So it's Tuesday

Gosh I have a sore back, which is unusual for me, I never have back aches. Shane says it's from too much lying around, which is probably true. Even yesterday, when I staggered back from Cocos, after lunch, it was time to give in, brush off the Will & Grace cd's and just stop.

I don't think I want to "party" for two nights in a row any more. It takes too long to feel normal again. What did I used to do? Go to work ratty, I guess.

So, it's Tuesday, huh? Tuesday? And feeling almost normal, again. Tuesday?

Friday night was around the pool table. He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned (I guess, if I keep mentioning him, it goes against his express wishes, even if I call him something else) was there.

My ex was there, which was one of the reasons I was out. The first time I headed over to him he was getting his cock sucked by some guy, at one of the bar tables. It was a momentary awkward moment, I kind of reversed up and spun my back, all in the one movement. Yeah, good on ya, I thought. He was really drunk.

Bruno was there, with his usual boy-band posse. Where the hell does he get them from? I reckon he has some kind of gay-boy creation machine. All perfectly put together, all handsome, all packing their jeans, all young, all really friendly and personable. He always has two or three in tow.

Of course, Bruno has a big carrot he dangles - no, not that kind of carrot... although, from all reports, Maltese. Let's just say, he is a friend of Guidos.

Saturday night we stayed in and smoked the peace pipe. Sebastian and his boyfriend Nick came over after restaurants closed. Sebastian with all the jokes, jokes for every thing and Nick, with... Ah Nick. Drool, slobber, slobber.

It's wrong to hit on friends boyfriends... isn't it? Tell me again. Yes, it's wrong, very wrong. Now, tell me why, again?

It's funny, some time back, when David (and I) had made my case to Luksmir for my Nick to appear and the very next day (Sebastian's) Nick turned up for one reason or another, kind of out of the blue. I said to David, Nick's here. He just agreed, not putting the two together. I, naturally, took it as a sign.

Nick's perfect for me. He looks, a little, like my ex Lauri, when we first started going out. He looks Italian, but, apparently, is Greek. He's cute, smart, sexy, funny... perfect really.

One day you will be mine! Bwahahahaha!

Then, after that, it got to 4am to bed, midday awake, the days passed, the nights were long. Sunday was crash and burn. Monday was, a little groggy granny dear. The shift work schedule taking it's toll until here I am, Tuesday, my mind has re-entered my body... finally. Lovely.

Now, I have to go take my mum shopping. She'll ask me if I had a nice time in the country.

"Yes mum, very relaxing."

 

Good Morning World

I love sitting in the morning sun with my coffee and my cigarette and, more often than not, Missy curled by my feet. It's like the pit stop between wake and sleep. I watch my cigarette's smoke float up blue, in the morning air. When the wind isn't blowing, it builds wrought iron lattice work to the sky. When the wind is blowing, it streams off like blown from a turbine engine.

I curl my toes to warm them on the cold paving. I close my eyes and watch the sun dance inside my eyelids, orange.

Paul Newman making smoking look sexy

Paul Newman's blue eyes

Paul Newman & Joanne Woodward

Boys Night Out

We were all out together, celebrating a friend’s birthday. Max was there with Stella and George - fraternal twins Max has under his spell, you gotta hand it to him. Even, he who shall not be mentioned, was there.

We’d danced. We’d drank. We’d laughed. At around 2am, I wanted to leave. The others had left earlier, somehow I felt free as a bird - what are those initials, N.W.M. So I stayed out late on a puff of T, maybe a few puffs and I picked up a drunk straight boy, Andre, a friend in my group of friends. I had a vague thought about Club 80, but, kind of knew, once I got home and had a j, I wouldn’t venture out again.

Andre and I knew each other kind of well. It was only because of locality that we were thrust together; he lives in Carlton, we decided to share a taxi.

Andre’s cute, sexy really. Strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, athletic, lean, muscular. He had on an akubra and a black singlet. His face was in shadow under the peak, as he smiled at me bleary-eyed in the back of the taxi. We’d all done d's, we were messy.

He used to smile when I checked out his sizeable bulge on the dance floor; dance away, float on the music. Turn back and smile despite himself. He's got solid thighs that fame a bulge worth looking at.

“What are you like, drunk,” I said. He looked so funny, eyes half closed, grinning, flushed red, sweating.

He laughed. “I become a bit of an exhibitionist,” he said. He’d misunderstood the question, but the answer was interesting.

Andre was one of the fringe straight boys of our group. He’d started off as a school buddy of one of the gay boys. He screwed one of our girlfriends’, for a time. A Greek girl, before she headed back to the homeland for good, never to be seen again. They’d had an on again off again relationship, which lasted long enough for Andre to endear himself into our group without too many problems.

He looked sexy.

“Do drugs make you horny?” I asked. My confidence was up.

He smiled self consciously and pushed down on his lap, subconsciously, and laughed. “All I need now is a joint and he’d be talking to me.” He looked down at his crotch, then looked back at me and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, you know what I mean.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve got pot.” Sexy, I thought

"Sweet."

The taxi stopped in front of my place. Andre gave the taxi driver a bunch of notes and then got out with me. The taxi drove away.

I looked through my keys, more by feel than by sight. It was dark.

"So, is this what it's like?"

"What?" I said. I flicked the keys through my fingers, not really concentrating on Andre.

"To pick up another guy," said Andre. "Take him home. Get to his place."

I found my key.

"The anticipation?"

I headed to the gate. "Usually, we'd be stealing looks at each other, at this stage." I looked back "You know, make sure you picked right." I took him in with a long gaze. "Weren't too drunk, too out of it, made do." My face creased into a smile. The night air was cool. "Point of no return."

I pushed the gate, it squeaked. The hibiscus stroked the top of my head. "Duck," I whispered. The sensor light didn't come on. Must have been turned off. Most likely by me. I stepped to the door and dropped my keys, just as I went to push them into the lock.

"Fuck," I said.

"Dropped your keys, mate?" Andre slurred. Then he giggled that drunk boy giggle.

My fingers caught the ring of metal, by my foot. The front door key has a plastic trim thing, just for such occasions. It's fatter and curvy. I held it tight between my fingers.

Just one lamp was on, the orange rock lamp, giving the room a dark, confined feel. The fire was still burning. I threw some more wood on, some smaller bits to make it burn. I got the mull bowl and sat down with it on the big couch. Andre was unsteady on his feet. He stood in front of the fire, naturally.

