HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDPA!

My Grandfather (my Mom's Dad) turned 90 today...90! How fucking cool is that? He's still in (reasonably) good health and lives independently (albeit with some help from my Mom when locks himself out, or crashes his SUV into the security gate at the entrance to his neighborhood. But still, I cannot imagine living to be that old - he's got 59 years on me. Tough guy he is.

IT WAS A (QUADRUPLE) FAMILY AFFAIR

WHEW! So I got through a truly momentous weekend; the occasion was none other than my brothers wedding, which I obviously was an integral part of (albeit in the background). It's been 6 days since my lovely Sister In Law (God, that seems weird! But awesome) made an honest man of my brother.

Last week was nuts; my Father stayed at my place, in my bed to be precise, which necessitated a thorough deep cleaning of my linen, and reduced me to "sleeping" on my lumpy couch, which resulted in the strain in my neck and back that I still feel, but since I'm a team player, I went along.

Anyways, I'm not a big wedding guy, or at least I wasn't. My chief concern was the confluence of my then current family (divorced/Mom/Dad/Stepdad), my new family (divorced/New Mom-In-Law/New Dad-In-Law/, New-Step Mom-In-Law, etc) and my existing work "family" that pervaded every inch of this party.

About that last bit: a waitress I work with is a stealth baker, who makes the only cupcakes I'll ever eat, my fellow Bar Back is a semi-famous graffiti artist who made all sorts of artwork for the venue, my direct manager secured 2 kegs of very rare beers, and the 2 guys that own the places I work at were omnipresent.

And then there was my family; HOLY SHIT. It's been at least 16 years since my Dad and Mom were in the same room, and my Dad never met my Stepdad (and my Dad did not bring his partner). Nor have I seen my Aunts and Uncles in years. And I had not yet met the majority of my New Family (on the Bride's side).

If this already sounds stressful, it's because it was. My "date" was my female Polish Roommate (whom my Dad doesn't like), the other guys in the Wedding Party were shocked to discover I was gay, my Mom hates my Stepdad's sister...you get the picture, I think.

And yet...the endeavor went off with only a hitch or 2 (my manager placed a noted on the 2 kegs of "special" beer with a noted about how my brother is gay...I mean...what the WHAT?). So basically, I was a Social Fireman, putting out these weird fires.

Anyways, let's get to the pictures!

Above is my brother and my Dad, and others not in the frame trying to figure out who knows how to tie a double Windsor Knot, in a trendy hotel that was seemingly imported from Berlin. The boys (myself and my Dad excluded) were smoking herb. Oh, and the tuxedo rental place forgot to issue 3 of us Groomsmen vests (they had to make a special delivery at the last minute).

This is an image of the sliver of a balcony where I sought refuge and chain smoked; sweet view, no? I thought so. I figured it was better to hang out here instead of getting high and drunk...right? Shocking.

The soon to be Happy Couple near the beach on a typical overcast day; it was cold and windy as FUCK, and the photographer paraded us around for 2 and 1/2 hours....those pictures better turn out better than my cell phone pics. And it was all I could to keep my mouth shut about his techniques.

This was kinda cool, and keeping in with the overall trend of an "urban" wedding. We took a hundreds of pictures in this alley...Yellow is SO trendy. Again I chain smoked and kept my mouth shut. Around this time I also realized that the Photographer's younger brother/helper was not hot, as I first thought.

It's too bad my brother is 6 inches shorter than me, because I want that suit he bought. My Sister-In-Law looks/looked so beautiful! Cool mural too, right? And that's there beloved dog drawn in between them. Cute! I love how they posed for this picture. Shit was planned out.

As for my Best Man speech...to be honest, I "wrote" it in my head during the ceremony, and discovered gold. My sub-conscious memories of both of them flooded out in a succinct 2 minute speech, for which I did not stutter, and uttered a "I love you both so very much" and thankfully did NOT shed a tear (which was very difficult to do considering the audience).

Whew. A whirlwind it was. I was cashed out by 11pm and mercifully passed out in the back of Roomie's car. As great as it was, I'm so glad it's over. I've been stressing about this for almost a year!!! But I'm very happy for them, and also for me...I love my NEW family!

PS-The happy couple are spending their honeymoon in Africa. How fucking awesome is that?

PPS-I never wanted to get married until this event; I want to fall in love so fucking much.

WEDDING JITTERS

It dawned upon me today that in 4-ish months my brother will be standing at the alter, and since I am his only sibling, I shall be standing at his side. This is a good thing, an awesome thing in fact, as I love the shit out of my future sister-in-law (God that sounds odd).

Here's why I'm a bit nervous: my family is...interesting. I've hinted at it before, but let's try to lay it out. And don't worry if you get confused, I do too.

My original nuclear family consists of My Mom, Dad, older Brother and obviously yours truly. My parents split up in 92' or 93'. Since then, my Mom moved to Phoenix and got remarried to my cool Stepdad (he's originally from Detroit but has lived in that fucking desert since the late 70's and likes guns and ice hockey). Mom and Stepdad got married in...99'? I think.

Anyways, my real Dad and my Stepdad have never met in person, and only accidentally spoke briefly on the phone 2 or 3 times, ever. Meanwhile, my Dad moved to NYC to live with his partner...who is Korean, a one time male model, currently an interior designer, rocks a ponytail and strictly adheres to wearing Prada in formal situations. No one besides my brother, his finance or myself in my family has met him...

...which includes my Dad's parents. Only one of which is biological. His original Father...well, I'd rather not go into details. But my Dad's Dad is really his Stepdad. And the poor guy is suffering from dementia. And he nearly ruined my cousin's wedding last fall.

Wait..it gets better. A few years back my Mom's Mom passed away. A year later my Stepdad's Dad passed away. So naturally, Mom's Dad and Stepdad's Mom shacked up. They are in their late 80's and from what my Mom tells me, they are...physically "affectionate/inappropriate" at inopportune moments (such as at Thanksgiving dinner).

Furthermore, my future Sister-In-Law's family is equally...interesting, divorced, remarried, etc. She has one sister (wow - I'm about to gain 2 real-ish sisters) and I know almost nothing about her extended family, nor their current or ex-spouses.

On top of all THAT...there will be numerous guests present from the "other" family, namely people that work at the group of bars that my brother used to work at, still frequents and at which I currently work at (talk about nepotism). I would not be surprised if my former manager, aka, "let's do coke off a knife" guy is the DJ.

And I'm the Best Man. Actually...I'm apparently Co-Best Man (?). Which I have no idea what THAT means (good thing my brother is not into strip clubs or Vegas).

