Man, I really wish we could nationalize a four day work week. The three day weekend would just be perfect. As it stands, the current two-day weekend sucks out loud. Just as I start to relax, the work week stress pulls me back in…
Here’s the breakdown of my oh-so-exciting weekend (hold onto your hats, kiddies!):
Friday: I went to the Saint Christopher’s Carnival. On the whole, it’s for little kids and families, but there are tons of cute dads running around. Some very hot looking guys. I went to high school with several of them. What the F’?! How did they get to be so F’ing cute?
I ran into Ron, a gay cop I know and we chatted for a while. He had been speaking with one of the women organizers and mentioned he would be doing security for San Jose Pride on Sunday. She thought it was “awful” and it was a good thing there were “no queers at the carnival.” Ron said, “except for the priests…” It really pissed her off. Good. Ron says he gets a lot of numbers from guys at the carnival. No word if they were priests…
We left early and went to a movie: “About a Boy.” I liked it, but spent 20 minutes this morning trying to remember what movie I saw this weekend. As one co-worker put it, “It couldn’t have been that good.” I guess not…
Saturday: I went to the gym and rode 15 hard miles [Keep your thoughts clean, kids], which is good for this wimp. Then I went to get my car washed…what a mistake. The guy taking my order at Classic Car Wash was terribly cute and thus, made me an easy mark for his sales pitch. I ended up going with the “Super Deluxe Complete Rip-Off Package.” It cost $100, took 45 minutes, and they couldn’t get the gum out of the carpet! How do you steam clean carpets and not get gum out?
Instead of waiting there for 45 minutes in the sun, I decided to walk across the street and get a Jamba Juice. As I was standing in line for a refreshing beverage, I realized that I had not showered yet and I stunk from my workout. Jamba Juice is a confined space. Do the math. I felt so uncomfortable… not to mention how grossed-out everyone else must have felt. It was not my finest hour… er, 45 minutes.
When I got back to CCW, they couldn’t find my keys, so I spent 15 minutes waiting for them to find them in the little Detail Shack where no one thought to look. I started looking around my shiny car and realized it wasn’t just shiny clean, but shimmering like it had been slathered in oil, which it pretty much had. They used Armor-All on the dash and it looked like they used about as much as one could without it dripping off onto the floormats.
Speaking of the floormats…
I looked down and realized I had no floor mats! I had just started onto the freeway, so I had to drive around, find a suitable exit and get back (approximate drive time: 15 minutes). They had put them in the very back of the truck, where I couldn’t see them. A nice waste of time.
I needed a nap… but I kept finding things to do throughout the day and never got one [Aww… poor Chris].
By the time I finally got my act together it was time for a couple of buddies and I to go to dinner and Lonestar. We ended up arriving at the bar around 11:00. Not a great time, but we did manage to have a few laughs. One poor buddy had to pee all night, but every time he tried to pee in those f’ing troughs, he got really pee-shy, so he’d come back really frustrated. He finally found the “Lonestar Lone Toilette” and was pretty happy (and relieved) the rest of the evening.
It seemed like the whole place knew each other. I began to wonder if we had crashed a private party. There were only a handful of lone guys standing around. I know how they felt, yet, never made an attempt to talk to them. (I’m such a bastard.) However, they weren’t interested in me, I watched who they were ogling, and it certainly wasn’t me.
At one point this guy sat down by us and I thought he looked familiar. It wasn’t until he left a minute later that I realized I had spoken to him a few weeks earlier. His name is Keith and he’s from Oakland. I felt like a total idiot for not remembering him (especially, since he’s cute). Chalk up another botched opportunity. I’m nothing if not consistent…
Then I saw JD. Aw, shit. He’s the cute guy that I never called. Actually, every time I would Instant Message (IM) him, he was rather curt, and I got the distinct impression that Shawn’s theory was correct: “There’s a difference in being attracted to someone and being attracted to them right now.” I wonder if I had the wrong idea all along and he was never interested at all, so I let it drop. Also, a guy I was IM’ing said he knew JD pretty well and he didn’t think he was very interested.
Anyhow, he didn’t notice me sitting in the corner totally stalking him. I was panicked that he’d come over; bummed that he didn’t even look in my direction. I never caught Keith’s eye, or I would have waived… or probably not. I couldn’t remember Keith’s name until I was taking a leak as we were about to leave. I was standing at the trough when his name popped into my head. “Keith!” I cried out as I peed. The guy next to me said, “I call mine ‘Monstro.’ Like the killer whale,” he smiled flopping his aptly named penis. I smiled, stared, zipped up and slowly backed away…
Sunday: San Jose Gay Pride. I maintain the sole purpose for Pride is those who are extremely proud of their bodies can remove their clothing and show off in front of those of us who are deeply ashamed of ours. That doesn’t stop me from going and staring. I mean, Christ, these people have spent an ungodly amount of time working out, not to mention abusing an unbelievable amount of steroids, to achieve these bodies—someone has to be there to appreciate the effort.
So many cute guys. It’s nice to know we have a lot of ‘lookers’ within the community. We also have a lot of freaks. Who knew there were that many nut-jobs with a fetish for grass skirts, leather Roman skirts, lace bodices, and an occasional Star Trek uniform (this IS Silicon Valley).
Only one of the Weather Girls was there to sing “It’s Raining Men.” I swear the Weather Girls must have a very busy June. The only song of theirs that is a hit was “…Men” and they seem to appear at every gay pride event to sing that f’ing song. They are probably forced to split up so they can cover events on both coasts.
Only two of the Pointer Sisters were able to show (were they pulling a “Weather Girls?”). I wonder how they handled singing “Family”? “We are family/I got ONE of my sisters with me…” I know San Jose is “competing” with San Francisco’s Pride Festival, but it just seems like San Jose’s festival so on the cheap. Maybe we should go in another direction… to specialize. Make it more Latin-oriented (there is a huge Mexican/American community in the valley), or Asian-oriented… heck, anything to make it special. As it stands, it’s so…wimpy. Feel free to think of something and e-mail me an idea. I’ll pass it on… or claim it as my own idea and take full credit, it all depends on my mood.
We left Pride early and went to lunch at the Tech and then hung out by the pool at Shawn’s complex. Then a late dinner at Original Joe’s (“Not affiliated with any other Joe’s”) It was a nice lazy Sunday… if only I didn’t have to go to work today, it would have been a perfect weekend. Yep, a three-day weekend is an idea whose time has definitely come…
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