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January 31, 2005

bugs bunny: drag icon

valkyrieRobot Johnny has accumulated an impressive screenshot collection of Bugs Bunny in drag and various other gay situations. That rascally rabbit was pretty darn gay. Or secure in his masculinity. My favorite is the one of him in the Valkyrie outfit on the morbidly obese stallion. That one still kills me. The author's CSS is a little fucked up, so you gotta scroll down a bit to see them all. The commentary on the pics and the whole gay Spongebob shebang is pretty amusing too.

I find it interesting to hear that Dobson is trying to take back what he implied once it got out into the media that he's a big douche bag anti SpongeBob meanie. His career is already over. I'm guessing he got some pressure for spouting his mouth off against a cartoon that was too popular with the kids. More of this sort of spin control, or out of control, soon my friends...once people start hearing more of this insane crap, the sort of crap that goes through their heads most of the time, rational people will see the light. Just sit back and watch the self-destruct mode implode, and hope none of us get any shrapnel in the process. The ultra conservative loony juggernaut will hit a wall and crumble some day.

Posted by jimbo at 2:38 PM | Comments (5)

the goa'uld must be fed

Bzzlamphmlah. Saturday afternoon's coffee was drunk too late, and I got very little sleep Saturday night. Then last night the prednisone kept me awake with a racing heart again. Apparently prednisone does not mix with gin very well either, because on Friday night's Battlestar Gurlactica night my face was flushing beet red according to others. Flashes of heat race across my skin at random times. And I'm sooo hungry like I have small family of tapeworms or a colony of goa'uld larva living in my gullet that must be fed every two hours. It's all I can do to keep my stomach full, but at least the skin on my hands is getting better. I'm almost done with the prescriptions soon though.

Speaking of tyrranic parasites and such things, Friday night's Battlestar Galactica was just awesome yet again. Seriously, this is the best written and acted sci fi show I've ever seen. The spaceships and Cylons are merely secondary, the rest is PURE DRAMA, well acted out by hunky men and President Stands With A Fist no less! We love her.

The Stargate SG-1 episode featuring Claudia Black not so much. It was like one of the director's 12 year-old kids was allowed to write and direct a poorly executed attempt at depicting sexual frustration between Daniel Jackson and Claudia Black's character. Retarded acting, and the characters weren't even in character. Let's hope they get it together soon because it is becoming obvious that's it's season 9 already.

Had a nice big dinner to feed the goa'uld family with Gurl last night at the International House of Husbands, chock full of hunkies as usual. It's a nice place to eat with good food despite their smarmy ad campaign you may see on the inside cover spread of the Washington Blade a lot lately ("Hi, we're hot and we eat here..."). Anyhow, Gurl had to point out over dinner what a big giant gay geek she is by saying she wished she was a goa'uld parasite so she could infest Jamie Bamber's body and masturbate all day. Mmmmkay.

All my blood delivering nutrients to my own internal demons, I was cold and decided to take the bus home down Florida and U Street after the meal and company. A crazy person (person of mania, for all you PC folk out there....) got on board wielding a transistor radio, which he attempted to speak through to some other party. I had to wonder: what would crazy street people do without transistor radios? Where would the transistor radio industry be without crazy people?

Woofy blogger of note: RJ is one hot fox of a man. And he's smart and all that too.

Posted by jimbo at 10:38 AM | Comments (6)

January 29, 2005

"Staff 2001."

What is wrong with the leaders of this country? Cheney showed up at Friday's gathering of world leaders in southern Poland to mark the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz wearing the following:

The vice president, however, was dressed in the kind of attire one typically wears to operate a snow blower.

Cheney stood out in a sea of black-coated world leaders because he was wearing an olive drab parka with a fur-trimmed hood. It is embroidered with his name. It reminded one of the way in which children's clothes are inscribed with their names before they are sent away to camp. And indeed, the vice president looked like an awkward boy amid the well-dressed adults.

Like other attendees, the vice president was wearing a hat. But it was not a fedora or a Stetson or a fur hat or any kind of hat that one might wear to a memorial service as the representative of one's country. Instead, it was a knit ski cap, embroidered with the words "Staff 2001." It was the kind of hat a conventioneer might find in a goodie bag.

Add that to swearing on the floor of the House/Senate (I forget), which is just peachy. Dick. Is this part of a concerted effort to move positive diplomacy back to the dark ages? What a fucking insensitive, asinine, arrogant demonstration of leadership. Jeez...if jimbo would have a clue as to how to dress to commemorate a solemn ceremony with world leaders, this guy should too. Our country is so fucked for the next four years. WHAT WERE YOU VOTERS THINKING!?!? Aaaagh!

Doozy of a date tonight. I'm not mad about it, just relieved it's over. Hit the 'eject' button ASAP and ran to the gym and kept on running on the treadmill. Thank God it was only coffee and not a full meal. He seemed all right online, nice on the phone, and cute too. We have more than a few things in common. But when we sat down at Caribou he was fidgety and couldn't make eye contact. At first I thought it was me, and politely supported the conversation on my own despite agonizingly long silences. As soon as I hit the bottom of the coffee cup I declared it was time to go, and as soon as we left the joint he finally thaws out. Later he tells me that an old coworker from like 10 years ago was sitting next to us, and he was very nervous about it. Add that to a few things he said during the date like, "All my friends are straight," and that his roomates are all straight led me to believe he is quite closeted. My sources in the field tell me that "he doesn't kiss," a high indicator of issues with closet cases. Before the date I offered locations to meet that were gay or gay friendly, and now I know he just didn't want to be seen in such GAY GAY GAY places. After being out for almost 15 years now, I cannot fathom such levels of emotional and mental constipation. All that shit is so behind me now.

Now, I have my straight friends and my gay friends, and they all know I'm a big giant homo. The family does too. A flaming faggot, a cocksucking queer. Fuck me, suck me, and why don't you bend over after that too. I think I'm so far out of the closet I can no longer comprehend cloistering myself in heterosexuality as this guy was, so it was a bit of a shock to experience his bizarre turmoil. At my age and experience I should have seen that one coming though. As Tony said to me on the street afterwards, "Sounds like he knows where the Christmas presents are hidden." That's the first time I've heard that one.

I'm only a little disappointed that the date went that way, but I'm very glad I'm so free compared to him. Seeing where I could be, or perhaps was so long ago was very liberating. I'm a pretty happy big giant faggot gay man, and I love it. Perhaps if more grumpy out gay men took brief field trips back into the closet, we'd be more satisfied and happy with how far we've come.

Posted by jimbo at 12:49 AM | Comments (11)

January 28, 2005

newly banned practice: the artificial happy trail

A good rule of thumb when making alterations, additions or subtractions to the body is that if someone else can tell it happened, then it wasn't worth doing. Like overly whitened teeth the color of an arctic whiteout, contact lenses the color of some kind of copper-compound chemical spill, or a snap-on hairpiece that comes off during rugby practice. Because of that, I have now banned the tackiest new movement to have spread throughout dozens of gay boy online pics lately: the artificially constructed happy (treasure/pleasure) trail.