Seeing as I won't be getting hitched anytime soon, this going to be one HUGELY INCREDIBLY FUCKED UP/AWESOME family reunion. Do not get me wrong, I am so very much looking forward to this monumental event. I'll make every effort to make sure everyone gets along ans is as comfortable as possible and has a fucking great time.

Seeing as I'll be in the center of it all, and in some ways will be the "hub" amongst all these various parties, I better start looking for a ringmaster's outfit, a pink Hummer limo, a prescription for Xanax and perhaps hiring a male Puerto Rican stripper to be my date.

PS-Thank God this is NOT taking place in a Church.

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME

This evening I experienced a moment of domestic bliss, triggered by a combination of rum, Coke, Mad Men, and my Roommate cooking up a storm in the kitchen. I know this *might* sound misogynistic, but really it's not (I'll explain). Besides, she's not cooking for me, she's making dinner for her friends (plus I already ate tacos).

Referring back to Mad Men, there is this particular scene that brought back to huge flood of memories, specifically about how a form of media can act not as "a space shuttle, it's a time machine". In this case the show acted in this manner (which it is very effective at) and the sound of my Roomie cooking the kitchen, just that sound of dishes clanking and spoons stirring...and the smell of freshly made food...brought me back to age 13 or so.

I remember coming from school/friend's house/basketball practice and walking through the door. The first thing I remember about those times was the sound of ABC 7 News (John Drury anyone?) blaring through the door; also the faint smell of chicken cooking. I'd open the door and my Mom would be standing next to the kitchen counter, chatting on the phone, smoking a Marlboro Light and sipping chardonnay.

After I went up to my bedroom and put down my backpack and changed clothes and rocked the fuck out to Pearl Jam or something, she would call up the stairs, telling me that dinner was ready. I recall the particular tone of voice that meant dinner was ready, although she would say do, simply "JUSTIN!".

Even if it was just the 2 of us, she would make the table all nice, candles even and we would discuss our days with the TV still on in the background. This was specifically around the time right after my parents split and my brother went off to college. Somehow 4 became 2 in a short period of time, and I like to think that although it wasn't what I wanted to have happened, it made our relationship more strong.

And although that was actually, somehow a highlight on my timeline, I don't want to go back to how things were. I like being an adult (plus, really, who the fuck wants to live in Buffalo Grove, IL?). Naw, that isn't the point, what my recollection made me realize how those little, seemingly common scenes I now appreciate.

Jesus, I have GOT to lay off the pot.

WHERE DOES "IT" BEGIN OR END?

The above question mysteriously popped into my mind when I went to take a piss at 3:30AM, and has kept me awake ever since. Expository background: since Thanksgiving I've been dealing with a terminally ill family member - which is hard enough without it being the fucking holidays (I may or may not write about trying to console my Mother, totally drunk, in an elevator with "Santa is Coming to Town" playing in the background).

But yeah, that fucking existential question is stuck in my head and I can't help but ponder it. Obviously, we all know the biological answer to said question; but "spiritually", you're fucking alive before you're even born, and live long after you die. Right? At least that's how I feel. It's a comforting thought to think your literal time on this earth is exceeded by the memories of you're loved ones.

It's taken me 30 years of thought to bring me to this realization, and most likely it will take me another 30 years to wrap my head this concept, but it's comforting to know I'll be around long after I'm not. And so will you. We all leave our mark regardless if we know it or not; for good or ill, life is NOT defined by the breathe we take, a pulse or a blip on an expensive machine.

That being said, with my family's genetics, you all are going to have to deal with me FOR A LONG FUCKING TIME. We do not die easily. For fuck's sake, I should already be dead a half dozen times over, yet here I sit, awake at 5:30AM and pondering the concept of "life force". By all accounts, I got it easy.

IT'S NOT CHRISTMAS UNTIL SOMEONE TAKES THEIR BALLS OUT

Ah yes, the holidays. That lovely time of year when everyone revels in friends, family, food, and frivolous consumption of alcohol.

This Christmas was fairly tame compared to most, certainly much more tame than the "Golden Years" when my Mom's family still lived here. Those people know how to fucking DRINK.

Past incidents included fistfights amongst Uncles and another Uncle (who used to be a Sheriff) playfully aiming his service revolver at his head. Oh, and there was time when my Grandma (God rest her soul) took all of her clothes of and walked around my Aunt's home like nothing was amiss.

Sigh, those were the days.

Without little fan fare the holidays soldiered on this year with only my Dad, my Bro and his GF. Fair enough, sometimes simple celebrations are the best way to go, and with the bat-shit insane weather [if I have to dig my car out one more fucking time!] we've had this week, it's especially practical. None of us even exchanged gifts since we're all hurting for cash. So be it.

It was still a nice Christmas, and I hope yours was too.

THE X-MAS AFTER PARTY

All of the above shouldn't imply that this year's Jesus Birthday wouldn't go out with a bang. After I dropped my Dad off at O'hare, I collapsed on the couch and watched (I can't believe I'm admitting this) 5 hours of "The Real Housewives of Orange County". Forgive me Lord, for I have sinned. Also, I am totally addicted to the trashy BBC soap "Skins". I have no shame. None.

Thankfully I have 3 people friends to RAWK OUT with last night that also seem not be worried about shameless acts. In fact we almost all tried to out-shame one another last night with wildly inappropriate religious jokes, humorous attempts at parallel parking on ice, and physicals acts such as:

[ED: I should note that this one guy "Nick" is an old high school crush]

A. Nick taking his pants off giving us lap-dances.

B. Nick goading me into Bitch Slapping him, which I did with enough force to make his neck hurt.

C. Nick whipping out his balls, which, I was surprised to find out are totally shaved.

D. Oh we drank. Nick, Mark, this girl and I consumed 2 cases of Miller Lite, a half bottle of Jack (thanks Dad!) and a Sixer of PBR.

All in all, a swell time was had by all.

No, that's a waste of sweet, delicious PBR!

My failed attempt to get a shot of Nick's balls.

SOME SHIT I LIKE, SOME SHIT I DON'T

For whatever reason I find myself incapable of completing a blog post of any true substance, so I thought I'd take a moment on reflect on some shit I like and some shit I don't right now...

1. Home Alone

Not the movie, but living alone. While I was in Denver, Roomie left to embark on another archeology adventure, so for the past week, this week, and the next one I can walk around naked, leave empty beers cans where I please and blare RAWK in the morning while I get ready for work. It's pretty fucking awesome.

