Slumber Party

My kids and I have a routine - every Friday night that they are with me, we crash on the floor in the living room, eat junk food and watch movies until our eyelids are too heavy to hold open. Last night was no exception.

Now, my son - he's a lightweight. Sleep rarely flutters by him unnoticed and he was asleep before I got everything together and went to lay down. My daughter and I? Midnight.

The problem with this set up is that that little bastard always wanna wake up early because he goes to sleep so much earlier than my daughter and I do. She's more than happy to wake up at that time too ... because she's six and has the energy and all.

This morning, however? JACK was hurtin ... three times they woke me up to tell me they were hungry and I finally got my ass up at like 9:30 to make breakfast: Scrambled eggs, bacon and sesame seed bagels from DD's ...

I want to lay back down and sleep - I really, really do. Especially after working so damn hard the night before to NOT get any ... and I can't. I simply can not. My son has a soccer game at 1:30pm and right now, I have them running around the backyard with these new foam rocket shooters ... I can hear them through the window as I type. They're having a blast.

Me? I'm tired as hell. And I wanted to share with all my blog friends.

But in the end - it was all worth it. I was back there with them a bit ago, picking up random fallen sticks/twigs and have been filling up the fireplace so that we can burn a fire this evening. I can almost hear the crackling of the fire right now ... almost.

But the numbing, relaxing crackle is being drowned out by two well-fed children running outside this bedroom window. It's time for me to go back out there ... and allow the obligatory foam rocking shooting of daddy.

Daughter: "Look over there, Daddy - a blue jay!"

JACK looks around.

JACK gets pummeled by foam rockets as the kids laugh.

Son, pointing in other direction: "Look dad, a RED jay!"

As tired as I am - this is NOT for the birds.

Ready, Fire ... Aim

It's been 8 months. EIGHT months. And so I broke down and called mr. bought-me-a-ring-and-still-doesn't-know-my-last-name to pick me up at the train station. And, of course, he did.

Why - why - why - why?!?

The last time our "session" ended with an uh-oh ... and I didn't get any.

And this time?

Ok, so he has a hot tub in his back yard ... and we got in. That was a first for me. I can't believe I've gotten to the point where I'm totally qualm-less and do this shit. But, it was interesting. I liked it.

I mean, I gave it the 'ole college try ... AGAIN. And the trash talk was HOT and I was all into it ... again. Eventually, he wants to take it inside and just have at it. I'm game.

Except, he's not ... uurrr ... UP anymore. And so I ask, "what's up with this?" grabbing a handful of useless, flacid penis.

It turns out he busted in the hot tub.

Really?!?

Are you fucking kidding me?!?

I'm just glad he wanted to get out of there - and that there was enough chlorine in that bitch to perform keratotomy on a mother fucker ...

I mean - WTF?!?!! It's been 8 months, but folks - not for lack of trying.

Oh, and can you believe the mother fucker wanna ask me inside why I kept holding it back? I mean, I'm not long-winded. I'm not, trust me. I can't stand long, pointless bludgeon sessions ... but you gonna sit there and accuse me of holding back because it's been 10 minutes?

Put my dick back in your mouth and shut the fuck up.

**end trans

Traveling Gays

I considered my life as a professional, traveling man ... and thought about this club I went to in Orlando. With my favorite boo boo in the whole world.

(heeeeyyyyyy boo boo!)

Anyway, I met a man there, let's call him Jacob (because that's his name). He's from Tampa. I'm in town from Chicago. And we talked for a while ... and when i asked him what he does (he asked first, so I figured it was fair game) he told me he was a house husband.

Without batting a lash, I told him that that was pretty cool. Although, sitting there and about two and a half sheets to the wind, I knew (as surely as I know that gravity exists) that this mother fucker ain't no trophy husband. He's not body beautiful and even if he isn't butt fuckin ugly, he's no perfect 10. I can tell this even IF my motor skills are skillfully impaired. But I understand the game he's playin ... that is, he's playing a game, not that he's GOT game. You feel me?

