MOVING IN ANOTHER DIRECTION

After the failure of a potential relationship with the guy I was seeing (he even invoked the lame "it's not you, it's me" dreaded excuse) I met another guy, whom I will refer to as "Juan". This began as a purely sex driven situation, in that we were both looking for a fuck buddy. God, the sex has been amazing, as I'm sure the neighbors can attest to.

That being said, I'm starting to have feelings towards this guy, and I suspect as much from him. My major issue is that he is young, only 23, and I don't know if I really want or am able to support an actual relationship at this time. However, he's fun, sweet and cute, so it's hard (no pun intended) to turn down.

Every time he comes over, he stays the night; after sex we cuddle and wake each other up with little kisses. He also likes to wear my clothes. Which is odd since he is much taller than I am, but whatever, it's all good. Even with the retarded heat we have been experiencing, it's so nice to fall asleep next to a guy.

Feel free to puke.

[Enter cliche here] Oh - and he speaks fluent French. I didn't know how hot that could be!

THERE IS A GOD, AND HE LOVES ME

The following picture means exactly 3 things:

1. There really is a God, and he loves me.

2. My life is now complete.

3. Jason deserves one hell of a blowjob for sending me the link.

Words alone cannot explain the intensity of the orgasm I just gave myself (or rather Grady Sizemore did), I mean, it's not everyday that you get to see the guy you've been in an imaginary, long-term relationship reveal this much of himself. Sure, he took the pictures for his porn star ex-girlfriend, but I'll make believe he was squeezing his nuts just for me! Also, that man can really, really rock a suit. UGH, he's so fucking hot!

MY NEW NEW OLD WHIP

Yeah, a 1992 Chevy S-10 Blazer is my new whip, although the term "hooptie" comes to mind. It's actually battleship grey, with HUGE gaping rust holes and an exhaust, or lack thereof that announces my eventual arrival within a 6 block radius.

And guess what? It's FUCKING DYNO-MITE! So the deal is, I'm paying my buddy (it's really his ride) the equivalent of what I would pay to use public transportation to get back/forth on the weekends. It's SO much faster.

Added bonus: not having to nervously wait for untold periods of time on a street corner near a not-so-good area at 4AM/avoiding being beaten, robbed, shot and/or stabbed (as a side note - 2 people in my neighborhood have been murdered leaving their bar jobs late at night, and my 'hood is considered one of the safest).

And get this: it's somewhat of a pussy magnet. Seriously. Last weekend I was driving to work, stuck at a stoplight in Lakeview, and these 2 girls totally hit on me, like, 3 times. Like what? Who is attracted to scrawny white guys smoking and listening to R.L. Burnside in a rusty Chevy truck?

Move along ladies! Maybe some cute boys will dig it. Probably not.

PS - It's SO much better than my future sister-in-law's Saturn.

PPS - It's mechanically similar to my awesomely trashy "dream car".

I REALLY LIKE MIDDLE-OF-THE-NIGHT SEX

I know there are a plethora of people out there like claim to prefer morning sex, or afternoon sex, or hate sex or whatever-the-fuck-else sex: but let me be clear: I'm very much a fan of Middle-Of-The-Night sex.

Last night Pablo was over and we did our business fairly early (twice in fact - this guy can keep up!) and promptly passed out. Sometime around 3AM I awoke to shift (my arm is still fucked up and locks up when I sleep) which awoke Pablo.

I apologized, which turned into cuddling, which turn into making out...which...you get the idea. We probably didn't spend that much time - but enough time was spent in which I was briefly self-conscious and worried my Roomie might hear us, but whatever.

The thought process, which by the way is completely initiated by my libido, is as follows: Hey! Justin! Wake the fuck up! There's a still an attractive guy sleeping next to you! Do something about it!

And thus sweet, sweaty man-on-man love making commences. It's just so simple and inevitable. I've quizzed straight friends of mine, if this is the same case with them and their significant others, I can't trace anything resembling a consensus. So...I'm curious, anyone else know what I mean?

WIND AT MY BACK

For the first time in a long fucking time, really too long, I finally feel like there are some positive developments in my life. If this trend continues, my blog may become a bit dull, as I tend to write best when I'm full of piss and vinegar, but if that's the trade off - so be it.