2. Masturbation

This might go hand in hand with #1 (pun intended) but on Sunday afternoon, I took a break from being lazy and got busy with my Right Hand Man. Not sure what happened, but I managed to give myself an EPIC orgasm. To paraphrase a line from "Fight Club", "I haven't fucked myself like that since High School".

3. Edgewater Produce

I loathe the Dominick's near me (for you non-Chicagoans, that's our version of Safeway, and it blows). It's expensive, the produce is awful and the shelves are frequently empty. So, on Sunday I went to a little neighborhood place called Edgewater Produce. I got 3 huge, tasty tomatoes, 2 onions that made me cry, 1 pound of turkey breast, 1/2 pound of cheese, 2 cucumbers, a head of lettuce bigger than mine, a loaf of wheat bread, 20 fresh tortillas and a bag of taco cheese. For $17 and change. Fucking TITS!

4. Top Gear

This is one of the most popular shows in the world, though largely unknown in the States. Basically, it's a weekly, hour long program produced by the BBC, and it's all about cars. I just watched an episode where the 3 presenters flew to Miami with a challenge to buy 3 cars, for $1000 each. They then drive their jalopies to New Orleans and get fucked with Red Necks in the Florida Panhandle. Needless to say, it's amusing. Also, I have a crush on Richard Hammond.

5. A Clean Ride

The weather was so awful in January and February I neglected to get my bitch washed. It got so bad on the inside that said "fuck it" and started smoking in it. But leaving work last Thursday, the weather was nice and I couldn't take the mess anymore, and I stopped by a hand wash place. For $10, a team of guys scrubbed both the exterior and interior. It looks like new and no longer smells like smoke.

Now, some shit I don't like...

1. The Litter Box

Seeing as Roomie is not around to clean the Cat's Shit Box, this glamorous task is now mine. A long time ago I had 2 cats, but Roomie's 2 cats produce an astounding amount of piss and shit. I think they produce more "waste" than I do, and my shit don't stink like their's does. Just tonight I cleaned out the Shit Box, and recoiled in horror when I took the lid off the damn thing. Gross, disgusting, obscene...

2. Car Payment(s)

When I checked my bank account the other day, it seemed I had too much money in there. When I got my monthly statement from my lessor, I realized why; the payment I scheduled last month never went through, thus I had to make a double payment. Rather than having an excess of funds, I have quite the opposite now. This fucking sucks.

3. Bro's New GF

Until about a month ago my older Brother was dating an awesome girl, but for whatever reason, their relationship ended after 2+ years. On Sunday I was introduced to the reason why, and her fucking name is fucking "Heather". Ugh. She wears bright red lipstick, dresses like a Skater Boy, and from my limited exposure, she sucks at life. I love my Brother, but sometimes it amazes me we're from the same gene pool.

4. Sleep

It seems the more I get the more tired I am. Last night I turned out the lights around 11:30 (anything before Midnight is early for me) and despite the 8+ hours of deep sleep I got, I woke up exhausted. What the shit is that? Not cool. I could chalk it up to the shitty weather today, but really, that shouldn't matter. Tonight, I intend to stay up until at least 1AM and see if that helps.

5. Dealer's

Who do I have to blow in this city to get a bag of weed? Not like I'm jonesin' but it would be nice to be able to get high, bump some Jay-Z while making dinner and retire to my Front Room and watch some of the Netflix DVD's that have piled up. I suppose I can do this sober, but really, getting high in the comfort of your own home and watching some shit on the tube is pretty fucking great after a long day of work. Call me back shady dude!

Well, there you go...a brief insight into my life as of now. On the balance, I'm pretty happy with things, but that doesn't mean I can't bitch once in awhile too. After all, I am a white American male, and as such, prone to complain over stupid shit.

CONNECTING SOME DOTS

On Friday night I met my Bro and his GF at a Wrigleyville bar for several rousing games of Connect Four. Turns out, I fucking suck at that game! Still I had fun just talking and sipping beers with the Bro/GF Dynamic Duo.

One topic of conversation was that of my Father's relationship with his Partner In Crime (my term, not theirs). A few friends have expressed astonishment at the relative lack of knowledge I have about they met and all that.

Honestly, I tend not to pry because it really doesn't matter to me. What is of import is that he is happy. Period.

However, being a curious person I am intrigued when certain details are revealed, like what I was told on Friday night, over a game of Connect Four.

Father was in town for a day/night this past week, but unfortunately I was unable to see him (although he returns next week, so it's all good).

Over lunch, my Father related certain details about his Partner. For example, Father's Partner's former Partner died three years ago, a result of him being an alcoholic and a diabetic.

This caused Father's Partner to become severely depressed, and in a sad turn of irony, he began to exhibit signs of alcoholism.

Then, he met my Father through mutual friends (I swear to God there must be another network of older gay male bloggers that my Father is a part of, haha).

See, my Father is diabetic. Thankfully, he is not an alcoholic (he's a lightweight - my ability to consume booze comes from my Mother's side) but I think that formed the basis of a major connection.

Whatever; bottom line is that since they have been living together, Father's Partner has stopped drinking in excess, and my Father is no longer taking anxiety medication, and he sleeps well now (which was a problem for him in the past).

So whatever their true status is...doesn't matter to me because my Father is visibly happier than he has been in a LONG time. Dare I say, he seems to be experiencing some sort of belated renaissance.

He even told me so, and as you can imagine, Father's can be cagey about expressing their emotions. That alone is HUGE progress for My Old Man.

I love him.

IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR

2007 will go down in my personal history as the year that really came into my own. Don't get me wrong, sometimes I still feel like a puppy with too-big paws, but I feel more like "me" than I have at any time in my life. This is a good thing, and I anticipate continuing on the same upward trajectory in 2008, and beyond.

Though I began the coming out process in mid-2005, this year I finally completed the process; the only people in the dark are my co-workers, and as far as I am concerned they are on a need-to-know-basis, and right now I cannot fathom a compelling reason to tell them, so I won't. Otherwise, my friends and family have completely accepted me, WOOT!

Musically, this was an interesting year for me, in that my audio horizon has expanded considerably; furthermore I experienced more than a few dope shows, including, but not limited to, Talib Kweli, Lupe Fiasco, De La Soul, The Ponys, Clipse, Bloc Party, Andrew Bird, Band of Horses and many, many others that blew my mind. RAWK ON!

Friends and readers have expressed mild astonishment with the situation with my Father, but really, I don't think it's odd at all, and he is visibly more content than at any moment I can remember in my entire life. he always cool, but he truly seems at peace and that just might be the greatest gift I have received all year. HOLLA!

