'neath the stars twinkling high above

It was bound to happen. I always hoped it would, anyway. Still, it took me by surprise. I fell madly in love this weekend. No, not with a guy. And no, despite what some have asserted, not with a girl. Remember that unholy union between Apple and Nike that I'd mentioned a few months back? Well, the fruits of that corporate connubial bliss came to fruition in mid-July and I resisted the temptation of the forbidden for, oh, all of ten days or so. I had the Nano already, but I needed the transmitter, and of course the shoes. They had to make it so you MUST buy the shoes. So I did. I'm brainstorming a work-around on that though, so I can use my pathetic, non-compatible shoes, too. So far I'm thinking I can jury-rig something using a needle and thread, double-sided tape, some spit, and a bit of velcro. Sounds like a few dates I've had, actually. Anyway, this product OWNS. I've only used it three times, but it performed flawlessly and uploading workouts to the Nike site is seamless, as is Apple's way.There was a bit of a snafu early, as I was so excited to try it, that I failed to calibrate my unit (dirty!) first. I had read that it was unnecessary, but in my case it was. The first run results showed me much slower than I am. I haven't been working this hard for nothing. I'm fleet, bitches. Once I got the calibration done (a simple 400 on the track), it's been accurate and fun! You can set up workouts based on distance, time, calories burned or open-ended ones where you start and stop at your leisure. I did a 10K training run this morning and the device prompts into your earbuds with distance covered/remaining and gives you some words of encouragement near the end. Best and most surprising part? When I finished today, I was congratulated on my successful run by none other than Paula Radcliffe, world marathon record holder, in her comely British accent. Yay! Had I not finished the run in a very public venue, I surely would have caressed it then and there. What? No, I mean the Nano. As it was, I contented myself with cradling it on the warm-down walk home. Now I am talking about my cock.

You got soul, you got class, you got style, you bad-ass

There's only one guy that title lyric can refer to, right? Nick Lachey, people. He's big (of body and nose) and he's got pouty lips and he's got that Cincy kid frat boy lunkhead thing going on-- a trifecta in my book. He entertains me. Oh, not with his singing or, errrr, acting, but just with the way that he is. Like when he puts out an AlbumO named thusly:ReallyO, NickO? NoO. Or when he's the lamest pimp evah for a cover of Details:The only rational explanation is that he was being managed by Joe Simpson at the time. Can't you just hear Joe whining to Nick that all his other clients let him French them? I never love Nick more than when a burly Italian man is nestled into his armpit. And licking.Seriously, do a Google Image search of Nick sometime. You'll laugh and laugh. I swear that's how I found that last picture. I do not and have never frequented www.pitlickingguidos.com Whew. Nick. He's a man's man. Meat's MEAT. All kidding aside, he's edible hot and you know it.Oh, and he labors tirelessly but still he gets no respect. Underdog status only makes me love you more, buddy. You hang in there, G. What's left of you. Did you hear? He's living in a rusted out van down by the river, the poor dear.

If it's just a dream, it's good enough for me

Y'all know I'm a reality tv whore, so you'll excuse me if I objectify another of the genre's habitues. She's Rebecca, or Rebecc-er to the Phil-ophiles amongst us. She was chained to the unfortunately coiffured Adam on The Amazing Race, and now she's back on our tv in Bravo's Work Out. Yay! And she's solo this time. Well, except for the donkey-dicked boyfriend who, thus far, has only been alluded to. Damn. The season is young, though. ::crosses fingers:: If Jody Watley gets to see his cock, I feel I should get a peek. Does all this intrigue you, mon frere? Catch the show. It's set in a Beverly Hills penthouse gym and if you still haven't had your interest piqued, there's lots of queers. Anyway, back to Rebecc-er.The hair? Love. The smile? Love. The heart-shaped ass? Love. The only thing that might grow tiresome about her is her CONSTANT allusions to sex. ::wink:: I think she's just fun and cute as a button. And I'd definitely fuck her. Well, you know, that is if I wasn't such a big ol' homo. Oh, who am I kidding? I'd totally fuck her.And I swear that's not only because of this last confusing shot where she's a girl on top, but kind of a man as you go down. There's more to it than that.Sometimes PIE can be gender-bending, guys.

