No Trick: Treats Just Got Higher

Dr. Pepper, anyone?

Just popping up on my desktop is news from CNN that a major bust has gone down in Arizona, with 70 arrested with suspected ties to the Sinaloa cartel. Read it here

Pandora's Box?

Don't open if paranoiac!
This is as good a time as any to remind you of the Global Incident Map. It's a constantly updating track to everything from Human Trafficking to Food & Medicine Incidents. The only thing missing are Elvis sightings and UFO landings.

One One One One One One

This Halloween morning, I'm all mystical, mysterious and most new age-y

11-1-11 is 1 day away
11-11-11 is 11 days away. 


I'm not sure what I think about this set of numbers.


Everyone in my wide network of party goers is feeling more or less like this: We are in some sort of alternate universe, and can't seem to get back up the rabbit hole. We're bored with the cyber party scene, feel lost, adrift and powerless. We aren't upset to the point of drastic measures...but riding the waves and going with, not against the current.

1-1-11
All I remember about New Years 2011 was that I was stood up by my date. That's nothing more than what it is, a memory, pretty much forgotten.

1-11-11
I don't have anything noted as unusual about this day either. Again, this suggests a specific sequence.

Signs, signs.....and that old black magic

I wonder....
What's coming down the pike. I don't feel doomsday-ish. I'm feeling optimistic. If anything I hope that 'we', my beloved brothers in arms, are on an express to greater insight, less frustration, deeper understanding and that this will allow us to help others.

It's really about the Power of One, isn't it? 

I guess we'll discuss this in 11 days, how's that?

Move along, Prince Charming

What do you do when a guy who sounds right out of a Harlequin Romance wants to come over, have dinner, and then get wild and crazy?
If you're me, you cancel the date two hours out.
THE BACKSTORY
I haven't been having time of my life lately. I'd been catching up online with a friend who was heartbroken. He'd visited from back east (without letting me know he was in town) as the guest of a dreamy. Robert F. Kennedy looking guy, who proceeded to ignore him all weekend and screw everyone else in the greater Santa Barbara to San Simeon region. Gosh, maybe he was a Kennedy. Granted, I only got one side of the story, but that's not where I'm headed. I had met 'Bobby' as we'll call him a few years ago myself, or at least I think I did. As it happens, I crossed paths with him, but sworn to secrecy by my corn-fed-friend, I couldn't do much but flirt, and get asked on a date.
BEYOND PERFECT...
Bobby, had the lean body of a surfer/tennis/croquet/badminton player, just enough body hair and those Kennedy teeth which flashed at me every few seconds. In less time than you could strip the kernels off a cob, we made plans to get together Saturday.
TROUBLE IN PARADISE
Saturday did not begin with all the planets aligning. My cat was ill and I raced over to the vet. I had some houseguest upheaval. I kind of hoped Bobby would call and reschedule, after all he was driving down from Paso Robles, which isn't exactly a trip across Los Angeles (though probably the same amount of time given traffic). When we spoke on the phone, he fed my imagination with better prose than I could ever hope to write.
"I helped out a friend at his ranch today. I have two bushels of oranges to make fresh juice, and also ripe avocados to make guacamole. And, he gave me some red wine from his vineyard. I got my hair cut and I'm looking to be down at your place by 6pm."
BE STILL MY FOOLISH HEART
This was the kind of dialogue I'd been waiting to hear for years!
So why the hell did I call him an hour later, and cancel what could have been a lovely (and filling) night?
SOMETHING'S OUT OF WHACK
I just couldn't risk being disappointed again. Even though I'm comfortable with 'one night only', enjoy 'now' for 'now' is all we h ave, I'd be second guessing and looking for the shoe to drop the entire time. And if he'd suggesting inviting his former fraternity brothers, Knights of Columbus or Shriners, I'd have dissolved into mush. 
He texted me back, very disappointed, and that was that. I've spent the rest of the weekend as a shut in, which is very bad indeed.

