T I M E G O E S B Y S O S L O W L Y forimpatientmotherfuckerslikeme...

So here it is 4:22 PM on Wednesday, November 22, 2006 and I'm still sitting at the office waiting for some sign that I might actually get out of here at a decent time. Oh wait, that's not going to happen by a longshot anymore. Now, not only have I waited here for almost eight hours, but I get to spend the next two hours in the car stuck in Nashville rush hour, only to drive two more hours, pick my brothers up (which inevitably will take an hour or so because I plan on raiding the refrigerator at their house), and then drive another two hours to get to my final destination and hopefully a full night's sleep. Have I been pessimistic enough? I am really trying to let positive thoughts be my sword and shield, but dammit it's 4:30 the day before Thanksgiving and I've got a lot of road to cover. Oh well, I've toughed it out this long, I'm sure I can handle another 32 minutes.
Everybody put my new banner on your respective websites:

And I Haven't Even Left Town Yet...

I have not even left Nashville yet and already I'm dishing some serious gossip about my family that would make Liz Smith blush. (SIDE NOTE: If you don't know who Liz Smith is, Google her.) Not that I'm feeling at all guilty for talking trash, but if you knew my family you would completely understand and be right in the midst of it. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but sometimes they make me want to commit justifiable homicide and I'm really ok with that...

I'll Be Home for Christma... Er... Thanksgiving...

It's that time of year of again. That's right the busiest travel day of the whole year and as per usual I will be braving the interstates to be home for the holidays. I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday. Next time I update will be from Birmingham. Until Then!

Awww Hell...

I've discussed at great length with several people the many reasons I know I'm getting old. The time of garden parties, my wavering relationship with alcohol, the need for a good set of steak knives, matching window treatments, luggage. Another is my innate inability to gain any weight or some form of muscle mass despite my best efforts to eat better, work out more, cut back on smoking, and stop inhaling cheap liquor like it's oxygen in liquid form. And the biggest catalyst in the sudden tipping of the scales from "growing up" to "getting old" is that last night it occurred to me that such programs like "The Tonight Show" or "The Late Show" were no longer my prime time television, but non-cable television goodies that I would really only get to watch from start to finish on a Friday night.
This got me thinking that maybe at 23 and 3 months old I had already reached my quarter life crisis. Upon further inspection of some of my latest escapades I realized that I was doing things that most people do during their midlife crisis. Let's look at this logically for a minute, ok? 1) I packed up most of my belongings and moved four hours away from home into a new state. 2) I have been trying to change my look for the better part of two or three months. 3) I've gotten a much larger tattoo in place of the smaller one I had originally opted for in that particular spot. 4) I'm trying to get my hands on a newer sportier car. 5) I'm having a come apart over a couple gray hairs. Now don't get me wrong I'm not running out to get my AARP membership or picking out grave plots or anything, but it kind of makes you think.
Saturday night in the ER (SIDE NOTE: There was no Dr. McDreamy, Dr. McSteamy, or George Clooney types at this hospital. However, the guy who brought me my discharge papers kind of looked like George from Grey's, but that's neither here nor there.) the nice young man from registration or whatever the hell he did came in and was asking me all kinds of questions and asked if I had a living will. To which I responded "No, should I?" The nice young inquisitive man responded "It's usually a good thing to have." (SIDE NOTE: Next time you are in the hospital and the question of religion comes up tell them you're a Scientologist and watch the hilarity ensue!). Why is the living will something that was obviously left out of our cirriculum growing up? If it's so important for us to have, why didn't I know about such a thing? Sure it's a little morbid to think about, but I mean you just never know. But then again what is the difference in a living will and just a will? I'm sure to most of you that's a really stupid question, but I am a little curious. If anyone out there has the answer, please enlighten me. Now the question I pose to all my readers in the 20-25 age bracket, am I the only one going through an early quarter life crisis? If not, tell me your experiences with it.

The Best Weekend from Hell EVER...

