2.10.99
Meanwhile, My ISP has a minor nervous breakdown. The 'system grunt' mumbled something about the thing that connects many of the small ISPs on this island to the internet went kaflooey and brought all of us screaming to our collective knees. Right here, right now, it is:
Wednesday, February 10, 1999 (2000)
and my ISP is functioning quite nicely, thank you. I just returned from Waikiki (The great concrete tourist Mecca) where I did a favour for a friend, by dropping off some huuuuge boxes at a store. A couple of days ago, I promised youse guys a "friend" story to bring out some humanity, and I'll tell you one that is at least near and dear to my heart. But first, a message from our sponsor.
I have always calculated various theories about things, and there is one that I have held as absolute, proven fact. I have tested this theory thousands of times with the same effect, so it must have become some kind of natural law overnight or something. It is this:
(Fear not. The desi thing will wear down quickly.) It's true, though. If I pull up next to a guy in a jeep and look over, I have to pause to wipe the drool off my chin. Granted, the theory doesn't work well for those who drive "daddy cars," such as the Jeep Grand Cherokee, cuz they are, after all, daddies, so I make exception. Women drive the things too, but since my sexual attraction index for women is in the negative digits, I don't even look.
Tonight, my theory was blown all to hell. I sure as hell hope the guy was a tourist, for the sake of preserving my fantasy, cuz he sure was nasty looking. Funny, though isn't it? I've been checking out guys in Jeeps for YEARS and this was the first time I was ever disappointed.
Enuf of that drivel. For those who are interested, MJ Vallejo makes one hell of a chardonnay. Nice and oakey for those who like such things.
Now, a tale of friendship, and further proof that altruism isn't dead in the world. My tale starts in the late 1980's, when I was still employed by the grand and glorious United States Air Farce. My best bud was a girl called Lou (names were changed to protect the innocent) We used to hang out together, go to the gay bars, etc. (yes, dears.) She and I went through a lot of shit together, including an investigation by the Office of Special Investigations, which I will address when I am damn well and ready.
Like all true friends, we also shared a lot of good times too. She and I used to recount tales of the various sexual exploits that we had had over the weekend, and tried on countless occasions to top each others stories (she usually won...) When she told me that she had a girlfriend, I just about died. In fact, I seem to recall screaming. She had had an endless line of wrong men pass through her door, so the prospect of "the one" being another woman was welcome, to say the least.
Lou and Sarah made just the cutest couple. So much in love, and so happy. Our friendship sort of took a back seat, as they do in such situations, but I didn't mind, because she was happy, and I ws more than willing to share the joy.
The AF did their typical thing, and caused L&S to be shipped off to Hill AFB in Utah. Through some odd quirk in the system, Uncle Sam allowed both of them to be stationed at the same place during the same decade. Obviously, it was a thing that was meant to be. We talked back and forth at taxpayer expense via something called "DIN," which was the military equivalent of AT&T, but without the crystal clear connection. One day, I asked what one thing would make her happiest right here, right now. There was a hesitation, and she answered, "A baby."
Well, in the great and grand scheme of things, homosexuals cannot bear children. That's the way nature intends it to be to prevent too much culture and civility from busting out all over the place. We discussed the hows and whys of how she was going to accomplish this great feat. I pointed out the fact that there would have to be a guy involved in this story at some point. She made an insinuation that I should b the one. I reminded her of a few important and poignant facts.
One, I have never and do not intend to place my penis in a vagina.
Two, there were a little more than 3,000 miles separating us.
Three, I was not even going to consider placing my penis anywhere near her vagina.
I am gayboi, hear me roar! Of course, there were various positive things that could come of this venture. (which she pointed out, btw.) If I were 'the one,' the child would have lovely colouring, owing to her dark Jamaican features, and my obviously quite whiteness. There would be good hair involved, and it would just be a very good thing. What can I say, her args were valid. I made the trip to see my parents (who were still in Idaho at the time) and paid a little visit to see Lou in Salt Lake City. "The Deed" involved a LOT of alcohol, a copy of "Playgirl" (SLC not being known for its pornography) and a 500 cc syringe with a catheter tip.
It's funny, isn't it? That's another of my great and grand repressed memories. There is one more, but it cuts mighty close to the bone, so I might never share it. Anyway, the story ends thus: I stated at "The Event" that I was to have no legal record in this matter. When the "Daddy" question came up, my name was not to be mentioned. In fact, that is a thing that I kind of regret now, if for no other reason than curiosity. Quentin turned 14 last April. L&S broke up at some point (I lost contact years ago,) Sarah taking custody of the little boy.
