The Turd Bloggeth

Through the magic of Facebook, I recognized a guy I met on Saturday at Deco in a picture posted by a friend. We had started chatting on Gay.com and decided to meet for a beer.

He looked older and a bit chubbier than his pictures, but not unacceptably so. You know, the type of guy who photographs very well - they can't help they are photogenic. It certainly wasn't deceptive in any way (as if he had used pictures from 5 years and 50 pounds ago).

Conversation was a complete dud from the start. We didn't have much in common other than we are both shy and awkward. He wasn't a bad guy for sure. But I also wasn't enjoying spending time with him. This meetup was a turd.

Pascal showed up, so I latched onto him and disappeared. I came back a few minutes later to find he'd left. I felt like a jerk just abandoning the guy (not that it stopped me).

Luckily, according to his blog (which I found through Facebook, bringing this ramble full circle), he was just as uncomfortable and bored as I was. And I did seem like a jerk. Sadly, the Leo in my was mildly elated that he was bothered enough to make his monthly post about it. You know, because at least I'm an exceptional jerk.

On a side note, the dude thought Pascal was either my daddy, boyfriend or fuck buddy. Pascal could easily pass for a porn star my age. He certainly isn't daddy material yet!

Personal Growth from the Xbox

With Netflix "Instant Queue" moveies now available on my Xbox360, I did a lot of movie watching this weekend. One documentary, "Meth", severely changed my outlook on life. It was all about Meth and it's effects of course, but more about why and how people got addicted. The "why" made me painfully aware of silly my occasional feelings of inadequacy are. And how dangerous the drive to escape those negative thoughts can be.

5 Signs You Are Embarrasingly Drunk

I certainly wouldn't know this from experience. And it definitely didn't happen on what could be the last sunny and warm Sunday afternoon of the year.

1. You realize how poorly your attempts at walking are going. You accept that you are just stumbling at this point. And you know the stumbling isn't going too well either.
   
2. Hot guys hit on you, but all you want to do is nap on their shoulder.
   
3. Multiple friends stop you to make sure you are "ok" as you "walk/stumble" past.
   
4. The cab driver accelerates and brakes evenly while getting you home.
   
5. You are behind the wheel of the ceramic school bus by 7pm.
   

Good times. Or so I hear.

You won't see this on tonight's news segment about the gay protests..

The sprinklers came on during the gay rights protest at San Francisco's City Hall. A male percussionist was holding down the sprinkler head while people scurried off the grass. A female band member says to me, "He really should get out of the way so one of us girls can come over and put their thumb in the dyke."

It's Time For My Period

Apparently, I'm entering into another slutty period. Last night was the first time I slept in my own bed since Monday. And I was this close to not sleeping in it alone.

After all the elections, demonstrations and birthday celebrations this week, I decided to lay low tonight. I'm about to take a sleep aid and turn in early.

Hippy Michael

In yet another classy episode, I met a man named Michael last night. He said he was hot, so I took off his shirt. It went about as you would expect from there.

I wouldn't mind seeing more of him.

Vigil

There was a good sized crowd for the candle light vigil yesterday. I stayed for about an hour and a half.

My shoes are covered in candle wax. I had a clumsy spaz after about half an hour. I'm such a dork. Thank god there are men who find my nerdiness desirable.

Lazeh

So I didn't bring the champagne last night. For three reasons:

* I know the last thing the Robs want to see is more alcohol.
* Even though I knew Barack Obama would win, and that is amazing, but I was afraid Prop 8 would pass.
* And I wanted to stop in to the Castro to meet some friends for a drink before heading to the party.

Anyway, while we were excited about Barack winning, the mood was definitely tempered by the passage of Prop 8.

Luckily, there are credible legal challenges available for us. The gist of it is that because this is a pretty major change to the tone of the California Constitution, it is not eligible to be passed by a simple voting majority.

The people against the amendment did bring this to the state courts prior to the election. The courts deferred taking on the case until after the election. I'm guessing they knew they would have to disallow it, but hoped the measure would fail so they wouldn't have to take (another) stand on the issue.

There is still hope! I'll be at the candle light vigil tonight. Or drinking with Jon for his birthday. Either one.

Cheers!

Back in June, I briefly dated a cute guy from Chicago who was the spitting image of Barack Obama (but younger). The last time I saw David, he brought over a bottle of champagne. It was late in the evening, so we never drank it.

The bottle has been sitting in my fridge ever since. I intended to hand it off to a hobo on my last trip from the old Soma apartment. I forgot about it. Then I remembered the election was coming up. What better occasion could their be than to toast the election of Barack Obama?

So yeah, I'm totally pawning off a cheap bottle of champagne as being much more interesting just because it came from someone who looked a lot like our future president.

Republican Costume

When I told my friends about my Halloween costume, their reactions ranged from:

* Bitch, you are never going to get laid in a mullet
* Dude, you are going to get beat up in a McCain T-shirt

My costume came off really well. People's reactions ranged from a slow smile spreading as they "got it" to coming up to me and hugging me. There were two people in the Castro who didn't get it at all. I blame their alcohol intake.

In case you are wondering, I made the shirt from vinyl letters I bought at a craft store. People were suprised I had Martha Stewart'd it. Come on, where are you going to find a McCain T-shirt anywhere in California, yet alone in San Francisco. And frankly, how many Republicans wear a size small?