAT term...especially since you're the most SQUAT bitch I ever done met? My only shame is that I handled her comment with class and laughed it off. Actually I didn't handled it with class, cuz for the rest of the evening, I looked her in the eye and mouthed "You're the fat ass". Over...and over. And over. And yeah...over.

5) Of all that I have to say about my friend Mariah...there was a moment when I cried and she held my hand and wiped my tears...BIG TIME. There was also a second moment when she made me laugh (GUTTERALL like) and I started to cry again (cuz I love her so much). I love this girl so intensely that I literally cry by just being around her. This may sound ambiguous, but for those of u that know me personally...u know what I'm talking about...100%. I LOVE my girls. More than I could ever possibly love a boyfriend or myself.

In Conclusion...this post probably makes no sense whatsoever...but for the first time in a long time...who gives a fuck. I needed this journal to be a sounding board as to how I feel right now. And I think it's served this purpose.

Lastly....for rizz...

1) My friend Tessa is nothing but one of the most BEAUTIFUL people I have EVER met. No one compares to this chick...seriously.

2) My friend Angie...she's my GIRL...but we hit an interesting crossroad tonight.

3) My friend Mariah will NEVER...NEVER...never understand the "gift" she possesses. Or the love that I have for her.

4) I needed Kelly tonight more than I've needed Kelly for a very long time. I mean...I always "need" Kelly...but tonight I NEEDED Kelly.

5) Not having Rita...or some semblance of Rita here...achingly lonely. This chick moved out of NYC 4 years ago...why do I still miss her in my daily life as much as I do?

Quite a night.

Obviously...details to follow...or we'll move on and pretend this night never happened.

That's the easy way out, no?

Everyone else seems to do it.

What up What UP? or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Atomic Bomb

JOEY is in the HOUSE!

Vacation = over! Which means this journal = ON!

I know that August has been a dismal month of posting
and for those of you who read me every day, a rather
disappointing website to commit to. I apologize. And
now we're friends again! Internet friends are so
easy.

Although I must say, I was gone for like 9 days and I
only got 6 comments telling me to have fun.
Considering my site meter, I'd say that the rest of
you are fickle ass bitches. Or that you have your own
life to attend to. Either way...F you.

I have two new sayings. One is "F you". Obviously.
Cuz why wouldn't it be? And the second is
"crazed". As in "You're crazed", "she's crazed", "the
engine in that souped up 78 Mustang is crazed". It's
pretty great and works as a rather nice segue into
another topic.

I'm crazed.

And now new topic!

So, first things first...my week in Provincetown
was...hmmm...how to sum up a whole week in one
word...Got it! My week in Provincetown was crazed.

Major beach time, major dinners at fancy, gay owned,
adorable restaurants, many nights out at the local
bars/clubs, and MUCH sleeping and eating and all out
relaxing.

I got a tan, but not too tan so as to rub it in
everyone's face. I ate the most amazing Rabbit soup
and had only one bowl of clam chowder which turned out
to be filthy water with pebbles. Go figure. But when
you're told that it's a "Zagat's Best Clam Chowder in
P-town" for 2004, you eat it. But let me tell
you...twat? I'm still picking out the gravel from my
molars.

I could bore you with each individual day and what we
did, but that would be super boring and unless I have
the pictures to go with the stories, you'd fall asleep
the minute I zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Fair enough.

Here's my best P-Town story:

Paul and I are walking down Commercial Street (the
main drag) and end up at the far end of it looking for
a bar to go to. At this point Paul and I had already
consumed many drinks, including a mini bottle of
champagne with a shot of Chamborde (?) in it.
BTW...hork. Too much. Champagne with a shot in
it...overload and it made me tongue kiss Paul in the
bar. And we actually got some odd stares, which is
odd to ME since right outside the window was a group
of old men dressed in French maid uniforms riding
mini-bikes. But we're the weird ones? Well alright!