Wednesday, February 10, 1999 (2000)
and my ISP is functioning quite nicely, thank you. I just returned from Waikiki (The great concrete tourist Mecca) where I did a favour for a friend, by dropping off some huuuuge boxes at a store. A couple of days ago, I promised youse guys a "friend" story to bring out some humanity, and I'll tell you one that is at least near and dear to my heart. But first, a message from our sponsor.
I have always calculated various theories about things, and there is one that I have held as absolute, proven fact. I have tested this theory thousands of times with the same effect, so it must have become some kind of natural law overnight or something. It is this:
If a male is driving a late model Jeep, he must be absofuckinglutely gorgeous.
or at least MondoDesiStudly.
(Fear not. The desi thing will wear down quickly.) It's true, though. If I pull up next to a guy in a jeep and look over, I have to pause to wipe the drool off my chin. Granted, the theory doesn't work well for those who drive "daddy cars," such as the Jeep Grand Cherokee, cuz they are, after all, daddies, so I make exception. Women drive the things too, but since my sexual attraction index for women is in the negative digits, I don't even look.
Tonight, my theory was blown all to hell. I sure as hell hope the guy was a tourist, for the sake of preserving my fantasy, cuz he sure was nasty looking. Funny, though isn't it? I've been checking out guys in Jeeps for YEARS and this was the first time I was ever disappointed.
Enuf of that drivel. For those who are interested, MJ Vallejo makes one hell of a chardonnay. Nice and oakey for those who like such things.
Now, a tale of friendship, and further proof that altruism isn't dead in the world. My tale starts in the late 1980's, when I was still employed by the grand and glorious United States Air Farce. My best bud was a girl called Lou (names were changed to protect the innocent) We used to hang out together, go to the gay bars, etc. (yes, dears.) She and I went through a lot of shit together, including an investigation by the Office of Special Investigations, which I will address when I am damn well and ready.
Like all true friends, we also shared a lot of good times too. She and I used to recount tales of the various sexual exploits that we had had over the weekend, and tried on countless occasions to top each others stories (she usually won...) When she told me that she had a girlfriend, I just about died. In fact, I seem to recall screaming. She had had an endless line of wrong men pass through her door, so the prospect of "the one" being another woman was welcome, to say the least.
Lou and Sarah made just the cutest couple. So much in love, and so happy. Our friendship sort of took a back seat, as they do in such situations, but I didn't mind, because she was happy, and I ws more than willing to share the joy.
The AF did their typical thing, and caused L&S to be shipped off to Hill AFB in Utah. Through some odd quirk in the system, Uncle Sam allowed both of them to be stationed at the same place during the same decade. Obviously, it was a thing that was meant to be. We talked back and forth at taxpayer expense via something called "DIN," which was the military equivalent of AT&T, but without the crystal clear connection. One day, I asked what one thing would make her happiest right here, right now. There was a hesitation, and she answered, "A baby."
Well, in the great and grand scheme of things, homosexuals cannot bear children. That's the way nature intends it to be to prevent too much culture and civility from busting out all over the place. We discussed the hows and whys of how she was going to accomplish this great feat. I pointed out the fact that there would have to be a guy involved in this story at some point. She made an insinuation that I should b the one. I reminded her of a few important and poignant facts.
One, I have never and do not intend to place my penis in a vagina.
Two, there were a little more than 3,000 miles separating us.
Three, I was not even going to consider placing my penis anywhere near her vagina.
I am gayboi, hear me roar! Of course, there were various positive things that could come of this venture. (which she pointed out, btw.) If I were 'the one,' the child would have lovely colouring, owing to her dark Jamaican features, and my obviously quite whiteness. There would be good hair involved, and it would just be a very good thing. What can I say, her args were valid. I made the trip to see my parents (who were still in Idaho at the time) and paid a little visit to see Lou in Salt Lake City. "The Deed" involved a LOT of alcohol, a copy of "Playgirl" (SLC not being known for its pornography) and a 500 cc syringe with a catheter tip.
It's funny, isn't it? That's another of my great and grand repressed memories. There is one more, but it cuts mighty close to the bone, so I might never share it. Anyway, the story ends thus: I stated at "The Event" that I was to have no legal record in this matter. When the "Daddy" question came up, my name was not to be mentioned. In fact, that is a thing that I kind of regret now, if for no other reason than curiosity. Quentin turned 14 last April. L&S broke up at some point (I lost contact years ago,) Sarah taking custody of the little boy.
As the years go by,Now, I'm really sad, listening to that song. I feel very alone in the world, yet not so. I am connected to the internet, so there are untold thousands of people at my fingertips. Maybe I'll go out and touch someone.
try not to think of us sadly.
Believe it if you can
I want to see you so badly
On your birthday,
Momma's thinking of you,
The child I never knew,
My lullaby in blue.
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