"So the big gay house, hey?" Andre took his hat off, his hair was messy, longer than it normally was. It still looked good on him. He chewed gum seriously.

"The big gay house," he said.

I reached for cigarettes. "I haven't heard it referred to as that for a while." The (ex)party house still had a reputation in some parts. I licked the edge of the cigarette and it fell apart.

"All you guys were out tonight," said Andre. "That's a rarity."

"David wasn't there."

Rarity? I didn't think that was true. I pulled a bud from the bag. Shane was out more, than David or me, but we were out often enough. "All toey, I guess," I said. I looked up, as I started to grind the mix, gazing at Andre's jeans. Sliding my eyes to Andre's face.

He smiled, as he spoke, "Shane picked up."

"No, ate out." I smiled back. The mix was done, I put the grinder down.

"Is Shane home?"

"Maybe?" I picked one of Shane's old business cards and the red scissors. "He said he wasn't coming home. Staying with a friend." I cut a narrow strip from the end of the business card. "Maybe?" I rolled the thin strip of card up and slid it into the rolling machine.

Andre's eyes were half closed. He bounced on the balls of his feet. Click. A perfectly cylindrical joint rolled out of the top of the rolling machine.

"Sure wish I picked up, speaking of toey." He rubbed his hands down his thighs, as though he was too nervous to rub anywhere else.

I handed him the joint in one hand and a lighter in the other.

"I've got porn. David's not home. I can tell you he'd love you to jack off in his bed."

Andre lit the joint and inhaled deeply. He inhaled a second time. Held it. Looked in pain. Breathed in again.

"That's the best offer." He exhaled in a balloon of smoke. "I've had all night," said Andre. He sucked on the joint twice more, before he handed it back to me.

He rotated in front of the fire. Nice chunky arse, his jeans fitted him well. Well defined crack up the middle. A hand for each.

"Relieve the tension," I said.

Both his hands slid in front of him.

"Guys who don't jack off are like girls on the rag. They get moody and bitchy," said Andre. "I know I do, if it's been a few days."

He squeezed his shoulders together and pushed his arms straight gown in front of him and stretched his back.

"Gay or straight," I said.

He rotated back to face me, clasping his hands behind him.

"If you say you don't wank you're a liar," said Andre. "A fool if you say that you do."

I could see his cock out to the left in the front of his pants. I realised I was staring, I shook my head and looked away.

I looked up and took his gaze. "Why? Because somebody will want to touch it?" I said.

He slid his hands in front of him, intertwining his fingers.

"I can't imagine any dude who does not masturbate." He pushed his hands against the front of his jeans. "I don't care how much sex they get, guys are still going do it, cause there is something special about jerking off." said Andre. "You can totally control the pleasure, you can fantasize about that dude you saw at the mall, or that babe you want to fuck, whatever. It's just a major part of EVERY guys sex life." He smiled. "I mean why the hell would anyone deprive themselves of man's greatest pastime?"

He had a big, sexy grin on his face. I was getting turned on. I wanted to say, go on then... and then just gaze as he talked.

I handed him the joint. I'm sure the bulge in his pants was getting bigger, as he took the joint. It was probably my messed up imagination. He put the smoke to his lips and looked down his front, as he inhaled. He leant back against the mantle piece and exhaled the smoke towards the ceiling. I lay back in the couch. His jeans were definitely fuller. He watched me gazing at his crotch, with that flushed, expectant look on his face. Fixed gaze, just his lips sucking.

He handed the joint back to me.

"So, what now?" he said in a husky voice. He cleared his throat, holding my gaze.

I shrugged, lazily. A question that didn't, really, need to be answered.

He held the joint out to me. I took it and dragged hard and lay my head against the back of the couch. "I dunno. I'm fucked."

My neck felt good, all of a sudden, with the weight of my head taken away. My neck suddenly felt like it had been seized up, for hours. I stretched it from side to side. I could have just closed my eyes and drifted off. My peripheral vision had faded to black. Just the lamp and the open fire, the light in the room was yellow. I was floating.

"I guess you want to have sex with me," slurred Andre. "Do you want to have sex?"

I nearly laughed. Kind of a nervous reaction. I stuffed the joint into my mouth and drew in long and hard, as nervous eyes darted from me to the floor, where they stayed. I gave myself time to digest what Andre had just said. I didn't know what to say. It seemed like such a cliché. My eyesight was blurred. There were three Andre's lined up neatly across the mantelpiece, all gazing down at their feet. Of course, there were three mantelpieces and three walls and three rooms... more worlds. I shook my head. I closed my eyes. I must have imagined it, surely? Did he really say that?

There was silence until Andre spoke of how he loved the music, Costes, la suite.

We did more, Andre had them. It was my suggestion. We crashed soon after, we didn't need them. Piggy and piggy.

Three-Ways

I've been on the internet, trying to pick up a boy for a quicky. Why not? David's gone to Sydney for Dog Pen Pound Megafist, or whatever the hell it's called? It turns my stomach, just quietly. I can't even watch it as porn. Just not my thing.

What ever happened to kissing and cuddling, I ask you?

I've got the house to myself. But, the only offers I've had have been from three couples, none of who are very far away. Two of them are kind of cute. But...

Shane's mouth dropped open the other night, when I told him that I haven't had a three-way since Mark and Lauri.

(I guess it is a right of passage for gay boys)

"What?" Incredulous look. "None at all? Not one?"

"Nah, none," I said. "Just haven't been up for it."

I've never been able to face them, since. I've not been interested. Even though, I loved every minute - well, nearly - of my four year three way relationship. I wouldn't change any of it. But, clearly, there is something that I'm not facing.

Manny was up for it - sexy boy, I miss him. What kind of idiot am I? Manny would suggest going to the sauna to pick up Italian boys. "They're real easy," Manny would say. "Italian boys are big sluts!" Big grin. A hot Greek boy and a sexy Italian boy, I'd have been in pig heaven.

"Think of their cocks," Manny would say.

But no. Not that I ever had a huge and scary issue about it, I've just lost the enthusiasm for it. Still don't have it. The idea just leaves me blank, is the best way I can describe it.

I could have therapy, I guess. Everybody is doing it.

