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

What's Wrong With Me??

This Blog Has Nothing To Do With Lesbianism And That's Why I Changed The Title Y'all.(Just roll eyes and keep reading...)He's got one latex-gloved finger deep in my mouth and the other stuck in my ear.I mumble something unintelligible, and he pulls his spittle-covered finger out of my mouth with a twist of his wrist as though twirling drippage from a just-poured bottle of wine.I swallow the accumulated saliva, clear my throat, stretch my jaw wide—activating a popping sound on my left side—and ask him, Did you hear that?He did.He waits with his hand in mid-air waiting for me to tell him whatever else I’m about to say.Me: Oh. Yes. No, nothing.But what I'm really thinking is how challenging it is...

Born-Again Virgin Seeks Semi-Chauvinist And Meaning Of Life. Or A Job. P.S. Vagina.

I'm at The Broken Spoke, an espresso-slash-bicycle shop. It reminds me of Deus Cafe in Venice, California, only Deus has pricey cafe racers and low quality coffee. The BS has affordable pedal bikes and rich, delish espresso. As a California-converted coffee snob, I now drive across town (seven minutes) for the best stuff: thick as molasses and smooth as Rihanna's clam. (I assume.) Speaking of vaginas—and, in my case, cobwebs—I went to my urologist the other day for more tests on my taco. Actually, they were bladder tests, but that's not nearly as fun to write, or say, aloud. Seriously, try it. "Bladder." "Taco." Or ... "Vagina!" Vagina: the funnest to say. The doctor is mid 30s and kind of...

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...

Hipsters, Crazies And Coffee.

I'll Miss You, Too, La La Land ...The HipstersWhile "researching" this "article," I sent an email to a gay, as in homo, as in homosexual homo-sapien—who I call J'Mo (his first name starts with J and, well, you get the rest). Anyway, I asked him how to tell the difference between a gay guy and a hipster.He basically tells me, You remember where I live, right? [My adulthood home town] where there is no obvious evidence of either! I have to admit—he's right. Even though I know several gay couples, I know of no one who wears suspenders, bow-ties, or their pants rolled up just so. (Not even in the lady couples.) And the fellows I've seen sporting beards and...

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