The Minstrel's Prayer

Yes, I will admit that Cartel is a little "yell-y," if you will... but it's still a good song... and WAAAAYYY better than what my Pandora was playing last time.

Not sure (like the majority of the other times) why I'm on here, but blogging kinda makes me feel productive? I was wide. awake. at early o'clock this morning, just like every other Saturday since my biological clock decided it was time for me to be an old man. I mean, seriously... I was tired and went to bed at 11:30 last night... it was Friday? What the hell? And I get a little bent out of shape if I'm going to bed later than 10:30 on weeknights.

But blogging! I have this bimonthly (or even monthly, sometimes) tradition of going through the Connexion guys. No, no profile for me, but it does remind me that I'm not the only gay person on the face of the planet. And some of those guys are pretty dang good-looking. I figured out what gets me: a good smile, and a defined jaw... weird, right? The jaw thing might be because I've always been a little disappointed that I don't have a chiseled jaw, but it's not like I stand in the mirror and count the reasons why no one could love me... Just a personal observation. And scruff. Anyway, that was what I decided to do this morning with part of my extra hours of consciousness.

And remember that missionary? He got transferred away a little bit ago... but called me last night... which kinda made me miss him... lots... until I walked myself through the logic of how that could (read: couldn't) work out. But it's confusing. I mean, come on, man, I've accepted the fact that you're not and it can't be, but I still feel little (big) twinges when you do stuff like that.

I had a breakfast of graham crackers and nutella with a glass of organic whole milk to wash it down. And I wonder what happened to my abs... but here's the deal--organic milk really is so much better. Granted, there isn't much of a difference (I think) in taste between organic/non-organic skim milk, but 2% and better definitely have a better taste. There's something about the milk fat or cream or whatever. And it comes in a glass bottle, like a throwback to the 50's and milkmen. We actually had a milkman when I was little. I remember him leaving milk in this kinda steel (it was metal, that's all I remember) container.

Also, for once, I'm not so poor. And my car is being fixed under warranty. Also, my mom still hasn't figured out that the answering machine is now just three seconds of screaming. I'm halfway waiting for the day when she calls and asks me why someone had the police sent to her house to check up on her. The novelty still hasn't worn off for me, maybe because I've been at the same level of maturity since I was 8.

I had one more funny story for you, and then I won't tell stories for a little while. But I was thinking about this the other day- oh! I know why. I saw this person and couldn't figure out if it was a feminine man or a manly woman. I know I shouldn't stare, but it's kinda like a car accident: you can't look away. And it got me to thinking (which got me to laughing, which is really weird when you're by yourself and laughing in public)...

It was freshman year, and I had gone out with one of the guys on my floor. I don't really understand why, but during my freshman year (not really before, and not really after... or not very often, at least) girls would call out or whistle or whatever at us. Let's get this straight (hahaha something on this blog should be...): it's not like I'm an ugly guy, and you wouldn't have to put a bag on my head if we were hooking up, but looks that'll stop traffic? Definitely not. Maybe I just missed the opportunities of a brief window of extreme hottness during my freshman year? haha. I did have an extra 20 lbs of muscle on me...

This is taking too long to tell you the story. So we were out one evening, and these girls pulled up in a car, rolled down the windows and were like, "heyyyy." It kinda surprised us, but we started walking up to them (not like it mattered to me). I got closer, looked at them, and (I really should think before I say shit) yelled, "those aren't girls! Those are trannies!"

Why did I say it? Truthfully, for a brief moment, they did look a little like trannies. I didn't realize that was just Utah's attempt at looking hott. Why did I yell it? Because apparently I should be on medication. I think it just caught me so off-guard that I didn't have time to filter my words...

Needless to say, the girls rolled up their windows and drove off. I was still a little confused at how this just happened. It was like an out-of-body experience. My buddy was a little disappointed, I think, but laughing too much to say anything more than, "nice job, dude."

And that was the first (and last) time I ever told someone they looked like a tranny... to their face...

You stay classy, San Diego.