Not Something I Saw Coming

I'm reading the newspaper to be some what surprised that Steve Fielding has backed the abortion bill. He's quite progressive, or at least, tends to occupy that policy area that Labour once occupied but has now abandoned. I hate to say it, especially, about a Christian, but, I tend to agree, more often than not, with what he says. (kill me now!) Now that Labour has become the Liberal party, I guess something like this was bound to happen. Not something I saw coming, though. Who'd have thought that a Christian could become more progressive. (is it a trick?) My God, I'll be voting for him next.

Calling

My new phone is nice. It's nothing special, like an iPhone, or anything that exotic. It's just a Nokia, 6500. But, it's nicely weighted - it feels like something. Has some substance to it, feels solid. Feels good in my hand. (sounds like I'm talking about something else) It's nice getting back to basic black - goes with everything - after having to have a certain amount of colour on my last two phones. Really, it's just like my old phone, but does everything a bit more slickly. It's good, I like it. Not that I needed a new phone, but, I guess, it's nice to have one, anyway.

Most of my friends have emailed their details to me. Word seemed to get out, after I asked a couple of people for their numbers. Then everyone seemed to email me with all their numbers, some of which - like home numbers and work numbers - I didn't have before.

What I have lost, is all the guy's numbers I had. Don't get me wrong, my phone was no little black book, but there were certain numbers and certain boys I'd call up from time to time for a bit of R & R. I have lost them, my only contact detail was their mobile number. Simon. Eugene. Steve. Jack. I guess they will call me eventually, maybe. Otherwise, it will be if I bump into them. I don't know anything else about them - surname, address, work, nothing. It never seemed all that relevant. We only ever hooked up for one thing.

You Taste Good

No Dick Policy

I was just thinking about my no dick policy, for my photos. Of course, I have broken it on occasions, but generally... Okay, review complete, the cover up stays. I just think it is so much sexier to leave a little something to the imagination. Don't you?

It's just in these days of more conservative moral judgements, nudity has all but come a dirty word. We've all become so prudish. I even heard someone say on TV, the other day, "Am I allowed to say crotch on TV." Sad, but true.

Maybe, in these more conservative times, we need more nudity. The human body is beautiful, don't feel ashamed. Maybe, I should just go ahead and post full nudity every day, as a backlash against spiralling conservative moralism?

Nah. I don't reckon. Leave them panting for a little more, that's what I think.

A thought sometime later...

What is the difference between someone's elbow, breast, penis or ankle, essentially nothing. They are all simply a part of our anatomy. And thank the universe we are all different enough to have fetishes about each of them. 

Virgo - I think I'm pretty much on track

Mars and Mercury are sitting near each other in the zodiac for much longer than they normally would because Mercury, your ruler, is effectively standing still. It's as if something within you is getting ready to make a once-in-a-lifetime bid to escape a stale situation and to find some way to do more of what you have always believed you should be doing with your life. That's not all going to start happening today, but each new drama and development is taking you closer to such a time in the not-so-distant future.

Bloody Phone

I lost my phone last night. Grrr! I've never misplaced my phone, let alone lost it. I went out for dinner with all of my old girlfriends to a restaurant in Brighton. I had on camouflage pants with shallow pockets and it must have just slipped out in the taxi. I, actually, felt my cigarettes slip out of my pocket, at one stage and I retrieved them. So, why didn't I feel the phone go? Grrr! Again! Grrr!

I called the taxi company, who were of moderate help. Silver Top were okay, but Black were useless. Their policy is that the drivers hand them into any police station, anywhere. In other words, they don't want to know and they don't care. The trouble is that as the girls were booking a taxi at the restaurant, clever me hailed one in the street. I was outside having a smoke, it wasn't that hard. So, therefore we don't, actually, know what taxi company taxi we were in.

I don't even use my phone that much, but I went to call two people this morning, as we are heading up to Bolago for the day, but, of course, I don't know anybodies phone numbers, they are all in my phone. Grrr!

Out With My Ex

Shane and I went to Sircuit to meet up with my ex-boyfriend Lauri, who is in town for a couple of weeks. As we walked into the bar there was a drag show on.

"Drag?" I said to Shane. "You've got to be kidding." I stood on the spot, just inside the door.

"Come on," said Shane.

"Don't know if I want to."

Lauri suddenly appeared laughing. I knew he was laughing at the drag, he didn't need to tell me.

I'm sorry, but I've never understood the attraction for men who are attracted to men, and masculine things, of men dressed up in a dress to look like woman. Clearly, I don't have that gene.

We got beers and watched the bad drag, pulling it to pieces... well, we're still acidic queens deep down, even if we deny it.

"Why is it that it is always the big, fat ones who want to be drag queens?" I asked. "Why isn't ever the small, petite ones?"

Lauri laughed. "That's so true."

Dale bought over three jugs of beer. Lauri and I looked wide-eyed at the amount of beer before us. Dale patted us on the shoulder and kept going, as Dale does.

"You know, ever since I saw Paul Capsis sing archipella, in harmony with two other drags, in Sydney that Mardi Gras," I said. I closed my eyes and heard those angels. "Any drag queen who doesn't use her own voice to sing, leaves me thinking it's amateur hour."

"I know, it's a cop out," said Lauri. "Very nineteen seventies."

The spot light swung on to us. "Hi, what's your name?" the drag queen asked Lauri, shoving a mic in his face. We hadn't noticed the drag queen, who was on the floor working the audience, walk up to us.

"Lauri," said Lauri. Big smile, Lauri doesn't mind attention. Loves it, in fact.

"Are you doin' him?" asked the baritone voice, of me.

I looked at Lauri's beaming face looking at me. "Not any more," I said. Still handsome, I thought. I'd still have sex with you. I hadn't thought that in years, but, I'd not been asked that in years."

"Boyfriends," Lauri offered.

"Used to," I said.

"Ex's," Lauri said.

"Is he any good?" the drag queen asked me with a flick of her head towards Lauri.

Is he any good? I thought back to staring into his eyes and kissing him for hours. I remembered the drunk chick at The Albury, that Sunday night after Mardi Gras, when Lauri and I were dancing wrapped in each other's arms, who slurred in our ears, You two are too beautiful together. Big grin. I bet you'd be amazing to watch? Lecherous look. I thought about nearly not seeing Mykonos at all, when we didn't leave our cabin for 4 days out of the week we were there. I thought of the parties, the years, the loving, the fun... we had SO much fun.

I caught Lauri's gaze, "Yeah, real good."

He smiled back with those loving eyes of old.

I rubbed his head.

He hugged me tight.