I'll settle for a cup of coffee, but you know what I really need

LOVE has done wonders for The Other Andrew's complexion, but let's be honest, it hasn't been great for his blog. Is that tough love? I've always wanted to employ that. Actually, I still heart his blog. I loiter daily. I peruse the archives for long lost gems. And this has all been an elaborate segue into co-opting his shit and dressing it as an homage. Are you ready for some Yays! and Boos!, people? This edition only covers my Tuesday morning. I'll preface this by noting that just now, when I pulled my socks up, there was an indented line on my legs where the elastic had been. Harsh reality time: guys bloat. Anyway, on with the shoe:

1. One of the women who works in my office returned from a 10-day cruise. She's refreshed, but she has retained her conversational habit of responding to even the most mundane statements with, "You are kidding me!" and "Are you serious?". BOO!

2. You've all heard of the fabled third nipple, of course (see Marky Mark). Well, I met a man this morning who will see your two nipples and raise you two. And these aren't "are they moles?" nipples, but rather quarter-scale, "developed enough to beg for licking" (not that I would as I am the consumate professional) nipples.YAY!

3. At one point mid-morning, I had a shapely woman's leg across my lap. And it wasn't attached to her at the time. YAY!

4. It smelled a little. BOO!

Lunch is over. We're split 50:50. Great batting average. Not so hot for free throws. I like to throw those sport references in just to keep the fags on their toes. I'll update the list as time and conditions warrant.

My psychic told me she have a ass like Serena

Baby got back. Shit. Serena got back, forth, and back again. I checked her out on Saturday as she made her tennis comeback at the small Tier 3 event here in Cincinnati. She hasn't played tournament tennis in about six months as she recovered from some injury or other. It was the first time I'd seen her LIVE and she is an imposing specimen. One of her thighs is like my waist. Her game? Rough. I realize she's gonna be rusty after all the time off, but now, as always, I question the limited coaching the Williams sisters employ (i.e. their father and mother). Serena has all the power she needs, but if you don't have control of it or some strategy or brains behind it, you ain't got shit. Just ask Bush. She sprayed forehands EVERYWHERE but in the court and went down easy to a young Russian, Vera Zvonareva. Zvonareva deserves a lot of credit, though. She's a tough player and produced some flawless tennis. Her first set unforced errors? Zero (and six total for the match). Serena's? 19 (and 34 total for the match). Don't get me wrong. I wish Serena only the best. I think her influence on US tennis has been overwhelmingly positive. I was also incredibly pleased at the diverse crowd she drew to the tennis center this weekend. I've been going to the men's tournament for at least ten years and this was a whole other group. Refreshing. And the two hilariously vocal ladies who shared my 1st row box were WAY more entertaining than the match. Even THEY could see that Serena was falling off her forehand. I would love to see her hire a former pro as a stroke and strategy doctor. Brad Gilbert? Martina? With all that said, if she can gain a little confidence and start hitting through her forehand, she'll be a threat at the US Open.

I always feel like somebody's watching me

What up, Kaysar! How's that for just getting right to it? If you are watching Big Brother All-Stars (and really, you should be) here in the good ol' U.S. of A., you can't help but be smitten by the Iraqi man with a (sometimes questionable) plan. Oh, the mistakes he's made playing Big Brother, but we just can't get enough of him. They voted him out of BB6. We voted him back in.Now he's on All-Stars and true to form, he's making us all second guess him once again. Dude, "Boogie" needs to be off my tv. Now. But there's no question about the look, K-Unit. These first few weeks with the tousled hair playing off the impeccably groomed beard? Works. Erika agrees. As does Danielle. Ditto Marcellas. What are you waitin' for, kids? MEAT is on the plate.SEHR HOT. Is it racist if I say I've always had a thing for Pakis and Iraqis? Still, Kaysar's not the HouseGuest I'd most like to make out with. That'd be Janelle. That's her holding his leash. And yes, still a big queer, but she OWNS me.

Pappa's got a brand new bag

It's not until September and details are non-existent, but I can't let the announcement of a new single from Robbie Williams (album to follow) go without mention. September is SO far away, though. RUDEBOX. Hot title, no?

link via towleroad

ADDED: Oooh, I was using a cute, flirty picture of Robbie with a random ho or two, but I had to switch it for this one. This is NOT her best side, but according to my pants, it's his. I have a longstanding girl crush on Gisele. Pair her with Robbie's cakes? It's like a gin and tonic--the perfect summer refreshment.

