Monday, August 13, 2012

Gutter Ball

Last night a group of friends gathered to celebrate KerBear's birthday.  All of us being twenty-something year olds (give or take a couple of years here and there), we decided there would be no better way to celebrate than to have a Bowling Bash at our local Dave & Buster's.

I would not normally hangout at D&B's, especially on a Sunday adult arcades somewhat creep me out...and at this particular location (which is in an outlet mall), I'm pretty sure if you wear anything Mossy Oak and/or have an ankle tether, you get 500 extra prize tickets.  However, options for bowling alleys are somewhat limited around here, if we were to head up the street into Madison to bowl, we'd run the risk of being shot, shanked, or contracting D&B's it was!

We all laced up our fashion forward rental shoes, and I hiked up my neon socks.  Stahlrus used to be a bit of a bowling phenom back in the day, and KerBear and Benny can be fiercely competitive....I also may have racked up a few bowling trophies of my own during the summer of 1993.

KyKy and JDawg (not to be confused with JBomb) were also in attendance, as was BMG...but I knew they'd be no competition for us seasoned veterans.

Bowling got underway, and everyone was stepping their game up.  Things were getting pretty intense and cut throat.

About halfway through the evening, the server walks up to BMG and asks if he is single, as there is another sever in the vicinity who thought BMG was cute and wanted to pass along his number to him.  Blushing, and ever so gracefully, BMG accepts the piece of receipt paper with the mystery man's digits written on it, and we all began scanning the alleys to see who sent it over.  The server then goes on to explain that the man in question is quite shy and has stepped away for a moment, but she would be sure to send him over to say hello before the night ended.  It is always flattering to be noticed from afar, and BMG is quite attractive...and suddenly giddy like a school girl at a Hello Kitty convention.

Within minutes, the server returns and says there has been a mistake.  The Man Server had actually intended for the Woman Sever to give me his phone number, not BMG.


At this point, BMG and I have yet to see this man's face, but now found ourselves in the middle of quite the scandal.  KerBear was shocked that D&B's had suddenly turned into Tribe, but to me it seemed a bit more like a Craig's List missed connection.

Although Jambo was not in attendance with us, I had to explain I was not on the market....especially not the outlet mall bowling alley market.  I was hoping this was not too huge a blow to BMG's ego, as it sure is not fun to be hit on and then shot down by the same person all within a matter of 7 minutes.  He could still have the number...I didn't need it!  Plus, we were all confused as to how the Woman Server could have made such a critical error...what exactly were the delivery directions given to her?  BMG and I are both tall with dark hair and dashingly good looks, but we were dressed nothing alike, after all...I had these snazzy things on:

I really feel like my knee-high neon socks should have been the major focal point as to which of us the Man Server was pointing out.

It wasn't long before Benny was able to deduce who the phone number actually belonged to, but now things were strange and awkward all around.  Our whole group was able to finally get a glimpse of the mystery man server, and BMG and I started to play hot potato with the receipt paper...turns out, neither one of us wanted to take his phone number.

KerBear's Bowling Birthday Bash came to an end, each of us left with whom we came with, and frankly the Mystery Man was clearly a gutter ball.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

In The Beginning...

Now this is the story all about how 

My life got flipped, turned upside down                                                                                                And I'd like to take a minute just sit right there                                                                                          I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called...East Nashville.  

So fitting East Nashville into the lyrics for 'Fresh Prince' may not have the best rhyming pattern, but this will be the story of how my life did get flipped upside down and how I came to live in an attic.

Two years ago I bought a new car, packed up my life, fled the scene of a crime, and became a stowaway in The Homeowner's attic.

Before moving to Nashville, I was living in Oak Grove with at the time, a friend I had made while in undergrad at Michigan State.  The two of us were staying at her husband's best friend's house while the husband and friend were deployed.  I had recently graduated from grad school and was just biding my time until I was sure of what my next move would be.  The offer to stay in the Soldier's house seemed like a good idea, I wouldn't be locked into a lease in the case of a job opportunity arising and needing to move away.  The "Friend" and I had been friends for about 5ish years at this point (I had even gone to her wedding), but to clarify, she considered me her best friend...however, I did not find it to be a mutual sentiment.  

So together, we lived in the house, took care of the house, took care of the Soldier's bat-shit crazy dog, and went on with life.  I cannot leave out the detail that the Soldier's dog was deaf, had OCD tendencies, and displayed behavior typically found in lunatics and psychopaths.  To add to the combination, the "Friend" had two dogs of her own; an aging and grumpy pit bull mix and a hyperactive pit bull puppy.

Sparing all the nitty gritty details, I'll fast forward to when things got real.  After about 6 months of inhabiting and maintaining the home, my baby sister's high school graduation party rolled around.  I had missed to the actual graduation ceremony and I had not been home since Christmas.  On top of that, my family knows how to throw one hell of a graduation fest, so I had to attend.

The night before I was to head up to The Mitten, I made a pit stop in Nashville.  At roughly 5:30 pm, my beloved ten year old PT Cruiser named Dorothy bit the dust.  The timing belt snapped and completely destroyed the engine.  Fantastic.  I was able to get it towed to the nearest dealership, but being that it was after 5, the service department was closed.  I would have to wait until first thing Friday morning to hear anything about my car.