 

Senator Guy Barnett

Tasmanian Liberal Senator Guy Barnett had intended to move a motion in the Senate on Tuesday to outlaw Medicare funding for abortions between 16 and 24 weeks.

However, the government and opposition agreed to send the motion off to be examined by a committee, delaying a conscience vote on it.

Senator Barnett welcomed the committee's involvement, saying it would help get more facts on the table.

"I intend to reintroduce my motion to disallow Medicare funding following the report of the Senate committee," he said.

Senator Barnett encouraged people to express their views to the Senate committee.

"It is important that the voice of the many Australians who are deeply concerned about this issue is heard."

Now, why would he do this? A concern for woman's health. A matter of physical policy? Or even, matching the outdated law to what happens in real life. I don't think so. Let's look, shall we...

Senator Guy Barnett's extremist religious views

Posted August 22nd, 2006

He’s only been a senator since 2002. But Guy Barnett is now one of the most visible backbenchers in the Australian government, and is widely regarded as a strong ministerial contender.

How did he climb so far, so fast?

Since he entered public life in 1994, arguing against decriminalisation of homosexuality in Tasmania, Guy Barnett’s main claim to fame has been the heterosexuals-only Marriage Act of 2004, which he recently followed up by organising for the ACT same-sex civil unions legislation to be crushed from above.

Parliamentary Convenor of the August 2006 ‘Australian Christian Heritage’ National Forum, Barnett’s interpretation of his Baptist faith brings a very particular emphasis to his political activism.

Greens Senator Sarah Hanson-Young said the motion would make it harder for women to access safe, equitable and legal late-term pregnancy terminations.

"Withdrawing Medicare funding for second-trimester terminations will not only affect women from economically disadvantaged backgrounds, but could also force women to have even later terminations, after being forced to cover the gap, as well as the original fee," Senator Hanson-Young said.

"Women have fought long and hard to be able to make decisions about their health and well being, and the Greens will not be supporting any attempt to turn back the clock on women's reproductive rights."

www.bewareofthegod.com presents the fifth in Chloe Martin’s essential series of Public Information Sheets: Know Your Politician: The Hon Senator Guy Barnett.

Please! DOWNLOAD the PDF and send to friends. A Liberal senator will push ahead with his plan to end Medicare funding for late-term abortions, no matter what the outcome of a parliamentary inquiry into the issue.

Be under no illusion, Senator Guy Barnett is taking a stand against abortion funding to maintain his own Christian views. It has nothing to do with woman or woman's health. He is holding every woman, in Australia, to ransom in 2008 because he chooses to believe in 2000 year old mythical ideas.

 

Who Knows?

Does anyone know how the function under “permissions” & “blog readers” called “only blog authors” works?

Who does it allow to read my blog?

Or, where do I go to find out how it works?

I think I'd like my blog able to be read by the blog world. But, I'm just beginning to wonder if I really want it to be read by the entire world?

Saturday Morning

Oh my head! Too much vodka!... actually, a couple of cigarettes, a few coffees and a walk around to the shops and I feel fine. A little seedy, but nothing some muesli won’t fix.

I live with a couple of pill poppers – I’m not inclined, generally – so it was valium washed down with the vodka. I, usually, don’t feel any effect from downers, they have never worked on me, particularly, but, last night, when I got up to head to the kitchen, I was having trouble putting two feet in front of the other. It was very funny, we all laughed, as I swerved sideways, almost, into the wall. I reckon I should be feeling worse, but I feel, kind of, fine.

Shane, and I, woke up on the couch at 4am, fire dead, TV on. Yes, a good look, crumpled in our inebriation. I reached for, what I thought was water, with sleep eyes, only to take another gulp of vodka. Oh, I thought. I should of realised when the lemon hit me in the nose, before the flavour wrapped itself around my taste buds.

The sun was shining, earlier this morning, when I ventured to the shop, but as I was sitting outside smoking, it clouded over and my feet froze like two small ice blocks. I think, maybe, it is now a day to light the fire and stay indoors. The sky is a deep grey and it looks like it is going to rain. Yay! Great! Yes, I know, we need the rain. Blah, blah, blah! Bring it on, I’ve got thick socks to pull over my cold toes.

Cold Feet

What Is...

What's the best thing about being a speed addict?

Two sleeps to Xmas.

 

Sausages

It's the sausage, you know, that we're all addicted to, us men. It's why we like doing the bbq, it's a metaphor. Look at my meat, watch it get hot and hard. Let me be proud.

We can all handle them well, straight or gay; we know what they feel like, we know what to do with them... despite any protest. It's what makes us all men.

It's how the sausage works, moving parts are endlessly fascinating. Sausage goes up, sausage goes down; bursting its skin, little and small.

Roll them around in the palm of your hand, make them stand up in the air, peel back the skin, taste the juices within. Feel the weight of it in your grip. Prick them and watch the fat bubble and spit.

I knew a boy who's Kranski I loved. I had a boy who's long and thin really did get in. My favourite boy's was a joy to squeeze, it made him smile, it made his eyes roll out of sight.

I love watching them packed away, wrapped and placed and rolled around, maybe, a little, too much, I know.

Liquorice Allsorts

Boyfriends

It's weird when I read about fellow bloggers who, in their thirties, have never had a boyfriend. Who have never had love. Who are still looking for love. I can't imagine what that would be like? I've been single for twelve months now and I feel like I'm ready for a new man to fill my boyfriend space, standing right next to me. I'm ready for a new one, thanks universe. I've been in relationships all of my life, being single is a novelty (when I first came out and now) and while I have enjoyed it, I'm not sure it is the ideal way to live. It's kind of static, if you like, being able to do whatever I please, not having another person to challenge me, to take me out of my cocoon, to give me stuff that I would have, otherwise, not experienced.

So, I thought I'd think about my boyfriends for a minute.

Alex - schoolboy boyfriend. Captain of the football team, vice captain of the school. The way his arse filled those white footy shorts... I tell you! I loved Alex's legs, I loved them rapped around me. He got married and had children. He died a few years back, I don't know how.

Anthony - really a somewhat tortured affair, soon after I first came out. Neither of us knew which way was up, or how to have a gay relationship. How men act with men. We went onto become great friends; he was smart and funny and one person who really got my cracked point of view. Always. I never had to explain anything to him. Ever. He just knew. He was diagnosed as a schizophrenic, a few years back and disappeared out of my life.