Like every year, this one had it's peaks and valleys. I lost my Grandmother (miss you Franny!). Someone robbed my car (I will get you fuckers!). And I tried and often failed at this thing called "dating" (Tom is a dick!), but that's OK. Life ain't easy, but it's not about the problems/issues thrown at you, it's how you react to, and resolve them. I think it's a process I am getting better at...WORD!

Particular highlights I can think of from the top my head include reconnecting with a group of friends from high school at the Pitchfork Music Festival, having sex with a member of a crew team in my car, seeing not one but two good friends get married, meeting my friend Gloria's baby boy, oh, and seeing K making out with a guy at a bar was pretty memorable too (you go with your bad 'self!). Actually, that entire NYC trip was remarkably memorial, and several "bloggers" become "friends". YOU GUYS ARE THE SHIZZ!

Finally, people always make well intentioned NYE resolutions, and until last year I have resisted making any. But seeing as I was 98% able to keep the one I made last year, I am encouraged to make, not one, but two for 2008: to get a new job and to quit smoking. Neither are easy changes to make, but seeing as both of them are killing me (literally) I intend to devote a considerable amount of effort to both issues. WISH ME LUCK!

OK - one more resolution, LET'S BE THE BEST US WE CAN BE in 2008! Much love for ya' all! PEACE!

CHRISTMAS LOOT

This year my Father specifically asked my Brother and I to take it easy on the Christmas presents, and keep the gift giving to a minimum. "Fine with me" I said at the time. Rather than my Mother giving me a present, she fly in for the holidays last week, and I would much rather be able to see her than receive a sweater from Dillard's that I can't return.

Perhaps it was naive of me to take my Father at his word, but I really didn't think he was going to buy me much, if anything. He paid for my hotel room in NYC, which was a small fortune and he decided to also fly in for the holidays. When I asked him, what, if anything I could gift to him and his partner, he said that he wanted DVD's, so a box set (the Baz Luhrmann collection) and 6 other titles were bought.

Yesterday we all gathered at my place to have drinks before dinner and swap our (fairly) modest gifts. True to form my Father bought my Brother and I the same thing (he's been doing this for years). When my Father's partner handed me a small box (exquisitely wrapped I might add) I thought he might have bought me a watch or something. No, he did not...he bought us iPhones!

Look at how pretty that object is! The timing could not have been better, as my Nokia flip is rather, well, limp, and the screen keeps going in an out. To put it bluntly, it's a fucking piece of shit. Father's partner even called me out on it, saying he noticed I needed a new phone when I was in NYC. How thoughtful, no? Needless to say, I am not a tech nerd, and this phone is probably more than I need. But I don't care, I'm addicted to it.

OK - so after experiencing my first time at a Korean BBQ (and a not-insignificant amount of Korean beer - yum) I came home to find the Roomie a little drunky too. We decided to exchange gifts, and while I thought my present was pretty cool (a pair of tickets to "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me", which is a news quiz show on NPR, yes, we are dorks) she gave me...a Dust Buster!

Now, you might be thinking to yourself "what a lame ass gift - I thought you were at least kind of cool", but I don't give a fuck. For whatever reason I have been wanting a good Dust Buster for years, and I am now a proud owner of a silver and black (sporty, no?) Black & Decker, boasting 15.6v and "Cyclonic Action". I fully intend to scare the living shit out of Roomie's cats with it, and occasional vacuum Cheez-It crumbs off of my shirt.

Besides my sexy sneakers and bodacious boots, that's the Christmas haul for 2007. Overall, I think the quality of the gifts far exceeds the quantity. Presents aside, this has been a great Christmas. I didn't have to go to Phoenix, I got to show off my apartment to my Father (who proclaimed, again and again, "this is a really nice place Justin" - awww) and I ate more food last night in one sitting than I have in an eternity.

Hope you all had a great Holiday!

I'M ON A LIVING SPREE

Had I not elected to order a third glass of champagne at brunch earlier today I would have been more able to articulate my thoughts, so I'll cop-out and let Kayne do the talking for me. Needless to say, I feel as if I'm living the Good Life as of late. Here is a brief highlight reel:

-My shoe fetish was feed with the addition of not one, but two new pairs of shoes. These dope ass New Balance Classics and these Timberland boots are competing for my attention. If I had four feet I would wear both pairs at once, but since I don't and it's winter in Chicago, the Tim's gonna win out.

-Went on a great date on Friday and afterwards met up with a buddy, where we went to a bar to shoot pool, only to be prohibited from shooting by a large group of Latinos that "owned" the table. However, your boy Justin walked up and challenged 'em, and won control of the table. At one point one Latina turned to another and said "damn, we got a hustler here". Damn right sister...damn right.

-Got fuckin' awesome news from my physician who informed me that I do not, in fact have a manageable, but not fun disease. Whew! The cherry on that cake was that my doc ran my piss for a drug test...and it came back clean! Weird. I have smoked several times over the last few weeks, but apparently the laws of biology do not apply to me.

-Last night I went drinking with my bro and his friends at a soccer pub. Anyone else like Carlsberg? It's delicious. The best part was that at one point, they were playing "National Lampoons Christmas Vacation" on one screen, "The Grinch That Stole Christmas" on another, and "A Christmas Story" on yet another. When the Simpsons original Christmas episode came on, I thought to myself that I could die happy, right there, right then, (instead I ordered another round of Christmas shots).

-Brunch this morning with my bro, his GF, my Father and his partner/friend/Roomie/whatever was great. Crab cake egg Benedict anyone? Followed by a piece of chocolate cake bigger than my head? More champagne? Yes, yes and yes. Oh, and Jim Gaffigan was sitting at the table next to us. Random, but amusing.

-OK, this post was almost done but my friend just called me and told me that he is coming over to get me "high as hell" and then dragging me to yet another soccer pub. Though I don't own a crystal ball, I predict the balance of the afternoon will be spent sipping Harp and watching sexy soccer players run around in Hi-Def.

WOOT!

Not that anyone is asking for my advice, but if anyone is, I must advise you to eat your favorite food(s), drink your favorite drink(s), rock your sharpest thread(s), play your music too loud, forget about balancing your checkbook, tell someone you love them, and for godsakes breathe it all in.

ANYONE KNOW A GOOD THERAPIST?

It's apparent I had much fun meeting/hanging out with my blogger friends when in NYC, but the real reason I was there was to hang with my Father, and his "friend/partner". I'll be honest, I'm on board, and so very happy for him, but at the same time it's kinda weird...