First off, The Boy! People that know me know about my lust for Latino boys, and that he surely is. And unlike the other Latino guys I've been with, he doesn't appear to be totally fucking crazy. So there's always that. And he stayed the night on Tuesday, marking 3 consecutive nights of naked fun/cuddling. I have NO idea where this is going, but we both seem to understand that this a casual thing for now. And it's done wonders for my confidence.

Secondly, The Arm! Holy Shit it feels so MUCH FUCKING BETTER. I was actually able to shoot pool on Wednesday for the first time in almost 7 weeks. I took it easy, and didn't use the cue to rape the balls (like I usually do) and instead, gently massaged said balls - and still held my own against a formidable opponent. I can even operate a mop again! Although I'm not out of the woods, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel - and I cannot wait until I can resume going to the gym.

Thirdly, Work! I'm lucky that I have not one, but two job prospects at the moment. Of course, neither of them are confirmed, and both could evaporate, but I have a good feeling about both. One would be a natural extension of my Moonlighting Doorman gig the other is a bit more...potentially lucrative but would involve relocating. Which I am loathe to do, but at the same time I'll do what I need to do to survive in this fucking awful excuse for an economy.

I think that's a pretty good progress for one weeks time - and more encouraging news than I've gotten in a last few months combined. To that I say: WOOOOOOOOOOOOT! Happy weekend everyone.

MAH DOOD

At the risk of sounding like a Tween drunk on wine coolers...I really, REALLY like this guy "Joey". On Wednesday night we went out to a bar in Boystown, and these 2 drunk ass guys next to us kept pestering us, asking if we're a couple and how long we've been dating and all that. It was annoying, but it also got me thinking.

This relationship is still so new, but I already feel so comfortable with him. Maybe it's because of our "history", maybe it's because we have mutual friends, but when I'm near him, I feel a warm, gentle, easy sense of...calm. It always amazes me how another human being is capable of making me so happy, and this one does exactly that.

That probably sounds lame, but it's true. I wish I could express it in a better literary way, but I really can't since it's so new and close. He's cute, smart, attentive, gentle, funny...goofy even. Just this morning while he was getting dressed, he says "oh, I almost forgot my hat" and put my boxers in his head. I nearly melted, but instead I laughed and pulled him near me, and gave him a deep kiss.

This post is totally out of chronological order, but in my defense I'm still a bit hungover. Anyways, on Thursday night I text him and say something cheesy like "I can't wait until our lips meet again". Ugh, I shouldn't drunk text, but I do. But then he responds back "tomorrow we'll make out like our plane is going down". Aaawwwwwww!

OK - I'll stop gushing, as anyone besides me reading this is probably throwing up. But I had to share.

WOOT! MY CAR IS FIXED!

After getting my hopes up several times, today's call from the body shop was not a pointless update ("sir, you're car is still being repaired, no, we don't know when it will be done", etc). Instead they told me that my car was fixed and ready to go home!

I left work early and drove over the body shop, where my no longer fucked up baby was glinting the sun. Sigh, I fell in love all over again...

It's in better shape then now then before it sideswiped, seeing as the that rim is new (and free of any road rash) and is the rear bumper (which had all sorts of dings from parallel parking) not to mention the rear quarter panel, door, mirror, window and most of the rear suspension.

The final total was $7,333.02, of which I had to charge $500 to my plastic, which totally sucks but hey, that federal rebate check will cover that and leave me with some money to blow on shoes, clothes or maybe even a tattoo.

After signing the paperwork and doing an inspection (they left wax in a few places, you think I'm not going to notice that shit?) and I got in, started her up and forgot how sensitive the gas pedal can be and nearly peeled out of the garage into traffic. Oops.

On the short drive home I decided to BUMP the speakers with a The Rapture's "House of Jealous Lovers". It's Friday, I got a drink in my hand and the Cubs are playing. I need to get my ass to a bar. But before I do (or before you do) enjoy some music!

3RD 4 DAY WEEK!

You know, I talk a lot of shit about my job/employers, but sometimes, they can be pretty fuckin' cool. Just today, while trying to keep up with the rising tide of bullshit that is my inbox, I received a lovely e-mail from the Powers That Be: they decided to close out office tomorrow!

Aawwwwwwwwwww, ssssssssssshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttt!

How awesome is that shit? I thought I was being clever when I took a Friday, then a Monday off for my Denver trip. I was satisfied to have 2 consecutive 4 day work weeks, and now, I got 3! WOOT! Mad props to that Creepy Bunny Man. Also, Jesus.