Mark - the love of my life. One of the most gorgeous men I have ever, and am ever likely, to meet. Smart, intelligent, handsome, amazing. I thought I'd be with him forever, which, I am, just not how I envisaged, as friends. I'd still curl up and die without him.

Lauri - My sexy Italian boyfriend. Mark and Lauri and I had a three-way relationship for four years. I thought the three of us would be together forever, but it wasn't to be. Three boys in a relationship, having three relationships, turned out to be too much. Lauri has the most beautiful green eyes and, I shouldn't say this, but what the hell, he has the most beautiful penis I have ever seen. Italian.

Luke - Mark and I tried to recapture what we had with Lauri, with Luke, in a sense, (not intentionally, that wasn't the aim when we met him) but it didn't work and I opted out and Mark and Luke have been together ever since. I adore Luke. He's gorgeous.

Josh - a sweet affair. Josh taught me to love again, after all the dramas that preceded him. He's smart and naughty and a real handful.

Manny - My sexy Greek boyfriend and the sweetest boy I have ever met. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Sexy as hell. But, Manny was content with a very small, constricted life, living on a pension (Greek) and I always felt that I needed more than that, needed more from a boyfriend. Maybe, I should have just married him and been content. But, I know, I wouldn't have been... He's got a new boyfriend Vinnie. I used to say to Tom, if only I could get Josh's brain into Manny's head, I'd have the most perfect boyfriend. Tom always said I was wicked to think such things about Manny.

 

How cute is this boy? - the picture is from Greece: Land of Gods, I hope they don't mind me admiring him

Oh?

I went out and picked up a boy, last night. Louis, nice he was too. We went back to his place, which, funnily enough, was a house, in Fitzroy, I'd always wanted to see inside. It reminded me of all the uni squats I've been into - eclectic décor, bit's of stuff gleaned from every second hand shop this side of wherever... a brown couch.

He was passionate and a good kisser. Tender. Had beautiful eyes. I wasn't sure if he wanted to have sex, or cuddle and sleep, at one stage. He seemed to be as happy entwined, as anything else.

However, we did get it on. And the bastard came in my mouth. No noise, no warning, nothing, just squirt, squirt, squirt and then that revolting taste. (I'm a failed gay boy, in that sense, as much as I've tried to like the taste of it, I just can't. It's revolting) The last guy who did that to me, I spat it at him. I wasn't quite so aggressive, last night and I dutifully swallowed it. It's just plain rude, though. At least give some kind of warning, so I could decide for myself if I was going to take it in the mouth, or not.

I still don't like the taste of it, but, at least, I didn't feel like I wanted to gag on his. Maybe, I'll call him Louis sweet (as it can be) cum.

I walked home at 2am, in the cool evening air, through the deserted streets, watching the cats of the neighbourhood slinking about, thinking about all the safe sex literature about getting cum in your mouth.

I so tried to like it when I first came out. I wanted it to be different to Alex's, my school boy boyfriend, whose I didn't like, either. I thought I should like it, you know, such an intimate act, all a part of being a gay boy. But, it was a great disappointment, in the end. I just couldn't stomach it.

The last time I had swallowed cum - the above time withstanding - was quite a number of years ago when I had two boyfriends. I sat them next to each other and sucked them both off, one after the other, to see if they tasted any different. Lauri's was sweeter than Mark's, just by the way. Essentially, there was a significant variation, between the two, on the same putrid taste.

I've canvassed house mates and friends and they all love the taste of it.

"I would have gargled it in pig heaven," David said. He threw his head back and made gurgling noises.

"You milk them for every drop and savour it for as long as you can," said Shane.

So, am I the odd boy out?

Do most gay boys like the taste of their men's juice?

Or, are there a significant number of boys who don't like the taste, like me?

Goodness me! What a load of old rubbish!

A Cairns woman was "sickened" to discover her new mobile phone held sexually explicit photos of a female employee from the Dick Smith Electronics store where she had just bought the phone. The university student found the pornographic shots among 49 images stored on the phone, the Daily Telegraph reports. The explicit shots showed the female employee lying on a bed naked from the waist down and performing a sex act, and a man holding his penis. The employee is also seen in her bra and pulling her pants down. "It's sickening to think I've been using this phone near my face," the unnamed woman customer was quoted by the Telegraph as saying.

Been using it near her face? What a load of emotive clap-trap. It was used as a camera, not a dildo, you idiot.

"What people do in their own homes is their business. But I'm disgusted it was left on the shelf to be sold." The store had sold the customer a display model phone because it was the last one in stock. She later complained about the phone's audio quality and accessed its menu. It was then she sprung upon the offending photos. The explicit shots were among 49 images that included the female staff member in her Dick Smith Electronics uniform standing outside the store.
(You can hear her talking just like Pauline Handson, well, I can)

Its sad really, that we now live in a world where everything is a scandal, or a shock event! (thank you skanky newspapers) This is not an affront to this woman's emotional well being. She was sickened? I wonder how she reacts to incidences that really are awful. Everything is now an outrage, or a scandalous occurrence.

Here's a word of advice to the, surprise, surprise, Queensland woman, Delete the photos and move on. This is NOT a terrible thing. There are a huge number of people in the world who don't have access to fresh water, luv.

Do people like this, in our celebrity worshipping society, want to get their names in the newspapers and their faces on television, so, they to, can feel like a star? Otherwise, I just don't get it. She's probably aiming for a multi million dollar damages payment for emotional distress and the loss of enjoyment of life, thank you to all the blood sucking lawyers out there.

Birthday

It was my birthday last Sunday. People still send cards through the mail, it's kind of nice, really. I've been receiving them for the last few days. A mantle piece of birthday cards, kind of old fashioned, but kind of pretty to look at.

We went to Sebastian’s restaurant for my birthday, Shane, me and He-who-shall-never-be-mentioned, at QV, Saturday night. My oldest mates. Sebastian laid on the meal, seven courses with wine to compliment each dish. Oysters, salmon and sitaki mushrooms, soft shell crab, salted calamari, rare beef, rice pudding and ice cream, champagne, desert wine, Riesling, red wine, vodka, coffee.

I didn’t feel drunk afterwards, despite all the alcohol.

There was a cute as a button restaurant hand, Nathan. Small, Italian, handsome, sexy, bundle of energy, not yet out of the closet... so in the closet he can see Christmas presents, said Sebastian.