So we're walking up the street and bitching at each
other about one thing or another when this woman walks
out of her bed and breakfast with two gay men
escorting her down the stairs. I don't take much
notice and neither does Paul. We continue to focus on
finding a bar without old men in French maid uniforms
when the woman walks up to us and stands directly in front of
me.

I look at her for a second and I say to Paul "Is that
Cyndi Lauper?" Paul laughs as do I since during the
day we also saw a "Lily Tomlin" a "Bette Midler" and a
"Ru Paul".

Within in moments the woman turns around and says "Yes
it IS Cyndi Lauper!" and gives me this fake appalled
look.

UM.

I BURST out laughing and go "Oh. My. God. My bad?
OMG!"

"It's ok honey" and with that she picks up the ukulele
(sp?) she's holding and starts strumming on it.
Within SECONDS, every gay man on the Eastern Coast of
Massachusetts flocked to where she was standing,
screaming "CYNDI!" "WE LOVE YOU" "CYNDI!" Paul and
I got shoved a few people back and we scowled. Get a
grip gay boys. SO uncouth.

Cyndi plays some sort of Hawaiian ukulele song and acting all fucked up
and cute. And by that I mean, she was cute, cuz she
IS cute, but she was fucked up cuz she WAS fucked up.
I took some lame cell phone video camera action and
Paul snapped away on his uber professional camera.
The boys screamed some more, I gave dirty looks and
elbowed them in the ribs and then she launched into
True Colors. I mean! At that point, my inner
fag came out and I let out a single "Yay Cyndi!". But
then I went back to being cool and reserved and
looking good.

She played her song rather unsuccessfully (cute, but
fucked up) and then walked down the street with the
swarm of gay bees following her. I kissed Paul and
said "That was pretty cool" and Paul responded with
"Those bitches are so annoying."

I couldn't agree more Paul. I couldn't agree more.

Uncouth, I tell you.

Other than that, Provincetown was fanfuckingtastic and
was the first time in Paul and my relationship (almost
7 years y'all) that we've held hands for a long
duration of time and most of all…without fear. If there's one place on earth to truly be yourself as a gay man, it's P, motherfucking,
town. I mean, San Francisco and Fire Island, of course. But
I didn't visit there this time, ok? Get off my nuts.

The whole week was perfect. Well, 80% perfect. Paul
and I had a few blowouts and that wasn't fun. But
oddly enough, they were rather necessary. Both of us
walked away from the week with a newfound respect for
the other person and after many "I love yous" and "I
wish we were here for two weeks rather than one",
we're in the best place we've ever been in our
relationship. Does that mean our problems are fixed
and we're now a happy and healthy functioning couple?
F you. Don't be ridiculous.

Paul was uber depressed to come back to NYC and spent
most of Sunday and Monday wallowing away in self-pity.
I was kind of jealous, cuz that's usually MY role to
fill. But oddly enough, I felt ok. For the first
time in a LONG time, I felt...ok. My life is stupid
and I don't feel accomplished and I NEED to find a new
job and an acting gig (or one of the two), but
overall, I feel...oh and k. Ok. It's a pleasant
feeling that I hope doesn't go away when I wake up
tomorrow morning and realize that the fairy tale is truly over.

But welcome back to New York! In a way...a WAY...I
was excited to come back to the city. As much as I
bitch and moan about the trials and tribulations of
being a city kid...er...man (I forgot I'm 29 now -
eeps), this place is my home and I rely on someone
asking me for change the minute I step outside my
apartment door. Of course I turned to them with my
ritzy tan face and said "Nah" and continued on my way,
but damn it felt good to be asked.

As I was walking out of the subway this evening, a
homeless guy, dressed in nothing but a loin cloth of
rags and also a shawl of rags (a SHAWL, people),
jumped on to an Asian woman's back and went through
the turnstile at the same time as her. Free ride for
the homeless. First I laughed (welcome back to NY!),
then I noticed that the woman's face indicated what
I would have felt had it been MY back - FINE that you want the free ride, but did you have to lay on my back so that your
dirty rags got all over my clean clothing?? I'm all
about helping out when I can (or feel like it), but do
I want to do it at the expense of my clothing? Never.
And also, that woman totally needs to go home and
shower. I mean, like for reals. Burn the clothes honey…might as well.