This is when I am thankful that I work for religious people. I suppose I should give "praise and thanks" and go to church (hahahaha). Also, I shall drink Champagne on Sunday, read the paper, get way too high and eat too much bacon. Fuckin' A!

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!

DOUBLE RAFFLE LOVE

If I ever won a raffle, I don't remember having done so.

I've been to Vegas a few times, and with the exception of the trip I took with some buddies after I graduated from college, when both Bally's and Harrah's were especially kind to me, I have really never won anything.

There was one other instance, a few years back, where I turned $4 into $96 at Arlington Park, but that involved a boxing the shit out of a trifecta.

That being said, last night I was at a bar with a friend, and this bar was raising money to help a couple complete the expensive process of adoption. A guy went around soliciting raffle tickets, and I cannot remember what they cost, but hard currency was exchanged, and I found myself clutching several tickets.

I paid scant attention to the actual raffle, and as I told my friend, I never win shit like this. We didn't even know what was being raffled off!

That being said I made a mental note of the last 3 digits of the various tickets within my possession. While at the bar I thought I heard one of my numbers called, and I dashed back towards the table to make sure.

Sure enough, I held the winning ticket...to a football helmet shaped BBQ grill. I was tasked with moving this huge box through a crowd of people alternately cheering and jeering me (bitch I got #362 yo!). However I settled back into the table friend and I sat at.

Although said grill currently sits in a pile of cardboard and plastic on the floor of my front room, fully assembled it would look like this:

About an hour later, another number that seemed familiar was called. I checked my tickets and...I won again! This time the prize was the Matrix box set. It contains 10 DVD's (35 hours of Neo!) and looks like this:

Honestly, since I have no where to put the grill (city fire regulations prevent me from using it on my wooden back porch), and since I am not the hugest fan of the Matrix, I am not sure what to do with either of these things.

Sell them on eBay? Re-gift? Donate them to some charity in need of a football shaped helmet grill and a thorough dose of Keanu Reeves? I don't know but I suppose this is a good problem to have...

PLAN B: BOYSTOWN

Last night my plan was to go see a band called Battles play the Metro. I saw them over the Summer at the Pitchfork music festival and their set blew my mind, really. It was one of the Top 5 sets of live music I have ever seen live.

Anyways, I was excited to learn they were coming back to Chicago and fully intended to get my RAWK on. Although the Roomie is little short on funds at the moment, she agreed to come with me, and after eating at a sweet Mexican joint we were on our way to the show.

Walking north on Clark we were asked by a guy on the street if we had any extra tickets for the show. He was pointing his finger in the air for an extra, which you normally only see at big "hippy" shows, such as The Dead, Phish or Widespread Panic. This was not a good sign. I asked him if the show was sold out and he replied that it was. Fuck.

Loaded on Jack Daniels (I bought a half pint to bring into the show but we ended up drinking most of it before we got to the venue) I asked no one in particular what in the hell we were going to do now. Before Roomie could even answer I said "fuck it - let's hit up Boystown! WOOT!" (perhaps a little too loudly as several Hipsters standing around shot me a perplexed look).

Roomie shrugged and said "sure why not..."

And off we went (for those not familiar with Chicago geography the Metro is next to Wrigley Field, which is mere blocks north of Halstead Ave/Boystown). I managed to rouse a friend out of bed and we walked over to Circuit, a popular gay nightclub.

We walked in, got carded and walked towards the back, but they wanted to charge a cover, and since the sound of "crickets" chirping in the background was louder than the music, we opted to go elsewhere.

We met said friend at Hydrate, but the 3 of us were the only people there. Literally. However we stayed for a round of beers because, well, why not?

The hot bartender also encouraged us (me) to stay and I chatted him up. Tall, dark hair, backwards cap and lots of tattoos. Oh - shit and I just remembered the sexy doorman - tall, athletic blond guy also sporting a baseball cap. He probably doesn't know it, but he put dirty thoughts into my mind...

Next stop: Roscoe's. I've said it before and I'll say it again now, this place does nothing for me. I realize it's one of if not the oldest bar/club in Boystown but everyone that works there rubs me the wrong way. Also, there wasn't eye candy worth leering at. So...