Jacob told me that he was magnum. So, as a verfication exercise, I felt him up.

He's not.

We continue to talk there at the bar ... and some other dude, who we called red hat, mentions to the bartender that he's straight. I interrupt because I had my eye on Red Hat all night and I just had to verify this piece of information. He said he was indeed straight and his friend (who so damn obviously sweet we call Sucralose) verifies this ... I pull Red hat closer to me and tell him "Damn Shame."

Oh, right - Jacob. So, we keep chatting and he attacks my Puerto Ricanness because I'm smoking Marlboro Mediums. I'm so damn mad - and then he comes out with his Marlboro Lights Menthol. I wanted to drag his ass so damn bad.

Oh, did I mention the dyke who told me I was hot, started humping me while I sat on the bar stool and eventually threw my knees over her shoulders? And when boo boo came to the rescue, I ran away tot eh other side of the bar and apparently, she climbed him like boo boo was a totem pole and boo boo lost both his earrings.

****

Oh, the last time I was in this city and in this club (again, with boo boo ... heeeeeyyyy) I met a brotha from Alabama. I felt him up too - but he told me I made him hard and that I could verify. And, you know how Reagan taught my generation to trust ... but verify ... so, I blame Reagan. This dude asked me to go with him out into the parking lot.

In the middle of Tropical Storm Faye.

Obviously I didn't go outside into the fucking storm with him ... and when I left, I saw him in the parking lot with some idiot who apparently took him up on the offer.

****

As I'm considering these experiences, and the fact that I been gay clubbin in DC with 143, New York City with Jaded ...

It occured to me.

I'm unknowlingly a part of this underground network I call Homos Without Boarders.

• We know no city or state boundary
• We'll grab a dick in a minute
• We typically lie (about our being house husbands, even)
• We go to clubs all over the place, but rarely dance. Dancing is for the locals.
• We beeline for the hottest mother fucker we see ... and work our way down the list until something sticks. (explaining why I'm talking to the wanna be house husband and not to Red Hat)

Feel free to add to this list - my creativity well ran dry after I laughed my ass off at Homos Without Boarders.

Carry on ...

Happy Birthday to JACK

Ok, folks, my birthday is coming up soon early next month and this is what I want: a subscription to gayparent magazine. And not the NYC version, because although I'm sure it's the shit, I don't live there anymore.

Hit me up at blogginjack@yahoo.com and I will give you my address so you can surprise me. As a token of my gratitude, I will post a huge big 'ole THANK YOU post in your honor, unless you want to fly under the radar. Then, I won't.

Why am I asking this, you say? Because it's not like I'm askin for some torrid item from the Pink Pussycat or anything - it's a PARENTING magazine!

Come on - you know you want to ...

In addition, I'd like those rain guards put on my Altima. I smoke, and when it rains, what a SON of a bitch! So, does Nissan have gift certificates? I dunno - but rest assured that I never, EVER smoke in the car when the kids are in it, or within 24 hours of my going to pick them up. Big no-no.

Carry on ...

a glimpse into JACK

I have a few weaknesses, and although I absolutely refuse to list them here for the world to know and see and use against me (did I just reveal too much right there? ), I will indeed say that there are several songs out there that have a profound effect on me, songs that cannot simply fill the air and drift on by me but that instead that permeate through me, fill my chest with tension and fill my eyes with tears. Others put me in a trance. I'm careful as HELL not to get caught out there like that, though, and you will never, ever find me around if these songs that makes me all sappy comes on on the air. I will change the station or leave the room if I have no control over the airwaves.