Well as it turned out, the car was too far beyond repair...I'd have to scrap it.  It was now mid-afternoon on Friday, and I really needed to be cruising up 65 to get to Michigan.  I was wasting time.  I quickly thought through all of my available options.  I couldn't borrow The Homeowner's car, as I was planning on making my visit a Pure Michigan adventure and would be gone for about a week.  I couldn't rent a car for the week because the rental place wanted to place a hold for the amount of my credit debit card wouldn't cut it.  Finally, the third and most desperate option popped up.  I could borrow the Soldier's car that had been parked in the garage for months.  The "Friend" and I had used the car before to run errands and keep the motor in running order so that it wouldn't become a stagnant pile of metal while the Soldier was gone for a year.  In hindsight, this was clearly not the best fact, it was the worst.  But, I was a reasonably responsible adult, the Soldier and I were friends; he had trusted me to take care of his house, his dog, his finances, and his life in the States for a year.  Surely, I could borrow his car for a few days, right?  


I didn't have time to ask permission, so to speak, but like I said...I'd had permission to use it before, and not too long ago at that.  Both the 'Friend' and I had needed to use the car when our own cars were in the shop for various reasons...these times had all been consented to.  I must add, during all of this, "Friend" and her husband were also up in Michigan while he was on leave, and all three dogs were in the kennel until we all got back.  Furthermore, the "Friend's" husband and I tolerated each other, we were anything but friends.

My plan was going off without a hitch, I had made it to Louisville and I would shoot the Soldier an email explaining what had happened.  After all, he was in the middle of a desert, fighting a war...I didn't think he could be bothered with such trivial matters.  Now here comes the biggest flaw in my plan.  I made the mistake of telling my "Friend" what I had done.

Quicker than trailer trash on Velveeta, "Friend" had managed to hop on Facebook, and coincidentally Soldier was on Facebook at that very moment as well.  To this day, I am still not sure what she said to him, but she did one hell of a job of throwing me under the bus.  The cat was out of the bag.  No sooner could I cross the Indiana state line, but my Facebook was blowing up with irate and malicious messages from the Soldier.  Basically, he called me a liar, thief, and a miserable excuse for a human being.  I may be a lot of things, but I am none of those.  I had to quickly make a feeble attempt at some form of damage control, and since I was driving, I made my best friend from college -who was also friends with these fools - take over.  I relayed the message to her over the phone, and she typed it up and sent it off.  The last I heard from Soldier was a threat to call the police and report the call stolen.

During the remainder of my drive, I made the plan to move out of the house ASAP.  Clearly I was now in enemy territory, all the while my "Friend" played the victim card.  She thrown me under the bus, and made sure the bus backed over me...several times.  I got on the phone with The Homeowner and he agreed to let me stowaway on his property.

I made it up to The Mitten and was able to enjoy my sister's party.  However, I had to cut the trip short... a lot short.  My college best friend, who is also my Facebook Wife, so graciously agreed to leave Michigan bright and early Sunday morning to head back down South, collect my life, and get the hell out of Dodge.

Within minutes of pulling pack into Oak Grove, I stowed the car back in the garage, and began packing. My plan was to be out of the house as soon as humanly possible.  During the packing, "Friend" and I had exchanged a few text messages, she acted to be more inconvenienced by this whole situation than I was, and continued to play the victim.

There was still one small matter to be taken care of before I could up and move.  I still needed a set of wheels of my own. 

First thing Monday morning, I was on the lot of the nearest Chrysler dealer.  It was time to really become an adult and buy my own car with my own money.  I was scared shitless.  The Wife and I, both being from Motor City and having families deeply rooted in several trade unions, knew we could not be swindled by a sleazy salesman lookin' to make a deal.

We swallowed our fear and simply made it clear that being from Detroit, we knew how to buy a Detroit car, and if we weren't getting a good deal here...we'd take our money (what little I had to my name) elsewhere.  Well my awesome negotiating skills were successful and I was able to knock about a 1/3 of the price off the sticker.  Score!

With a brand new car to my name, one that I was in no shape or form prepared to buy, I was ready to pack the rest of my things and move to Nashville.  Wife was only able to stay with me until Tuesday morning, but we managed to get everything boxed up and ready to go.  I dropped her off at the airport, made arrangements with U-Haul to rent a truck, and waited at the house for Homeowner to come assist me.

Within moments of labeling the last box, the Oak Grove Sheriff's department knocked on the door looking for "Friend".  "Friend" had been named as a witness to a stolen vehicle.


My heart rate shot through the roof and I began sweating like a prostitute in church.  

I tried my best to calmly explain that she was out of town, all the while the fear of being arrested and thrown into the State Pen. grew inside of me.  I've never stolen anything in my life...except for a construction barrel on the side of the road one drunken Halloween, but that doesn't really count, right?

Not sure if this was a brilliant move at the time (but it worked in the moment) but I said that I had actually been the one to drive the car.  The officer seemed shocked, and probably thought I was some fool for admitting to a possible crime.  Yup, it's true, I took the car in question, and now the car is parked safe and sound back in the garage of its owner.

For a moment, the officer seemed a bit speechless.  He asked if he could see the car, and I politely cooperated.  I opened the garage, and there it was...the black BMW which had been reported stolen, sitting parked and unharmed at the owner's residence.  (You all didn't think that if I were going to take a car it would be a cheap domestic, right?  Go big or go home, or in this case, the slammer.)

The officer took a few notes, walked around the car a couple of times, asked a few questions, take a few more notes, and wished me a good day.  He seemed stumped as to how a car could be reported stolen and then show up where it was supposed to have been the entire time.  He probably thought this was just some crazy domestic dispute.

I fought the law, and in this case, I won.

Everything else was smooth sailing.  I got the truck loaded up, got everything moved from Oak Grove, and took up residency in the only available space in The Homeowner's house...The Attic.