...we went to Spin, a place I like since it's usually low key (sometimes a good thing) which was not the scene I was looking for last night. However, we stayed for a pitcher of beer anyways. I awkwardly (drunkenly) shot some pool but since it was getting a little late we decided to go home. Or so I thought.

Dee went home, and Roomie and I decided to hit up Crew (technically it was on the way home). Again, it was dead (where were all the gay men in Chicago last night? Seriously, was there some secret warehouse party that I wasn't aware of?) but we stayed for yet another round.

As the hour approached Midnight, Roomie and I decided we should probably call it a night, especially in light of the fact that I had to wake up in 7 hours or so. Roomie wanted to wait for the bus but I replied "Fuck that [burp] shit, I'm taking a cab" and thus concluded our whirlwind tour of Chicago gay nightlife.

Seriously, where were the boys? Maybe I'll find some tonight...

THE ROCK-AFIRE EXPLOSION

Like many kid's that grew up in the 80's, I spent a fair amount of time at ShowBiz Pizza and/or Chuck E. Cheese's. Part of the reason was that I was an overweight child that hated sports but loved pizza and Skee Ball. Both places always seemed to be the default option for birthday parties, of which I attended dozens, though I never had one of own there (I always preferred the go-kart track, but that's neither here nor there).

Regardless, I loved burning of a sugar high in the arcade-room, but what I liked even more were the Animatronic characters that formed a band, "Rock-afire Explosion". This was like having a slice of Disney World right around the corner, and I fucking loved it! In fact, I have a theory that my love of Rock-afire Explosion partially explains my love for seeing live music today (although perhaps I just had a thing for singing gorilla robots and flashing lights, dunno).

I can still remember running like a bat out of hell from the arcade room and into the showroom the moment I heard the opening strains of music. Like other kids, I would stand, mouth agape in front of the curtains, which when parted revealed what at the time, was an incredible feat of technology, used to animate various mechanical animals who would sing, "dance" and generally blow my tiny mind.

The reason why I bring this up is because I have totally forgotten about these old memories until just yesterday. In between wincing at the Bears getting their collective ass being handed to them, my buddy showed me some YouTube clips of a few hard-core Rock-afire Explosion fans that have not only purchased the equipment from the closed restaurants, but have gone so far as to reprogram them with modern music.

This right here is all kinds of AWESOME! I hereby present to you, Rock-afire Explosion performing "Ms. New Booty" (as originally performed by Bubba Sparxx and the Yin-Yang Twins). These people either have too much time or money on their hands (or as my friend speculated, do not enjoy spending time with their family or friends). I don't really care why they chose this as a hobby, I just think it's cool (in a really dorky, sentimental way).

MY NEW iPOD HAS ARRIVED

This morning I was late to work and all groggy (I had a big Sunday with a lot to deal with, more on that later) but my mood immediately brightened when I saw the small box sitting on my desk...which contained my new iPod Nano! To put it bluntly, it's fucking awesome. I didn't realize how tiny it is, really, it's super thin, about the thickness of a dozen business cards. It's so small that my crappy digital camera cannot take a solid picture of it. I even got it engraved and the back of it reads "Make my funk the P-funk, I want my funk uncut". Word! OK, off to make dinner and watch a few episodes of BEST TELEVISION SHOW EVER, aka, The Wire. Although I currently have eyes for just one man (who shall remain nameless for the moment) I still have a serious hard on for J.D. Williams, aka "Bodie".

Not the best picture of him, but damn, such a stud.

BLOC PARTY "HUNTING FOR WITCHES" UPDATED

Friends of mine always have odd superstitions, or rather traditions that they follow before going to a concert. For example, a few friends of mine won't wear the t-shirt of the band they are seeing to a show or they will not listen to the music of the band they are about to see.

I've never understood such acts, they always screamed of bullshit. In fact, I prefer to play the music of the band I am about to see...it always gets me hyped up for the big show. For the last 40 minutes I've been torturing my neighbors by blaring Bloc Party, whom I will see live for the first time in less than 2 hours. Wooo-hooo! My imaginary tail is wagging! Here's a great cut off their most recent album, "A Weekend in the City":

This show is going to fucking RAWK! I am particularly excited for two reasons: #1, it's Bloc Party! and #2, they came to Chicago back in March and I procrastinated for so long about buying a ticket, the show was sold out by the time I decided to pull the trigger. When I learned that they were coming back in September, I bolted for my wallet, pulled out my credit card and threw down for tix. Even better, the cost of the tix for this entire festival is less than they previously charged for their single show. Hells yeah! Hopefully I'll have time to update this post after the show with a review of sorts.

