Full moon

A while ago I got a call on my way home from a friend with benefits, who spontaneously asked me out for a drink. I, being all about the spontaneity, said sure.

We had a couple of drinks, caught up on what has been going on in our respective lives and basically shot the shit. Once the 2 drink, work night limit had been hit we decided to leave and he offered to give me a lift home. He was parked over near a friends apartment that he was checking on while said friend was on vacation. By the time we got there, we were both in desperate need of evicting the previously consumed beers. The apartment we were stopping at has one of those peculiarities of old Boston apartments, multiple old locks that are difficult to get to cooperate. Needless to say, this only heightened the sense of urgency that we were experiencing. Consequently, once we were through the door my friend said, "You can go first." He had that,"My bladder is about to burst look on his face" as he said this and while I appreciated his gallantry, I opined that we weren't going to see anything we hadn't seen before and we should just use the john together.

As I mentioned, aside from being a good friend, this fellow comes with a complete benefits package. Now the thing about benefits packages is that after a while the friendship tends to move to the fore and the benefits are sort of like vacation time.They accumulate in the background, we rarely take advantage of said benefits anymore. Sure we talk about it, we might even fantasize about how it would be nice to spend a week on the beach, but life sort of intrudes and we never seem to find the time. This shouldn't imply that we don't still have a good time, just that it doesn't seem all that urgent anymore. But we were there, our penises were there and it seemed like a good idea. And like I said, the night was all about being spontaneous. Besides there was the added soupçon of naughtiness involved in doing it on someone else's bed while they were away and that bed just happened to be in the next room!

Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all but we both needed to be in our respective offices the next morning so there wasn't a lot of lingering. As we were getting ready to head out the door, we heard one of the neighbors go up the stairs. We exited and friend with benefits (hereafter referred to as FWB) started trying to figure out the locks. Suddenly, we hear "OoohhhHHH" coming from upstairs then "OOOOOHHH YEEAAAHHHH!" It would seem we weren't the only people with naughty on the mind. This caused us to give each other the international OMGWTF look and respond in the manner of mature, adult, middle aged men. We start snickering like 12 year olds. The noises continued and FWB tried valiantly to figure out which key went in which lock and then desperately attempt to get the lock to work all the while both of us are convulsing with suppressed laughter and doing a passable imitation of Muttley as the sounds of passions plaything continued to waft down the stairs. To complicate matters, FWB starts making sotto voce remarks along the lines of "Dude!, Hey dude, get a room, Oh that's right you have a room!" and "Dude, close the door, dude!" So, FWB and I stood there listening to this chorus of ecstatic, high volume moaning as FWB manfully fought his way through the mysteries of his friends ancient and paranoid system of locks.

As FWB was trying to get the very last lock locked we heard, "OH yeaaAAAHHHH! RIGHT THERE!!!" FWB looks at me and says, "That had to be the finger up the butt." As it turns out, at this point, our voces must no longer have been quite as soto as we thought because the immediate silence that followed was deafening. As if "finger up the butt" had been the magic incantation like "open sesame" the last lock clicked shut. With that FWB and I burst out of the building laughing like hyenas.

Walking to the car, we looked up into the evening sky at the full moon floating overhead. "Full moon,'said FWB "it figures." This observation set us off in gales of laughter again, and getting into the car we drove off, laughing into the night.

Quick update

It's been a long time between posts and much has happened in Ganomeland. Aside from being crazy busy at work and not being able to find the time or the energy to write when I got home from work there have been other changes in my life.

After 18 years of living underground, I have finally moved out of the Ganome Lair and I am now living in the Ganome Aerie. Yup, I have moved to a 4th floor walk up. The view isn't much, facing the apartment building next to me, however the amount of sunlight I get more than makes up for it.

I have also given up being a Garden Ganome. The silly politics and other attendant aggravations of belonging to the garden society finally got to me. I realized last year that I was not enjoying spending time in my garden and that it was an onerous chore that I dreaded instead of an enjoyable pass time. It was a bit of a wrench giving up some beautiful plants that I had worked hard at bringing to maturity, however I gave one of my old neighbors permission to invade and pillage my plot, so I know a lot of them went to a good home and will be enjoyed.

Probably my biggest news is Rocco! I have always wanted a big, handsome, dark Italian in my life. It just turns out that for me a that means owning an Italian mastiff. After 18 years of not owning a dog, I got a Cane Corso. Actually, I had spent over a year thinking about getting a dog before I finally acted on it, so this hasn't been an impulse situation where I would probably wind up regretting my actions.



I think it helped that when I picked him up from the breeder he was this tiny adorable ball of soft fur. He was in fact so small I brought him home in a cat carrier! That was 3 months ago. He is now over 50 lbs. and growing fast. I have to admit, he has also grown on me as quickly as he has increased in size. But then he is a very personable fellow. Honestly, Rocco at 5 months has more friends than I have after 55 years. I guess it just proves that if you're cute, you're popular.

On the whole, the changes in my personal situation have seemed to land on the positive side. I like my new building and my new neighborhood. My building superintendent is very nice and not crazy. The area is perfect for owning a dog. There are lots of parks and lots of dogs. Actually, there are lots of dogs just in my new apartment complex, so it's a great way to meet the neighbors.