It reminds me of when my Mom was dating after she split with my Father, and she was actively dating, and I was introduced to her "dates". Of course, my Father's "friend/partner" (eventually I will get over the slight unease I feel about the situation, but that will take some time...fuck, am I being a hypocrite?) is not some random guy, but rather the man that he is now living with.

I thought my Father and I would hang out more than we did when I went to visit him, but our time spent together was confined to 3 dinners, 2 of which were shared with the "friend/partner". Don't get me wrong, I like this guy a lot, same as I like my Mom's current husband. But a few dinners does not equate to a real relationship between said parties.

Fuck, I bonded with my Stepfather over a bottle of tequila on the 4th of July in 2003, and I have yet to have that "alone time" with this guy that my Father is living with. And it's not that I don't think he is a quality person, and he need not get hammered with me to prove as much. But we have yet to achieve that comfort level that I would like to have...

To you people out there that have parents that are happily married, God Bless You. I will refrain from saying you have it easy (even those marriages that are intact are anything but simple), but this shit is fucking tough and kinda confusing.

I wanted to clear the air with my Father, but when I was about to broach the subject, I felt it wasn't my place, or that I would make him feel uncomfortable. I really don't know beyond the shadow of a doubt what their status is. And it was sorta weird when he asked me during dinner how I spent Friday night in NYC.

Although I told him I spent the night with friends in Chelsea, staying out until 5AM or so, which didn't cause him to bat an eye...but even that minor admission was a lot for me to say, and I can only imagine how he felt about me running from one gay bar to the next.

Bottom line, my father told me how his life has greatly improved since moving out there. His anxiety issues seem to have been resolved, and he claims to be sleeping very well. Both are good signs. Upon seeing him last Friday Night for dinner at Spark's, he looked good, as if he has indeed got much needed rest and maybe even lost some excess weight.

And the interaction between him and "friend/partner" was typical "cutesy"; they playfully argued about which street MOMA resides on, going so far as to bet money on whether it's on 53rd or 70th street (my Father won that battle) while I sat and sipped Kettle One and ate a steak the size of my head.

I am happy that he (and they) are happy living together...it just kinda shakes my brain like a paint can that he got there before I have, but maybe it's only fair. He waited much longer than I did. Now I am in the odd predicament of wanting the relationship that my Father has...if Freud was alive he would have a field day with this situation.

And here I am left alone to figure it out on my own.

Did I mention my Mother is sleeping in my bed as I type this?

THIS MAN COULD HAVE BEEN MY FATHER

HUGH RODHAM (HILARY'S BROTHER)

The year was 1968, Hendrix dominated radio airplay, we were bombing Vietnam, and Hillary Rodham Clinton's younger brother, Hugh, was trying to get into my Mom's pants. Allow me to explain...

My mother, looker that she was in high school, had the distinct pleasure (displeasure?) of being assigned a locker opposite that of a much younger Hugh Rodham. On several occasions he would ask my Mom out, and every time she denied him!

The year was 1992, Nirvana dominated radio airplay, HW Bush threw up in the lap of the Japanese Prime Minister, and my mother decides to tell me the story about Hugh and his less then noble intentions...

ME: "So why did you always say no when he asked you out?"
DAD: (rolls eyes)
MOM: "Oh honey, he was a loser!"

Unfortunately I don't remember much else of the story, but perhaps there really isn't much else to tell.

My Mom thought nothing of this "loser" (apparently jocks destined to be lawyers was not her type) but at the time, as I still do now, I wonder if things had gone differently, would my Father go golfing with Bill Clinton on the weekends?

How fucking cool would it be to play a round with Uncle Bill? Nevermind politics, consider a day golfing (drinking) followed by a quick visit to the local Titty Bar (more drinking) and perhaps a shady business deal thrown in for good measure (Hugh had some batshit insane deal to import $110 million of hazelnuts from the Republic of Georgia, sweet!).

Imagine me on the right (haha)!

The year was 2007, (insert favorite band here) dominates radio airplay, the WGA is on strike and I just realized what an insufferable ASSHAT would be right now had my Mom not spurned Hugh's advances and married my Father. Whew!

Bill is cool and all, but Hillary scares the living shit out of me (exhibit A: her Wikipedia profile picture). She's like an exaggerated amalgamation of every elementary school Math/Science teacher I ever had. Which is not a good thing since I excel at neither.

LONG STORY SHORT: If you must vote for one Presidential Candidate from my neck of the woods in 2008, I implore you not to choose the one related to a guy that used to hit on my Mom.

THANK YOU

Ah yes, Thanksgiving. That time of year when Americans drink too much, eat even more and take stock of their lives and realize how damn lucky they are. Or at least most of us Yanks do. That might sound like some sort of an indictment of the American populace, but really it is anything but. We live incredibly "fast" lives and rarely are offered a respite from the madness to reflect.

Thankfully, since my office closed at 2:30PM this afternoon (thanks bossman! Oh, and sorry for coming in an hour late this morning. It's all the Roomie's fault, she kept me up until 3:30AM watching Friday Night Lights) I have been afforded the opportunity to relax and think about the things I am thankful for. Here is a brief list:

1. My amazingly laid back family who didn't blink an eye when I came out to them this year. I love you all so very much.

2. My diverse assortment of friends, both old and new, near and far (you know who are). I am blessed to know so many AWESOME people. You color my life with happiness (and put up with my shit).

3. My health, which remains intact despite the curve balls I throw at it.

4. My wealth...er, modest income that allows me to live a life that 98% of the world's population would kill for (or in certain instances would kill me for).

5. My apartment which literally and figuratively provides me shelter from many a storm.

6. My sexy Japanese car which elicits a smile from me each and every time I twist the key (except for that one time back in June when it refused to start for no apparent reason).

7. My ears which have been flooded with a vast array of music, this year in particular in which I saw so many sick shows. Musically, this year fucking Rawked. Woot!

8. My city, which despite it's many flaws, is my eternal home/playground. Chicago, you are my heart and one of these days I will get a Chicago flag tattooed on the base of my neck. Promise!

9. My penis, for obvious reasons (haha).

10. My blog, which has surpassed my extremely modest expectations and allowed me to meet and/or chat with so many interesting people (see #2).

There are, of course, other things for which I am thankful (like Grady Sizemore), but you get the drift. Oh, I should also note that I am extremely thankful that I will not be spending any time whatsoever stuck on a tarmac at O'Hare or a congested lane on the Kennedy.

Although it would have been great to see my parents on this holiday, and could have bankrupted myself doing so (seriously, $600 to fly to phoenix? Huh?) but I am glad to share dinner tomorrow with my brother and his girlfriend (who is doing the cooking for us boys).