I was now the proud inhabitant of a 300 sq foot attic...the kind that has slanted ceilings...and a lone air conditioning unit in the far window.  Being 6'0" tall, I can only stand upright in the very middle, and have to duck down to fit anywhere else.  On the plus side, The Attic, actually has a stairway leading's not one of those fold away into the ceiling ladder sort of spaces.   

I wasn't sure if  I were entirely in the clear yet, as I had not spoken to Soldier or "Friend" yet.  I could have a warrant out for my arrest in Oak Grove, KY.  Wouldn't that suck?

About a week into attic dwelling, I received a text message from "Friend".  She sent me a picture of the car with what looked like a scraped up front bumper.  She said her husband had wanted to pull the car out of the garage to inspect it, and they noticed the scratches.  She continued to say that she wasn't sure how I had done it, but they would have to tell the owner.  Now I know damn well that nothing had happened to the vehicle, so I simply replied; " You're more than welcome to contact the police officer you had called on me, who inspected the car and did not notice any damage.  I'm sure he'd be willing to address any of your concerns."

And that was that.  I have not heard (knock on wood) from them since.  I figured I would make light of the situation and become Nashville's own Carrie Bradshaw and blog about my experiences of being single, dating, and living in an attic.  I figured it worked for Anne Frank, well maybe she wasn't so worried about dating, but I had to put a modern twist on diary-ing as an attic dweller, And Frankly...

Sunday, July 15, 2012

The Perfect Storm... event where a rare combination of circumstances will aggravate a situation drastically.

Aside from the oppressive and stifling heat, Nashville experienced another natural disaster recently.  Unlike any heat wave, drought, or flood that has ravaged Nashville before, this occurrence is simply known as Lisa.

After a year long hiatus, Lisa was back in town from Kansas City....only this time, she left Sidekick at home, and instead brought a Ginger with her.  Like an unstoppable rebel force, Lisa blazed into East Nash last Thursday evening and was ready to get the party started.  Within just moments of being here, she was already slinging back margaritas and putting Diva in his place with a few cleverly placed quips.

We began the weekend on Thursday night with a visit to BTE.  I am not sure if it was the heat or the 2 for 1 beers that Lisa was double fisting, but she was already experiencing a bit of a language/comprehension deficit.  While conversing with The Professor (a fellow Grizzly who is new to the blog), Lisa was trying to explain her Mexican roots, and upon The Professor asking what part - in terms of geographic location within the country - Lisa simply replied "half."

To further insert her foot into her mouth, Diva had invited a gentleman friend to the bar with us, and upon his parting/shaking hands/expressing how nice it had been to meet everyone, Lisa managed to muster up a "it's so nice you're leaving" sentiment, however she claims it was lacking some 'verbal punctuation' and she intended to say "it's so nice, you're leaving?"

We wrapped up Thursday evening with a stop at Lipstick Lounge.  Before diving further into Lisa's antics, I must explain that The Professor is a bit of a germaphobe...he will NOT participate in the 'licking game' that the Grizzlies are so fond of, and does not believe in the '5-second' rule if food were to touch the floor or land on a table at the bar.  Of course, Lisa broke all unspoken rules and sure did lick The Professor's face, and then ate, as well as fed to The Homeowner, The Professor's french fries after they spilled out of the basket and onto the table at Lipstick.  Once everyone had their fill of beers, dirty fries, and The Homeowner belting out 'Loveshack' karaoke, we decided to call it a night.

Friday was spent running errands, I was able to give Lisa her first Kroger experience.  Apparently they don't have Kroger back in KC, and looking back on this adventure, I should have taken her to Kro-Ghetto and not the nice one in Inglewood.  While perusing the aisles in the grocery store, our inner 8-year old fat kids kicked in, and we decided that since it was too hot to go sit on a patio for lunch, we would make our own lunch of shells and cheese and chicken nuggets.

We got home, turned on Wimbledon, and apparently the anticipation of our delicious lunch was just too much for Lisa to bear.  As I was preparing the pot of water to boil our shells, Lisa attempted to stealthily take a bite of a frozen chicken nugget!  Yes, that's correct.  She totally picked up a frozen nugget, and slipped it into her mouth.  I'm pretty sure she even sucked on it a bit, like a Werther's Original.  Now, Lisa will claim that she was just inspecting the nugget in question, but I'd bet money that she took a bite.

Lisa and I parted ways Friday evening, she went to go see Magic Mike and I went to go celebrate Jambo's birthday with Holly.

Fast forward to Saturday.

Of course, Lisa did not just decide to blow into town for the hell of it.  She came to join in on the Grizzlies' Pool Party.  It wouldn't be a proper trip to Nashville if Lisa did not end up in a pool full of gay men.  The beers were in abundance and the swimsuits were at a minimum.  In fact, Lisa, The Homeowner, and I were about the only ones to actually keep our swimsuits on...the entire time.

A Grizzly pool is truly unlike any other party, ever.  To protect the integrity and dignity of the team, I won't go into much detail...I'll just say that my British import Deb was convinced she'd end up pregnant after having actually been in the swimming pool.  However, at one point in the afternoon, the kegs had been tapped dry and there were still hours of heat, sunshine, and pool to enjoy.  Being the brilliant problem solvers that Holly and I are, we decided to take up a collection and go buy more beer.  We recruited a rugger and headed out, on foot, in the sweltering heat to the corner convenience store.

As the temperature soared into the triple digits, the three of us hiked to restock the libations.  As a group, we probably looked like the Sanderson Sisters from 'Hocus Pocus'...running amok through the streets of East Nashville.

