My Purpose: Entertain, Inspire, Be Happy, Free Hugs!
 

Kiss and Tell. Fuckit, Why Not?

People have different ways of dealing with the impending death of a loved one. Some of those ways might not be considered healthy, but I say if we can garner a laugh out of it—and walk away without STDs or too many bruises (inner or outer)—then, BAM, why the F not? Here’s how it went down … (Mind out of gutter, we’re not at that part. Yet!) A few Fridays ago, I’m in my cozy abode deciding if I want to mope or make myself Little Miss Social. So, upon receiving an event invite, I—Vacillate between jamming out or going out; decide to go out; tell Marilyn for accountability.Call mom; cry.Put on upbeat house music to get in the anti-introvert...

Facelifts and So Forth

What To Consider When Considering Cosmetic Surgery. Anxious and waiting—and possibly oozing beneath the mummified bandages—in the private clinic of a plastic surgeon's office spotlighted by fluorescent lights ... Me: The swelling isn't that bad. Marilyn: I don't know. I have no one to compare it to. I don't know anyone who's had a facelift done. Me: Oh, you do. You just don't know that you do. I've seen a few. This ain't bad, I promise. Marilyn: That's encouraging! The surgeon comes in, and I take a close look at him to see if he's had any "work" done, as if it might reflect on his ability. Of course it doesn't unless he's operating on himself, and that would really...

Flirting & Master Dater ShenANNAgins

How To Meet Single Men In Vancouver.. Or Not. A girl friend and I are strolling by a hole-in-the-brick-wall mysterious venue in Gastown when a tall, not unhandsome guy in retro military gear asks us, "Are you into fetish parties?" An army green 1940s BMW cafe racer with matching camo sidecar is parked beside this scene with an antique ambulance behind it. A blockbuster-movie-sized photo light is aimed at the MASH ensemble. (I find out later Camo Guy owns the props in this mini movie set.) I scan the crowd loitering in the drizzling mist outside of the nameless lounge and see similarly attired patrons, several in skin-exposing camo, military boots and brush cuts. The men are just as interesting....

And Then I Moved To Vancouver. I Think.

Episode One: The Silver FoxI flew over on Harbour Air. The water-landing five-seater delivered me from the harbour of my adulthood hometown to the harbour of downtown Vancouver. Forty minutes and 25 pounds of luggage, and I'm in the "big city."The intention was to stay at a girl friend's place while she is away to see if I like the city. Her place is near the Seawall—a pedestrian/bicycle path that meanders along the oceanfront and around Stanley Park—and within a few blocks of the hub of downtown Vancouver. Like!By the end of the first day, when asked where I live, I say, "I'm from Comox, but I'm thinking of moving here." By the end of the second day, it becomes...

Spirituality and Skinny Dipping.

Back in Canada, in my adulthood hometown, I thought for sure I would need to turn to mind-altering-slash-life-numbing substances. Maybe not right away—summers are lovely here—but perhaps by autumn and definitely by winter when day"light" (daygray) hours are from 8:00am to 4:30pm.But a funny thing happened.I drove home from Los Angeles, made record time, enjoyed clear freeways, experienced no border-crossing wait and no ferry-boat wait. And all with perfect weather.But that's not the funny thing. (Funny as in funny-peculiar.)The odd thing is—(pause, breath)—when I drove off that old, familiar ferry-boat arriving on Vancouver Island, I felt happy to be home.Home.This is the first time in four years of returning to Canada after traveling that, one, I felt good about being...

My Butt Has Fallen And It Won't Get Up.

What Do You Call A Dinasour With A Stressed Rump? Mega Sore Ass. First off, if you call me a dinasour you gonna get word-whipped. Second, even though it's not technically a middle-age birthday for me on May 24th (I hope, and, thank you), some days I do feel old. And, third, yes, I am going to talk about my ass again. (This was written a few weeks ago, but then my mom's butt took centre stage. Let's pretend this occurred just the other day ...) How sore is my ass? My ass is sooo sore ... Speaking of butt, we interrupt this blog to bring you ... Farting Fellow aka Gassy Guy aka Dude's Gotta Poo aka The...

Vacation Sex: What Happens In Boracay Stays in Boracay (And in This Blog).

Boracay Beach, Philippines Blog Four. I'm at Nigi Nigi Nu Noos "e" Nu Nu Noos with Blue Eyes. Nigis is one of the popular local hangouts for ex-pats and "white" tourists who have left their homes and native lands to travel to this exotic destination rich in culture—if poor in conditions—only to coagulate with their own flock in a beach bar with hot wings and cheap beer on the menu and Cheap Trick on the radio. I sit at the bar drinking bottled water (as I'm not much of a drinker) and observe the crowd while Blue Eyes chats with the bartender, who plunks down another Blue Eyes "regular" (as he is more of a drinker).It's relatively early. There aren't...

Waning And Waxing aka How Many Aestheticians Does It Take to Wax One Pussy?

Boracay Beach, Philippines Blog Three.Pussy1: Slang for vulva—because technically, anatomically, vagina is only the inside bits.And the next thing I know, there's another Filipino female (I hope) checking out my Sasquatch Snatch. Sasquatch Snatch: AJ slang for hair pie, which be regular redneck slang for hairy va-jay-jay, which is simple slang for uncoiffed-overgrown-I've-been-single-and-celibate-for-over-a-year cookie—which is just sad. Let's backtrack a smidge to September: Back in Canada when the weather turned autumn cool—by my standards, this is any temperature under 25 degrees Celsius—I pulled out the jeans and skipped shaving my legs and nether regions. (There are pluses to celibate singlehood.) My hair grows fast so, by the time I'd arrived in the Philippines, I was wearing a woolly layer under my winter attire. There's...