Those of us who pay very close attention to such things can quickly and easily tell that you spent hours sculpting your former wonderfully luxuriant growth of belly fur into some retarded standard for the latest gay look. What was wrong with your belly fur in the first place? Honestly, I'd have much more fun with a happy autobahn than a spindly artificial treasure trail that looks like your pubes are having a protest and doing a civil rights march up your chest. Please, I need something to floss my teeth with. Plus there's the belly stubble to contend with. Discomfort for vanity? Don't bother, honey.

So let's take a close look at the latest retarded trend in idiotic obsessive body image alterations for gay men. Paste the URL of your latest artificial happy trail spotting in the comments section. The more obvious, ludicrous or artificial looking the better.

Posted by jimbo at 9:42 AM | Comments (13)

January 27, 2005

making an impression

I apologize to anyone within a 10' radius of me today in our Comm 475 class. No more chicken enchiladas for lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Posted by jimbo at 3:51 PM | Comments (4)

January 26, 2005

tom brady's scruff & 'do

2004, 2005 scruff development
We are enjoying Tom Brady's beautiful gold-red scruff for yet another year. His scruff length is a bit longer this year (right), as is his hair, so it kinda makes him look like a caveman, but y'all know I love that shit. Now I loved his cute little preppy fauxhawk in 2004 (left), but I'm lovin' the shaggy 'do he's got this year even more. I've been workin' on something similar to it myself. For some reason I just love to see medium-length hair curling up from under the back of a ballcap. Minor jimbo fetish. Sadly, Adam Vinatieri has given up his bear look from last year, but is still a cutie-patootie without the face fur. Remember: "If the knuckles ain't draggin', Jimbo ain't shaggin'"

Yet more Ruggers who blog and bloggers who rugg. Or something like that...but welcome to both worlds guys! Many other new links updated on the blogroll to the right. Again, sorry I can't keep up with everyone who has commented on this blog. Anyhow, all this chat about rugby with both John and Rob have got me itchin' for pain again. The hamster wheel at the gym is again growing old very fast. And I wanna git back up on the scrumhalf wagon again after being a frikkin' winger most of the year last year. My last match went well as scrumhalf, and I forgot how much I missed the position.

And like I say, rugby is cheap therapy. 'Roid rage jokes aside, I really think the practices and matches burn off extra aggression. I've been snarly of late, I know due to the weather, but also perhaps due to lack of an outlet. I lost it this morning, albeit understandably, when the chorus of The Stand-like croupy plague coughs continued from the office next to me, where two baby-boomer work-'til-you-die women have been deathly ill and coughing uncontrollably for two weeks now. After a particularly loud fit of coughing that completely shattered my concentration, I spoke out very loudly saying, "Jesus Christ people fucking GO HOME!" Many coworkers agree and are resenting their contagious presence, especially those who have gotten sick due to their insenstitivity and self-centeredness.

Last week most of the office was sick thanks to them, and I got by with a mere sore throat. If I had gotten sicker due to them I would have gotten really pissed off. One of the women seriously sounds like she has a bad case of bronchitis. I'm sure she's too 'swamped with work' to even go to the doctor. For chrissake people, we stopped getting Perfect Attendance Awards in high school, and it is rare that a task in this environment is so dire that you have to try cheating death just to get it done.

In a discussion I had the other day with Gurl about generational differences, she mentioned how Baby Boomers will tend to work their fingers to the bone until the day they die, and never take leave time for personal enjoyment or for health reasons. Please, people, the owner of your company, University President, the State nor the President of the United States (especially) does not give a shit about your life, and you are the only one looking out for your well being. Enjoy your life, take the time off, and get better. And most of all don't frikkin' get me sick.

In other work news, staff shufflings around here will get me a promotion to a room with windows, sunlight and fresh, plague-free air! I suspect the gloom I've been fighting the past two winters is due to lack of photoperiod exposure, as my current office is windowless. Plus these offices get so damn hot it'll be nice to get some outside air. And I will have plants! Many healthy leafy green plants that will flourish under my care and the blessed sunlight! And I will finally be able to install an aquarium in my new office as well. Oh yeah, and work on occasion too.

Posted by jimbo at 9:46 AM | Comments (2)

January 24, 2005

'roid rage

Brad Fullmer having a big 'ol 'roid rageRAAAAAGGGH! The doc gave me a shot of prednizone and now I'm having 'ROID RAGE! RRRRAAAAGGGH! I'm HUGE! Now I'm gonna write angry blog entries all week and experience increased growth of body hair, beard growth, deep voice, increased production of sebaceous glands, development of the penis, aggressiveness, sexual behavior, libido, and the maturation of sperm! GRRRRR! LOOK OUT!!!

Yesterday's layman and professional panel of commenters were correct: my woofy physician's assistant took a look at my hands and decided it was probably contact dermatitis from something last week. He gave me a shot of prednisone and a short prescription of pills to make it go away. A mere 5 hours after the shot, the redness and itching have already subsided substantially. I'm guessing it was a combination of the dry, cold weather last week, going off my regular prescription of Allegra, and the quesionable bottle of year-old organic oatmeal-based lotion that I borrowed from my coworker. I may recommend she check the expiration date on the bottle. I just hope I don't end up looking like Jerry Lewis by the end of the week.

After the appointment at the doctor's office I went to the gym and found that from about 3:30 to 5pm is the PRIME TIME to go to the WSC at 1211 Connecticut. For about 10 minutes I was the only person on the weight room floor, which is a phenomenon I have not experienced in that gym ever. It was especially miraculous considering it was Guilty Monday and January, both times that usually pack a gym floor like a circuit party. So I hulked out on my 'roid rage and had a big 'ol lifting session and grunted and snarled all by myself with the iron until people started filling in the gym again.

I was finally able to go to the Soviet Safeway on 17th Street after almost two weeks of delays or barriers due to snow or Inaugural crap. It looked like a plauge of locusts had descended on the store. I have never seen it so bare...the only vegetables left were potatoes, onions and collard greens. Reminded me of the real former Soviet Union.

The "What's Wrong With Jimbo's Hands?" Forum is now closed. Thank you for your input.

Posted by jimbo at 7:40 PM | Comments (6)

rash decisions

So there's this itchy rash on the backs of both of my hands, in about the same places on both hands. It's nearly mirror image rash blotches. In some places there are whole rashy blotches, and in other places it's a collection of tiny red bumps. On the backs of my knuckles too, but not between them, nor on the webbing between my fingers. It's not anywhere else either, like in my crotch or waistband area. It all appeared in the middle of last week after that nasty cold spell which sucked all the moisture out of the air, pointing to a possible bacterial irritation due to extremely dry skin. While it has not spread, it has gotten redder and itchier since last week. While one would think it might be scabies, I haven't gotten any nookie for three months, so that can't be it, unless I got something by merely brushing up against the slutty masses at MAL. And I'm not getting the rash in the usual places that scabies like to chill out in. And thank God it's not anywhere else. Plus, some comments by friends in the know who shall remain nameless say that the bumps are not as angry looking as scabies bumps are. It kinda looks like a poison ivy rash, but I've never gotten irritation from that plant ever in my life, and I don't recall any possible exposure to it. Plus I'm immune to poison ivy because I'm a 13th level Ranger / 10th level Druid. And why is it only a uniform irritation on backs of my hands? I keep thinking it has something to do with dry hands. Regardless of my suspicions and paranoias, I'm off to see Dr. Woof at 3pm today. I may ask for another prostate exam on the spot just to be sure.