We made it to the store and pulled every case, and by every, I mean 3 cases of Miller Lite out of the display case.  Now, there was no way that we could return to the party with just 3 cases of beer, so Holly  took it upon himself to let himself into the storage cooler to rummage around for more beer.  Myself and the other Sanderson Sister, who insisted on being the Bette Middler character, were shocked...however, Holly was clearly onto something.  The beer storage cooler was an oasis of cold, cold, cold air.  Before long, I barged into the cooler as well.  My northern blood is not meant for this southern heat, and being inside the ice-cold cooler reminded me of life back up in the mitten.

The party continued for many more hours and included an awards ceremony, a rigged flip-cup challenge, and Lisa burning a few bridges here and there.

Finally, Sunday rolled around and as my liver was beginning to go into early stages of failure, Hurricane Lisa was still ravaging on.  With the help of Purple Drank, I was able to hang on to some form of life and rally well enough to get ready for Showtunes.

Showtunes was Showtunes.  Nothing extraordinary, nor anything lame happened.  We all went pitcher for pitcher and shot for shot with Lisa.  We even did a shot in memory of Sidekick, since he is now dead to Lisa and I for not showing in up Nashville.  RIP.

Just as quickly as it started, Lisa's visit to the South came to an end.  It has been a year since Lisa has been in town, and I think it will take a year to fully recover from the devastation Lisa has left in her wake...particularly on my liver and the egos of some people she encountered, and frankly, Lisa is the perfect storm.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Fifty Shades.

It has been a few months in the making, but I too, am experiencing a phenomenon similar to that of the "Fifty Shades of Grey" rage that is sweeping the nation.

Months ago, after a particularly stressful/hectic/crazy/annoying day at work, I went on a blind date for margaritas at Rosepepper.  Since then, I have been spending a large majority of my time with an incredibly handsome and charming individual.  Standing at 6'3" with a football player's build, my new gentleman friend, who has lovingly been dubbed 'Jambo' by Holly, is a real tall drink of dark chocolate milk.  My sweet tooth really flared up after my fling with Bro, and so far, has been satiated quite well.  

Things have been going fairly casually between the two of us, however, I have not been seeing anyone else.  I'll spare everyone from going into the same raunchy detail that "Fifty Shades" goes into, as I could write up a much steamier tale of completely unadulterated lust anyway, and frankly you can keep "Fifty Shades of Grey", I have one shade of black.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Apply Within.

As I put the finishing touches on my recap of Pride weekend, please take just a few moments to enjoy this gem of a message I received awhile back on Plenty Of Fish.

Bjrr82 writes:  "im a cute guy who is very nice!!!and i just want to fall in love!!!i would treat my man sooo good!!and im very straight acting(im actuaslly bisexual)and prefer the same!! i enjoy going out and kicking it!!!back in july of 2005 i had a very bad car wreck!!i was working and in school and i was exhausted!!i went out drinking after work!and fell asleep at the wheel and hit a tree!!i might injured my brain!!but im ok!im alive and not crippled!thanks god!!!!!im actually a better brent!!and i want a black guy or latino!!!! yu can send me a mssage back to me or apply!! im vgl and cute to so plz be to!!! im srious about geting a man hope your to!!"

I challenge anyone to take a shot for each spelling/grammar error found in the above message.  I'm sure this makes me an awful person for critiquing the message from a man who may or may not have a brain injury, but it is what it is.  Unfortunately; I am not bisexual, black, or Latino so I don't think I meet the specific criteria he is looking for, and frankly I'm not in the job market.

Friday, June 15, 2012

The Man, The Myth, The Legend.

And Frankly is completely backed up with a ton of incredible stories...but don't fret, I won't keep you hanging too much longer.  Until then, please enjoy this message I received on a dating site not too long ago:

TnMightyTHor:   "I will protect and defend, or invade and annihilate your realm!
who ever holds this hammer and is found worthy shall possess
the power of THOR! A weapon to destroy or a tool to build, a fit companion for a king! you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition, to pledge your self only to the good of the realm of THORofASSgard? I will take what is rightfully mine! All the answers you seek will be your once I reclaim your ass! What you seek you will find soon enough! But you are Brave to do think me strange, good strange or bad strange?

Entering your realm to test your strength and prove my agility and fierceness!
what mortal hath aroused my lUST!?! you know not what you will unleash!!!"

It is 2012, people.  Who talks like this??  I'm not sure if this was a role-playing fantasy or an actual way of life, but I simply had to reply to Thor that I am completely unable to cast aside my selfish ambition, I do not need to be protected, defended, and/or annihilated.  I wished Thor all the luck in the world in his hunt for a primitive submissive, and frankly my ass is not in the market to be "reclaimed." 

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Cold Dish.

I've found myself in the company of some incredibly talented people.  My dear friend Benny is the lead singer of a funk/soul cover band called Stoned Soul Revival.  I also have a new friend who has been shipped over from across the pond to pursue her country music career here in Nashville.  My British friend was dying to have an 'American' name, so she insisted on being called Deb.

Anyway, I headed out to my favorite East Nashville patio last night to see Deb perform an opening set for SSR's head lining act.  A real motley crew had assembled to partake in the musical festivities.  Of course, Holly was in attendance, and new characters to the blog; Deb's fabulous manager JBomb, my co-worker Stahlrus, Benny's lover KerBear, and Stahlrus' roomates - The Sister Wives.