Anyone who knows me knows that when I get sick I don't get a little cold, or a mild fever. When I get sick the whole world comes to an end. I get pnuemonia, the bubonic plague, it rains frogs, and the first born of Egypt dies, it's rough. This weekend was no exception. I don't even want to go into details about it, but let's just say that there was an emergency room visit involved and lots of fever induced hilarity (or vulgarity depending on who you ask) involved. I am somewhat better now, I'm still feeling a little disoriented, but I'm going to blame that on the pain medication.
I've got a full update in the works, so be on the look out for that!

The Madness Has Got to Stop!

For anyone living under a rock for the past month or so, the new Sony Playstation 3 is being released today. There is so much hype surround the release of this new gaming system that there have been people camped outside of Best Buy locations across the country since Monday night. Alabama radio personalities Ace & TJ (heard on Birmingham's 103.7 the Q) were offering campers $1,000 for their place in line. The result of their bribery? Not one faithful gamer would leave their place in line. What exactly is so great about the Playstaion 3? If I had the answer to that I would have all the answers, but sadly I have no earthly idea what is so special about this console as compared to others. When I asked a gamer here in the office the differences were unclear to him. "There's really no big difference between it and the X-Box," he said. "It's got blue ray (A new high def technology) and more memory so you can build bigger games, but that's really it." Curious for more information on what makes this gamers' gem so special I consulted my dear friend Jeeves over at Ask.com. Here's what I found out: The most common difference mentioned on many of the websites is the blue-ray compatibility. Other differences include Playstaion web/store browser options, and of course, better graphics. The only draw back I was able to find (Ok, the only one that made any damn sense) was the low shipment quantities.
Not only the hype, but another aspect of the new PS3 that has piqued my interest is the prices most people are willing to pay. Best Buy is asking between $500 and $600 depending on which console you get. E Bay, however is a whole 'nother story. The going price for the PS3 on E Bay is anywhere from $2,000 to $520,100 a pop. Now, if I'm going to pay over $100 dollars for this thing it better cook, clean, and make a Versace suit in under twenty seconds.
But what I think of the Playstation 3 doesn't matter. More power to the gamers who have braved cold and rain to obtain what is apparently the holy grail of video game consoles. That's definitely not something I would do for a game system that will be upgraded in less than five years. Now, I'm off to watch the conclusion of several E Bay auctions.

Conversations with My 13-Year-Old Self...

Ok so, if you're like myself and much of America these days your parents are no longer together and there's nothing wrong with that, over the years you've embraced it and moved on with your semi-functional life. The problem is how do you balance having a healthy relationship with both your mother and your father, your two moms, or you two dads, whatever the case may be. It's not the easiest task in the whole world and there are some who manage this quite successfully and some who do not. I am the latter.

You're angry, I know this
The world couldn't care less
You're lonely, I feel this
And you wish you were the best
No teachers or guidance
You always walk alone
You're crying at night when nobody else is home

Let's just face facts that divorce isn't easy for anyone. Parents, kids, relatives, pets, you get the idea. But at some point the children of divorced parents have gotten wise to the whole idea and figured out ways to manipulate their parents against each other. Again something I am guilty of. But at you grow up you kind of figure out that that's not the way things should go and you let go of your juvenile need to have one parent out do the other because either way you win.

Come over here and let me hold your hand and hug you darling
I promise you that it won't always feel this bad
There are so many things I want to say to you
You're the boy I used to be
You little heartbroken 13 year old me

But what happens if after the kids have gotten over the manipulation the parents are still out to do it? Always trying win the kids' favor by trying to keep one parent out of the picture. How do you handle that? I mean sure you can brush it off and ignore it, but what if you've gotten to the point that you can't.