Other plans this weekend include being a host to not one, but two very near and dear friends of mine from high school who I have offered my bed do (fuck, I need to wash my sheets). Also, I will be consuming copious amounts of Pabst Blue Ribbon and then burning that off at the gym.

Finally, I will be putting together what might very well be my "piece de renaissance" (see SSD - I know some French!) the XXX-Mas Tree, which may or may not require a trip to the confession box at the Catholic Church down the street ("forgive me father, for I have fashioned a dildo into an angel tree topper").

That about does it. Seeing as it's 5 o'clock on the eastern seaboard, I think it's about time for some PBR!

I hope everyone has a tremendously excellent Thanksgiving (or at the least does not get into any fistfights with family members).

WE ARE BROTHERS

Thank you to everyone that commented on my previous post.

I am still fumbling around with this new PC, but I love the fact that my Father gave me his fairly new printer, which includes a flat bed scanner...and a few vintage pictures of my brother and myself.

This particular image was taken in 1985 or 1986 in Boca Raton, FL on my Grandfather's boat.

That's me on the left...

SHEDDING LIGHT ON DARKNESS

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.”
-Jack Kerouac

This past weekend I had my "friend" in town (those of you who know his identity, please keep it under your hat for the time being) whom will be known as "Mr. X" for the time being. The reason for me being vague is not to appear mysterious, but rather for expediting this narrative.

There may be some confusion about my "out" status, so let me set the record straight (pun unintended). Over the last 10 months I came out those remaining friends of mine that were in the dark, and more importantly my Mother and Brother. Until now I referred to myself as 99% out.

The lone person I needed to come out to, or what I referred to in my mind as "the Final Frontier" was my Father. There are several reasons for my reluctance to tell him I am gay, but the over-arching concern was that I had my suspicions that...well...he might also be gay.

Bare with me here as until 48 hours ago I had only ever expressed this thought to two other people. There was always anecdotal evidence to doubt my Father's heterosexuality; for example his love of Broadway shows, extreme liberal point of view and his lack of female companionship after my parents marriage dissolved many years ago.

Now, one might think that having a possible gay parent it might make the coming out process easier, however, for reasons I am still processing, it did not.

In fact, it might have held me back in that him keeping his "other life" on the DL in turn had a similar effect on myself. Maybe. But really, if your Father is supposed to be your role model (and in many ways he is) it is not easy to divorce reality from speculation.

After successfully coming out to my friends and family, an irrational fear existed in my sub-conscious that had I came out to him, it might put undo pressure on him to come out to me, and I would never, ever want to do that to him.

No matter the person or the situation, I feel it is no one's right to pressure someone into coming out. I wavered on this previously, but I have solidified this belief recently, and stand behind this belief (gay closeted Republican legislators are an exception).

Emotional issues such as these are uncharted waters for myself. Fuck, I had to go through the entire coming process on my own, with zero help from any outside source, save the positive gratification I received from friends and family I came out to (after the fact).

That was one huge obstacle to overcome but I did it, and am a stronger, emotionally secure person for having done so. Obviously if I could go back I would have done things differently, but that is neither here nor there.

OK, I am wandering at this point, so allow me to get back on track. In addition to enjoying the company of Mr. X this weekend, this was also the weekend that my Father was moving to NYC.

Before he left to drive out east, my Father and I wanted to spend sometime together, but since he was busy packing and getting ready to move, the only time he could spare was a few hours on Sunday afternoon.

I didn't want to make Mr. X feel uncomfortable or that he had to meet my Father, but he told he he was willing to, which made me happy because, well, I wanted these two very important people in my life to meet one another. Also, I really wanted to see my Father before he left, and I could tell he wanted to see me too.

Another important aspect to this meeting is that also present would be the person my Father is moving in with once he gets to NYC.

[Flashback Alert] I met "Mr. NYC" a few months back, in June, on Father's Day, no less. My Father and I were to have a nice lunch when he mentioned that a friend of his would be joining us. OK, not a problem with me. I figured this was an old college friend or a close business associate.

My Father came to pick me up...and there was a mysterious man in the passenger seat of my Father's SUV. I say he was mysterious based solely on what he looked like: a well built Korean man in his late-30's/early 40's with long, black hair and impossibly chic eyeglasses.

Over lunch I learned that this man was an interior designer who lived in NYC. Red flags were going off everywhere - there was no way in hell this guy wasn't a 'Mo.

He was quiet but very nice and asked me all sorts of questions about myself and generally gave off a very positive vibe. I liked him, even if at the time I didn't quite realize the gravity of the relationship between him and my Father.

Fast forward to last month when my Father announces he is moving to NYC...and moving in with "Mr. NYC" (to quote the Lloyd Bridges from the film 'Airplane': "I picked the wrong week to quit smoking").

Fast forward yet again to yesterday when Mr. X and I show up at my Father's place to go out for lunch. I call my Father: no answer. I knock on the front door to his condo: no answer. I take a deep breath and use my spare key to unlock the door...and see Mr. NYC wrapping plates of china in newspaper.

He is wearing a sleeveless t-shirt which exposes his huge biceps. Mr. X turns to me and mouths "look at his arms!". He is friendly as I meet him for the second time and Mr. X and Mr. NYC introduce themselves to one another.

Whew, I need a drink, I thought to myself.

The four of us make our way to an Irish sports bar and have lunch (and Mr. NYC and myself have a few beers).

To make this as plain as possible, this is how my Father and I subtly (or perhaps not so subtly) come out to one another. Neither of us ever said "I AM GAY" but the thought was implied, one way or another through the meeting of our respective "friends".

Surprisingly this was not as stressful nor awkward as I had feared (I cannot speak for the other people present but it seemed very low-key) as we mostly made small talk and watched various football games on the 20 or TV's that thankfully diverted our collective attention at certain moments.

Hopefully the meaning of the quote at the top of this post now makes sense, but in case it does not, basically, rather than my Father and myself telling one another that we are gay, we showed another though the presence of our companions.

After I turned to Mr. X and said "I hope that wasn't too weird or whatever..." and he turned to me, and his perfect, evocative eyes meet mine and says (and I am paraphrasing) "it's OK...and yes, he [my Father] knows about you for sure now".

And now, I know for sure about him...

--

Rather than end yesterday there I feel I should proceed and tell the rest of it all. I figure this is rambling enough...so why not allow this momentum to continue, right? RIGHT!

After leaving the previous scene, Mr. X and I (trooper that he is) head to my Brother's place that he shares with his girlfriend, and on this particular night, several of his friends who gathered to watch the Bears game.