Anyhow, I had a good weekend, and enjoyed quiet time around the house without the sluggardly roomate lounging about. I went out to Remington's on Friday night to meet up with a friend who is in town. Had fun chatting with the friend and Rob from rugby, but I still don't care much for Remington's. Something about the clientele idly mouthing the words to that "Ever and Ever, Amen" song (that I hear every time I go there) with bored looks on their faces. Saturday night at Blowoff was fun especially due to a smaller crowd, although that didn't stop one drunk hipster from going about the entire bar making requests for 3-ways with anyone resembling a male. Hon, it makes me feel so special when I see you asking the same thing of me that you've already asked a dozen people before me, and a dozen afterwards. 3-ways must be very special for you indeed. And please use some deodorant next time...there's a difference between a manly scent and a nauseating smell.

OK, one more time on this issue people: blurry images of yourself taken from your camera phone, or postage-stamp sized images for your nekkid online profile pic IS NOT SUFFICIENT! I want high resolution pics, clear enough for me to count each and every hair on your body - because I am.

Posted by jimbo at 9:26 AM | Comments (15)

January 22, 2005

snow emergency!

MTV Cribs presents: Casa del Jimbo
It snowed a bit here today, the predictions by Fox News incorrect by at least half, as usual. By now I know to tone down the local media hysteria to take the weather forecasts with a grain of salt or two. Of course the mere 4" or so of snow is enough to paralyze the entire region, but sadly it's not on a work day or we would have had off today.

Bob defies the weather, confirming there will in fact be a Blowoff tonight, which will probably only feature the locals who can walk there, which is fine with me. More room for me for my interpretive dance style. Tomorrow we may be playing D&D, weather/road dependant.

So the slavering oil-starved Republicans have finally sunk their teeth completely into the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. Sought after as the holy grail of wilderness areas since before my crunchy environmental education days in undergrad school, they're now finally able to corrupt this pristine wilderness to their liking.

Frankly, I don't give a shit about lower gas prices. Even if I did have a car, I'd rather curb my driving habits and take public transportation than to install exploration and drilling facilities across the migration route for thousands of caribou. One of the limiting factors for this caribou population is their ability to migrate to windier areas during the mosquito season. Clouds of flies and bloodsuckers (insect, not human) actually impair their health enough to cause mortality in the population. If their ability to migrate to less-buggy, windier areas is impeded by things such as pipelines and refineries, their population suffers. And if there are fewer caribou and uncorrupted vistas for our grandchildren, we suffer too.

Posted by jimbo at 5:29 PM | Comments (3)

January 21, 2005

how to give a gay former band geek a stiffy

...have a hot photo of yourself on bigmusclebears.com posing shirtless with your french horn. Lordy! If it were a contra bass it woulda been even hotter!

Posted by jimbo at 3:32 PM | Comments (9)

momma under the bed

Mommy! Gradma Bush is under my bed and is going to get me!The X-Files episode that makes my skin crawl the most is the one about the terribly inbred family Scully and Mulder discover in the Pennsylvania. Scully says something about the DNA strands of one of their abandoned kids as being a "triple helix" or somesuch horror. Turns out Momma's good kids are also the fathers of the brothers and all that. The scene direction is just chilling. What is funny is that the episode seems to be collectively known as the "Momma Under The Bed" episode by separate groups of friends. Gurl was on the phone the other night and said, "Oh gurl, it's 'Momma Under The Bed' again...I can't watch!" while Ghiurelle said the same thing over Christmas break. The episode is actually entitled 'Home'. It's even worse than 'The Host' collectively known as 'The Flukeman' episode.

Gee...I guess I was cranky yesterday. No more pseudoephedrine washed down with a pot of coffee for me. Happy now as the roomate will be gone for the weekend to a retreat. Plus my boss is gone from work too.

West Coast Queer Rugby News: Yo check out the Portland Avalanche mostly-gay rugby team website. They are recruiting. I played with them this fall (3rd from left in picture, puffy face). They are a very friendly bunch of guys and they have a great coach. They play on a really soft cushy pitch (field) too. And don't miss the West Coast XV's big gay invitational tournament in Seattle, Washington on Saturday, May 7th 2005. Hosted by the very woofy Seattle Quake rugby football team.

To answer Nurse Rached's queery:

1. What is the total amount of music files on your computer?

Hundreds. Show me how to count files in Windows Explorer and I can be more exact.

2. The CD you last bought is:

Scott Bolton: Set Me Free. Campy as only a former Broadway singer turned club rhythm stud doing cover tunes can be. Great for workouts and vacuuming the house...I still listen to it daily after having it for a few months.

3. What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?

"All Things" by Widelife (Queer Eye theme song).

4. Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you:

- "I'm Alive," by ELO (Jeff Lynne) from the Xanadu soundtrack.
- "I Can See Clearly Now," by Scott Bolton. Pure sugar-sweet dance tune.
- "Elephants & Flowers," by Prince from the Grafitti Bridge soundtrack.
- "The Star Spangled Banner," as sung by Whitney Houston (Pre-Crack Period, the Superbowl performance).
- "The Wood Song," by the Indigo Girls. Compares the struggle to an old ship's journey.

5. Who are you going to pass this stick to? (3 persons) and why?

You, my lovely readers.

Posted by jimbo at 9:59 AM | Comments (12)

January 20, 2005

the village

yo here's a big moo-out to all my peeps in da barnyard
Today the District of Columbia gets a preview of the facist state we will all be able to experience in the future across the country in what is fast becoming a religious state of panic, scapegoating, deception and hysteria. "One of the things we recommend to our passengers [Thursday] is don't bring it if you can't put it in your pocket," says Metro Transit Police Chief Polly Hanson. Fuck You Polly. I have my lunch, gym clothes and books to bring to work and then to the gym, because I don't have a car to use as a mobile backpack unit. It's public transportation, and the public needs to carry their shit around. I don't care if some arrogant homophobic pig is having a party today. I will pack my man-purse as I please.

Downtown DC is currently under a situation resembling martial law, with the bill being footed to the city of Washington, D.C., but not the President. In a nutshell, the presidential administration is asking the District of Columbia to take funds out of our Homeland Security budget for this non-terror, non-emergency event, the most expensive inauguration ever at that. Fuck You W. District representatives are fighting this at the moment.