You're laughing, but you're hiding
God I know that trick too well
You forget, that I've been you
And now I'm just the shell
I promise, I love you
Everything will work out fine
Don't try to grow up yet
Oh just give it some time

Now, let me preface the rest of this entry with the fact that my mother and my father's girlfriend do not, have not, and will not ever get along. They will not be in the same room as each other without all hell breaking loose. I do not know why, I don't care why, it's none of my business. Yeah, it's hindered some family events and made holidays ungodly difficult on everyone involved, but you got to do what you got to do.

The pain you feel is real you're not asleep but it's a nightmare
But you can wake up anytime
Don't lose your passion or the fighter that's inside of you
You're the boy I used to be
The pissed off complicated 13 year old me

Now back to the point of this post, I recently moved to Nashville from Birmingham (As I'm sure I have said more times than I care to count). At the time the only thing I had with me was my clothing and a television. All my other worldly possessions were left in my old house until a time that I could get them up here. Well, that time was over the Thanksgiving holiday. Being in a bind, as I usually am, my last resort was to call my father and ask him to come help me move. My father agreed as long as I could put gas in his truck, which I was fine with. However, the stipulation upon agreement was that my mother not be present at any time during the moving process. Being in a bit of time crunch, I agreed, not thinking of the ramifications of such an agreement.

Conversations with my 13 year old self
Conversations with my 13 year old self

About an hour ago, the roommate called me to let me know that we had an extra week before we had to move in, thus relieving a huge amount of stress what with have to move during the Thanksgiving holiday and all that. I immediately called my mom to let her know what was going on and she said that was all good and that she would be more than happy to come help me move as long as my father's girlfriend was not there. And therein lies the problem. My father's girlfriend would most definitely be there. Like an idiot I informed my mother that the only way my father would agree to help me move was if she was not present. Yeah, definitely the wrong move. I definitely understand where she is coming from being upset. I can respect that, I mean it is her house now.

Until we meet again, oh I wish you well
Oh I wish you well, little boy until we meet again
Oh I wish you well, little boy
I wish you well, until we meet again
My little 13 year old me

So now on top of figuring out the moving arrangements, I've got figure out a way to make some peace between everyone involved or this is going to be one of the hardest moves I've ever made. I feel like I'm right back where I started ten years ago, torn between parents trying to figure out how to make the best of the situation. I picked this song to intermingle with this entry because it definitely represents how I'm feeling about the next two weeks. And to top it all off, I'm coming down with something.

Winning the Game: The Differences in Playing It and Playing It Well...

We all do it. Those of you who say you don't are in denial. It's called "The Game of Love." Some play it better than others, some fail miserably, some play it so well it's like second nature to them. I consider myself to be one of the people who don't realize they are playing the game until it's well into the ninth inning going into extra innings. How does one get to be good at "The Game?" This is a topic that I have argued with many, many a people about only to come up with no definitive answer outside of "You just do." Now, don't think that this is going to turn into some rowsing Dr. Phil special about how to land the man of your dreams or my all time favorite Maury Povich episode "Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby Daddy?" Because that's not really how I roll. I would really just like to enlighten a few my readers who have less than desirable skills at the game. I'm not saying that everything that I'm going to talk about in this post is fool proof, because some people are just socially awkward and somewhere out there is someone who wants nothing more than a significant other who doesn't know a salad fork from a shovel.