Me: "You sure you are OK going over to my bro's place?"
Mr. X: "...yeah, um, well, what are his friends like?"
Me: "...well, they are typical drunk North-Siders who gather around to watch the Bears lay on Sunday and..."
Mr. X: "...I mean...are they gay friendly?"
Me: "...oh yeah, they are really cool, after they all found out I was gay none of them treated me any differently".
Mr. X: [speaking in his distinctive lilt]: "uhkay".

We arrive and I proceed to introduce Mr. X to my Brother, his Girlfriend, their sweet dog (who seems to like Mr. X better than me, in fact he rarely left his side for the entire time we spent there, haha) and a few of their friends.

Honestly, I was a little worried that things might be awkward. Much like the situation with my Father, my Brother had never experienced first hand the reality that I am indeed a gay man. Obviously, he knew, since I told him. But that is different than bringing "someone home to meet the family", or as close to meeting my family as possible since my family (if you couldn't already tell) is rather unconventional.

--

I wish I could make this post more concise/precise, but at this juncture I needed to empty some thoughts from my head.

My shoulders suddenly feel light as air and my thoughts precede my ability to express them in any material manner...I feel as if this is the end of my closet status, and the beginning of a new, and positive chapter in my life.

As pretentious as this might sound:

"Forever expose the dark corners of my life and allow them to breathe with new life in rich light..."
-Me

MY FATHER IS MOVING TO NYC

“One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years”
-Thomas Wolfe

Last Sunday I met my father a bar for lunch and to watch the Cubs game. While waiting for our food to arrive (which was a ridiculous wait, I might add...how in the hell can it take an hour to cook some fucking burgers?) my father turns to me and says:

Father: "So, this may come as a bit of a shock to you, but I've decided to move to New York City".
Me: (almost spits out mouthful of beer) "Uh...well, yeah, it is actually. When are you leaving?"
Father: "At the end of September"
Me: (reaching for my cigarettes now) "What? That's like, in 3 weeks!"
Father: "I know it may seem sudden, but it's something I really want to do and the time just feels right to go now"
Me: "Well, if that's the way you feel...I'm excited for you"

Honestly I'm not totally surprised, I mean, it's not like he's moving to Berlin, and he has been visiting the Big Apple on a regular basis for the last few years. In fact, after I thought about it, his decision seems entirely logical due to the fact that he has a far larger social circle there than he does here in Chicago.

A little history: my parents divorced back in 1994 (wow, I can't believe it's been that long) and in the time since my Mother moved to Arizona (boo, I still hate that fucking state, no offense to any readers that live there, but the desert just isn't my thing) and got married again, to a very nice man, I might add (my stepfather and I get along great).

But my Father never did remarry, and as far as I can tell never really dated either. She basically broke his heart and it took him a long time to pick himself back up and move on his life. I thought it was a huge step for him to sell his spacious home in the suburbs and move to the city a few years back, but this is a far greater change.

But it's a necessary one in that I can tell that he is not entirely happy right now, and he also seems lonely. Therefore, it's seems logical for him to go where his friends are, where he can go out and be social and do the cultural things he loves to do (not like he can't do them here, but I digress).

I'll be honest, it will be sad to see him go. Over the years our relationship has dramatically changed in that during my high school years we were often at odds, but since my Mother moved to Arizona right before my Senior year of high school (nice timing...) and I moved in with him, we started to grow closer and repair our relationship, often in very subtle ways.

We are closer now than we have ever been, in fact, I think of him more of a buddy than a staid, traditional Father. I act no different around him than I do in front of my friends (with the exception of pointing out hot guys, haha) and we hang out at least once, if not twice a week. But it hurts to see my buddies, or any more of my family leave this city.

After my Father moves, it's down to my brother and I. There are other extended members of my family, but none that I care to associate with, for various reasons. I'm thinking this will strengthen my bond to my brother, which is a good thing, although right now we are really tight.

And in the end, it's not about me. It's about my Father needing to do what's best for himself. It's just that, I feel like we are at a tipping point in our relationship, in that the responsibility of taking care of one another has shifted towards me. Maybe I'm just getting older, and/or more mature.

As for me, I'm actually looking forward to getting to know more of New York City. I've only been there once, way back in the early 90's so the city is almost a mystery to me. I've already decided that I won't like it more than Chicago (for better or worse, this city is, and always will be where I call home, even if one day I move elsewhere).

But I will do my best to keep and open mind. After all these years of taking shit about NYC, it's time to view the city with new eyes. At the very least it will be a new experience, and I know I have a solid place to crash in another of the world's greatest cities. And that's a good thing.

And seriously, how bad-ass is it for a man in his late 50's to finally follow through on a life long dream to live somewhere he always wanted to live? Not many people get that chance, or have the fortitude to do so. Perhaps I'm biased, but I think that is remarkable, although not too surprising since my Father is awesome like that.

For the time being, I intend to spend as much time as possible with my Father. We were supposed to have lunch together tomorrow, but fate had other plans in mind. Just this afternoon, my brother's friend offered him a pair of tickets to tomorrow's Cubs game, which he offered to me. I figure after all these years it's only right that it's my turn to take my Father to a game...the final home game of the regular season! I'm stoked.

HI GRANDPA!

While sitting on the couch watching the Cubs game today (which we won - beating the Padres 4-1 on a picture perfect day for baseball at Wrigley Field) I suddenly realized I had not spoken to my Grandfather since my Grandmother's funeral back in May. As they say, baseball legacies are handed down from generation to generation.

Now, my Grandfather is the proud father of 5 girls, so having never had any boys of his own, the connection between him and his daughter's boys is especially close. He is a huge reason why I am a Cubs fan.

My bond with my Grandfather grew exponentially when I told him where I moved to in the city. Turns out he grew up in the same neighborhood where I live. His boyhood home is a half block from the liquor store (which oddly used to be a funeral home back in the day) mere blocks my place. It continues to amaze me how much closer I become to my Grandparents we both get older. It's cool.

Whenever we hang out (and I do consider spending time with my Grandfather as hanging out because I can shoot the shit with him just as I do with any of my friends) the conversation invariably leads to one of three topics: our shared hatred of the George W Bush, the Cubs and Chicago in general, (I especially like the stories he tells me about Lucille Ball shopping in his father's market before she was a celebrity).

Anyways, after the game was over I picked up my cell and dialed up Gramps. It rang four times but he picked it up right as the voice mail message clicked on. "Hello? he replied suspiciously. "Hi Gramps! It's Justin". "Justin! What's up?". Aww, I love my Grandpa. We only spent about 10 minutes on the phone but we talked about the Cubs sudden hot streak, how Bush will likely pardon Scooter Libbey, and, of course, the weather (ugh, it's 110 degrees in Phoenix today - gross).