Since I'm on a mighty roll of righteousness this morning, yet another hearty fuck you goes to Representative Jo Ann Davis (R-VA) for cuntinuing to push her intrusive and hateful legislation from the vile state of Virginia into The District. She wishes to ban same-sex marriage for District residents. Get a clue, honey, the presidential election is over, the issue has been dropped, as the necessary votes were obtained from that tired old tool. Fuck You And Your Pustulent, Noisome Cunt, Jo Ann Davis. For those of you not from around here, The District has no representation in congress, and here is a congresswoman from another state, albeit nearby, pushing to create laws here in our district. Cunt.

'whew!' I feel better now that I've got all that off my chest. It snowed here yesterday, so the locals are acting like idiots. And then there's thousands of visiting idiots on top of all that. It makes me grumpy. Now back to your regularly scheduled schoolgirl-in-heat shallow blog entry:

Jimbo: Ohmigawd Ghuirelle check out this hot bo-hunk on Bigmuscle.com.
Ghiurelle: Ohhh he is too hot and of course he has a "husband" but is still looking for fun.
Jimbo: Typical.
Ghiurelle: We need to move to a new planet for respectful, married couples. It will be like "The Village" and we will have scary straight people out in the woods to keep the nice gay boys in the village.
Jimbo: So like which color/fabric will be forbidden to show to the breeders?
Ghiurelle: Gold lamé of course you silly boy.

Posted by jimbo at 10:00 AM | Comments (17)

January 19, 2005

cute furry cow-cow

furry cow
OK, I don't want a baby cheetah anymore. I want a Scottish highland cow instead.

I'll write something cerebral later this week...there's just been too many cute animal pictures on the AP wire lately not to share. Or perhaps it's time for a MeMe:
I'm Andy!
Hrmmm...not quite accurate, but at least he's kinda hot - for a cartoon character.

Posted by jimbo at 10:26 AM | Comments (7)

January 18, 2005

itty bitty kitty kitties

smoogie poogie nookie noogums
Newborn kitty kitties at the National Zoo! I want a baby cheetah cub.

Ever notice that when something is cute, people tend to double its name, like "kitty-kitty" or "baby cow-cow." I guess it's the diminutive form of the word in question.

I forgot to mention that at one point at Sunday night's dance I was yet again compared to the younger version of Kris Kringle from the Rankin Bass claymation holiday special Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Apparently I look like him when he grew his beard out ( couldn't find a pic of that online ) for the first time. The comparison doesn't bug me, and has happened before... and I thought the young Kringle was kinda hot for an animated guy anyway. I just roll my eyes when people say that, like when they call me a Care Bear or a Monchichi. At least they don't say I look like Heat Miser, Snow Miser or the Winter Warlock.

I want to give a big shout out to all my dedicated coworkers who come in to their vital state of Maryland university jobs with hacking plague death coughs, bronchitis and laryngitis. Thank you so much for sharing. Frikkin' workaholics...stay home and don't share your disease with me!

Speaking of work, on Thursday I will be dutifully coming to work, and will work twice as hard in recognition of Inauguration Day. To me, attending the inaugural events, even to turn my back, would be recognizing the evil presence in the seat of power. My protest is to go through a normal day as if nothing special is going on, because nothing is.

This just in: e-mail correspondence with an evil (but dead-on) friend:

Jimbo: "Did you see the new cute baby cheetahs at the National Zoo?"
NonFONZgrrrl: "I wonder if the zoo will kill them all at once? Or one at a time.."

Posted by jimbo at 10:41 AM | Comments (2)

January 17, 2005

i'm a slave 4 U

OK, so MAL got better when I just hung up the chaps and hung out in the lobby with my friends Ron and Dave. I met both of them when I first moved to DC, as we had "similar interests" back in tha day. Then I introduced them to each other and they lived happily ever after as a monogamous leather couple, so I figured I might as well hang out with other birds of a feather and ended up having good sit down chat with them and a teammate from the rugby team. I did drive up the nerve to talk to one guy who looked like a furry redneck, but he was coupled up too. Oh well. They were looking for tickets to the dance later that evening, and some other rugby teammates had scored some free tickets they weren't going to use, so I gave the couple the tix as I had already bought my own. My good deed for the weekend, and they were appreciative.

The dance was fun, the sights were totally hot, and the music was really good. I'm glad the DJ didn't put up any kind of butch pretense, as he freely played remixes of Britney's "I'm a slave 4 U," and Madonna's "Erotic," mixed in with teases of "Sexual" the whole night, so I had fun squealing to some girly pop tunes amidst all the testosterone. I did catch up with a lot of old friends, and found out yet another acquaintance of mine ended up winning the pageant. Congrats to Steve and good luck at IML. (Pssst...Steve plays Magic: The Gathering and goes to Renaissaince Festivals! Totally fits with Margaret Cho's theory on those who go to such events of either kind...)

I danced with Gurl and Jeremy and Dave and butterflied around the place chatting with lots of folks and generally had a good time. Never caught up with "Dick Wolfe" though, but maybe next year.

Oh, Battlestar Gurlactica night rocked, and the series looks like it's gonna be rife with gritty dark drama. Unlike the first series, this one focuses a lot on the fleet's search for basic needs. They have to worry about food, water, and are still running scared from those nasty Cylons. Jamie Bamber had some fine red scruff going on in the episode '33'. After I mentioned that the actress Katee Sackhoff (who plays Starbuck) is bound to become a lesbian icon, Gurl coined the new word Dykon. We are mesmerized by the new bizarre and evilly intelligent Cylons, who seem to have a monotheistic religion of some sort, and enjoy fucking with humans on a psychological level. Is this Cylon/human war a post-9/11 analogy? Sci-fi often mirrors issues in the real world, so stay tuned...

Howdy, cowboy! Just had to share that pic.

Posted by jimbo at 11:43 PM | Comments (3)

January 16, 2005

MAL lessons learned

A number of lessons were learned last night in the hotel lobby area where MAL is hosted. People gather and chat and hook up, and as Bob says to me, it's comparable to the livestock exhibition at many state fairs: mostly a meat market of various farm animals, with a great number of pigs of all sizes and colors.

But this is why I blog, as I'm sure I've been through this before, but I keep having to learn these lessons over and over again. I have a shitty memory, and I continually surprise myself of the things I write about that I look back on in the archived entries. But hey, a shitty memory keeps me at some level of innocence. So here are some things I need to review each year before MAL:

Lesson 1: When the deal is sealed, leave the premesis immediately.

So I'm out in the tent outside the hotel lobby where there's a lot of cigar smokers. I had just come back from the gym, and didn't bring any of my own, but enjoyed the sights out there nonetheless, and was chatting with some friends I hadn't seen in a while. Then I see this hot jimbo fantasy man, who my friends say was with another aquaintance of mine earlier. Blond, bushy sideburns, goatee, furry, with a build like a lean college wrestler, smokin' a big 'ol stog. After getting up some nerve to talk to him, I approach and we chat for a bit. The deal was halfway sealed but he told me he wasn't ready to leave yet. In the future, translate this to, "I'll hang out with you until something better comes along."

Lesson 2: When on a mission, do not get sidetracked. There is no place for gregariousness in this situation.