My job welcomed me back with open arms and that was
cute and all, but like Cyndi, it was fucked up. The
raise I got before my vacation (piddles - yet
retroactive to July 1st) has STILL not gone to
payroll. So yeah...welcome back Joe. We TOTALLY
missed you. Mind not getting your raise until
October?

F you.

I learned a few things while I was away.

First, I'm pretty hot. Like for reals hot. I KNOW!
I didn't realize it either! P-town was all about the
Joe and if I didn't have Paul there to cock block, I'd
totally be pregnant. Oh...did I tell you that the
median age of the community while we were there was 40
and that most of them were fat lesbians? I guess you
could say THAT'S why I was such a hot commodity, but I
prefer to think otherwise. Summary - it was a
confidence booster that I sorely needed.

Second, the people that live in P-town are the most
relaxed bunch of gays I've ever done seen. So many
times in the past I’ve thought "Give up your NYC bullshit and move to
a location where you can live happy and free and most
of all...comfortable." But then I'm reminded...is my
life supposed to be BIG or is my life supposed to be
big? My only hope is that I don't waste too much time
making the wrong decision.

Third, if there was any doubt in my mind that I didn't
love Tyler as much as I inherently should...being away
from him proved otherwise. My poor friend Tessa who
had to deal with my insane 3 page note of details
when I left...then the frantic phone calls...and
eventually...a calm that left me believing that she
had it all under control. When I got home I was
naturally nervous. No one's ever stayed in my
apartment for the week and no one's ever taken care of
my baby. I gotta say, she did both FLAWLESSLY. I'm
an anal retentive monster and I had to LOOK for any
sort of mess or disorganization. If it wasn't for the
wet towel hanging in the bathroom and the leftover Chinese
food, I would have fully believed she never took care
of my dog. Oddly enough, Tyler doesn't bark nearly as
much as he did when I left. Either Tessa beat the
fuck out of him whenever he opened his mouth, or she
actually got him to quiet down forever. I haven't figured out
which one yet. Probably the abuse. Tessa’s just like that. Which is why I left Tyler with her.

Did I eat Lobster on the trip? Not a bite. Paul and
I both remarked as to how embarrassing that was. But
on the flip side, did I eat any sort of pizza (those
of you who know me, know my LURVE for the peez). (peez = pizza) (God, you’re so high maintenance) Well, I kind of didn’t eat any pizza. I bought pizza rolls at the grocery store and I totally ate all of them when drunk and missing my friend Rita. As she so wisely said to me during one of our famed “Pizza Fridays”, “There’s nothing in my life that I enjoy more than sitting on the couch, eating my pizza and watching my TLC.” Heh.

(P.S. F YOU Rita. I don’t remember the exact quote. F ME if you never read this. For the rest of you…F YOU for getting involved.)

That story was crazed. And also dumb.

Now that I'm back to my normal life, I won't see Paul
again until this Sunday. It's how our lives play out.
He works nights always and I see him on Sundays and
Monday nights. The first thing he said to me on the
phone when he called this morning? "I miss you."

I can feel the tears rising as I write that.

Paul and I don't do the sentimental stuff often, but
after our 9 day vacation together, it feels so good to
know that he meant everything he said while we were
away. Especially the part when he called me a "fat
motherfucker". But that's a story for another day.

So for now...sit, stew. Take this post in. I promise
that there is going to be a lot of changes and fun
going on in the next few months. And fer SURE I will
be posting about most of it.

Some I keep private for myself so I can masterbate to
it later. It’s only fair to me.

Missed you all.
But only as a friend.

Provincetown, HERE I COME!

