Rocky's Horror
The week began a bit slowly, as weeks often do. Lots of time at the pool, even time spent at the gym. Time spent reading comics (sorry, graphic novels) and Paolo Coelo and cereal boxes. And then finally something good on Friday: A Rocky Horror Picture Show Double Feature. Don invited me over to his house for a viewing of RHPS and Shock Treatment. Classic. Don and I compared east coast versus west coast callbacks while Don's friend Cotton laughed at us mostly. Much festive drinking was done (citron vodka and ginger ale is more tasty than you'd think) and much laughing and singing was enjoyed by all.
Houseboy Blues
One thing that didn't go so well this week was my trial run of a houseboy. We met on Monday after he had a mini-emergency: his last house was bringing a boy home from Vegas and he needed to be out that day. So I offered him a week trial and we'd see how it goes. He does good work (I haven't cleaned a dish or washed a sock all week) but he never leaves the couch. It's depressing, in the way that a low pressure weather system makes you feel blah by association. So, after one week of being pampered and not having to do a thing, I had to call it quits on him. I've given him a few days to find a new place to live and he'll be gone by the weekend. Anyone looking for a houseboy?
Sasquatch
After a really fun Friday night, Saturday was quite disappointing. I had been "fixed up" on a blind date - with the warning he wasn't my "usual" type. Friends trying to get me to think outside the box. I was expecting someone a little on the chubby side, not smooth and clean shaven. I could deal with that for a truly nice guy. I got retarded sasquatch. Seriously. Bigger than me, taller than me, hairier than - well, than almost anyone. And he had such witty dinner conversation as the size of his penis and how he wishes he didn't have one. Dinner ended early. Blind dates are on an indefinite hold.
Roger and Sonji
To make Saturday night more positive, I had a reunion with Roger for cocktails at The Other Side. Sonji Kimmons, ladies and gentlemen. Sonji Kimmons. I haven't seen Roger since just after Thanksgiving last year because of some personal shit I was dealing with about the growth of his circle of friends. Time heals everything, I suppose, because we got along very well over our martinis - or maybe it was the soulful strains of Sonji's musical stylings?
Pie in the Sky
The weekend ended the way it began - laughing and drinking with Don. Sunday, The Eagle hosted a fundraiser involving pies. For some reason, people bid to throw pies in the faces (or elsewhere) of local community celebrities - such as bar owners, drag queens, title holders, and such like. I must say, I had a great time - lots of hot men to look at, lots of laughs as pies were tossed, and apparently lots of money raised for some charities in Los Angeles. I even got hit on by a rather attractive muscle-bear who wouldn't let me leave without giving him my number (I know, it contradicts everything about the bad date) at the end of the day, so I felt GREAT by the time evening came. I think it was a win for everyone. But one couple, in particular, were the true winners of the day. It seems they are genuinely turned on by sploshing and even brought their own pies. I don't often go into too much graphic detail, but one of those boys damn near busted out his briefs he was so turned on and hard as nails before they even got hit. Once the whipped cream began to fly, I really thought he was going to orgasm right there on stage. It was hot watching someone enjoy his fetish to that degree. And now, if you excuse me, I have to ... ahem ... well, I have some bills to pay. Yes, bills. Good day.
