Monday, April 25, 2005

Why naked mole rats?

If you've never seen one, you must.

A naked mole rat is basically a burrowing rat about three to four inches in length, but what makes them "cute" is the fact that they have no fur. These little guys and their wrinkled flesh colored skin make them cute as can least in an oddly-cute-as-can-be way.

If you want to see a picture of one, you can click right here to see these little guys in all of their nekkid glory:

This weekend, I did a typical "gay-thing"...

...that's right, I shaved it..."the region".

Now, I've done this a few times before, but it's been awhile. Normally a trim is all it takes to make me feel that I can live up to my promiscuous potential.

However, spending the whole day in the house on Saturday, I got carried away and turned my Sherman Hemsley into my own naked mole rat.

Once the process had begun, there was no turning back.

The electric trimmer got a work out and at the end of the process I stood there gawking at the rebirth of "my little friend".

Am I pleased with the result? Well, the jury is still out.

The bigger question is, "Will others enjoy my new pet?"

In gay culture, a shaved woo-woo is commonplace. I never fully understood why. I assume it's so the cock-ring doesn't get caught in the weeds. I, however, have never worn the "band around the boys" because I'm afraid of the choke-hold. Maybe now is the time I tried it?

If only I had a willing candidate to recieve the fury a cock-ring would unleash.

Beny seems rather disinterested. In fact, I could probably tatoo the sinking of the Titanic on my scholng and Beny wouldn't even try to save any of the passengers.

Then there's Franky. Beny's evil twin in Tampa that I'm dying to fornicate with, hopefully in the next month or two.

Why temptation?

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Why is a Chihuahua not a kid?

The obvious answer: um, hello? But, I'm not that much of a moron. Give me credit. Read on.

I'm talking about the fact that my dog had some allergic reaction to his bath shampoo and kept me up all night (the night before last) scratching and barking. My poor Chopstick was going nuts, baby! He was covered in little itchy welts and at 2:30am, I mustered all of the compassion that I could and plopped my lard ass on the sofa to sleep with him (and attempted to keep him from scratching himself).

So, I arrive at working thinking to myself, "Hmmm...the dog's sick. That sounds like a good opportunity for me to get the hell out of my dead-end least for the afternoon."

I called the Vet and secured a 3:30pm appointment. Perfect. I could leave at 2:30pm-2:45pm and attend to my little baby.

Apparently, dogs aren't seen as dependants where I work. I was denied my "get out of jail free" card by my 'superiors' (and I use the term very losely.)

One of the other Secretaries needed to leave at 3pm to attend her son's baseball game, and her early departure was pre-approved.

What's the big deal, right? She asked first and should be able to leave, right?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

I'm a fag. I don't have kids. I'm not allowed to adopt kids. I'm doing the sex-thing completely wrong and am not creating kids. I don't have kids that play baseball. I don't have kids that get sick.

What I DO have is a sick Chihuahua and burgening desire to leave work early.

My Chihuahua IS MY KID!

While the other co-workers' leave early to attend to their toddlers, gay guys and single girls are left to take up the slack...regardless of their sick puppy, or not.

To this, I say bullshit.

Just one more reason to hate my job.

Why double standards?