Headline: Boracay Beach, Philippines—Not (Just) About Dirty Old Men and Young Lady-Boys.

Blog Two In The Boracay Beach, Philippines / Himalayas, Nepal AJ Travels Series.My plan was to come to Boracay to get in shape for my hike in Nepal next month—did I forget to mention that part? Yes? Well, we’ll get to that, just you wait. Where was I? Oh, right—get fit for hike. My buddy—we’ll call him Blue Eyes—who lives here in Boracay, has done a bunch of hikes in Nepal including the Mount Everest Base Camp hike and the Annapurna Circuit. A few weeks ago, I impulsively decide I need to go somewhere “spiritual” for my Canadian snowbird getaway from winter. Bhutan is at the top of my bucket list, but Nepal is at the top of my budget...

There’s No Righting Rage On The Page. But He Shat Too.

Doest Not Shite Where Thou Doth Drink (Espresso). I wrote this a couple weeks ago but waited to post it. I didn’t want my fury getting the best of me. (Though, have you noticed that I do my best writing under this influence? Just sayin’.) Anyway, having allowed enough time to pass, I can safely post this now without regret. Plus, it’s funny and we all might learn something. And that’s my job: to entertain and to inspire. And to be happy. And writing this (back then) restored my gayness (not homo-gay, hetero-gay!). Two Sundays ago… I’m so mad. How mad am I? Thank you for asking. I’m so mad that I’m buying cheap pencils. And a plastic-covered notebook....

Pet Sitting Is For the Birds

goD Spelled Backwards is doG. Therefore, timmaddoG, I’m Not a Pet Person. Okay, I’ll admit my little Rent-a-Pet, cats- and dog-sitting deal was fun the first week. If you recall, my roomie is away for what is now seemingly foreverrrr. Anyway, I walk SashaMoto—I renamed her—twice a day and/or take her for hikes. I brush her fur morning and night and give her t-r-e-a-t-s and feed her and poop-scoop after her while traffic rolls by. I take her for car rides while she sits quietly in the dog-blanketed back seat. Have you met SashaMoto? I ask all wherever we went. And when I come home on days I can’t take her with me, she wags her tail and her whole...

Modern ‘Medical’ Devices: Divinity Approved or The Devil Dared Me?

After a few days of frustration in trying to format/upload/preview my book to online retailers and then try to send them my bank info so they’ll know where to direct all those best-seller ebook funds (sideways glance) from the impending mega sales of my memoir—details to follow—I decide to take a breather. I drive around town delivering posters that announce Pre-Order Now! even though there wouldn’t have been any way to order at all until I sorted out the aforementioned accounting and formatting technicalities. Since few will see the posters I put up right away, I say to myself (out loud), If no one is going to see these brilliant works of art (thanks Studio Ei8hty8), then why...

… And Then I Got a Fcking Motorbike! Almost.

So I’m driving all over God’s creation looking for a trophy shop to recycle these real estate and humanitarian awards (singular on the latter, I wasn’t that good of a do-gooder) because I’m trying to save the planet. But while driving around, I’m polluting the hell out of it and wasting a lot of high-priced petrol in the process. I finally pull in to a small strip mall in the light industrial part of my childhood hometown that has a dirt bike shop. I figure at least these guys will know what direction to point me in. Cut. To. Next. Scene.Two days later, I’m sitting in class for the technical in-class portion of the, yes, motorcycle course¹ I’m taking....

Mexico: Weeks 3 & 4—On Mexican Dime

Friday:Go to the market, get weekly groceries, all organic: $45. Check. Go to bakery. (It's a given at this point.) Get a fish taco (finally). Check. Go for a 'Mayan' massage—basically a hippy-dippy-chakra-balancing-my-heart-centre-hurts-and-my-legs-are-unshaven-prickly-incence-burning session. Nonetheless, afterwards, I feel pretty good even if my fourth chakra still sucks.Saturday:Bus to Mega store for organic vino and razor replacement heads. (No replacements in stock, too cheap environmentally-friendly to buy a new razor; instead, decide that I'm saving the earth one leg whisker at a time by staying hippy-dippy natural.)Go to Irish pub in full-length dress. Flee thinks I'm overdressed, but I'm just trying to cover my damn grassy gams! Plus, I am in flip flops and ponytail, which makes anything casual.Buy a hat....

Mexico: Week Two—Dog Shit, Horse Shit, Bullshit

Friday: Go to Spanish class mildly hung over from the shenanigans with Montana Man (see Mexico: Week/Weak One post), which is held at the local gringos elementary school with an earthen-floor playground (as in: compacted dirt; as in: open-air outside). My school room is under a large palapa within the confines of la escuela (the school). Mini Flee (3-years old, remember?) is doing yoga with a group of other hipster kids not far from me. She knows more Spanish than I do, so—yes—the simplistic images of pescado, perro, y gato (fish, dog, cat) are for us adults trying to catch up to these fast Spanish-talking toddlers. My brain is foggy from frolicking in a tequila haze. (I only blacked out...

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