1. It's All About a Look.
If there's one thing I learned going to a performing arts high school, it's that it's always about a look. At any moment someone could take a picture and you should always be looking flawless. No matter how drunk, tired, or run down you actually feel. I know most of you are like me that when it comes to going out you like to look your best. That being said, however, I think I should just state for the record that my definition of "looking your best" is on a completely opposite end of the spectrum than that of some of the people I have seen out in this town. Let's take for instance a guy I saw at Play last weekend. Not a bad looking guy, but his outfit left a lot to be desired. Flannel shirt, AE t-shirt, and what appeared to be acid washed jeans. Not a total disaster until we make our way above the neck. There you would find an orange baseball cap. Ok still not too bad until he removed said hat to reveal his balding head. My biggest complaint against men who are losing their hair is that if you're going bald, OWN IT! That being said, when you are going out dancing, drinking, whatever it's in everyone's best interests to have a friend come over to get ready with you that way you can get an opinion on what you should wear. Have one outfit that you love and two or three backups in case something does fit quite the way it used to. Once you have your primary outfit picked out, take an extra shirt with you in case you show up and someone is wearing the same thing you are. The chances of this happening are usually slim and none, but it has and will happen to you at some point in your life.
2. Never EVER Make the First Move.
This is a common mistake I've seen lots of people make. You show up to the bar, you look amazing, you meet someone, you get their number, now what? You wait for them to call you! Back in the 80s and 90s the rule was wait three days before you call someone you met at a bar or a club, but I refuse to live by that. My philosophy has always been never to make the first move, this way you do not come off looking to desperate. Let them come to you. This isn't neccessarily confined to calling them. Never initiate the first kiss, don't buy the first round of drinks, and most importantly always show up fashionably late (Note: Fashionably late is no more than fifteen, no less than ten minutes late) and don't make excuses for being late. Don't even acknowledge that you were late just carry on as if nothing has happened. Now this where playing the game gets a little tricky, on the first date you'll want to be on time and make a good impression outside of the bar, but your chance at a first impression happened at the bar, so there are no second chances.
3. Be Available, But Never Be Available.
So the first date went really well, and you want to see this person again. Great! When a second date is suggested tell him/her to give you a call within the next couple of days to give you a chance to check your schedule to see what you've got going on. Chance are you haven't fallen head over heels for this person just yet so this will give you some time to think about the pros and cons of this person that you've just gone out with. This is a valuable lesson to learn that I learned the hard way. Once upon a time I was working at one of the more prominent gay bars in Birmingham and one of the cardinal rules was that we were never to fraternize with the customers. I was not so great at this because I am a natural flirt. My boss at the time sat me down one night after closing and told me watch "Coyote Ugly" and live by everything that Lil said. I left the bar that night and went straight to Wal-Mart to purchase my very own copy of "Coyote Ugly." To this day I have used that movie as a mantra to live my life.
And there you have my three easy steps to winning at the game of love. I am not claiming, by any means, to be an expert in the area of love or I wouldn't be single. These are not concrete rules that you need to follow to a tee. Take each of these rules and bend them to suit your own needs and wants. Most importantly have fun and the world will be your oyster!
Until next time!

When Too Much Really is Too Much...