As with any event I attend, the beer and shots were flowing.  Deb rocked her set and is well on her way to country music stardom, and SRR was incredible.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, especially JBomb, who found herself lip-locked with a man who may or may not have been from Down Under.  Regardless, JBomb was hoping to get her nosh on...and not in the food consumption sense.  Being the ever savvy business woman that she is, JBomb had a stipulation to be met in order for her new Aussie friend to take her home...he had to first make a stop at the drag show with her, Deb, and Holly.  Not surprisingly, the Aussie disappeared for a bit when he heard JBomb's deal.

I decided to assist JBomb in tracking down the Aussie, as Drifter's is not that big so he surely could not have gotten very far.  We locked arms and walked around to the back patio.  We didn't run into the Aussie, but I found something much, much better.

Sitting on the back patio was a guy I had a huge crush on awhile back.  He never made the blog, but we went on a handful of dates and he became a douche bag.  Similar to just about every dating situation I've had lately, he was playing the field at the time, and I didn't make the cut.  Long story short, words were exchanged, and we parted ways.  I hadn't actually seen or spoken with him in about a year, and last I knew, he lived in Pigeon Forge...but here he was, in East Nashville at my favorite 5-Points hang out.  At first, I was a bit surprised and taken aback, and JBomb and I quickly looped back around to the front patio.  However, just as I noticed him after a second glance, he had noticed me as well.

I decided to grab KerBear and take another lap around the back patio, and after KerBear's tour, I took Sister Wife Lorenzo around back as well.

I kept meandering by with my friends, not because I had hoped this was serendipitous fate, and that we were finally meant to be together, but instead because he's now fat and I'm in great shape.  I made several passes so he could see how fantastic I look.  I was loving every minute of this situation, and he, I'm sure, was eating his heart out.

I returned to the front patio to continue drinking and enjoy the rest of the SSR show, plus I had to tell all of my other friends about my small victory.  Before long, my former crush decided to come say hello.  I wasn't interested in making any conversation, but I decided to be a bit cordial and respond to him.  He asked how I was, and I returned the question.  In my drunken state, I could not help but to blurt out that he sure has put on a lot of weight.  He told me he is currently in a production of "Hairspray", and I asked as who; Edna Turnblad?

I didn't intend to be so harsh, but seriously, he had been a douche-nozzle, and I have moved onto to bigger and better things.  Besides, nothing can really get you over a crush like seeing how awful they look now, and frankly in the words of Ivana Trump; "Looking good is the best revenge."

Friday, April 20, 2012

Spring Break Rebound.

Still on the rebound from the Bro debacle, I decided to pack a bag and go visit one of my sisters (who has an uncanny resemblance to Snooki, except she isn't orange and is only half as drunk) in southwest Florida for spring break.

Snooki lived on the picturesque Marco Island, just off of Naples.  I thought for sure I could find a spicy hot Cuban and/or Latino for a night of fun while I was on spring break.  Well, as it turns out, Marco Island is the epitome of a retirement community.  Once people have retired from retirement in Naples, they move over to the island, also known as Heaven's Waiting Room.

Snook and I, were without a doubt, the youngest kids on the island by at least four decades.  Snooki likes her men with one foot in the grave, however, I do not.  I was on the rebound without any shot of getting off the bench.

A damper sure had been put on my spring fling plans, but I figured I could make the best of the situation anyway.  Saturday morning, as Twisted Sister was off working for a bit, I decided to take my mug of coffee down to the pool, which was overlooking the water, and search for the dolphins that are known to  take a morning frolic in the bay.

I was standing along the fence, gazing into the water, while a few geriatrics did their morning aqua-cise in the pool behind me, when I noticed a Latin gentleman had appeared out of nowhere and was standing oddly close.  Rico Suave was about 38-ish, slick backed black hair, and decked out in linen pants and a linen button down.

I thought surely there were plenty of open lounge chairs for Rico to choose from, so there should not have been a need for him to be standing all up in my business.  Rico made a keen observation, and noticed that I had been standing alone enjoying the morning breeze while I finished my coffee.  He asked why I was by myself, and then offered to take me home for the low price of $200.

I was seriously being propositioned by a middle aged escort at my sister's swimming pool.  I may have been on the rebound, but I sure was not desperate.  Plus, I've never had to pay for the company of someone else, I was not about to start now.

I quickly finished my coffee and made a fast break, I needed to get away from the pool and explore the island.  I packed a cooler with a few cans of beer and went to the local bike rental shop.  I could cover more ground on two wheels than on two feet.  I walked in, sporting a Michigan State shirt and received a friendly greeting from the guy behind the counter.  Turns out, he was also a Spartan fan, and let me borrow the bike for free.  Score!

There may not have been any prospects on Marco Island, but there were a ton of Spartan fans!

I slung the cooler over my shoulder and started pedaling towards Tiger Tail Beach.  Maybe, just maybe, I'd have a bit more luck on the beach.

I arrived, scouted out a nice little piece of land to set up shop, and cracked open a beer.  I was enjoying frying in the southern Florida sun, with my iPod playing, minding my own business.  But, after awhile, I finally did end up meeting someone on the beach.

I met Doris.

Doris walked right up to me and said "Honey, you are alone drinking a beer, mind if I join?"

I took out my ear buds, peeked over my sunglasses, and standing in front of me was a lady who looked to be about 74 but was probably only in her late 50s, was tanner than leather, had hot pink finger nails, and was dripping in costume jewelry...however it wasn't from Forever21, it was all real.

How could I say no to this gem that had appeared before me?