While I was chatting with this guy, who we'll call "Chuck," I see a neighbor acquaintance who I met earlier in the week at the cards night. I integrate him and his friends, as I didn't want to seem rude. First mistake. We all introduce each other and the neighbor offers some drinks with the promise that it won't turn into a gang bang. He sounds sincere, so we all go up to his room for a drink.

Lesson 3: Continually show interest in and do not leave chosen trick unaccompanied.

Up in the neighbor's hotel room there are a bunch of his friends and we all pour drinks and socialize for a bit. I ask to use his bathroom as I'm sure it's cleaner than the one downstairs, other than the strange discolored towel in their bathtub. I don't ask about that. When I come back out to the room, I see Chuck is already messing around with two other guys. I'm annoyed at this point, and getting increasingly pissy. The neighbor looks genuinely surprised at the scene unfolding in his room, and I suspect there was a 'No Tricking' policy for his shared room. He loudly announces we are going back down to the lobby, and we head out. Chuck does not immediately follow, but appears at the elevator before we go in and asks where I'll be in a few. Not willing to hang around to be someone's sloppy seconds, I reply: "I don't know where I'll be," in a blank monotone.

Neighbor notices that I am pissed, and I explain the situation as the elevator goes down. While I'm not expecting monogamy in this environment, I still think Chuck was a bit of a dick for hooking up with someone else right in front of me. Neighbor is apologetic and looks honestly sincere, and I can't really blame him. I don't see Chuck until I'm in the coat check line, alongside one of the two he was messing with. He doesn't say a word. Just a bit earlier, the other guy who was messing around with Chuck in the room had the gall to cruise me back down in the lobby. This morning the phone call support council of Gurl, Bob and my roomate all tell me the same thing: I expect too much of men in such a situation. They are right, and I will expect less from men in a meat market in the future. Just another sign that I think I'm not cut out for the "Leather Community," as while I have more than a few kinks of my own, it's a frustrating place for someone who prefers 1-on-1 commitment, general empathy and consideration.

Chalk it up as a learning experience. And tonight we dance! Lots of beefy men in leather drag, and I will set my mind to having fun. Gurl is flagging argyle in his left pocket, Jeremy plaid right, and Jimbo periwinkle in left and right pockets.

Posted by jimbo at 1:09 PM | Comments (14)

January 14, 2005


My neighbor hosts a card game night about once a month where we play Hearts, the proceeds going to a local charity. I proposed the proceeds of the next one go to Shaw EcoVillage, whose website I've been fixing up lately.

While he's had these gatherings for some time, I've been either burnt out by a Thursday or it's rugby practice night. I had a really great time, and the people there who I'd normally assume at sight in a bar to be unapproachable were really friendly and warm in the alternate environment, and we even shared some juicy gossip about someone I don't even know, which was deliciously fun. Many of them were cutie patooties too. I'll be sure to do that more often.

I think queers are happier when we create our own venues, rather than pigeonhole ourselves in a sole smelly, noisy bar environment. While they have their place, any people were not made for bars. I was chatting on the phone with a guy I met from Match.com the other day, and he hosts a monthly board game night with his gay friends. Of course, I have my D&D gang, and of course the newest, latest, geekiest venue: BATTLESTAR GURLACTICA NIGHT!!!

Ben Browder of Farscape and Stargate SG-1 Joe Flanigan of Stargate: Atlantis Jamie Bamber of Battlestar Galactica

Thanks to Sparky for ferreting out a hunky eye candy sample of Jamie Bamber from Battlestar Galactica. Lookit those frikkin' biceps and vascular forearms and adorable red hair!

This photo always makes me laugh. I took it in 2001 after a rugby match with the everfun UMBC college rugby team. It speaks of the joy and debauchery of college youth. Just happened to come across it today.

Holy Shit: I've been chatting on BigMuscleBears.com with pornstar "Dick Wolf," who's in town and all up in jimbo's kitchen. WHUUUUF! He's recently acquired a bit of a tummy and put on some junk in his trunk, is pround of it and encouraging me to come rub it. Oh, I don't know...I hope he doesn't think I'll actually pay for some fun...

2004 Wrap-Up:
Highlights: Brood X; Ryan Reynold's Beard, Chest and Abs, BattleStar Galactica; Charo; Scott Bolton; baby guppies; favorite picture of me. Oddities: documented a crack bust in my driveway. Travel: Portland & Bend, Oregon; Alaska; New York City; and to Wisconsin for my grandmother's funeral and 15-year class reunion; West Virginia cabin. Important Sites: The Birthplace of Laura Ingalls Wilder; The World's Largest Six-Pack; Mt. McKinley (Denali); Hooters; Rehomo, Delaware. Live: LIVVY!; Blowoff Live; Cyndi Lauper; does seeing Bruce Campbell live count? Ghetto Pimp Ray-Ray; met like a bazillion wonderful new bloggers. Accomplishments: Took GRE; Applied to Grad School (will know next month if I'm in); read at The W.Y.S.I.W.Y.G. Show; helped organize BlogJam; came out to an entire region; made it in the Express and Metro Weekly; rid myself of debt! (that's my favorite one); lots of nice dates with very nice guys; went to therapy for anger management; 1000th blog entry; predicted the coming of Ragnarok; solved all the world's problems. At Work: got a (small) raise, published 3 big fat glossy newsletters; wrote a lot of stories; connected our professors to media outlets; served on an interview committee; made a pretty nice brochure and tons of small websites. Classes: Intercultural Communication; Communication and Social Change; enrolled in Persuasion. Mishaps: totally sunburned my ass; various rugby injuries; threw my back out. Regrets: got very worked up about stuff; not going backpacking at all; being a turd when I dumped this one guy at a very bad time; sold my car; some sex, but not enough good sex.

All in all, 2004 was a great year, and dammit I had a good year coming to me.

Posted by jimbo at 10:33 AM | Comments (10)

January 13, 2005

over, post-over, not-yet over, or just _tired_

So last night I tried to preemptively maintain what vestiges of hipness I had left by going on a nice dinner date at Saint Ex last night on almost-over T Street. People with hipster glasses and bored looks on their faces reluctantly shoved authentic French Fries in their mouths, glancing idly in judgement at the other hipsters. Downstairs, the DJ played bohemian hipster acid jazz while the beret-wearing hipsters blew smoke on each other. Berets have been around like 3 times now, and I wore a yellow one in band in high school. Many times over.

The dinner done, I hurried to the club, unaware that the band was actually to begin at 10 and not when the doors open at 7:30. I'm just not that cool and in the loop to know. I get a message from Bubbles (my secret hip name for her) that there will be a secret pre-judgement post-hipster rally at Alero on U Street beforehand. Had I known I didn't have to hurry to the club to advertise my uncoolness by my mere presence, I may have examined the interior of Alero more carefully and have been able to spot the hipsters in the Secret Invisible Couch Of Hipness. Alas, no cloud of hip Cloves-spawned smoke betrayed their presence in the Secret Sunken Chamber, because they aren't even hip enough to smoke anymore.

