I titter and swell with pride (actually maybe I'm retaining water) to know the following keywords are pulling complete innocents into the web of intrigue I call my blog:

• tina yothers pics
  
• philadelphia adult movie booth
  
• gay erotic drunk fly (uh, do the mean like 'The Fly' like a faggy, boozy, Vincent Price turned fly)
  
• Richard Greico
  
• pain in groin back burning
  
• groin pull swimming (why did this immediately bring John T Brown to mind??)

swapped some colors. so sue me. smooch.

I'm not sure the collective finger-crossing, well wishing and for some of you well - you just went beyond the call of duty to cross, something....anything. (INSERT HERE: Frustration, not alleviated through sex or booze)

Last word from said desirable hiring company was from an impressed VP last week (" 'name of hiring manager' will be contacting you shortly"). Hadn't heard anything so I sent a thoughtful email to said 'hiring manager' on Monday acknowledging how busy he must be and reaffirming my interest in the position. Nothing.

Don't you think if two of your respected co-workers came to you (one of them your superior) and said "You gotta hire this guy he's a steal!"...you would at least acknowledge him. (INSERT HERE: Panic not alleviated by drugs, disco or compliments)

sigh!

P.C.A.D.

Sounds like a sneeze, eh? Or maybe that attempt to swear after stubbing your big toe on the bed post at 3am when all you were really hoping for was the last chocolate chip cookie?

It's my acronym for the disorder that I have invented:
Phone Call Anxiety Disorder - A disorder that sends it's victim in roller-coaster fits of anticipation-clickety-clack-excitement-clickety-clack-disappointment-clickety-clack-despair (oh, btw, the "clickety-clacks" were my roller-coaster sound effects - high tech, huh?).

I have learned these last 4 months to hate the phone.
I can't tell you how often I hear it ring - and I wonder, I hope, I dare to dream:

"Hey, it's someone calling about my resume submittal"

"Hey I bet this is the call!"

And then, it's not.

My friends have grown use to this abuse - the despondent sound in my voice when I answer and it's just, well, just them. I don't think this is what Alexander Graham Bell was expecting. I find myself playing games...
leaving the phone downstairs, pretending I don't hear it, turning it off, not looking at the caller id;
just to draw out those first few moments of anticipation...of hope.

So, well - just be warned - if you call and get my voice mail - consider yourself lucky - he's so much nicer than me.

OK handsome, here's proof that I was in attendance at Tucson Gay Pride last week, these pictures aren't the ones I wanted...I lifted them from here.