Doris sure did unroll her towel next to mine, and I quickly offered her a beer.  This woman was too much for me, and I had finally met my soul mate.  Doris was a spit fire with the mouth of a sailor and she had no problem going beer to beer with me.  She is retired, from what I wasn't too sure, but her husband had amassed a small fortune.  Doris has a couple of kids, and three grandchildren, who from the sounds of it, are the cause of her day-drinking.  I explained my rebound situation to Doris, and she told me I sure did not need any man at all, but I could have hers if I wanted, as she had gotten all the milage she could out of him but still spent his money.

Beers were now gone, and Doris and I had shared many stories and a ton of laughs.  I suddenly became concerned that I would end up like the real Snooki and find myself charged with public intox on the beach.  Furthermore, I had to bike back to the condo, so I was worried I'd end up with a BUI - biking under the influence.   Sadly, I could not stay on the beach anymore, as I was growing thirsty and had nothing to drink.  Just as I was excusing myself, Doris asked where I was heading.  I told her the name of my sister's condo, and sure enough Doris was familiar.  We now had a date to reconvene at the pool, this time Doris would bring the drinks.

I spent the rest of the afternoon chatting with Doris and we continued our buzz.  Of course I had to send out a mass-text telling all my friends about my new buddy.  Naturally, their reply was a request to see a picture of Doris.  I asked my new friend if she would mind, but sadly she did.  Doris put it quite simply and eloquently and stated: "Oh Honey, I don't trust that Face-Place-Thing."

My time with Doris had come to an end, and I'm certain I enjoyed her company more than any trick's I could have found on the beach...and I didn't even have to pay for it.  I only hope one day I can be as tan, and drunk as her.  Doris was the perfect rebound, and frankly, I'm back in the game.

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Crash Diet.

I wouldn't consider myself a fitness buff by any means.  In reality, I have a pretty awful diet and I drink a lot.  I do run quite a bit though, and lately have been dabbling with resuming the 'Insanity' workout.  Usually, my most strenuous workout happens on a Friday night, when I end up dancing the night away at Play.

However, yesterday morning I had to partake in the ultimate crash diet to shed a few unnecessary pounds.  I gave up chocolate and  I lost roughly 175 pounds in about six minutes.

Over the course of the past 10-ish days, things went sour with my Chocolate Boo, Bro.  Last weekend, Bro went MIA and I had not heard from him for 4 days, but he had cooked up quite the elaborate story to cover his bases.  He wove this tale about how his phone had some water damage, and he was really busy with work, and he hadn't been able to buy a new phone and blah blah blah.

Holly quickly jumped ship and had been advocating to move on, as Bro was pulling some serious shade.  Me, being the kind and generous man that I am, decided to give Bro the benefit of the doubt.  Shame on me.

Long story, short...Bro met up with Holly and I on Thursday evening; complete with the phone that was supposed to have been broken and replaced.  Not too many details slip my eye, and I surely noticed.    We drank a few beers and Bro had to slip out and head home.  Oddly enough, he left me with his tab.

Fast forward to Friday morning, and an anonymous, yet trusted, tipster gave me a heads up that perhaps Bro had moved on to other things.  I am never one to beat around the bush, so I cut straight to the chase, plus I'm smart enough to leave but I'm left.

I sent Bro a message to see what was going on, and turns out, he actually is interested in someone else.  I, surprisingly, was able to maintain my composure quite well and wished him all the best.  I congratulated him on being able to fool me so well, as I consider myself to be quite intelligent, and if nothing else somewhat clever.  I am able to read people fairly well and fairly quickly, but Bro slipped my radar for a bit.

Bro is now out of the picture, but do not fret...I am only temporally giving up chocolate, this experience surely has not made me a diabetic, and frankly, I'm ready to get back to the candy shop.  

Saturday, March 3, 2012

True Holly-wood Story.

Lately, I have not been the one finding myself in odd situations.  In fact, Holly has definitely surpassed me and has been experiencing a string of outrageously, ridiculous predicaments.

From previous posts, you may have gathered that Holly is a regular around here, a bit of a pot stirrer, and has big hair full of secrets.  He's the furtherest from being shy or reserved and has yet to meet a camera, or a mirror he doesn't like.  Mostly, he's been my partner in crime or my wing man through all of the strange things and/or people I have encountered, however, the tables have turned and this post is actually all about Holly's happenings in the last month.

About a month-ish ago, the Grizzlies hosted a go-go dance party with a black light/glow paint twist.  Even more twisted, the Grizzlie go-go dancers were stripped down to their skivvies, slathered in day-glo colors, and danced on platforms placed throughout the bar.  Usually when the Grizzlies host a beer bust, Holly and I just show up to look good, drink some beer, and work the crowd...fully clothed.

The lights dimmed, the beer was a-flowing, and the paint was a-glowing.  The dancers started getting into their groove and the night got on its way.  Walking into the event, Holly was adamant that he was not in the mood to dance in his underwear for tips.  Homeowner soon started to plant the seed that Holly should join the other dancers and hop up on one of the stages.

Without really having to twist Holly's arm too much, he quickly dropped trou, suited up in glo-paint, and took his place under the black light.  I was completely content with a beer in my hand, making a lap around the bar every 3.5 minutes or so.

Holly quickly became at home dancing in front of a crowd in his underoos, without the slightest hesitation.  Holly was cutting a rug and trippin the light fantastic, and after a few cocktails he had lost just a bit of his coordination.  Before anyone could fully realize what had happened, Holly had danced right off the platform, and busted his ass on the bar front of a crowd of fans.