Get outta my way

I haven't posted in, like, forever, but it's PIE WEDNESDAY and I am feeling mad love for Kathy Griffin right now. I mean, she hung out with the Queer Eye guys last night, but more importantly....WAY MORE IMPORTANTLY, she bonded with my twink crush, Johnny Weir. Cracked me up when he said she skated like a liver sausage in a wig. Or when he said, "She needs more grace. She skates like a boy...or a monkey." God, he's fucking adorable, but this post is not about him. It's about Kathy.Adore her. J'adore her. I posted about my KG love after I saw her perform live here in beautiful downtown Dayton, Ohio, but my affection for her grows ever deeper. Duh-vine. Funny as hell. Social conscience. Great tits. Oh, and she's single again. I even love that she has an embezzling ex. But I don't revel in it or anything. I'm not that kind of creepy celeb worshiper. I'd marry her, though. If we're being totally honest, I'd fuck her, too. How's that for a flattering offer, ladies? A big queer will live with you in your 4 million dollar house and he'll even fuck you if you really want. C'mon, who could refuse? Have I mentioned her tits? Oh yeah.

I'm packing all the things that you need

I don't have it flickerized or itemized, but I couldn't resist joining the fun after seeing how freakgirl rolls. This is what I'm packin' guys. A lot, I know. My bag runneth over. 

I wanna feel you from the inside

Sometimes sexy is about what's in the head or what's in the heart. This week it's about what's in the pants. Specifically, what's in the suit pants. I had a hellacious week, people, and I don't care if these guys have deep thoughts. Or thoughts at all. I don't care if they have dreams. I just need them to be wearing something tailored. And I need them to be packin'. Don't judge me.I don't have names for these guys. Don't really care. It's Friday after all, and we don't call it MEAT for nothin'.There's more where these came from at menatplay. They are often at work, but I wouldn't go there if you are. I'd get further with the exposition, but I have to take care of a few things roughly.

And what I am needs no excuses!

 
OK, does this read as "gay" to you? Cuz that's what I'm going for. I've grown tired of equivocating.

P.S. I'm talking about my ensemble and not my waifishly thin arms, so save the comments on those, bitches. Also, I promise to stop the horrificly cheesy headless shots SOON. I'm about to make my break. Days, my peeps. Well, months worth of days, but days!

Oh, one more thing. The shot is really bad and I can't be bothered to put clothes back on to re-do, but notice how my toenails are still a lil' glossy from the pedi? 

Like a virgin, touched for the very first time

Apologies in advance, we have another skinny bitch this week. Get a load of Cate Blanchett, y'all. She's Wednesday's PIE and she is fabulous. If she never did another thing, she'd have my big gay undying admiration for her turn as Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen (watch the trailer), in the movie of the same name.How incredible was she in that? Well, she didn't stop there. Nope. She nabbed the plum role of Galadriel in the LOTR movies (who wouldn't have KILLED to be an elf in one of those?)(liar), and she rocked it. Anyway, she's the PIE because I watched Elizabeth again the other night and was transfixed. That is a great movie. By all means, catch it if you haven't. Especially if you're a big 'mo. Yeah, I can't figure exactly why, but it's one of those flicks, guys. It had been a while since I'd seen it, and I never realized that Daniel Craig (aka New Bond) was the assassin priest. That slow motion scene where he's stalking Lizzie and his clerical robes are flowing behind him? Schwing! {{Have I mentioned that I'm bringing "schwing" back?}} I also hadn't remembered that Christopher Eccleston was the Duke of Norfolk. Errrr...yum! {{You can't rush these things}} One role I did remember was Joseph Fiennes as Dudley. Hmmm. I guess it's not such a great mystery why this movie is gay iconic.Forget the boys, though, it's mostly because Cate is fabulous as the bastard turned monarch. And any queen who tosses off lines like "I will have one mistress here...and no master!" is gonna prick the queer ears. Follow that up with the pivotal transformation to the virgin scene and fuggedaboutit. We're frothy.And she's Aussie, yo. Hot.

One eye is taken for an eye

You can talk at me until you are blue in the face, but you will never convince me that people aren't affected by the phase of the moon. Especially the full moon. And especially crazy people.

How's your day going?

It's such a shame for us to part

I intentionally avoid loitering around You Tube because I know it would quickly become another time suck for me. It's stuff like this that does nothing to allay my fear. Ummm, Buffy's unaired pilot? Pull up a chair. God, I miss her so much.