A Good Samaritan Butts In

 Originally posted 2/11/2011 on another site and in a different format


I'd been flying high with my online friends and toggling chat rooms doing my best to keep up with everyone.  Yet despite my best intentions, trouble follows me: I don't go looking ... but damn if I don't put my foot into it every time.

I was spelunking through ICU2‘s many subterranean caverns (I go there for the conversation, you know).  I focused on an image all too common at 3AM: one prompting the age-old question, "Is he dead or just passed out?   An icy blond like in a Hitchcock film...if said blond were male, lay naked and sprawled across a chaise looking a bit too icy. With him was a harnessed gentleman quizzically staring at the cam like he'd never seen one.  He had a Euro-stud ethnicity so I pegged him as a foreign diplomat or someone who'd missed out on technology. People were typing questions yet he was unable to communicate back.
Enter Topman: wireless keyboard in hand and wanting merely to help. Or for those who track my blunders: Mistake #4823

Feeling cavalier and not at all compassionate, I suggested that he throw the bright green blanket over the body, and look for Blondie's wallet, valuables, and any financial institution passwords or safe deposit box keys.  I'd hustle down from Hollywood in the meantime and take him out for supper along the beach: if he could find his trousers.   I got a vague stare back. What the fuck had these two been using?  NyQuil PM? Wait! He was blind!
Images of me as Louis Braille flashed before in my mind. Turns out he wasn't blind, for when someone typed that he kiss his Sleeping Beauty, who looked much better now covered,  he readily obeyed, then disappeared off-cam.

I'll be damned if that kiss didn't raise the dead.  As I watched, the blond began to flinch and writhe...like a seizure but in reverse. He must have made plenty of noise, for EuroStud came back: and he and Lazarus turned to the monitor. No longer Mr. Helpful: I was a Crazed Sociopath with typed communication to use as evidence.
I was kidding, really, about stealing anything but that hot man and I grinned sheepishly but the cat was out of the bag. Blondie embraced her man while shooting daggers at me the likes of which I hadn't seen in years. "Thank you so much for helping us in your own little way!" his raspy voice cackled. Smoking?  Whiskey? A relative of Demi Moore?

With that, the cam went off. Another unhappy couple made happy by seeing me as an alternative. I'd never see them again or so, I thought.

A Birthday, An Anniversary, and Gratitude

I'm not sure where this year has gone, but we're in the home stretch. My 49th birthday was this week, and this week marks one full year since I began this blog.  Formerly housed on www.nastykinkpigs.com, the entire blog is now located here.
Another Year, Not My Own
'49' alternately conjures for me 'Gold Miners', San Francisco football, 'My Darling Clementine' and the end of the first half of my life. My mother died at age 47...and how I sweated out that period. I've accomplished so much, and I didn't plan to be here this long. Not because of my health which has been great, but because I thought it was chic to check out at 26 or 27. A few weeks back, I toyed with the idea of ending it, but I couldn't do it. I have two cats that need me, a few dear friends that might miss me, and I have so much writing to do.
Sweet and Low
My birthday was nice and low key. I spent the alone, reflecting.  A friend came by and we had a late supper and he then presented me with an oversized cupcake that I devoured. The following night it was Mexican food with old friends, who I shocked with tales of bachelorhood. Then I went on a binge. These have lasted 2 days max...twice weekly at the most. But they have to stop. It's boredom manifesting as fun...and it will kill me.
Blogging the Blues Away
I began this blog a year ago as a reaction to my own self-broken heart and trying to make logic of all this. How could so many bright, handsome, charming men with excess testosterone and Type A personalities wind up slamming, snorting, huffing, smoking, bumping or eating drugs? And thus, I began to write. And while I have many paths to choose, I don't know which to follow.
Gratitude
I dove into this blog wanting to tell you my thoughts, my experiences, some harmonious, some horrific, and my hope. My hope is that we as a tribe of fractious fraternity, foster bonds with each other to stay strong. I have been so very humbled that only praise and support have come back to me. I thank each and every one of you for your kind words, critiques, support, and quiet grace when I've felt so lost.

Again, I thank you.