You know how not-out-of-the-closet-young’uns just naturally gravitate towards groups of gay guys, almost sniffing it out with their noses. Interested, sparkly eyes. He couldn’t stop looking at us, coming over to talk with us. He just wanted to keep chatting. The three of us wanted to help him with his gay virginity.

Twenty two and as cute as anything.

We went to Sircuit and drank two schooners of beer and felt maggotted afterwards.

 

Oh Yes

I got my script, more or less, finished, to first draft stage. I got Act 2 done over the weeks since I've quit work. (back into right brain, it's a comforting place to be) It's complete and ready for re-writing.

Yay for me.

Funnily enough, a friend of a friend, at Bolago on the weekend, is a writing lecturer, from the University of Adelaide, who has also taken time off to write a script. We're going to form our own, quasi reading group, to help each other with our writing.

Camp As...

He's so far in the closet he can see Xmas presents.

Three Little Ducks

'Say, what's your name?' the bartender asked the first duck.

'Huey,' was the reply.

'How's your day been, Huey?'

'Great. Lovely day. Had a ball. Been in and out of puddles all day. What else could a duck want?' said Huey.

'Oh. That's nice,' said the bartender. He turned to the second duck, 'Hi, and what's your name?'

'Dewey,' came the answer from duck number two.

'So how's your day been, Dewey! ?' he asked.

'Great. Lovely day. I've had a ball too. Been in and out of puddles all day myself. What else could a duck want?'



The bartender turned to the third duck and said, 'So, you must be Louie?'

'No,' he said, batting his eyelashes. 'My name is Puddles.'

Finals Football

The Sun is Shining Softly on the Ground

I woke up. Bing! I looked at the clock, by my bed and it said 6 something. I had a piss, sat like a girl, as my head spun back into orbit, then went back to bed. I tossed and turned, but I couldn't go back to sleep. Damn! Saturday morning, time to sleep in, I thought. Even if my days are all the same, I thought it anyway.

Everybody has started smoking again. Of course, not David, as he can't smoke a joint without feeling paranoid. But, Shane is smoking again. I guess, a relationship breakup will do that. I guess I didn't confirm that Shane and Matt have split up. Matt can't make Shane number 1 priority ahead of his business.

Shane was asleep on the couch, when I came down. He looked cross-eyed as he got up and went to bed.

I headed outside for a smoke. It's a gentle morning, the sun is shining softly on the ground. There is a gentle breeze.

I got to thinking about Tom, sitting there in my wicker chair, not sure why? Not sure why I was thinking about him today, that is. David would say, it was because Tom was there with me. I wish I could believe that stuff, it would, probably, make life easier. It's been a year, Sept 1st, since Tom died. I had the coolest best friend and he just slipped away, just like that. Now a year has passed. It bought tears to my eyes. As I sat there, with the gentle, cool breeze blowing gently across my wet eyes, I thought of him.

If I'd known in 1990, when we met as pups, that I'd have him for eight good years, followed by ten lousy ones, well, for him, anyway, maybe I would have held him a little tighter, maybe I would have told him I loved him more often, maybe I would have appreciated a truly, great friend a little more. I love you Chris, he used to say to me all the time. Maybe, I was a good friend. Maybe, I wasn't. I don't know now.

The sun shone in faint pools on the ground. The wind blew the leaves in the trees, so they rustled and shimmied and danced.

Infinity

Talk, You Boys

Renowned gay Professor Karl Newton offers a solution for troubled gay male relationships: talking. He points to a lack of communication as the root of most issues, suggesting couples spend at least 45 minutes in conversation, without interruption, four times a week. Followed up with a two-hour date where the subjects of money, work and (extramarital) sex are vetoed.

Talk, you boys.

Tower One

Ten to Fifteen

8.42. As I turned my head to look at the clock by my bed, it said 8.42. I looked at David's amyl by my alarm and thought I should really take it back down stairs. He's back in a few days.

Shane should be up, I thought. No, too early. I could still shower first. Nah, I'm not in a hurry any more.

Coffee. Blog. muesli, in that order, I thought, as I sat up in bed. To darkness outside.

"What? Where am I?" I rubbed my eyes, in case it was a dream. "Dark? Night? I should be at dinner! Fuck!"

I stumbled out of bed. "I can't go. I've got to go!" I'd turned down so many dinners lately that Rachel commented on it last time I emailed her. Oh, I'd given up on you. You're never available.

I spun around in a circle. What? To do? I headed down stairs.

"Your mobile's been ringing," said Shane, as I walked into the kitchen. I could see it was Rachel from the display."

"I'm supposed to be at dinner... um... an hour ago. Fuck!"

I called Rachel. She answered "I only went for a lie down at 4 o'clock. Damn."

"I wondered where you were?"

"I could..."

"Be here in ten to fifteen?"

Middle Park? Night time traffic. "Sure."

"We've ordered paella."

"Armstrong Street? ... Spencer Street, City Road, Canterbury Road, I thought, as I slipped the G.T.I. into reverse and revved the engine. Where am I going? Shake head. Yes, that's the way.

Night air, shiny evening, slipping through the dark, Denni Hines sang the blues. I turned left into Gisbourne Street, inexplicably. Oh, what did you do that for? Idiot! I was still berating my half-asleep head, as I flicked on my blinker and accelerated around the corner into Albert Street, at the last minute. It was only a taxi that I cut off, so it made no never mind. Now you have to go through the CBD, you moron! I'm not at all sure if you are allowed to do 70 k's in the city streets. Down Lonsdale, it's practically a back street. No, I'm sure you're not. I hope there are no speed cameras. Get out of my way! Move! I resist using the horn.

As I sat down to Jill and Rachel's smiling faces, the paella was placed on the table.

"Timing," I said. I couldn't help the cheeky grin, I could feel it spread across my face despite myself.

"Wine?" sir.

"Oh, yes, please, something red."

"So, what time do you call this to be getting here?" asked Jill, almost in an accusatory tone. From the woman who will be late to her own funeral, as they say.

"Jill was early," exclaimed Rachel.

"I don't believe it," I said. I was banking on Jill's pathological lateness, to take some of the tarnish off my arrival time.

"I've been early to all of my meetings this week," said Jill. "I'm turning over a new leaf."

"If you keep doing that," I said to Jill. "You'll be greeted with the sound of bodies hitting the floor, every where you fucking go."

"Oh yes, very funny," said Jill snidely. The look was completed with her usual cat's bum mouth twist, as though she had just pulled the skin off mould.