As T posted way back in early January, the lead singer is apparently gay (and IMO kinda hot). I've been giving him shit all day about getting to see this band play live (and while continue to do so for the foreseeable future) but I must give him credit as he is the one that initially introduced me to the Awesomeness that is Bloc Party. This one's for you bro!

OK, this live cut is too good not post. This is "Like Eating Glass". Fucking awesome!

Have a great night everyone!

UPDATE: That was a sick show! The boys from London threw down and played everything I could have hoped to hear. The setup for this show was really interesting; there were two stages side-side situated in a parking of an industrial park near the edge of the Chicago River. For some reason I thought it was amusing that right behind the stage was a huge building, on the side of which read "CITY OF CHICAGO, DEPARTMENT OF FLEET VEHICLES, RICHARD J. DALEY, MAYOR". Not sure why I thought that was amusing, but I did.

Any who, this concert seemed to draw out a lot of gay male couples. In fact, it seemed that everywhere I looked where cute guys in pairs, some of whom smelled really good (note to gay guys, really, it's not necessary to apply cologne to outdoor concerts located in parking lots, really). Unfortunately, I did not have a companion for the show so I wandered around, drinking beers and talking to a few random people. My favorite random person was a drop-dead gorgeous "hipster" black woman who bummed a Camel off of me. While were talking a girl sitting on the ground in front of us began spewing vomit, so we had to take a few steps back to avoid the collateral damage. Too much Goose Island beer for that girl!

After an insanely awesome encore the show ended promptly at 10PM. Rather than head right home I checked out Exit, a gritty Punk Rock/Biker bar of sorts that features a bondage/fetish theme on certain nights of the week. Needless to say, it was interesting. When I first walked in they were playing some straight porn on the all the TVs. But the bartenders were awesome and poured stiff drinks, and I must say, both women working behind the bar were hot (if you're into punk rock woman wearing latex, which I am not, but I digress).

While sitting at the bar, sipping my Jack and Coke I decided to text Crew Boy, since I was in his general vicinity. This is, word for word, the response I received when I asked him what he was up to: "Jerking off wearing calf dress socks, cock ring and tank top. Staying in tonight, you?" Um, OK. I responded that I was just seeing if he wanted to get a drink, but that he seemed occupied. His response was "I'm done for the night, just put the dildo away. Now shower and rest and enjoy my sperm in my stomach." Well then...at first I was inclined to call bullshit on that, but after thinking about his "freaky" factor (on a scale of 1-10, I would say he's an 8, based solely on the one night we fucked around) I wouldn't put it past him. This is, after all, the only guy that I've been with that asked me if I had any neckties....and yes, I do.

I really doubt I'll see him again, but you never know. Regardless, no skin of my back as this one is defiantly not BF material. Oh well...off to brunch now!

THE SUMMER OF LOVE (2007 EDITION) ROLLS ON

Well, I went out to the local gay bar last night and met another guy. Now, keep in mind that I don't go to this bar that often but when I do I usually sit in "my spot". Why it is my spot? For one thing, it affords me a commanding view of 3 plasmas showing various baseball games and it's about in the middle of the bar, meaning that I have a nice view of the crowd on my left, and the crowd on my right. After I settled in and ordered a beer from the adorable bartender whom seems to recognize me now (I usually tip him really well) and look to my right, 2 bar stools down and there sits a cute white guy sporting a light beard and a sleeveless t-shirt. He seems to be scanning the room but for the first few minutes I just sip my beer and suck down a Camel.

Suavely I lean over and ask "hey, you shoot pool?". No response. "Hey man..." and again there is no response. I realize it's not that he's being rude but it's just loud and apparently I wasn't projecting my voice. A minute or two passes, he looks in my general direction and we make eye contact. "Hey...you...shoot...pool?" I say. "Well, I'm not too good but sure, whatever..." says the cute boy that I think slightly (ever-so) resembles Justin Timberlake. He pauses and says something else but I can't hear a damn thing so I get up off my stool and sit on the one next to him. We introduce ourselves.