Room 4 Rent: but You Can't Afford This Utility

Design for Living
Back when two of my friends and I were all facing unemployment, I proposed this idea to the fourth of our little tribe: "I think we should combine resources. Since Walt and Lou own a 4 bedroom house,  but aren't a couple, Jack and I could move in, pay rent, and set an example for modern economic depression living.
4's Company
Walt and Lou, you see, had a big place with no furniture and a strong demand for a housekeeper. I had the furniture and liked to clean. Jack was adept at fixing anything. We all got along more or less. Walt resented Lou for not being independent, and Walt was always bemoaning the loss of community. I wasn't proposing this be a permanent arrangement, and I was all for legal rental agreements, etc.
Or So I Thought
You'd have thought I'd suggested we 4 share a 1 room cell in a Medieval monastery. Although I actually never got Lou or Jack's reaction. Walt, as defacto head of our circle, refused to even consider it, feeling he had 'one jobless burden on his hands, why triple it?' I suppose personalities also had a bit to do with it. "The only hit that comes out of a Helen Lawson show is Helen Lawson." Walt was very much a Helen Lawson. And despite what you may be thinking, I can blend well into ensemble pieces.
Sharing isn't easy
Flashing forward: Walt, Jack and Lou are part of my past. I didn't need increasingly crabby Walter to nix my idea. I suspect he was more peeved I didn't take the first menial job I could find, but to take time off and write. Skipping ahead, my previous roommate moved out in March and after a great summer doing some needed work around my place and living alone, I began seeking someone to sublet the other room and bath in June: but have yet to find the right fit. This baffles me.  I've tried higher rents, lower rents, furnished, unfurnished, you name it. With one exception.
Amenities abound, save one
Sex with me is not part of the lease. I don't advertise as Wild and Woolly Topman either, but that didn't stop the avalanche of sexually themed inquiries. At first I thought it was a bit odd that I'd get these calls or emails with 'and oh, you'd be free to have sex with me as much as you'd like." But after say, the 30th repeat of this idea, I was tired. One or two even felt they'd be so perfect for me, they could live here free...as my sex slave. Did I likey?
All bills paid
I don't likey. I likey rent money. This is about sharing living expenses in an increasingly unrealistic city to live in. I don't need a best friend, man Friday or wacky sidekick. Why should such a basic need become a 3 month process?
Neither Mr. Lonely Nor Mr. Perfect
So, knowing that it was going to turn into sex on my dining room table, I played along with one of these faux renters. He was charmed by the place, found our conversation stimulating and.....I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't heard it; 'scintillating'.
Well, that type of flattery led us to being naked, he atop the table and me doing what I do best, which isn't carving the turkey. Alas, his mind was elsewhere: like most bottoms one top is never enough, he was dreaming of 9 more like me, that is if the others were black and prone to violence. Turned off, I stopped, left him watching porn for an hour alone, and returned only to signal that it was time he left. "You know," he purred, "When you have your next sex party, I'd be glad to serve as a monitor." I bet that looks good on an application.
Single White Male Still Seeks...Sane or a clever actor for Share
My ex had a Tupperware party to raise money for charity once, but despite my bachelorhood, sex parties just aren't congruent with my grandmother's wing back chairs, the wall of books, my uncle's silver service or my friendly yet attention demanding cats. So, the search continues.

Stepping Out Suddenly Got Easier

As I have often stated, I spent 44 years of my life figuring out who 'I' was, to no success. Now, having had most all the support network removed, withdrawn or shattered, I am coming to some not so attractive conclusions about myself. At least now I can address them.

Hypocritical Critic
I very much have a double standard. I can trick around, but that's just horniness not love. YET, I would not want my partner or wife to do the same. I like women to be strong minded, but also feminine and demure, not slutty or tacky. I like men to be masculine but above all a sense of fun and some smarts.

For Couples Only
I have learned that each couple has their own standards (or should) have regarding tricking, affairs, opposite sex attractions.
I tend to get many halves of a couple gracing my door, but I no longer have a lecture ready. It's your relationship, you can muck it up or make it work however you see fit.
In some cases, an association with me has gotten couples BACK together. I truly am a miracle worker.