How do you know when too much is really too much? And I'm not talking too much pork in your diet or too much caffeine during the day, I'm talking about too much information, taking a joke too far, or too much booty in the pants... Not really, but you get the idea. Everybody has that one person in their life who shares too much, won't let a joke die, or is still mad at you for getting mustard on her favorite sweater when you were in the sixth grade. For those of you reading this and thinking you don't have one of those friends, it's you! What are the warning signs that you're sharing too much? How do you know when to let a joke die? When is the right time to forgive and forget?
I have never been one to share too much, but at the same time if someone asks I've never been one to hold back (Well, on certain topics). But there are people in this world who do not know when to shut the hell up and keep some things private. Let's take for instance a woman I work with. We'll call her Pepper, for argument's sake. Now, Pepper has a really hard time managing money. So much so that she is on a first name basis with the man who comes and cuts her cable off every month. How do I know this you ask? Because at the mere mention of the word 'money' she will just about give you her bank account balance and tell you which check numbers bounced, which ones cleared, and why it happened. Now why? None of that is really relevant information for the general population of my office to know, because one good case of word vomit and the whole office knows her financial situation that week. All she would have to do is say "Hey, I did some really stupid stuff with my checking account." Wham, bam, thank you ma'am that's all we need and we're good on the details of Pepper's financial instability. But the real question is this: How do you tell someone much like Pepper that they are sharing too much without coming across as rude? The awful truth is that you can't. Sure you can drop a few hints or tip toe around the issue, but when it comes down to it, outside of an intervention, the best way to deal with this type of person is to just walk away when the subject comes up. It's not the nicest way, but it saves you from having to hear about it for the umpteenth time in a few days.
Jokes are a great way to break the ice at a party or on a first date, but sometimes there are people who decide to beat a dead horse when it comes to a joke. I will admit that I, myself, have in fact been guilty of this from time to time. Sometimes when you're riding the crest of a great joke it's only natural to want to see how far you can take it, but trust me it's in everyone's best interests to just let it go. Chances are if you let it go after the final punch line, you will save yourself and those around that awkward silence that plagues almost every conversation ever had by any two or more people. A loop hole in to this is, if a similair subject comes up later in the conversation, it's ok to make reference to the previous joke, but for the love of all that is holy don't retell the joke. It's always best for those of us who have a tendency to drag a joke out to have a friend around who will say "Whoa, whoa... Too far," then you know. If you don't have that friend and let's just say that you're at a party and you've told your best joke (ie "What does Snoop Dogg use an umbrella for? The DRIZZLE!). People are laughing, you're a hit, but for whatever reason you think you can drag this out for a little bit longer, watch the people around you. If you see someone cut their eyes, you know it's time to stop or else you'll fall victim to one of the biggest social faux pas of your life, one that you might not ever recover from. You'll become a shut in, live a life of reclusion, and become that crazy cat person. Not really something you're looking forward to is it? Now you know how we feel about your jokes.
One of my favorite sayings of all time is: "You better let go and let God!" And basically it means that you better quit worrying about that trivial stuff and let the Lord handle it! It's a common misconception that women can carry a grudge longer than any other living being on the planet, but it has been my experience that we can also add gay men to that list. Let me tell you that I have ex-friends and exes who still refuse to be in the same room with me because of something I said or a joke I made or something stupid like that. Which is fine, you know, to each their own, but really let it go already. How long are you going to be mad at me for saying your Gap "skinny jeans" made you look like Rosie O'Donnel wrapped in cling wrap? Ok, so that's not the best example, but you get the idea. I think we could all be a much happier people if we got off our high horses and bury the hatchet.
So now, I give you the soap box. Do you have a friend (or are you that friend) who shares too much? If so, what do you feel the need to share too much about? What is the maddest you've ever been at someone for something, that now, you realize is completely juvenile?
Also, I'm opening up the comments for any question you might have that you would like me to address. Just as a test to see how this goes. If you like this blog, tell your friends. If you don't like it tell me why and I'll see how long it takes me to delete that comment!

TGEIF (Thank Gloria Estefan It's Friday)

I have never been so happy to see a Friday roll around. This week seems like it's been one thing after another. It's like the old saying goes "If it's not one thing it's three." At least that was always the saying in my family. The thing you've got to understand is that I come from a good stock of people from north Alabama, but I'll be damned if we couldn't win for losing. This week has been Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. It all goes back to the funk, kids. When you've got it, you can't shake it. And if you can't shake it, you're pretty much screwed then aren't you? It's like someone once said "That which does not kill us makes us stranger!"

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend. I know I'll be back on Monday with some great stories to tell.

Watch For Falling Updates...

Just wanted to let everyone know that I just did a mega post of everything I had in my draft folder, so there's lots to read and tide you over the weekend until I return on Monday! Not that I won't be posting tomorrow (Because you know I will), but at least you'll have something to read in my absence this weekend!

Enjoy!

Reasons to Be Excited for 2007...

Isn't the answer completely obvious? Hellur! The clothes!!!!

Really the only thing about this outfit I'm crazy about is the jacket and the pants... You know we red heads can't pull off yellow, so I rarely try.
You know, looking at this little number now, I think I already have this... I'm so far ahead of my time!
I cannot even explain how bad I want this look. Maybe without the belt buckle, but other than that it's completely fabulous!

Now who else is excited for the new year? Besides me?

All Better...