Over small talk someone steals the lone pool table (dude shooting pool alone, mind you) but frankly I don't care since I'm sitting next to JT-Lite. We order a round of beers and discover the following things we both have in common: a) we grew in about the same area, b) we both went to Catholic elementary school, and c) we both did some theater work in high school (how gay!). For the next hour and a half we don't stop talking, not even for a moment. I had had enough beer but the adorable bartender poured me another and told me it was on him (thanks man!).

We shared the last beer and I ask him if he wants to take a walk. He does. Walking down the street I see a black Porsche 911 Turbo parked and I casually walk towards it, reach into my pocket for my keys and say "we'll, here's where I'm parked" (it's an old joke of mine, and a really cheesy one) and he laughs and playfully hits me in the arm. We keep walking and realize that we are now in the shady part of this neighborhood and circle back. I walk over to where I'm parked and ask him if he wants a ride but he thinks I'm kidding again. I am not. This really is my car!

Predictably, we end up back at his place. JT-Lite lives alone in a studio on the 12th floor of a building near the lake. It's an old hotel turned into apartments and it's got a nice view of the busy city below. He bemoans his lack of beer or booze but I tell him it's cool, we've both had more a few already. He puts on some music (Elliot Smith, I'm impressed) and we keep talking, and talking. Turns out he went to school to be a massage therapist (cha-ching!) and rubs my shoulders and then, well, we make out. For an hour. All I'll say is that I was a good boy and kept it in my pants, which is quite the feat considering I wasn't wearing any.

Eventually we drifted off to sleep, nakedly holding one another. It was pretty fucking sweet. I stayed the night and cursed his alarm clock when it went off at 7AM. Somehow I made it to home in time to take a shower, feed the cats and even make a sandwich for work. We've been texting here and there all day and we have plans to see a movie tonight. Score! I don't care what we see as long as I'm sitting next to him in a dark room, (with the exception of the Harry Potter movie). This guy is awesome and doesn't seem like the flash in the pan/Crew Guy type. He seems genuine and really sweet. Cute laugh too.

This is random, but remarkable nonetheless: JT-Lite has too younger brothers and all 3 of them are gay! Talk about a gay trifecta!

PS - You Deserve A Blowjob will be taking the week off.

DADDY'S BUYING HIMSELF A NEW PAIR OF SHOES

This morning at work I was sitting at my desk feeling rather groggy (this heat wave can blow me - I slept like shit last night). Needless to say I was not in work mode yet, rather I was reading the news online when my boss crept up behind me and said "hey Justin" (I literally jumped) "come in to my office, I have something I need to ask you". "No problem" I said, but in the back of my mind I was thinking "FuckFuckFuck, what did I do, what did I not do, what did I do wrong?".

Bossman: (closing door) "Have a seat..."
Me: (likely sweating) "Sure, what's up?"
Bossman: (clears throat) "You've been working for us for a year and a half now, right?"
Me: "Just a little more than 18 months, yeah"
Bossman: "I know this can be a tough job at times, and it's not for everyone"
Me: (oh fuck, I'm sooo getting fired) "Uh, yeah, it can be tough at times"
Bossman: "Well, we just want you to know..." (long dramatic pause)
Me: (noticing his Gun and Ammo magazine on his desk) "....yeah?"
Bossman: "...that we really appreciate all your hard work but..."
Me: (what? there's a "but"?) "...I always give it my all"
Bossman: "...the partners and I have decided..."
Me: (stop this tormenting me, just fire me already!)
Bossman: "we've decided that effective 8/1, your compensation will be increased to $XXXXX"
Me: (holyfuckingshit): "I truly appreciate this vote of confidence...I, uh, I"
Bossman: "congratulations, you've earned it"
Me: "thank you so much!"

And with that Bossman extended his hand and I gave him a firm handshake.

Sitting back down behind my desk I was almost shaking with excitement. The extra money isn't going to radically alter my lifestyle, but it will surely allow me to live a slightly more comfortable existence. And really, it's not just about the money (really). This raise came out of the clear blue sky and on top of a decent one I received back in February. It feels really, really great to have my hard work recognized.

This was never, isn't and likely never will be my dream job (still waiting for a callback from the demolition/wrecking ball people, haha) but I must say, I work for some seriously AWESOME employers.

Now, like any proper homo, it's time to celebrate like we do: I'm going shopping...for shoes! I've wanted a hot pair of Pumas for some time and if ever there was a time to be self indulgent, this is it!

The following image approximates my current mood....