Walking from U Street to the 930 Club, a car pulls into a parking spot. The license plate betrays their doomed future, never ever to achieve even the lowest levels of hipness: Virginia. They sense my fading aura of urban hipness by the confidence by which I drift through the streets: if they glom onto me they won't get hit by a car, mugged or panhandled. Thus is the power of even a remnant aura of hipness. Still, they glance about in fear as they follow me, eyes wide in terror from the presence of so many black people nearby. When they get to the club, they don't even know how to present their ID or ticket. Mere reflex for me. In fact, I know the guy taking tickets at the door. We exchange unspoken glances in recognition of our mutual ex-hipness, both fully aware that we are both equally over.

I check my coat, go to the empty bar, and have to wait the requisite 5 minutes for my presence to be recognized by the bartender. She has an important conversation to finish about what was formerly cool yesterday. She does not tell me the price of my beer. I should know that, but again my hipness skill check fails, as I am over, and she knows it. So I have to stoop low and ask, like some pathetic refugee from West Falls Church. Regardless, she still gets a tip, because I know even the tipping unhip are appreciated by bartenders. Next time around I get a blank stare instead of a sneer.

There is a DJ keeping us busy while we wait. I realize it's going to be a while before the concert starts. The spotlights, which some think are set on random spin, actually focus on me in unison for a moment, highlighting the most recent gauche vermin to arrive. I watch the DJ hang his head low, heavily burdened by the clear uncoolness of the crowd before him. Yet he spins, trying to fan up enthusiasm in a titanic, yet futile effort. It's just too tired in the house for that.

Small clusters of gay boys and their faghags begin to arrive. None of the groups acknowledge each other. Gays do not recognize each other in DC. Do not allow yourself to be seen seeing someone else. Ever.

I don't stand so long very often. Judgement is a weapon best wielded in a sitting position anyway. My back is as tired and broken as my hipness, so I must sit down for a while upstairs. I see some of the hipsters from the Secret Hipness Summit have arrived, lit up enough to tolerate the uncool environment. You need at least 2 drinks, one for each time the Scissor Sisters have already been to this club, just to tolerate their 3rd and most uncool visit.

Using my crowd navigation skills learned from years of urban training, I zero in on them almost immediately. We acknowledge each others hipness and enjoy the show together, even though it was so over long before it began.

(Actually, the Scissor Sisters concert was really good. They are tight and very animated. I had a good time. I saw one of the Beavs, Chrisafer and Ed and friends.)

Much good writing on blogs lately, including a compendium of so-very-gay moments by Joe, tales of holiday joy from Johnny, and Dunner goes on a typical Midwest-boy fevered rant about something.

Waaah! My iPod won't turn on! It turned on for a brief moment last night, but never again. I'm having withdrawls! Anyone know of this quirky behavior and how to fix it?

In other news, I want to move out of my current situation. My roomate is selling his house this summer anyway. And lately he's been an incorrigible slob as well, and it's driving me crazy. If you know (yeah I know it's unlikely, but possible!) of an English basement, single-floor, or in-law suite like situation in DC, near the Green Line, and under $1200 bucks a month, let me know. I don't like condos or apartments...I feel like a rat in a box in those things. I am very tidy, I garden out front more fabulously than you can, and my rent checks are never late. According to Mr. and Mrs. Kravitz, my former neighbors, I am the model renter, worthy of much praise.

And to the adorable beefy blond MAN with the black cap, white tightie-whitie tee and rhythm who was standing in front of me: we glanced, I said hello, we know each other's names. Click on tha goldfish and let's tawk some more.

Posted by jimbo at 10:35 AM | Comments (12)

January 12, 2005


So come to think of it, I did make a few resolutions this year. I don't really decide on a single thing to change on January 1, I make a few every year during the course of the year and try to stick to them. Here's a few that I can remember:

- One small resolution is to avoid the dizzying tech craze. I will learn new work skills related to my job that are hi-tech, but not for my daily life. For example, I will continue to use my little black datebook to schedule things, not some frikkin' Star Trek Tricorder PDA Whatever.com blazzablazza 3MB gigapoop linkup mlah mlah. I still do not know how to text message nor will I learn how. There's just too much tech shit out there and it's overwhelming me, and somehow we got along without it until today. No more friend-network websites (Friendster, Tribe, etc.) or porn meet-up sites either as part of that resolution. They all take away a lot of my time.

- I will not enable my roomate's lazy and sloppy behavior around the house by cleaning up after him. I will address the issue (kitty litter spreading across the house, unwashed dishes, dirty toilet, etc.) with him directly and not through passive-aggressive comments or by bitching about it on the weblog and hoping the word gets back to him somehow.

- I will be nice to dates, even if they are shitheads. If I'm not interested I will try very hard to be as nice as possible about it and try to empathize and consider their feelings in the process. On that note, I will also try to be less of a princess and more accomodating and flexible, but not to a degree where I'm completely selfless either (I believe I've said that several years in a row now).

- I will try to be nicer to my wonderful group of friends and try to be in lighter spirits around them. Unless of course they are like totally ripping on some nasty mess of a queen and then I'll join right in.

- I will try to make it to work by 9am on a more regular basis.

- I will try to be forgiving of stupid, hateful Americans that are the thralls of those in power who know how to control them. I will have faith that the pendulum will swing back and these people will come to their senses. I will have faith that these people know right from wrong deep inside and that they will realize that there are more dire issues to rally for. I will have faith that the crazy conservative nutbags in power will destroy themselves in the end.

Posted by jimbo at 9:24 AM | Comments (4)

January 11, 2005

that's so 2004

I'll be going to see Scissor Sisters in concert tomorrow night at the 930 club. But now that SS is tres gauche and SO 2004, I will be going alone as anyone who is hip obviously will not be in attendance. Everyone who is anyone saw them last year when I thought Scissor Sisters was a company that got bought out by Fiskars®. There will only be 24 year-old squealing straight female Hill interns present, smoking and drinking furiously, brought there by their gay boyfriends of the same age. None of the late 20something gay hipsters will be there, no one with intricately sculpted facial hair or dyed hair at all. I am so unhip and behind the times I might as well go on down to Buffalo Billiards or Sesto Senso, pick up a drunk chick named Jennifer and get married, and sign up for the RNC.

Posted by jimbo at 10:04 AM | Comments (26)

January 10, 2005

brechi's blog is haunted

OK, I'm sure Brechi is really nice and he sounds like a cool blogger and all that, but his blog is haunted. There's this picture of him on one of his entries where he's in a bar and there's a cloud of smoke from some smoker next to him. And THE CLOUD IS SHAPED LIKE AN EVIL SPIRIT WITH IT'S MOUTH OPEN IN AN ETERNAL TORTURED 'OHHHH!' OF WORDLESS AGONY! Meanwhile, Brechi is just sitting there mugging for the camera, completely unaware that the Powers of Darkness are drifting right towards him. Frikkin' creepy-ass picture (not of Brechi, the evil smoke spirit) - go check it out.