This was also the first time I've talked to him since my Mom told him that I'm gay. From what she told me that conversation was very low-key and he couldn't care less. I wasn't going to bring it up since it wasn't relevant to our conversation, and neither did he. Fine by me, all I need to know is that he accepts me and I could tell that in his own way he does.

Also not discussed was my Grandmother's passing, or rather what life is like without her. That's a conversation for another time, one that preferably would take place in person. No matter, he was glad that I called. Right before we hung up he told me that I had "made his day". Well, right back at you Gramps, you just made mine.

GIT-R-DONE

I saw the above phrase on the side of a 18-wheeler on my way to work this morning, and, well, I did indeed "Git-R-Done" in regards to coming out to my brother last night.

We were stuck in traffic and talking about random things when I said, "there's something I wanted to tell you, I'm gay". His response could not have been more positive. Like my Mom he said had his suspicions and also like my Mom he told me that as long as I'm happy that's the only thing that matters. Then he laughed and punched my arm. It was one of those little moments that I think I'll always remember.

Over pints of pale ale he asked me about the guys I've dated and whatnot. For some reason I thought it would be more awkward to divulge the aspects of my dating history but in reality it was anything but. We also discussed the reason why I finally decided to come out and I explained that a lot of it has to do with my Grandmother's death and seeing my extended family last weekend. There's obviously no right or wrong answer to such a question, but to make a long story short it really hit me how much love I have for my family. Friends come and go but my family is my rock and right now I feel as close to them as I ever have. It feels good.

The last domino to fall is my father. I plan on telling him soon, perhaps even this weekend but I'm not sure if I'll get the chance to see him. Regardless, I have no fear about coming out to him now.

In other news, the weather has finally decided to stop fucking around. I was running late to work this morning and when I called to talk to the office manager she told me about how bright it is outside. She was right. The weather is mirroring my mood right now, which is bright and sunny. Tonight, I'm going out with friends, tomorrow I'm playing my first whiffle ball game of the season with my friends in the burbs, Sunday I'm shooting 9 holes of golf with my brother and his friends, then seeing what should be a great concert on Sunday night.

Life is good.

PS - As I was finishing typing this up I got a text message from my brother's girlfriend: "mighty proud of you J, congrats".

One last thing, Hamilton suggested I off the comment moderation function, and in the spirit of "GITTIN-R-DONE", I followed suit. I really appreciate all the comments and e-mails. Thanks everyone.

MY WEEKEND IN THE BIG BIRD

I attended Mass for the first time in 10 years, changed a flat tire on a golf cart and came out to my stepfather, (in that order).

My brother, his girlfriend and myself descended upon the "valley of the sun" along with my cousin and his wife (who knew they would be on the same flight?) right on time and reported for duty at my Grandfather's house soon thereafter. Immediately we were all enveloped in a wave of hugs, kisses and "it's been so long so since we've seen each other" comments exchanged amongst the relatives. It had been a loooong time since we've all been in the same place at the same time and it felt good to see everyone, especially considering the circumstances.

Friday night was spent eating, drinking and watching old home movies with the family. My retired uncle had spent a considerable amount of time transferring old Super 8 film stock to a digital medium and everyone gathered around the television to hoot and holler at the old footage.

In a period of little over an hour we watched as my grandparents raised 5 girls, who in turn got married and started families of their own. I actually got to see my parents when they were still in the honeymoon phase (which was slightly odd for my stepfather, I think) not mention raw footage of both my brother and I while we were babies.

Whenever my baby mug flashed across the screen I was loudly reminded by my relatives of how much I resemble my Grandmother. It was a bittersweet evening to say the least and everyone was having a good time but the cloud of the impending funeral seemed to hang over every one's head and we called it a night around 10PM.

The next day everyone awoke to a beautiful spring morning in the desert. On the way to the church I tried to think about the last time I stepped inside a church and came up blank. Family and friends were milling about the courtyard and my brother and I were handed the words we were expected to speak before the audience. My brother was up first and performed admirably.

Random Catholic hocus-pocus ensued, another cousin made the trip to the lectern and then it was my turn. I'm told my voice held out but once upon the alter I was literally shaking as I read the words I was given, which was a series of prayers.

I kept reminding myself to speak slowly, clearly and avoid the gaze of my Grandfather, Mother and her 4 sisters so I could avoid the waterworks. My eldest cousin who was charged with the task of delivering the eulogy didn't fare as well. He almost kept it together but when he got to the point of explaining my Grandmother's love for my Grandfather, he lost it, which in turn made nearly everyone in the church also lose it.

The ceremony drew to a close and we exited.

Once back at my Grandfather's residence we did what most any large Catholic family does following a funeral...we started drinking. From noon to midnight we rekindled dormant family relationships, swapped common memories and generally whooped it up.

In the early afternoon one of my uncles suggested us cousins involve ourselves in some kind of activity other than drinking, so we loaded up my Grandfather's golf cart with a huge case cooler of beer and headed over to the bocce ball/basketball court/putting green area. Cases of beer were consumed, the volume of sarcasm increased and I got sun burnt.

In the process the golf cart developed a flat though it was still capable of limping home with my ex-cop uncle behind the wheel, (something tells me his girth combined with the load of the cooler exceeded the load capacity of the a the EZ-GO cart).

No one was interested/sober enough to try and repair the damage done save my uncle and myself so we took it upon ourselves to appropriate the jack from Grandpa's Town Car and remove the forlorn wheel (this took at least an hour) and inflate it at a gas station.

Once that task was completed I was in dire need of a shower and I pleaded for a ride from my Stepfather to take me back to my Mom's place to get cleaned up.

He obliged and on the ride back he remarked that I seemed to have a lot on my mind, (rather the understatement). I did my shower thing, felt refreshed and over some Heineken's I referred back to what he said in the car. "There was something I wanted to talk about this weekend but was unsure of the timing" came out of my head and I went with it...

I simply said "well, I'm gay". It might have been the effect of the beer, the sun, my Grandmother's passing or a combination of all 3 things but I threw it out there. His reaction was entirely positive, which was a relief, especially when he confirmed that my Mother had her suspicions, (although that might sound more ominous then it really is).

I wanted so bad to tell her and my brother, but there was never a moment we had private where I felt comfortable to speak my mind.

Perhaps I'm working up the familial food chain, but I now feel much more comfortable telling my Mom and my Bro, not to mention my Dad.

Whew. I think this is progress.