Don't try to live your life in one day

I'm loathe to make one of those "no time to post" posts. After all, I had time to watch Dark Angel last night and time to pull one off after. No, no, I wasn't thinking of Jessica Alba when I yanked it. Well, maybe a little bit. I am extra busy this week, though. My "associate" is on vacation so I am one man doing the work of three. You knew he was the worker and I was the slacker, right? Despite all that, a few anniversaries rolled around this week. The blogging thing? Apparently I've been at it for about a year. I say "about" because there were a few hitches in the beginning. Like when I first realized someone was reading and I deleted everything. Eventually I put it back up and here it is a year later, and I'm still so fucking reticent to divulge lots of personal stuff. Dunno. I do think that I've made a little progress. Like lots of you know who I am, what I do, where I live, what I dream of. Change doesn't happen in a day. Well, it does, but it's the little things each day that add up. It's not castles and kings, it's the little things, my babies. It's been a year. I'm not sure there'll be another year. I LOVE these blogs, don't get me wrong, but what I really love is reading them, maybe leaving a pithy comment or two (often, tragically, trying to shift the spotlight to ME). For now, I can't express loudly or warmly enough what a treasure y'all have become to me. Some of the coolest people I know, I know through this lil' community. Is that sad? I think it's awesome.

Here's another anniversary I noticed last night. I've been doing the Fitday thing for four months now. Yes, yes, THAT again. I mention it only because it's been a boon to me and I if it can help someone else, what's a few extra lines on here? Just skim, bitch. Anyway, here's the chart of what's happened to my weight since I started. Yes, despite all that talk about abs from last year, I was steadily creeping up in weight. Now 188 on me is not bad at all. I'm 6'1", but I feel so much better now. My aim now is to gain five pounds or so, but preferably lean mass....some muscle, and if it's ass-centric muscle, the more the merrier. WAY more importantly than weight, though, is the Fitday has allowed me to track my nutrition stuff more closely. Make sure I'm getting all the nutrients I need. I decided when I started that if I had THAT down, the rest would be what it would be. And here again, each day is a brand new life. Nothing I can do about yesterday, but lots I can do about today. Little changes, most of them practically imperceptible, add up to a lot. But again, it's not about the outside, it's about taking care of the inside. Our insides are what really count, right? I almost kept a straight face on that one. Heh.Thanks to Kyle over at Freakgirl for pointing me to my boo.

The winner takes it all

I was so excited to watch Amelie Mauresmo come through and win the Wimbledon title this morning. She has always been a supremely talented player, but physicality isn't everything in tennis. A lot of the game is played in the head. She had a reputation for letting her nerves get the best of her. I rooted for her all the harder because of it. Sometimes when you want something so badly, you shake at the prospect of actually having it. Today, she dispelled that fear. It's true that she made her Grand Slam breakthrough in Australia in January, but she did so by default when Henin-Hardenne retired with a stomach ailment. Never mind that Mauresmo was comfortably in command. This one she had to play through to the end. She had to do what I imagine would be the most difficult thing in all of tennis-- serve for a Wimbledon Championship. She did it. She did it at 27. And she did it old school, serving and volleying more than any other player at the Championships this year, man or woman. Mazel tov to Mauresmo (my lesbo)!

Listen to the music of the night

From all indications, my neighbor's kid has taken up the electric guitar. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna drive a railroad spike through my left temporal lobe now.

Before I do that, I have more aural news to report. JT's new single makes me wanna move it. Thanks to Max for the heads up.

It's written in the stars

Although you might have been hard on yourself recently, now it's time to leave your value judgments behind. You have the ability to change your mind quickly when you receive information about the instability of a situation. Not only can you do an effective about-face (or at least a change of direction), but you also can surprise others with the suddenness and completeness of this shift.

I felt like sharing my horoscope for today because it suggests I have the strength to make the changes I need. It gives me hope. Plus, well, hard on.