My dental appointment and cavity drilling only took a half hour. My how the technology has changed since I got drilled 20 years ago! They no longer use a brontosaurus-sized drill that sounds like, well, a giant drill in your head. They use a tiny, spine-chilling drill instead. And they now don't use the silver stuff, but white-colored stuff to cap your tooth, and then they harden it with a nifty laser light. Cool, but still no fun. I then spent the rest of my day doing chores downtown and a very good workout, after lunch with Chrisafer and Gurl of course.

Excitement is building in intensity for Friday's geekfest, and it's only Monday! One unnamed uber-geek confessed to me as being, "Increasingly excited for Friday's show," and that he/she was, "Most intrigued by Cylon intelligence and networking." The geeks are quaking in their boots, lemme tell ya. Speaking of mega-geeks, we had some nice chili and gaming at Dax and Taz' place Sunday afternoon.

If that was the quote of the week, then the sighting of the week was this wee child I spotted when I was coming out of the dentist's office this morning. Said child was rummaging around in Farragut Square, his negligent tourist parents photographing the statue of Commander Whatever Farragut. The kid was maybe 2 years old at best, able to arrange some strange green stones in a line in the flower bed that he was tromping all over. Upon closer inspection, I saw that the child was arranging TOTALLY GREEN MOLDY BAGELS that someone had left out "for the birds" and the birds clearly said "Hell no!" to them. They provided some entertainment for the child, who should be immune to bacterial infections for the next month or so.

Now if I was a parent, my 2 year old would not be able to touch anything on the ground in The District. In fact, I would keep my child on a levitating disc (5' radius) of invisible force that hovered 2' to 4' above ground level. 200 experience points to the geek who catches that reference. NO PEEKING IN YOUR PLAYER'S HANDBOOK!

Posted by jimbo at 3:36 AM | Comments (8)

January 9, 2005

bye mighty jimbo!

the. mighty. jimbo. being assaulted by some queenBon Voyage to my eviller straight twin sister Mighty Jimbo out on the much cooler West Coast. Mighty Jimbo will be off soon on a visionquest around the world, including Antarctica. I have already briefed him on Southern hemisphere seabird species, habitat and behavior...I'm sure he'll have his binoculars handy. Jimbo, we will miss the weekly postings of your abs, but I assure you you ain't gotta put on a pound on that Russian research vessel! I hope you like vodka-induced diahhrea every day! BWA HA HAA!

Here's a little Russian lesson for you, Mighty Jimbo:

"Ya teebyay pakazhoo Kuzkeenu maat."
literal translation: I will show you Kuzkenu's Mother!
cultural translation: yo mama.

"Aatvalee, maya chairishna!"
literal translation: To the slag heap, my sweet cherry!
cultural translation: Fuck off, you little worm.

And don't ever, ever say the words peezda or xhoi around Russian-speaking women. Ever. But you can say this to Russian women: "Ya bezpredelshik," which means "I have no limits."

Long ago I found Mighty Jimbo's blog when I was doing a vanity search for my own blog. I wanted to be sure I turned up as the #1 entry on any given search using the word 'jimbo' after I fixed up my META tags and all that. When I did do the search, some West Coast bitch named Mighty Jimbo kept turning up AHEAD of my own blog's URL! The nerve! And even worse, he was a STRAIGHT Jimbo blogger too, which stung even more. So I had to e-mail him to let him know that there can be only one Jimbo in the Blogoverse, but he convinced me that Jimboism needed to be a bicoastal religious phenomenon rather than a continental ocurrence, so I relented and let him live. He's actually a pretty cool bean too.

I had a nice quiet weekend, but it was easy because it was grAy all weekend. Breakfast date on Saturday morning. He was cute and smart and also lives just down the street! But I hope I didn't talk too much. When I start talking about politics I just don't stop, and I know it bores or unnerves people. My hot slickness continued that evening at Blowoff when I somehow managed to offend a bear and he actually walked away. I admit, I was with friends, a little drunk and a bit of a jackass, but I was under the assumption bears were a bit more tough-skinned. I guess not.

Anyhow, I need a haircut badly before MAL this weekend. Plus, tomorrow will be my first tooth-drilling in like 20 years. I do not like teeth-drilling, which is why I started brushing my teeth all those years ago. Now wasn't that smart of me? I still do brush and floss regularly, but this one cavity sneaked in somehow. Lunch with Gurl and Chrisafer after that if I survive the ordeal at the dentist's office.

Posted by jimbo at 10:46 PM | Comments (9)

January 7, 2005

the dukes of hazzard

knoxville, simpson, & my husband seann
It looks like The Dukes of Hazzard movie could have some real potential for camp. I hope they don't try to be serious about it. Judging by the cast, it doesn't look like it. The film should turn out to be pure goofball fun. Plus Seann Scott has some scruff goin' on in the picture as you can see. I should just have a category for him by now, there's been so many entries about SWS.

Posted by jimbo at 1:35 PM | Comments (6)

superstud sci-fi friday in one week!

Ben Browder of Farscape and Stargate SG-1 Joe Flanigan of Stargate: Atlantis Jamie Bamber of Battlestar Galactica

In just one week there will be no reason to socialize on any given Friday, other than to venture out of the house for food and drink. SuperStud Sci-Fi Friday will begin. In one week the series premiere of Battlestar Galactica will start, featuring strawberry blond former rugby playin' stud Jamie Bamber. Then a week later new episodes of Stargate SG-1 and Stargate: Atlantis begin. SG-1 will feature the return of hunky Ben Browder and his former Farscape co-star babe Claudia Black. We also love Joe Flanigan of Stargate: Atlantis.

Steve raises an interesting thought or two in his entry about overtime slavery. At epidemic proportions in Washington, DC, the concept of "working late" shows that you're one of those hard working guys in the downtown and VA suburb areas. I frequently see sad, tired faces trudging home between 8 and 9pm when I'm on my way out of the gym. I don't buy that lifestyle, or the limited reasoning behind it at all. And it isn't this way in other parts of the country either.

In one case, a "hard working" lawyer I know who usually works until 8pm at least is always "billing hours" at his firm, which involves A.D.D. instant messaging me during those critical late hours. I know he isn't doing shit there, but is probably there because his other coworkers are there. Presence for pretense, which is anathema to me. In another case at a past job, one coworker would be spending his overtime arguing with his wife on the phone, ironically about not being home with her. Most of the day he's also got his elbow resting on the edge of the cubicle, chatting about all his hard work that's done around the place. I'm guessing in a lot of cases, overtime work is actually avoidance of things at home. That's sad, especially when it creates an atmosphere that pressures the other coworkers (who have a life) into working late too.

I believe you can get your work done in the standard 8-hour workday. Anytime over that you are probably tired and unproductive anyway. When I'm focused, I can even do it in less than 8 hours. Sure, I'll have website redesign or newsletter projects due that require I work late and in a quiet, after-hours atmosphere so I can think. If the work needs to get finished and I'm in a productive design groove I'm happy to stay late. I could also count my class and grad school work as overtime too. But for the most part, Real Life (rugby, friends, CivIII, sleep, eating) calls, and your cubicle is a prison and only a thing that allows you to pay the bills. With the job I'm currently in, I deliberately searched for a workplace that values personal time and life over a pretense of hard work. Here they frown upon those who stay late, and I love it. One woman leaves precisely at 4:30pm every day, and will linger only in the event of an emergency. You can find such places, they are out there, I can attest for it. By and large, the people in such environments are far happer, and more complete, than those slaves to the pretense of hard work.