Just wanted to give everybody a head's up that the new tattoo (A picture can be seen in the first entry) is completely healed, much to my surprise.

That's all!

Food Addictions, Soul Mates, and Holiday Blues...Not Neccessarily in that Order...

It's cold this morning. The cold weather in this state has got me in a bit of a funk that I just can't shake.

I am so not feeling being at work right now. I've got that whole holiday blues thing going on and it's really not attractive. It's not really my bag, but I'm sucking it up and pressing on. I mean that's what you do during this time of year right? No matter how much you dislike someone or how much you'd like to throw a skillet of hot grits on them you don't. You go to their terribly boring parties, screw on your smile, and make the best of the free booze. I guess that's what got me down right now is that I get so burned out from being nice to people I hate and I really don't want to do it this year. Does anyone else have this problem? I know there are people who live for this time of year and I wish they would choke on a fruit cake, but that's neither here nor there. I want to know who else dreads having to be nice to everybody during the holidays because I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

And while I'm on the subject of being nice to people I hate... I went to the leasing office of my apartment complex to get two gym keys for the roommate and myself only to be told that 1) They didn't have the keys they said they would have Monday and 2) the gym is closed right now for no reason apparently just that they felt it was good time to piss me off. Now, I will admit that yes, I have only gone to the gym here once, but I am really trying to make an effort to go more often. You know how it goes, one last effort to live up to last year's resolution to work out more. Needless to say, I'm pretty slack ass on that one. I've recently embraced the fact that I will never have rock hard abs because I love food too much. You may not be able to tell it at first glance, but I do enjoy eating. If given the chance I would do it all the damn time. It's not even that I don't like health food because I do, if it's food I'm there. It's just proportions that will screw me up every time. I'm a big supporter of the super sized fries. What really gets me in trouble is when I go to Cracker Barrell because I turn into Carnie Wilson pre-bypass. I mean it's one of those where you have to hide small children and animals because I might mistake them for something that's rolled off my plate. Yeah, it's that bad.

The thing you've got to understand is that most people have this horrendous eating habits and have to deal with all on their own, I am not so unfortunate. My best friend and roommate also shares my love for the CB. I'm not really a big believer in "The One," but I do think everybody has a soulmate and I definitely know that Rebecca is mine. From day one she was by far the most fabulous creature I had ever set eyes on. Rebecca is one of those people that I think everyone should have to meet at some point in their life. Talented, fashionable, with a touch of country bumpkin thrown into the mix has created on hell of a woman. I don't think I've ever not had a good time when this chick was around. She's been my rock for almost five years now. I met Rebecca while I was still living in Huntsville, AL. She and I started working at the same restaurant and instantly became partners in crime. After four and a half years we've been through many a significant other, countless road trips, and some crazy inside jokes. I wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. Now after countless years of planning and coordinating we're both living in Nashville and it is truly the biggest adventure of my life.

Gay Man Survival 101: Lesson 1: Travel with a Pack of Lesbians

If there's one thing I've learned in my years out of the closet it's that gay men love a good lesbian, a good crazy, and a good slut. While I would love to go into my favorite crazies and sluts, this post is about the lesbeterians. Now I'm not talking some cute college co-ed type lesbian (Not that I'm dogging them, because I do love the lipsticks), I'm talking about the baddest of the bad, foaming at the mouth, crazy for a bar fight and a good shot butch lesbians. There are some that have one or two lesbians I, however, have a gaggle, a pack, a pride, if you will, of lesbians that is growing every day. This has become somewhat of a trademark for me, which I am more than cool with because a lesbian can change a tire with one hand tied behind her back and do all the hard core lifting and building stuff without breaking a sweat. For this I am truly greatful for my lesbians.