Pleased to See You

Fixed Up On A Date

David is setting me up with one of his friends. It all came about when, I came home from Club 80, a month, or so, ago and gave David the details of the man I'd been with. Good kisser, nice chest, foreskin. His name was Leo.

David decided that these details fitted a friend of his named Leo and has been convinced it is the same person, ever since.

Well, David sms' me from Hawaii to say, that his friend Leo has only been to Club 80 a few times this year and he can't recall meeting me, not that he has ever met me. But, you know what I mean. Anyway, this Leo now wants to meet me. He wants a boyfriend and he would like to meet me, go out on a date.

Nice wog boy. Why not? Good kisser, nice chest, delectable foreskin, what's not to like.

Thinking about it, how many Leo's do I know?

Mark just called to ask if I wanted to go to the Art Deco Exhibition with he and Luke today. You know, not so much, was my initial reaction. I like Art Deco and all, but, really, it's not my favourite and I feel I know all I care to know about the era. Kinda. Stupid really, now that I write it down. It's too intrusive for me, as a style. The décor should never be more interesting than the inhabitants, that's what I've always said.

"You boring fart," said Mark. "Well, Luke and I will drop in."

Yeah, good on ya, I thought. Just when I'd logged onto gaydar and was beginning to trawl.

There's always something, now isn't there? Day at home, free to do as I like, no interruptions. A boy could find a playmate.

True Blood

Australia's Ryan Kwanten is setting pulses racing in the US with his mostly naked role in America's hot new vampire TV series.
The New York Times calls Kwanten's character a "strapping, dimwitted Casanova" while the Washington Post describes him as "the randiest non-vampire in the area".
"He does wear clothes, but he takes them off a lot," True Blood's creator, Alan Ball, who also created Six Feet Under and wrote the script for 2000 best picture Oscar winner, American Beauty, laughed during an interview with AAP.
His character is sexually compulsive. He gets his self-esteem and his sense of who he is from the sex he has.

Just Going out for Smokes

I had to go and buy cigarettes. I certainly wanted another joint, if not a smoke. I'm giving up tomorrow, so it'll be okay. I looked up at the clock, it was 23.45, the local shop would be closed.

"A quarter to twelve," I said. "Ah well." I might as well drop by Club 80 - for those not from Melbourne, that's a sex on premises venue. World famous - to get the cigarettes. It will be open.

I got my traditional lemon squash, upon entering. Once, it was coffee, always coffee. I'm not sure when, or why, I made the change.

The place was deserted, two and a half trolls. After midnight on a Monday, not its peek time. Although, I've met some of the great loves of my life, at this very establishment, on an off night.

Things did look up; good things to those who wait. Blue bonds T-shirt, jeans, stocky, muscled. Liam, 40 something, nice developed chest, good kisser, handsome. He was nice to kiss. Keen. Soft, firm lips. I liked it a lot. After a while he leant back against the wall.

"Do you want to have a break?" I asked.

"You've only just got here, haven't you?" he said. He laughed.

"Yes," I said.

"Yeah, raring to go," said Liam. "I'm four hours in..."

Back out on the trail, same two and a half trolls, sniffing at me every time they walked passed.

Enter, twenty something, lean, muscley, blue singlet, army pants. I thought too young and rested my head against the wooden crating. Hunch back troll came so close I could smell the sourness of his breath on each, sensuous, exhale.

"The alternative, I presume," I said and realised, at the same time. I pulled away from troll breath, which floated away like a spirit, looking back occasionally, into the dark. I didn't want to be there all night. "Looks like it's you kid."

I headed in the opposite direction to Kwasi.

Peter, the kid in the singlet, could suck cock like no one else I've ever known. The kids a genius, or a freak. He took it into his mouth and then he seemed to take it down his throat and then, I don't know what he did, short of dislocating his jaw, but FUCK ME! The knob of my cock was in his oesophagus, I tell you no lie. It felt like, I would imagine what it would feel like, to be swallowed whole by a boa constrictor. The kids unnaturally gifted.

We did it standing up in the dark, pashing against the wall. Nice cock. Cute face. Kiss them while I've got their hard-on in my hand, one of my favourite positions. He suddenly stood sideways and gulped for breath, chocked and then wailed, as his legs shook below him.

He looked at me and smiled, wanly.

"I wasn't going to leave until I had that," he said. "The last guy kept me on the brink. Grrr! Thanks. That was great!"

I walked down to the front desk with Peter.

"How's your day?"

"Day off..."

"Me too."

I resisted the urge to talk about phone numbers.

He turned left out the doorway, I turned right.

Smith Street was deserted. Not a sound, but my footsteps, echoing on the concrete. It's when I know I'm a city boy, through and through. 2am Tuesday, the roads are deserted, the street lights reflect on empty footpaths and everything looks just fine. 

Roosters

This Doesn't Look Good

It's my brother Will's birthday. I'm sure I can forget that without a shred of guilt.

I came home, last night, to Mark W. sitting in my lounge room with Shane sobbing, inconsolably, in his lap.

Hello, I thought, as I struggled through the back door with my bags. This doesn't look good.

Shane had split up from Matt. Mark W. looked scared, and as smart and as beautiful as he is, was completely useless. Shane had been crying for hours, with Mark W. sitting by silent. (No, it's not enough just to turn up, Mark, I thought.)

I took Shane's hand and told him that that was a bastard. Poor baby. "What a fuck!"

Shane cried and cried, as though he was never going to stop. I rubbed his hand. Jesus, what do I say? You know the drill, luv, when in doubt, just keep talking. So I did.

"Well, there is only one thing that will fix this now?" I said.

"Vodka," sobbed Shane questioningly.

"I think by the look of it, Mr Vodka has already come to visit," I said.

"Valium," Shane questioned further.

When you are unsure of what to do, it's always best to go back to the classics. That's what I've always said.

"No, luv. What you need is a good cup of tea."

Shane laughed through his tears and looked up for the first time. "You might be right." He sat up and wiped his eyes. He looked up at me and tried to focus.

"How many valium are we up to?" I asked.

"Two," said Shane. "Three."

"I see."

"Oh my head," he said. "Actually, it's good to sit up." He tried to focus. He smiled crookedly, looking like a ten year old boy, who's just fallen off his bike. "Yes, tea would be good. Thanks."

Mark W. continued to look angelic in the far corner of the couch. Silent, but angelic.