Not being one to lay around with his legs in the air, Holly made a speedy recovery and was back up and dancing...drink in hand...within seconds.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and Holly somehow finds himself out in public....stripped down to his underwear yet again.

This time, the Music City Sisters were hosting a Valentine's Day themed underwear auction and beer bust.  The Homeowner's BFF and Karen (another Grizzlie, whom is a boy but has characteristics very similar to those of Karen from Mean Girls) were slated to 'perform' and have their underwear auctioned off.  Homeowner, Holly, and myself were simply in attendance to support the Sisters, the event, and drink some beer.

If any of the situation I have explained sounds strange, it is.  The premise of this event consisted of the models wearing a pair of underwear for the evening, then auctioning them off at the end of the night.   More so against participating in this particular even than he was against dancing for the Grizzlies, Holly attempted to make it quite clear that he would not, under any circumstances, model a pair of underwear around the bar.

Homeowner joked with Holly about having him model, but Holly refused.  However, Holly had a complete change of heart once the offer of free beer in exchange for modeling was on the table.  Within moments, Holly was once again in nothing but his delicates in a bar full of people.

For not wanting to be an underwear auction model, Holly sure had no problem working the crowd.  Once again, he found himself dancing on a stage in the bar...this time sandwiched between a twink and a guy in a British flag thong.  God save the Queen.

Learning from his past stage dancing experience, Holly managed not to fall this time.  I could not get enough beer in me to be able to take on the situation unfolding before my eyes.  When it came time for the underwear auction, Holly's skivvies raked in $100.

At the end of the day, the strange things don't happen to just me, Holly sure get his fair share too.  Holly is simple, shallow, and a common whore, and frankly that's why we get along so well.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Back In Black

And Frankly is back and will be better than ever!  2102 started with a bang, and has not shown any signs of slowing down.  So far this year I have; made a full recovery from the bar injury that Holly had inflicted on me, met a fine piece of chocolate at Showtunes, taken a spur of the moment jet-set trip to NYC, road tripped to St. Louis, attended a slew of outrageous events ranging from a go-go dance party to an underwear auction, and was the 2nd runner up in a beer pong tourney.

Sounds like fun, eh?

I really hope to give each of these exciting topics the full attention they deserve, so to get the ball rolling....

The week after Holly punched me in the face and almost broke my nose, I met someone.

I was at Showtunes with Holly and a Christina Ricci look-a-like, named Wednesday, engrossed in a really thrilling conversation.  I was merely explaining how Holly was on wing-man probation from the awful Jeremy Dancer fiasco, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned around and behind me was a tall drink of chocolate milk.  As always, to protect the innocent, nicknames will be used.  He introduced himself and shall be known as Bro (if it were up to him, he would have chosen something like Great Wall of Chocolate or Little Brown Bear)

As cliche as it sounds, there was a spark right from the start.  Now, I am not talking about a mushy, sappy, over the top love at first sight we need to go run out and pick out china patterns and save the dates, but there was a spark.  Bro joined Holly, Wednesday, and myself for some beers, and we hit it off immediately.

I always thought I'd meet a decent guy at a Spartan Tailgate, but meeting one at Showtunes could possibly be a second runner up, especially if something from Dreamgirls was playing.  At this particular point in time, "One Night Only" was the jam.  I was not sure if that were foreshadowing or not, but I was just going with the flow.

Before long, Holly took off and Bro continued to chat it up with Wednesday and I.  As we sat up against the bar, Bro just got so caught up in my charm, he went to grab his beer but instead ended up semi-spiking it off the bar floor.  The glass shattered and beer splashed up, leaving me drenched.  I imagine it to be quite like sitting in the front row at Sea World, I was in the splash zone and the commotion caused all the gays to stop belting out their Broadway hits and focus their attention on me.  I was sopping wet with Mich Light, and once it dried, I'd most likely smell like a trailer park.  Bro was incredibly apologetic, but if having beer spilt on me were the strangest thing to happen during a first encounter, I was doing pretty well.

There has been a running joke amongst my siblings that our family has a very similar dynamic to that of the Family Stone.  In some weird way, each of my siblings is just like one of the siblings from the movie, only I'm not the deaf son, I really am more of the Dermot Mulroney character.  However, with Bro in the picture, there is now the development of an interracial relationship which really puts this one step closer to fullfilling Family Stone or maybe more like Save The Last Dance.  And further more, my dreams of having a beautiful mixed baby girl named Citronella now make a bit more sense.

Showtunes came to an end.  Bro and I exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up for dinner within the week.  The Tuesday after Showtunes we went out on our first official date, and frankly I'm back in black.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Mama's Boy.

I've started to develop a routine with Holly, you all know Holly, he's a regular here.  Well, it's not so much that I developed a routine, I pretty much just started crashing a routine that Holly already had in place.

Anyway, the Friday night routine consists of tacos, beers, and shots of tequila at Chago's Cantina then off to Tribe so Holly can join his Roundtable friends and I can make a feeble attempt to prowl the selection of semi-eligible bachelors.

After a long week, Friday night finally rolled around and I could not have been any more ready for all the Tecate and tequila I could get my hands on.  I met Holly at Chago's and got the night started.  Shots were lined up, and we were ready to go!

We enjoyed our time at Chago's, but before long, it was time to move on.  The Cantina was quickly filling up with Belmont Douchenozzles and Sorostitutes, and I couldn't stomach another tequila shot at that point in time.  In just two hours, we had lost count of our shot consumption.