While I might be greatful for my lesbians, there are some of my people who have not experienced the joy of having a big ol' truck driving lesbian in your corner. My friends you do not know what you are missing out on. Imagine this, if you will: You're out at the bar on a Saturday night talking to some hot boy you just met. Out of nowhere a guy steps between and gets all in your face about hitting on his boyfriend. Now, would you rather have this guy beat the holy hell out of you in front of god and everybody? OR would you like to cock an eyebrow and have a ten foot two lesbian step out of the shadows and scare the piss out of said guy? Exactly, you want the lesbian. You show me a gay boy who's not scared of a big ol' lesbian and I'll show you a gay boy who's never had his ass kicked by one.

However, while I am very pro-lesbian I have to add that there are some of the lesbians that are nothing but D-R-A-M-A. You know who you are so I don't have to name names. And while their sexual behaviors are a little iffy and their beer choices questionable, it's still always best to have one around because you just never know when you're going to need to move a TV, or flip an exes car or build something.

Does Anyone Really Have a Type?

"What is my type?" This is a question that has plagued all of us at one point or another in our lives. So as I try to navigate the dating scene in Nashville, I began to wonder "Does anyone really have a type?" This is a question where there really can't be a right or a wrong answer because the question itself is quite open ended. I know from experience that there are people who have more than one type (Much like myself) and there are people who have exactly one type. I have known more of the former than latter. Those (very) few people who have one type and they go after it with no exceptions to any of the rules or variations have got to get bored of dating the same kind of people over and over and over again. Granted, I'm a firm believer that no two people are exactly the same, but if you stick to dating one type of person there's no variety.
In order to better explain what I'm talking about I'll use myself as an example with some visuals to get my point across. There are three kinds of guys you will always find me going after. 1) The Jock/Frat Boy, 2) The Hunk, 3) The Dancer. It's my tragic downfall, I'll admit that, over the years I've come to embrace it. Now let's look at each of these three types of guys and break down what makes them attractive or not so attractive.
1. The Jock/Frat Boy
So let's start with the obvious reasons. The Jock/Fratboy is always going to be very attractive. But that's usually where it ends. Athletic? Check. Fun to be around? Check. Smart? No check. The last few Jock/Frat Boy types I've dated have been really nice guys, nice to look at, fun to hang out with, but the conversations sucked, we had nothing in common, and I hated all his friends, because let's face it they were a beer guzzling, cans crused against their foreheads, panty chasing group of boys. These were cavemen in A&F. Tragic right? But at the same time I'm a sucker for a pretty face, so the Jock/Fratboy type is a heavy favorite when searching for a new beau. Would I want to only date this type of guy? Dear god no... I'd go stir crazy.
2. The Hunk
Now the Hunk is far different than the Jock/Frat Boy type for many reasons. The first being, he's usually a lot smarter than the afore mentioned neanderthal. Second, he usually has a good job. And finally, he's nice to look at, which is always a plus. I've dated a very select few "hunks" in my time and while they, much like their Jock/Frat Boy counter parts, are fun to hang out with and at times great conversationalists, however, the majority of their time is spent in the gym working on their physique rather than our relationship. Which, you know I'm so not the clingy type, but damned if he wasn't at the gym every night until o'dark thirty perfecting those rock hard abs, pecks, arms, thighs... Well, never mind. But the point is that these guys are not exactly what I would call ideal dating matierial.
3. The Dancer
Ah, the dancer. Most haven't dated them, but if you have you totally know what I'm talking about on this one. Graceful, nine-times-out-of-ten damn beautiful (K-Fed excluded), a vast majority are very intelligent (K-Fed excluded... Again!), and well dancers are just hot (Yes, K-Fed excluded). But at the same, if you date a dancer, you yourself can't be a bad dancer because dancing is something you just can't not do. I mean, you go to a club to what? Dance. You're at a wedding what do you have to do? Dance. You're in the mall and your favorite song comes on what do you do? Dance... Well maybe not, but you were thinking about it. So when dating a dancer you find yourself in an awkward position if you can't dance. Not that I've ever had that problem, but I do feel some of your pain. Then there are a select few dancers who have the personalities of a wet towel, trust me on this one, I've met one recently. But in all the guys I've dated (briefly or for an extended period of time), dancers are for the most part very loyal, caring individuals. However, I wouldn't exclusively choose dancers as my "type."
There you have it, I have broken down the three types of guys I am notorious for dating and yet out of the lot of them I couldn't not commit myself to one type of guy. Still I'm left wondering how other people do this. To each their own I suppose. The best that I can determine from pondering on today's topic is that I don't think anyone really has a "type." Now out of my own sheer curiousity and utter boredom, I invite each of you to leave a comment regarding your ideal "type" and why you like this type of person and at times why you don't. Feel free to post anonymously if you want, no pressure or anything, I and most of the world, I suppose, is interested in knowing how everyone else chooses a potential mate. Also, if you have any input on "Does Anyone Have a Type?" feel free to sound off.