Well, he'd stopped crying and was sitting up and taking notice.

"Tea Mark?"

"Yes, please," said Mark. He didn't look scared any more. In fact, he kind of looked impressed.

Shane went to the toilet. I pushed the button on the kettle.

"I didn't know what to say," said Mark. "For hours." He smiled brittlely. "I would never have thought of tea."

"Wing and I prayer, mate," I said. "Wing and a prayer."

Weekend football

This is Just a Test

Attention everybody, this is a test. Please don't be alarmed, as this is only a test. Please take no notice of the men in the white suits now moving amongst you, as they are only performing routine maintenance.

The breathing apparatus, they are wearing, is only for test purposes, do not be alarmed. The mist sprays are not injurious to your health, they are just routine. Please conform to any requests they may have. Please stay calm. Please do not panic. This is just a test.

Should anyone experience breathing difficulty, please proceed directly to the medical area as indicated by the HASMAT indicators. There are medical staff on hand should anyone experience any discomfort. Ambulances are on standby. This is just a test, do not be alarmed. This is just a test.

Please take note, nobody will be allowed to leave the building, as the exits have been sealed. This is just a test. Security officers are on hand to ensure everybody complies with this request. Please remain at your work station. This is just a test.

Cristiano Ronaldo

Off to the Country

Off to Bolago for a function on Saturday night. Mark's realised that I am now available to help with the set-up. Damn! I just want to arrive and work, I don't want to do the prep. Mark leaves it all to the last minute and then gets super stressed getting it all finished on time and now I'm going to be a part of that process. Yay!

So, there you go. Packing my stuff into the GTI, as I type.

Wave me goodbye.

 

Do you think Cristiano has a woodie?

Not As Lovely As Yesterday

Thursday morning and grey skies and no sunshine. It was beautiful yesterday, a day I barely went out into. Blue skies, sunshine.

I actually have to go and do something, goodness me. I have to take my mum to the dentist. It's a new dentist, for her. "Oh darling, can you just come and drive me the first time," said Lottie. "I'll be fine, after that, when I go next."

I slept in, not up at my usual 8am, got to rush now. I'm still feeling like my times not my own and that I, really, should be doing something. Funny. I guess it takes a little while longer, yet.

Mark called last night and said, "Can you please come up and give me a hand?" There's a function on this weekend, at which I am working - ah, back to work, the work I want to, actually, go to.

Mark gets behind, panics and then does everything at full speed to get the job completed. He's'e exhausted by the end. His time management skills could do with a little honing, I guess that is the legacy of always working for himself.

Mark's always been able to do as he pleases. I'm just getting used to it.

It still feels like it is going to stop and somebody is going to take it away from me. Anyway, I was just about to leave, when the door bell sounded. Bring!

Max just came around for the money for the weekend. "No rest for the wicked," he said. He flashed his trademark smile.

"So, what did you do over the weekend?" I asked, more out of politeness than interest. "I didn't see you out."

"Nah, didn't go any where," said Max. "I need to up my wickedness, just a bit." He looked away. "But, when I deal with everyone's um, shall we say requirements, all week, sometimes I just don't feel much like partying with them, after that." He looked back. "I partied with Scott. Just me and him. Low key, you know." Then he hoped into his double-parked SRI, it looked like a new one, and left.

Okay... I would have liked the sun shining and the skies blue, thank you universe. And it to be half an hour ago. However... gotta go... I've done my usual trick of calculating my leaving home time and arriving time, at Lotties, with no travelling time structured in. It doesn't matter with friends for dinner, but this is a fucking appointment. Go to really fucking go!

And then... crampy pain. Oh, what? Why? Stronger crampy pain. What? No! What day are we on? Really strong crampy pain. OH! NO! NO! Not now. I rush to the toilet. Diarrhoea! A river of brown... well, you know what it is. There's a thing. I always get it, roughly three days afterwards. It's pretty normal, even if it's timing is really rather way off.

Is Johnanthan trying to tell us something?... Shane

Virgo
New routines are always a little nerve-racking. That's why most of us prefer, by and large, to stick with the old ones. They may not be very satisfactory; they may even create problems, but at least we know how they go. You were born blessed with great courage. When necessary, you can also show phenomenal self-restraint. You have been keeping yourself in check for some while now, resisting the urge to interfere with a process that is clearly less than ideal. Now, though, it's time to instigate a change.

Who cares if no one wants to do it with Mohammed, perhaps Jesus is just the bigger spunk

Ed note - we all know that Jesus is the pretty one, the pin-up boy of the spiritual world and that Mohammed is the ugly one, why else can't he be depicted in image?
So which one would you like to see with an erection?

An art gallery in Britain which exhibited a statue of Jesus Christ with an erection has been taken to court by a devout Christian who says she is offended by the work and argued that the gallery would "not have dared" to portray Mohammed, let alone in that way.
The artwork was part of an exhibition at Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art in Gateshead, near the northeastern city of Newcastle, which featured dozens of plaster figures including Mickey Mouse, ET, and Jesus - all with erections.
The items were shown in a presentation a year ago of works by controversial Chinese artist Terence Koh.
Signs warning of the exhibition's content were posted at the entrance to the gallery, which was sued at Gateshead Magistrates Court for a breach of Section 5 of the Public Order Act and offending public decency.
Lawyers for Emily Mapfuwa, a 40-year-old Christian who said she was offended by the artwork, prosecuted the gallery for outraging public decency and causing harassment alarm and distress to the public.
(ed note - causing harassment, alarm and distress to... one person, apparently)
Mapfuwa argued that, given the public sensitivities over the issue, the gallery would not have dared to depict Mohammed, let alone in such a way.
(ed note - who cares how they may, or may not, have portrayed Mohammed, we are talking about a statue of Jesus)
Mapfuwa said she believed in freedom of expression, but was of the opinion that "this statue served no other purpose than to offend Christians and to denigrate Christ."
(Ed note - as is so often the case with God Botherers, freedom of expression is okay, as long as it is not in conflict with thousands of years of mythical beliefs)
The maximum penalty would be six months in prison and a fine of 5,000 pounds ($A10,596).
However, opening procedures faltered on a legal technicality Tuesday and the case was adjourned until September 23.
Ninemsn 03.09.2008

Ed note - get lives you stupid people and leave the rest of us alone. Concentrate on how you live your lives and stop trying to influence the rest of us, who don't believe in your two thousand year old nonsense.