This summer has been insane - which you can tell by how infrequent I've been posting in here. But the culmination of all that insanity will happen when I leave for Provincetown tomorrow morning. I'm out of here for the week and I can guarantee you that I will not be checking email, my journal, or my cell phone at all.

Joe is on VAKAY and it couldn't come at a better time.

I'll come back refreshed and we'll jump back in to all of this. I promise. But until then, don't miss me too much and don't hate the playa. Um, hate the game?

PEACE!

Bits

If you know you some Joe personally, then you know that I really want a transsexual friend. It's not a novelty item and it's not to make myself feel better about well...myself...it's more that I finally understand (on the only level that I can understand) the plight of the transsexual. With gay becoming more acceptable, I feel that transsexuals are next. For revolution, but also for ridicule. But that's not why I titled this post "Bits". I titled it "Bits" cuz I have bits to talk about, but also because when someone says something like "That woman is hot but she still has her bits!", I laugh to the point of tears. Cuz really? Bits.

In any case, here are MY bits:

Bit one:

I leave for vacation to Provincetown (gay mecca) on August 12th and Paul and I are going during "Carnivale". Which means, so much gayness, you're gay by proxy. I have zero dollars to contribute to this vacation, so Paul will be paying for most of it. Fair enough? Not really, since I feel like I ate my pride for dinner on that one.

Bit two:

I am interviewing for new jobs. It's scary, it's exciting, it's something I have to do right now. If I'm 30 and doing what I'm doing now for work, I would probably die. Like literally. As a non-professional actor in NYC...at age 29, things start to get a little scary. Money or passion? Money or passion? Out of necessity, the answer is money. I couldn't be more frustrated and panicked. Or picnicked. I like picnics.

Bit three:

I think my main pot dealer got busted. For five years I've been afraid of that day and now...well...the gig is up, I guess. I GUESS. (please don't let the gig be up)

Bit four:

I did five sit-ups recently. I'm still waiting to see the results.

Bit five:

No, I haven't heard anything from the audition I went on. Fine. Fair enough. But really? Why tell me that I was incredible? Why tell me that you are interested in me for another play in addition to the one I was auditioning for? A LOT of breath for no result. I move on.

Bit six:

My dog, Tyler, has grown into a legit addition to my Financial District family. He knows a bit of English (the modern word if you will), and surprises me with his intelligence daily. I FINALLY have fallen in LURVE with him - to the point that I've been dreaming about him jumping off a building only to land on his face and collapse like an accordion. Then I scream "Noooooooooooo!" Then I wake up and he is looking at me with the eyes of "Is it time to eat or play with toys?" and I pet his head and say "Go back to bed accordion". And he does.

Bit seven:

It's kind of hot outside, yes? I'm so warm-blooded to begin with, so when I enter the subway, I literally clench my fists and watch sweat drops fall off my face and on to the platform. They say (THEY say) that the subway is 20 degrees hotter than the NYC street. Guess who believes it? This guy.

Bit eight:

I have a new subway crush. And the only reason this is important? He's the FIRST non-bodybuilder to enter my jerk off sessions. He's hot and tall, but skinny. Cute, but I only jerk to big muscle. In any case, my mind is expanding, I'm growing and learning and I'm thinking about tall and skinny when I jerk. I have not cum to that visual yet, but we're working on it.

Bit nine:

I am really, really, and also, really fucking poor. I even thought about putting a link on this website asking for money to pay my bills. A la SAVE KAREN. (no links tonight, just GOOGLE it). But I'm not that guy. I'm REALLY not that guy. But what do you think?

Bit ten:

My birthday CAME and went and I turned 29 and I'm still a virgin. Yes, I know I'm adorable and charming and should have had sex by now, but guess what? I've officially decided that I'm defective. Defected? Whatever. I'm damaged goods. Or at least, hot goods with a shit load of baggage. That's all.

Time to tuck my dick between my legs.

No more bits.

*This post was written with drinks in my soul, no grammatical judgements please or I'll keel. Meaning, kill.