A Quick Question...

Let me preface this by saying that I work in a ginormous office park (Which coincidentally enough is right next to a grave yard, but that's neither here nor there), so there is more than ample parking. So why is it that with one hundred miles of parking lot I manage to find the one puddle and park right next to it? But that's not where the madness ends. Oh no! I parked right next to the Red Sea of Nashville not once but twice. Now I have cold and sopping wet feet that I will have to deal with for another 3 hours and 55 minutes. Color me one unhappy camper right now.
That is all!
And don't forget tomorrow's main topic of conversation "Does Anyone Really Have 'A Type?'"

How I Love New Beginnings...

I begin a new journey on this 15th day of November... Well, at least a new internet journey, but hey, it's still a new beginning. Many of you might remember a short lived blog I had a few months back that sadly enough went on the greener pastures of the internet mostly because of lack of interest and I wasn't really talking about the things that I wanted to talk about. All that is about to change. You are now reading a no-holds-barred version of the man you once knew. I'm not saying that this blog is going to be completely catty and oh-so-stereo-typical, but it will have it's moments. All that being said, I give you now the first post.
I guess the best place to start is always the beginning... And I'm not talking taking you an a little trip down memory lane, but from what caused me start blogging again. A little more than a month ago, I was saying my goodbyes to the life I had come to know in Birmingham, Alabama to start fresh in a city I knew very little about. Since then I've learned some things (GAP makes the best jeans PERIOD), affirmed some things (People in the Bible belt cannot drive), and made some very wise choices for my future (Extra small t-shirts are for emo boys and annorexics... Not for me). Having come into my own, in a way, in Nashville I realized that it was a shame for me not to share all that's going on up here with the world. So now we're here... The first entry of my new blog.
It's raining in the big city of Nashvegas today. Not just rain though, we're talking torrential down pours. So much so that I had to break out the arc to come to work today. I knew it was going to be one of those days from the moment I woke up. Rolling over and seeing the clock flash 7:38 AM when you know you have little more than twenty minutes to be at work is not really the best way to begin a rainy Wednesday. I don't like what I have on right now, my hair is not cooperating, and to top it all off my socks got wet as I was walking into the office (at 8:15, I have to add for argument's sake). So, it is now 10:15, I have yet to have a cigarette, which is ok because I'm trying to cut back, but it's the principle of it all. I will be the first to admit that I am a much nicer person when I smoke, and yes, it is an ugly habit to have, sometimes you just gotta do what gets you through the day, for that reason I will be forever greatful to the Philip Morris Agency.
But alas, I still sit in my little broom closet of an office and listen to classic rock music from a radio that once played the best in over-played pop music and some favorite R&B classics in the big city of Birmingham. I wonder though, is it entirely possible to be a 9 to 5-er while keeping the fabulousness that you've worked so hard to obtain? I'm going to say 'yes' because I know quite a few of the gays and the lesbians who have done just that. To all the gays and lesbians out there now and those who have come before us, this blog is for you!
TOMMORROW'S TOPIC: Does Anyone Really Have 'A Type'?