But I noticed they fart a lot here too...maybe there's a connection between good bowel movement and lifestyle choice?

Posted by jimbo at 10:50 AM | Comments (10)

January 6, 2005

kiri the spamslayer

unedited, unshorn, uncouthThis picture just made me laugh:

So the new Blacklist spam-blocker installed on this Moveable Type content management system by herself (BTW: send her congrats for getting into art school in Toronto!) seems to be working. There was one last dying wheeze from SPAMkind which I smote with a few convenient clicks of the button. Beat you this time, fuckers. Don't ever let me catch you in a dark alley, I'll beat your ass into a pulp. There was some really nasty messages left on my comments by spammers, it was pretty disgusting.

In woofier news, so much to do next weekend. How shall I prioritize? Any of you bloggers coming to MAL this year?

After making a post-New Year attempt at working out at WSC, I think I'll be focusing my workouts on campus. For the next two weeks, it's the slow winter term anyway, so the campus is relatively quiet. Plus, there's less of a chance of me not making it to the gym if I go straight from work. In this dark, grey time of year here in DC, the urge to just go home and nap is nearly overwhelming. Sleepytime...

Dunner alerts us of the lack of ter'r alerts since November. Interesting, now that the elections are over, ain't it?

I'm at work right now. Some fucker just dropped a nasty fart just outside my office door. And I don't have windows. Gas chamber. Send help.

Posted by jimbo at 10:36 AM | Comments (7)

January 5, 2005

opening comments...

Your voice is returned...the gates are open! Sort of. Webmistress has installed Blacklist to MT, hopefully protecting it from the crazy avalanche of SPAM that was hitting me. So while the comments are open, they must be approved, so don't say anything unless you got something to say, cuz I gotta approve it and shit. Plus, use of HTML (links and such) will not be allowed for now. The SPAM would link to nasty porn site using HTML links, so no more of that. Give it a try. Hmm...let me think of something incendiary to say to give you a reason to comment:

- George Bush is a douche bag;
- I have not made any New Year's Resolutions;
- America (Mrrca, in Wspeak) is going insane;
- The Resolutionists are back in the gym, wandering around aimlessly until they decide to quit working out. Hopefully by February;
- I like had a Sex in the City workout/dinner with Gurl last night, who has been having conniptions cuz she hasn't been able to make sassy comments here on my blog. We think the DL brothers like to hang out at Fuddrucker's in "Chinatown". Gurl and I don't see much China in the Chinatown, however.

Josh The Conjecturer is a dreamy brown-eyed fox. And yet another hot LaCrosse boy, Mr. Djhinn.

Posted by jimbo at 9:12 AM | Comments (10)

January 4, 2005

john basedow is an emaciated freak

That Ryan Reynolds pic I posted yesterday in no way condones ripped abs, although they are nice. However, I'm equally happy with a cute woofable snugglable tummy as well. It is important to point out, however, that I would still gladly floss my teeth on the fur of Ryan's ripped abs.

Lots of talk about liposuction and self-image issues on blogs lately. Ripped abs are overrated and difficult to obtain. Do you really want to look like this freak of nature, or some cracked-out Tina whore? It is a highly unattainable ideal for most people. I always like to point out that the last time I had identifiable abs was when I was unemployed, depressed, and not eating very well. Now in that instance, were ripped abs necessarily a sign of good health? Now that I am happier with a salary and a regular diet, I'm a bit beefier than I was a few years ago. But in this case chunk means happiness for sure. Time to focus our energies on what's really important in the gay community: unshaven chests and marriage rights.

I deleted over 3,000 frikkin' SPAM messages and blocked 40 IP addresses yesterday. Then I opened the comments up again and set up MT to alert me of new comments. In the single minute I had the comments open, 5 SPAM messages came in so I closed it up again. I don't know what's up with that...it all started on the new year. I thought webmistress had already installed Blacklist, but apparently had not. So until then the comments must remain closed to prevent a deluge of shit into my comments area.

Went to visit Miss In Shaw the other day for some post-holiday cheer and yummy curry dish. Got to see the famed compost bin and the sloppy roomate. We've formed a sloppy/lazy roomate support group. Lately mine has taken to being up late and clomping up and down the stairs at all hours of the night. It took getting a new toilet to get the toilet cleaned too. I'm still lookin' for affordable alternatives...

It has been check-up time for me as well. On Monday I got my teeth cleaned, and today I got an eye checkup. I have a cavity that needs to be drilled next Monday. It would be nice to be drilled elsewhere before then, it's been an awful long dry spell. But MAL is coming soon!

Posted by jimbo at 11:12 AM | Comments (3)

January 3, 2005

the faces of meth

While I was in Oregon over the holiday break I came across an interesting article about a police officer in charge of mugshots who made a 'before/after' collection of meth offenders. Granted, many of these cases are extreme, showing open sores & sallow faces, but it can happen. He presents these photos to youth and rehab patients to show the effects crystal meth has on the body. Oregon suffers the highest numbers of meth-related deaths in the country.

From Steve: crystalmess.net, a San Francisco-based information clearinghouse on crystal meth and sources self- and group-help.

Posted by jimbo at 3:45 PM


my husband Ryan
I was right. RR DOES have chest fur! Examine the image closely, or go get a copy on the newsstand. Furrrrrrry. Cuteness.

Posted by jimbo at 11:47 AM | Comments (3)

January 1, 2005

closing time

I've discovered a HUGE amount of frikkin' SPAM in my comments area. Some of them are pretty crude and gross, and I apologize for that content. I'm doing what I can to prevent it, then afterwards comes the cleanup. For now, I'm sorry but the comments option will be closed. Click on the goldfish if you need to e-mail me.

I think the ability to comment in blog entries is one of the best features of blogging, allowing a dynamic environment for thought and discussion. Damn you Spammers, may you all suffocate under a pile of your own feces. I want a law that requires spammers to provide their address and contact info, that way...

I view blogs as sort of a bar or tavern. You can visit whatever blog you want and discuss and be entertained. Unruly visitors are kicked out (blocked) just as they would in any bar, through IP banning and blocking. If you don't have something nice to say, you're outta here. Same goes for anonymous commenters - y'all are sketchy. As for spammers, they go beyond the analogy of the rude uninvited guest. They are a horde of gibbering madmen coming into the bar through windows and back doors.

Anyhow, me and the gang had a nice dinner at Logan Tavern last night, and brought in the New Year in a very uncrowded and civil atmosphere, which was nice. I didn't get too drunk, but you wouldn't say that if you saw me riding my bike home at 1am with big balloons trailing behind me.

It's 75 degrees outside! A far cry from -16 in Wisconsin. I'm off for a bike ride on the Mall.

Posted by jimbo at 2:13 PM



Posted by jimbo at 1:46 AM