It ain't all beer and skittles, but life is moving along fine.

Spam

I think it is a bad sign that in order to cheer myself up I will sometimes open up my spam email, just to get a giggle out of the terrible spelling and the crimes committed against grammar.

Here's my favorite sentence from a recent email.

"Following the brake out of the war, almost all government offices, cooperation’s and prostates were attacked and vandalized."

All I can say is that had to sting!

The Acid Test

Just when I think the level of discourse in our family can’t sink any lower, Doris shows up with a shovel.

I was up at the nieces for dinner a few nights ago. My brother and his wife were in town and I was asked for family dinner. They had brought their new puppy and the Niece was cooking so how could I say no, and so off to Cape Anne I went after work.

My brother met me at the train and during the drive he caught me up on some of Doris hijinx. Once in the house everyone was too busy playing with the new puppy who is at the all ears and feet stage to talk about much of anything else.

Once dinner was on the table conversation became more general and this was when my sister-in-law brought up the topic of “I can’t believe your mother said…”

It would seem that the Niece’s younger sister decided it was time her new beau should meet Grandma. Always a scary proposition at the best of times. From what I can gather the poor fellow is a very polite well, well brought up, southern boy. Whatever the case, the poor man didn’t deserve it.

From what I could gather, Doris decided that the dinner table was the perfect venue for her to launch into a recitation of her most recent visit to the gynecologist. Doris it seems, has not been doing her Kegel exercises and therefore her lady parts are starting to fall out of her “hoo-hoo”. Knowing Doris, I am pretty certain this was all explained in graphic detail. Not, I think, a mental picture you want through the remainder of dinner. What the hapless beau’s reaction to this was, I have never been told, but my sister-in-law said something to the effect that she couldn’t believe my mother brought the subject up, much less at the dinner table. My response to my sister-in-law was “How long have you been married to my brother, now?” Actually, knowing my family, I was more surprised no one asked Doris whether the doctor suggested surgery or just gave her a cork.

Later the Niece was driving me to the train station and mentioned her new beau will be coming to visit from the Netherlands in December. She asked me if I wanted to meet him and we thought about some different activities that he might enjoy on a visit to Boston. She then asked me if I thought she should introduce him to Grandma.

“Only if I get to watch!” was my response.

The Niece being a sport said “Cool! Road trip!” Unable to help myself, I suggested we just throw him to the sharks and play cards with my dad while Doris talks, non-stop at him. It may seem mean, but anyone who can survive Doris is a keeper.

We’re looking at it as the acid test.

Neti Pot Warning

If you use a Neti Pot, make sure you flush ALL the saline solution out of your sinuses. There is nothing more embarrassing than having salt water pour out of your nose when you are going down on someone. Not that this has ever happened to me. Ever. Certainly not yesterday. That is all.

Office conversation

Younger office mate gets off the phone.

Him: That was weird! My mother never calls me at work. I figured something must have happened.

Me: Everything okay?

Him: Yeah, she was just reminding me to call up my grandmother, it's her birthday. She's getting up there.

Me: How old is your grandmother?

Him: She must be like 79 now.

Me: (laughing) Doris is 83 and she's still going strong.

Him: That's right, you have a daughter about my age.

Me: My daughter is older than you.

Him: How old is she? She can't be that much older.

Me: 34

Him: So, she's only.... like.... 6 years older than me. But my parents are older than you.

Me: I'm 54.

Him: Well my dad is....um.....54 or 55.

Pause.

Him: Wow! You are the coolest old guy I know!

This and that

Yeah I know, it's been a while. It has been sort of a mixed bag for me lately as it has for a lot of other people.

However, life goes on and I am going to try and start posting regularly again. If for no other reason than to stop RG from nagging.

I mean, it's not like there hasn't been plenty to bitch about. The weather just plain sucked through June and July and now that August is here, we in the northeast have been hit full force with Boston summer weather. Basically, what that means is oppressive humidity coupled with high temperatures. On the other hand, you don't have to shovel heat and you don't slip and fall on the heat on the sidewalk. Plus, I have something of a tan finally. On the Ganome scale of successful summer, it is best measured on depth of tan. While I am not nearly as dark as I have been in past summers, at least I am not pale, so that's a good thing.

For added measure the recent spate of uncomfortable weather just exacerbates petty annoyances, so I should be able to work myself into a lather about any number of things. Such as the 3 way tie I am having over who to hate the most here in Boston. Bicyclists, pedestrians or motorists.

I could go on about my garden and my lack of motivation to keep it up.

I could crab about work and ponder why it is that at almost every job I've ever had I have wound up having to be the responsible adult, when those around me at times get away with bloody murder. I could also muse on the fact that if I pulled any of the stunts that others manage at work, I'd be out of a job.

All of these are fascinating I know. But for the moment I am just going to think about trying to get to the beach over the weekend.

As much as things have changed....

I was pretty horrified when I heard about the raid on the Rainbow Lounge. I admit, it is Texas, after all. But still....

40 years after Stonewall and people wonder why we are still out marching and making ourselves visible. The next person to suggest that gay people are looking for "special rights" and not just our basic civil rights is due a good bitch slapping.