A distant ship's smoke on the horizon

It's been a long time for most folks, but the absence of Six Feet Under is still fresh for me. Will I ever stop watching that last segment of the final episode? I know I promised to shutup about it. My excuse is that Peter Krause has been Emmy-nominated for his amazing performance as Nate Fisher. Well, the accolades continue unabated, because now he's the FRIDAY MEAT. The writing on SFU was awesome, but Krause wrung every emotion there is out of that role, didn't he? Nate was a complex character, a wild child who always tried to make everyone else happy. As played by Krause, you either wanted to hang out with him, or do him, or be him. Or, if you're like me, all three. I love all three of these pictures of him. The first one is from Sundance . Roll out of bed and throw on a toque is a GOOD look for him. The middle one is from SFU. I was always charmed by his interaction with the girl(s) who played his TV daughter. And he just looks so J.Crew scrubbed clean All-American in this last one. Plus, I mean, he supports the Komen Foundation, too? Dreamy. On a personal tangent, I vowed that I'd never run a marathon again (SO time consuming, yo), but I've lately been considering a run to raise money for Komen, so don't be surprised if I hit you up. NOTE: The title lyric (you know ALL the titles are lyrics, right?) is from Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb. NARM!

What kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay?

Father's Day had me thinking about whether I'll ever have children. I think I already mentioned a striking moment that occurred last year. I was holding my youngest niece, she was a year old at the time, when my father was asked how many grandchildren he had. He responded, pointing to the babe in my arms, "She's the seventh, and last." Threw me. Hard. I can't really argue with the point, but it struck me that he was not expecting kids from me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not even sure I want them. I wonder what kind of father I'd be. I also wonder what kind of father would turn his kid out for being gay. The title lyric from Pink (admittedly, I'm not normally a fan of the Pink/pink) is directed toward Bush. The line that precedes it is "What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away?" Good questions, both. Who does that? Forget everything else he's done for a second. What does that say about this father of two daughters? The beautiful picture above really drives that point home, doesn't it? It's an ad for an important resource, The Ali Fortney Center, in New York, which provides care and shelter to GLBT youth who are turned out by their families. It seems that this is a problem on the upswing because more kids are coming out sooner, often to negative result. Are there organizations like this one in most major cities?That's youth, but there are new resources for the other end of a big queer's life, too. Gay retirement communities! How fun does that sound? I'm guessing they might get a lot of straight people who would want to live there, too. I can see the hags lining up now. RainbowVision (hee!) is in Santa Fe and had its grand opening in June. They have some sweet condos and townhomes, a cabaret (of course!), theaters and restaurants and all the amenities a geriatric fag could want. Better yet is that they are building one in Palm Springs, y'all.

ADDED: As the day has worn on, the man above has morphed into my big, black sex cop and he's holding our adopted son. OK, I'm hopeless. Fucking sue me. Oh, and I felt the need to include the other ad from the Ali Fortney Center site, because it's just too beautiful not to.

Gimme the truth, even if it hurts me

I caught a couple movies this weekend. Superman Returns? I thought it was excellent. Brandon Routh was spot on. The special effects were phenomenal. The airliner scene alone is worth the price of admission. They laid out hundreds of millions on this one and it shows on the screen. I give it an enthusiastic recommendation as one of the better, but certainly not the best, of the recent crop of comics inspired movies. Oh, and it has Parker Posey in it, so how bad can it be? Don't answer that.The movie that I not only recommend, but that I NEED you to see is An Inconvenient Truth. This is a riveting documentary and if you're at all like me, you think you have a handle on global warming, but you probably don't. You NEED to see this film, guys. Is that sounding condescending or preachy? If so, I apologize in advance, but this is way more CRISIS LEVEL and IMMINENT than I had imagined. It's not just Al Gore saying so. It's basically every scientist knowledgable in this field saying so. The only people denying it are people whose salary depends on it being denied. It may not mean catastrophe in my lifetime, but I care about my nieces and nephews leading a full life and it looks like that's not a given. And that's not an exaggeration. Dudes, I'm not prone to being sucked in by propaganda or scare tactics. And though I do admit that I tend to like my men wooden, Al Gore is NOT all that. If you think I might have been taken, please see it and then show me the error of my ways. If you already know all this, I hope you are doing something to make a change. I've started today. I am gonna work as hard as I can to stay frightened and aware and make real changes in my own life to make a difference. It's not all gloom and doom in the movie, either. It seems like the world is waking up to this crisis. The Kyoto Protocol, which seeks to reduce greenhouse gases, has been ratified by all the industrial nations, except two. The U.S. and Australia. Shame. And it's no surprise that the US is BY FAR the largest contributor of carbon into the environment. I've added an easy sidebar link to a site that shows you what you can do NOW to make a real change. Start by seeing the movie, OK?

