State capitals and child abuse

Dave’s recent post on (not his) kids at his house got me thinking. The kid’s name is Trenton. Now I’ve never heard that name before. In this world of made up names (I suppose they all are made up but…) that was a new one. Why would you name your child after the state capital of New Jersey? But then I had a V-8 moment. This is the thing to do. State capitals make great names. I thought of my own family. My first cousins twice removed are Cheyenne (WY), Madison (WI) and Austin (TX). And I’ve heard of other children being named Boston(MA) and Jackson (MS).

I’ve decided that I will name my children (if I ever decide to like hoo ha) in the same fashion. Daughters: Topeka (KS) and Tallahassee(FL). Sons: Bismarck(ND) and Annapolis(MD). Or maybe I will be a cruel parent and name the little crumb crunchers Des Moines (IA) or Sacramento (CA) or Springfield (IL).

I’m undecided on Little Rock(AR).

A great place to live (if you want to be mediocre)

Part one of my famous people from my hometown(s) series. (sorry for the plural but I live in the Quad Cities; maybe that is part of the problem)

Gotta love Linnea Quigley (born in Davenport).

Loved her in Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers:

And who can forget that classic film Virgin High:

And keep reading, readers. Part two is about Ken Berry.

Roots and revolution (or History and houseguests)

I was shocked today. Totally shocked. Mother’s 83 yo sister is visiting her. No, that’s not shocking (although Mother is a little peeved about it). What’s shocking is that auntie brought a book about the history of our family. Holy hell. I thought our family history basically consisted of Danish immigrants that showed up in the late 19th century to farm shit and to look cute. For the most part that is true but the book she brought documents that my mother’s mother’s mother’s mother’s father’s father (my great great great great great grandfather) emigrated from Germany to the US in 1771 and fought in the American Revolution (Private 4th class). I’m a son of the Revolution. LOVE IT!

They’re back

Last year, for some stupid bird loving reason, I set a wren house right next to my white trash pool. The wrens loved it. Me, not so much. Try to relax and enjoy smoking a ciggie and drinking a G&T listening to this shit:

Although it was fun (drinking makes it fun) watching the little cocksuckers (h/t Quaker/Mother) feed the babies, like all babies, they never shut up. And their parents constantly scolded me for being there.

They are back again this year but I relocated the house to a more suitable location (far away from where the pool will go… if it ever warms up).

Coming out (with pictures)

Sometimes I get the question “When did you know you were gay?”. I always turn it back on the nosy bitches and ask “When did you know you were straight?”. A more honest answer from me would be “at about age five”. You don’t really know it but in my five year old head, I knew I was different. Luckily, I have proof to show the doubters (possibly NSFW in the bizarro PC world we live in):

Promises, promises

I promised Kate that if she made some kind of comment on a post that was at least mildly serious, I would post a picture of myself. Kate stepped up to the task (please do it more Kate; your input is always welcome) so here we go…

Hot ass (deal)

I just bought a pair of Mavi jeans for $24 (marked down from $98). Love my Mavi’s. If you are a skinny bitch like me and have no ass, Mavi’s are the answer. They aren’t too trendy (no obscene distressing; I won’t buy jeans that are already worn out). Life is good when I find jeans that fit my ass (at a discount).

(for the record, my jeans were made in Turkey; that doesn’t make us poorer)

Reality vs reality tv

I attended a wedding this weekend. No one related or really close but I am happy for him (and his bride). They were married in a nondenominational church. OK, not that interesting. What was different from other weddings I’ve been to was the church. Being raised Episcopalian, my ideas of “church” involve so many things that weren’t present. There was no alter, no pews, no kneelers, no hymnals, no prayer books…not a bible to be seen. Instead it was wall to wall carpet with comfy padded stacking chairs (upholtered in blue and mauve; depending on the row). The entire church was lighted courtesy of Menards/Home Depot/Lowe’s. There were no images of Christ at all (not even the really hot one where Christ looks like a coverboy from a romance novel). Apart from the cross shaped window over the area where minister stood, it felt more like I was at a city hall meeting.

The marriage ceremony matched the surroundings. The whole thing took about an half an hour (Yeah! smoking cessation was tolerable. (I can’t go to Catholic weddings)) The one reading: Ephesians (Wife submit; Husband love) . After the vows, the entire “blended” family went up to the wedding area for the “Sand Ceremony“. Huh? Now that’s a new one for me. Had to look that one up.

This unique celebration was recently brought into the public eye with the marriage of Trista Rehn and Ryan Sutter of the TV series, “The Bachelorette.” Rather than the time-honored ritual of the Unity Candle Ceremony, the famous couple chose the alternative, Unity Sand Ceremony. Their decision has sparked a craze in weddings across the country.

This is what I get for watching only What Not to Wear and CSPAN.

How big is little?

Another Saturday night out with D and S. Fave song tonight:

Closets (and their secrets)

Loving my current painting job. It’s across the street. Asshole neighbor guy finally sold his house and moved out. I know (and like) the people that are moving in. They hired me to paint the interior and give advice on color selection (for the record, both gay and straight people have bad taste; don’t assume because I’m gay that I know what I’m talking about).

Anyway, I was getting a closet ready to paint. As I was taking down the top shelf, a wooden box slid down, hit me and broke up on the floor. Tubes and rods and what I thought looked like plumbing O rings spilled out. I’m thinking “why is there a plumbing supply kit stuck up here in a bedroom closet”. After further inspection and a quick look at the instruction manual, I understood the label on the box…Maxwilly and had an EEWWWWWWWW moment. I had found the former owner’s penis enlargement kit (It must have worked. He was a big dick).