We jetted over to Tribe to let the real festivities begin.  Holly and a group of friends have Roundtable every Friday night, and I mostly just tag along to see if I can get anyone's phone numbers.  In my experience, Friday night at Tribe offers the freshest selection of people I'm not familiar with.  By time Showtunes Sunday rolls around, the place if full of Ruggers and Regulars... two groups that are often one in the same.

Holly and I quickly ordered a round of beers, and I started scanning the crowd.  Surprisingly, within moments a newbie whom I have never seen in town before sat down at the end of the bar.  He was clearly alone, as there weren't any open seats around him and he seemed to be anxiously checking his phone every 23 seconds.

In exchange for my Friday night company, Holly becomes the Goose to my Maverick and serves as a wingman, however he doesn't die in the end of the story.  Although, after this tale, his wingman skills may be revoked.

I pointed out the newbie to Holly, and sent Holly in to do a bit of recon.  I played coy and went to get more beers to give Holly a bit of time to extract the vitals...mostly I just needed to know if he was single and had all of his teeth.  I could handle the rest once the ice had been broken.

Holly broke the ice and now it was time for me to step in and take over.  I introduced myself, and he told me his name was Jeremy, at least that's how I saved him in my phone.  Jeremy Dancer.  I'm not sure at all if his name is Jeremy, but for now it will be, but I do know that he is a dancer from Manhattan.

Holly stepped out of the picture and I began some small chat with Jeremy Dancer.  Almost immediately the conversation turned to Holly.  Jeremy Dancer was smitten...with the wrong person.  Try as I might, I was failing at turning the conversation from Holly.  Don't get me wrong, Jeremy Dancer was interested in me as well, but more so to be BFFLs, braid each others' hair and read Tiger Beat.  I was becoming annoyed, Holly wingmanned the worst possible person in the bar in my opinion.  It took a bit of arguing, but I was able to slightly convince Jeremy Dancer that Holly is not on the market, and the only reason he approached him in the first place was to be able to introduce me to him.

Finally the conversation had turned back to me, where it should have been all along.  We began chatting about our professions, and when I had explained to Jeremy Dancer about the work I do with at risk and underserved kids, he simply suggested we should buy out the inhabitants and tear down the projects.  He pitched his idea as though it would solve all of East Nashville's problems.  We began a heated debate on how to break the cycle of poverty within a neighborhood, but Jeremy Dancer stood firm on just tearing down the low income housing I have come to serve and love.

At this point in time, I had had a fair enough amount to drink and was defending something I am incredibly passionate about.  The perfect storm was brewing.  I decided to excuse myself from the conversation, things could get ugly.  I took a few a laps around the bar, chatted with Holly, thought and hoped Jeremy Dancer would cut his losses just as I was willing to do and move along.  Just as I was walking up to Holly and Roundtable Crew, I noticed my Buckeye boyfriend from a few weeks ago had joined the group...and sure enough, my Buckeye boyfriend's boyfriend was working the back door.

Nothing about this evening was going right, and I was way too sober to handle any of it.

A couple more beers and a shot of Fireball down, Holly and I were ready to move on to Play.  I figured there was no way Jeremy Dancer would still tag along.  Boy, was I wrong.  Jeremy Dancer was just dying to see a drag show and was enjoying our newly formed friendship.

We made it to Play and now Jeremy Dancer was buying beers, I figured it was the least he could do after criticizing my livelihood.  We had been able to salvage a bit of our conversation, and move on to topics that he was a bit more informed on and I wasn't so passionate about.

All the while I was talking with Jeremy Dancer, I was still scanning the crowd to see if anyone else had caught my eye.  Sure enough, several people had but I could not get the chance to break away.  And just when I thought Holly could step in and appease Jeremy Dancer for just a moment, the cast of Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys showed up and sent Holly into a tizzy.

Holly flew into a tirade concerning reality tv, Sundance, and a group of nobodies.  He was yelling about the low budget reality show to anyone would listen, however he was in the bathroom by himself and his rant fell on deaf ears.  He rejoined the group and his rant was trailing off, but just then a cast member walked by.  At that very same time, I went to take a sip of my fresh bottle of beer, Holly renewed his tirade, swung his arms around and caused the bottle to bust my nose.

Before I knew it, I had a bloody nose and prayed it wasn't broken.  I left Holly, Jeremy Dancer, and Roundtable Crew and b-lined for the bathroom.  As I stood over the sink with paper towels shoved up my nostrils, I hoped none of the Play staff thought I had been doing lines of coke off a urinal.  Not only had Holly set me up with a dud, I now had sustained an injury from him.  A bloody nose at the gay bar is not a good look.

I valiantly made a full recovery, but was now worried I'd have two black eyes from the blow.

The night had gone by so quickly, and getting popped in the face with a beer bottle sobered me up pretty  fast.  I finished what was left of my drink, spent about 5 minutes on the dance floor, tried to talk to a different guy but was completely cock blocked by Jeremy Dancer and got ready to call it a night.  Jeremy Dancer said he'd love to hang out with Holly and I again, as he thought we were really fantastic people...which we are.

I made one last, incredibly desperate attempt to salvage anything from the night and invited Jeremy Dancer to come home with me.  He politely rejected my invitation by saying that although he'd love to, he had to get home to his mother.


I spent all night entertaining this fool, and now he was rejecting me for his mother.  As if the blow to my nose weren't enough, I had been cock blocked and my ego was dented as well.  I'm all for a guy who loves his mama, as I very much love mine, but on a Friday night I am not one to reject a good lookin' guy to go back home for some late night quality time with the 'rents.

Holly's wing was absolutely awful.  Perhaps next time I'll just scope out my own interests for myself, and frankly there's always next Friday.