What kind of girl do you take me for?

I know I'll have at least one detractor, but this week's PIE is HAWT, y'all! But be reminded, the PIE is not really about the pretty or even the sexy, although Miss Nelly does epitomize a quality that I most enjoy in women, namely, manliness. One of my friends said he first knew I was gay when I waxed rhapsodic about Penelope Cruz. The main reason Nelly is wearing the banner this week is that her new CD, Loose, which I picked up old school-stizz, aggravatingly shrink-wrapped from a real live store, is the SHIT. Oh, I just realized. You know when I say Nelly, I mean Furtado, right?That boy rapper with the verchacta Band-aid is so nancy, but so not the PIE. Anyway, loving Miss Furtado's album. Loving everything about it. Thinking of being it for Halloween. (Holla, Jack! ::sigh:: I miss Will and Grace.) I profess my love despite the fact that I'm not a huge fan of every damn song needing a guest rapper intro/bridge/outro, and La Furtado certainly suffers from an acute case of that malady. And then there is this lil' snippet where Nelly takes hold of the rap reigns herself in the mega-hit, Promiscuous:

Roses are red
Some diamonds are blue
Chivalry is dead
But you're still kinda cute

Ummm, sometimes things are so, so bad that they loop back around to good, you know? Like Richard Simmons is one anklet away from being straight? Similar phenomenon. LOVE. IT. And her. Grab a fork, kids.

A little shy and sad of eye

It hasn't really been a long holiday weekend for moi, but it had that "shoulda been" feeling to it. I worked a half day on Saturday and a full day on Monday, then had Tuesday off. I feel off kilter. Yesterday had a definite Sunday vibe about it, only where was the thick paper? Where was that vestigial pang of guilt about skipping church for something like ten years running? Where was the pre-shower manscape and whank? Oh wait. That last part was just like Sunday. Only the shaving part was just a touch-up since it'd only been two days since Sunday. But hey, that meant extended whank time. PS? My toes, even curled (especially curled?), still looked fab from the pedi.

What there was of my holiday emphasized the relaxing. Some good friends have a lake house nearby and I spent most of Saturday and Sunday lounging around on their deck, mixed in with a little time on their boat and jet skis (FYI: in Russian, they are "jetskis"). We had a nice relaxing time there. Good food, good friends, benign conversation. When I wasn't there, it seemed like I was running, Forrest-style. I did 4.5 miles on Friday, 5.5 miles on Sunday and 6 miles Tuesday morning. The pace? Brisk. The feeling? Effortless. Those kind of runs crop up every once in a great while and when they do, they are to be savored. If you're a runner, you get that. The run yesterday was at 7.5 minutes/mile pace, normally an effort for me, and it felt like I could go forever. Two of these holiday runs were on an old canal towpath that connects my little burg to the next one. It looks exactly like this:Does it get more patently rural Midwest than that? On the Sunday morning run, I never saw another soul, save the rabbits and herons and groundhogs and bullfrogs, along the entire path. Bliss. Part of the credit for the effortless runs has gotta be the shoes. Holla, Mars! I just picked up the Nike Air Max 360s and I am truly, madly, deeply in love with them.I know there are serious runners who sneer at Nike, but those are the same people who sneer at Starbucks and Microsoft and every other ginormous corporation. Didn't you get the memo? Being knee-jerk anti-establishment is SO passe'. Anyway, I have a narrow foot (though long, size 11, and you know what they say about men with big feet) and Nike running shoes tend to run narrow. They fit me snug (aka like a dream). And with the full length Max Air sole, they are like running on clouds. Bonus is that I got them for a steal on eBay. Oh, and they're blue, my fave. ::sighs contentedly:: Now if I can just resist buying those Nike iTunes shoes when they come 'round.

Whose broad stripes and bright stars

I hope the U.S. Americans amongst you had a wonderful holiday weekend, celebrating the Independence Day by mixing explosive fireworks and copious alcohol, as is tradition. Me? I love a QUEEN, so I've always had mixed feelings about the day. This does make one wish to wrap onself in the flag though:Thanks for the photo goes to one of my fave gay Buddhists from Down Under, Bodhi. Do you find it odd that I love more than one gay Buddhist from Down Under? I don't either.