The first time ever I saw your face
Look, I don't know what the hell Roberta Flack was thinking - but DAYUM, give a mother fucker a break. After all these years, my posture gets just a little bit better by about note number 4 of this song. And by the time she sings 'i felt the sun rose in your eyes,' I'm fighting the water in mine. And so many people have tried to remake this song - Lauryn Hill sang it, George Michael sang it, Celine Dion sang it. And it's one of those songs that people just need to leave alone. Back the fuck up and stay away from this bitch, mother fuckers - you can't touch it. And then, I heard Leona Lewis sing it ... and my posture got just a little bit better by about note number 4. My mother in law likes this one better than the original - that's debatable of course, but I gotta say that Leona does it for me. And her rendition get a thumbs up from JACK.




The weakness in me
I heard this song only recently, and it's the one that inspired this post. I didn't even know who Keisha White was (sorry to all those K.W. fans, I just didn't know). When I heard it, I found myself listening to it over and over, and over and over again. When I latch on to a song, I'm wont to burn it, for days on end. Ask anyone close to me - it's best to just not be around me when I get like that because it's all you hear and it will drive you crazy - but that's me. Apparently, it was written and performed by the Indigo Girls some years ago - but whatever ... K.W. is where I heard it first and I'm not even interested in any previous version. And I don't care want ANYbody says, bitch is WARRING that dress in this video, and that glance she gives the pianist at the end makes me just wanna eat her UP.



So High
This is what made me a John Legend fan - when this nigga sang, "and we can't get much closer to God than where we are," I wanted to propose. Admittedly, this song puts me more in a trance than it does make me tear up ... but it's damn close. At about 03:20 in this video, he kisses the FUCK out that woman, doesn't he? mmm mmm mmmmm



Safe from harm
I get chills from this one - the Faith in me knows Bebe got it right with this one. I could definitely listen to this for hours when I'm feeling low, or anxious or whatever. Bebe betta SHANG! When he hits the high note singing, "in the eye of the storm there CALM," The chills reach an apex for me. (Yes, I said "SHANG" and "apex" in the same post)



So you would know
This one is too much for me to explain - just listen.

brooklyn tabernacle choir songs
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Selfish
I just wanted to end this post on a not so 'drippy wet' mood. I love the shiznit out this song. (And i have the ONLY crush on Toni - just do.) When I was dating 'THAT mother fucker' I had this song on repeat one night to fall asleep to and it played through the night. He came home when I was already asleep and in the morning he wanted to know if I had this song on repeat all night because of him? Uhhhh, no - I just like it. Maybe that was the wrong answer - he wanted to assure me he was all mine. Ummmm, yay? I dunno. I still like the song even though he tried to ruin it for me.

My alma mater

I don't usually talk about high school. There's college to focus on - so I don't have a high school ring. I did get a college ring, except I gave it to my cousin when she was the best (wo)man at my wedding. She was the best Best (Wo)Man I could have ever had ... I'm not saying we're trashy, ghetto bitches or anything, but she and I were both late to the wedding. Yes, folks, I was late to my own wedding. I stopped to get the bouquet, because this wedding was planned about as well as our Iraq war, and the bride had nothing to hold. But this bitch at the flower shop took her sweet ‘ole time. I called the church and the associate pastor says, “Let me get this straight – you’re late to your own wedding.”

Fucker.

Add this to the fact that my Best (Wo)Man had stuffed her bra with masking tape and you get the idea. We’re a straight mess. But I’m digressing.

My whole point here is this here quote published at overheardinny.com:

Elderly math teacher: By god, you can't just hand me any mangled piece of paper you want! What do you think this is, the Bronx High School of Science?
Geeky kid #1: Oooh, that's mean.
Geeky kid #2: Well, at least he didn't say Brooklyn Tech. They have cameras everywhere, and if you dis them, they'll take out their gun and be all, "What did you say about my school?"
Geeky kid #1: You just made that up.
Geeky kid #2: I wish.

--Stuyvesant High School

My, how I miss Brooklyn Tech …

Caption Contest - October 3, 2008

You know how it goes - submit your best caption in comment for the following pic: