Tuesday, December 30, 2008

A Change



While a new year approaches, it is time I make a change in my life. Sorry to dash your hopes, but I will still be that lovable attention whore you've come to cherish. You let me be Mariah Carey-ish. I make you feel "normal". I understand my role in your daily affirmations. Our symbiotic relationship is okay with me.

Let's take a moment and go back in time shall we? Five years ago, I couldn't run fast for more than fifteen minutes without feeling like I was going to have a heart attack. I would huff and puff with the feeling that my heart was about to jump out of my chest. I distinctly remember playing my brother in basketball and declaring, "I am too old for this shit!"

Not anymore. My body has become very well conditioned from intense tennis cardio. My reputation on the courts (besides being too competitive) is that I can chase down everything. What was once "chicken legs" morphed into solid muscle machines that propel me at lightening speed.

While all this cardio has kept me very fit, I miss the thickness in my build. I used to have nice arms, beefy quads and an impressive chest. Now, my body is built well for speed with very toned muscles all over. I now cringe with how lean I have become. I miss the thickness.

So, today I made a vow to curtail my tennis addiction. Rather than play tennis five days a week with no gym time, I have chosen to rebalance things a bit. My goal is to workout AND play tennis three times each week.

To spur on this new goal, I joined a gym that is only a block away from where I work. I'll have absolutely no excuse to not make it to the gym. I have even hired a personal trainer today. He is dropdead gorgeous. Yes, I am in love and my heart is fluttering like butterflies. Don't worry. This high school girl crush will end the moment my ass belongs to him in the gym. Three days a week. Gulp!

If I can get away with it, I'll slyly snap a pic with my iPhone. Just remember: you can look, but you can't touch. Don't make me crack your jaw with a baseball bat and throw you in a garbage can. I'm talking to you Pam Smidley!



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Monday, December 29, 2008

You'll Never Walk Alone



I lavished the Shrew with many gifts for Christmas this year. One of the gifts was The Rodgers and Hammerstein Collection. While E.Shrew had already seen most of these films, I have not.

Admittedly, I only remember seeing bits and pieces from "The Sound of Music" as a child. Now before you judge me harshly, please know that my family didn't have cable television until I was 17 years old. My parents also never took us to movies.

I made up for this big void in my life this weekend. I watched "South Pacific", "Oklahoma", "Carousel" and "The Sound of Music". They are all quite beautiful.

The song that moved me the most would have to be "You'll Never Walk Alone" from Carousel. It gripped me in a profound way to where I actually got teary eyed.



It is also Liverpool's Soccer Anthem: (SO COOL!)


Here are the lyrics:

When you walk through a storm hold your head up high,
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.


Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.

Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Heaux Heaux Heaux!


I would like to wish all of you a Merry Christmas. I am spending my Christmas with Boudreaux and Pierre down in New Orleans. We are all hoping Santa forgives all the bad and comes down our chimney chute. Tomorrow, I am celebrating a Cajun tradition by having gumbo with my family in the country.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

XOXO,


Brett

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Not So Smart Packaging


Watching Wall-E on DVD last night has made me more sensitive to my carbon footprint. As the lovable robot piles up trash left behind by humans, he finds things worth saving like cigarette lighters, a Rubik's Cube, and spare parts for his own body. Wall-E is a wonderful environmental film because the little robot finds many still useful things in discarded garbage.

So, when I got a box of Ferrero Rocher fine hazelnut chocolates, I did my best Kelly Stern impression and gobbled a few down. While treasuring the delightful chocolate balls, I couldn't help but be disappointed by the packaging. My gift contained 24 chocolate balls in a very hard plastic shell cut in a diamond shaped pattern. This can't be good for the environment!

Even my Reeses cups miniatures plastic candy cane complete with a plastic Santa on top is not very environmentally friendly.

Don't get me wrong.... I love chocolate and I appreciate my gifts from co-workers. I just wish companies would look at their packaging options and do more to diminish the harm to the environment.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Stat Whore


Just for kicks, I tend to check my blog stats at least quarterly. Using Google Analytics, these are the TOP Referring Blogs Year-to-Date (by visit):
Top Referring Blogs YTD:
1. Large Tony 6,356
2. Durban Bud 5,055
3. Homer's World 4,981
4. Ray's Cowboy 4,745
5. Kelly Stern 3,538
6. Moby 2,455
7. Jimbo 2,112
8. Naked Boy Chronicles 1,885
9. Kyliefan 1,557
10. Chad Fox 1,374
11. Always Gay Always 1,208
12. Visually Speaking 1,180
13. Mangina Monologues 1,179
14. Zeitzeuge 1,153
15. This Boy Elroy 918
16. floristerismosvarios 826
17. Gooster 622
18. Patsy's Words 592
19. Drew's Brave New World 567
20. Still Thinking (Deveil) 534

Ba Humbug


The Shrew thinks I am anti-Christmas. Just because he has never seen me decorate a Christmas tree or sing "Here Comes Santa Claus!" does not mean that I am a Scrooge. My nephew, Mason, did embarrass me a week ago by exclaiming, "HEY! You don't even have a Christmas Tree!" BLUSH.

For the record, I actually love Christmas and that lovable Daddy bear that is Santa Claus. Is it so wrong to have utilitarian tendencies akin to a straight man? Can't I just use the excuse that Mother Nature already decorated for Christmas with all the snow 11 days ago?

It would be different if I had children. I would show them the specialness of Christmas I used to enjoy as a child. The trouble is that my furry rugrats don't even know what Christmas is. Sadly, they only care about the next treat. Will it be a pig ear or a marrow bone?

So, why should I bother? Is it wrong to go through life embracing each day as special rather than attaching so much sentiment towards a token few? I just pray the Ghost of Christmas Past does not pay me a visit soon.

After recently seeing Goya's Ghosts and Strangers, I can't deal with anymore scary movies. Shivering.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Pure as the Driven Snow?


Is this not the look of someone so innocent and pure? ;) You are not buying it? Hmpfh! Santa, please overlook the bad and keep me on your "Good List". Thank you, Brett.

NOTE: This photo was taken a few weeks ago by the wonderfully talented Tate. He's a local photographer that has taken a few pics of me through the years. Tate does a great job of making sure I suck-in, avoid double chin action and give good face!

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Life in a Bubble World


E.Shrew forced me to watch Goya's Ghosts last night. I do not like any movies depicting the harsh realities of the human condition. This movie disturbed me on so many levels. It is a period film during the times of the Spanish Inquisition. It follows the life of Francisco Goya, a famous painter of the royal family, and the poor fate of one of his subjects (Inés) played by Natalie Portman.

You can't help but feel utter contempt for the Church in this film. It makes you realize how easily manipulated human creatures are. Put fear in us and you too can control us! I personally believe that media has largely taken the place of the Church in brainwashing us poor souls.

For me, I am content just watching happy movies and comedies. Am I in denial that bad things happen to people? Of course I am! But I am far happier living with a child-like innocence than being exposed to cold cruel realities. Life in a bubble world suits me just fine.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Playing Possum



There is a whole lot of drama at the chicken pen these days. First, there has been a great mystery of WHAT has been stealing eggs. Then there is a make-your-hair-stand-up psycho drama of who killed Myrtle and Betsy.

Dragging a headless Betsy by her cold dead feet has haunted me for months. I had no choice but to throw her over a fence because I was in a rush to play a league match.  She didn't even have a proper burial!

Last night, as I was letting Boudreaux and Pierre in the house, I noticed a movement in the chicken pen. Rocky and the hens were all in the roost, but there was a creature in there! I'll be damned if I am gonna let another varmint kill one of my chickens! I put on my green crocs, grabbed a flashlight and brought my precious iPhone. 

It was a possum. Do possums eat chickens? I had no clue, so I grabbed a stick and poked the possum with a stick. That bitch wouldn't even move when I poked her in the ass. I knew it was a female because she had big swollen titties. I think she was pregnant. 

What if this possum eats one of my chickens?! As I was sitting there wondering what to do, I began to shine my flashlight on the oak tree that hovers above the chicken pen. I saw two eyes staring back at me. Another possum! My hair began standing up on my head. Drum in music from the movie Psycho!

At this moment, Rocky jumped down from the roost. I was like, "Nooo.... Rocky... get back up there!" So, here I was... running around the chicken pen deflecting Rocky's blows while trying to put him back up in the roost before that rabies infected creature bit him. I did succeed in grabbing the Cock and putting him where he belonged.

Neither of these possums were moving anytime soon. I sure wasn't going to risk getting rabies by physically removing the female possum. So, I had no choice but to go back to the house and hope that the female possum would find it's way out and NOT kill a chicken.

This morning, I woke up to find the possums gone. I began counting. 1... 3... 5... 7... FUCK! Where's my 8th chicken? I began to panic. Luckily, the 8th chicken was in a nest laying an egg. Whew! This is ameriacle! (DB joke)

SIDENOTE: Wikipedia has since rested my fears of what the possums were up to. They were probably in there eating chicken feed or looking for eggs. Whew.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Super Slutty Bath Oil & Mental State Soap

During this holiday season, it is always a good time to reconnect with old friends and make amends to those we may have been bastardly to. Last night presented me with such an opportunity.

E.Shrew and I decided to hit the Bourbon Pub. As soon as we walked into the Pub, I hear "WELL... HEY MICHAEL!" I turn around and it is none other than the dastardly Captain Chaos (CC).

I swung around with a steely gaze, "You can't say 'hey' to me bitch?" CC responded less than enthusiastically, "Oh, hey Brett." It was not quite the reception I am accustomed to. Despite the slight, I went ahead and gave him a smooch on the cheek.

You see...CC and I used to run around five years ago. I met him when my previous five year relationship was failing. CC was the most colorful individual I had ever met. That's a nice way of putting it. Since I had a penchant for bad boys, something about CC attracted me to him.

If CC was Captain Chaos, I was Desperina the Gay man. My morals probably reached a low point at this time of my life. The present me would harshly judge that past me. I was a BIG GAY MESS in those days. CC and I had a complete falling out as friends. It was ugly.

As I silently reminisced about our past friendship, E.Shrew and I were captivated by the fun videos that were playing. When I saw CC ordering drinks nearby, I decided to fuck with him. I raised up my beer and pointed to the brand name. CC looked up, cut me eyes, and ignored the suggestion that he buy me a beer. I giggled at my mischievousness.

When I finally downed my Bud Lite, I signaled to E.Shrew that I was ready for a refill. Now mind you, I am not a cheap bastard. It was E.Shrew's turn to buy the next round. Within seconds of walking up to the bar, E.Shrew suddenly spins around beaming. He is only holding one beer.

I was like, "Where is my beer?" He rudely responds, "Get your own goddamn beer. Someone bought me mine!" I was stunned. There was CC standing across the bar smiling like the Cheshire Cat. You bastard! Where is MY fucking beer?!

I stewed as my panties tied deeper and deeper into knots. I am sure you can imagine the sight. I pouted until I just couldn't take it anymore. I swirled around the Pub until I found my tormentor.

In my best self-righteous voice, I let CC know there was a special place in hell reserved just for him! He was nothing but all smiles through the lively tongue wagging. The fact that he had an adorable young BF next to him made me hate him even more.

Ten minutes later, a bartender approaches me and subserviently bows his head. In a deadpan delivery, he whispers, "Someone has asked that I give this to you." I smirked that I was finally getting my way. The cruel truth was that in my hands lay nothing but a used and empty beer bottle! E.Shrew busted a gut laughing. I was quite livid. Steam rose out of my ears like I was Yosemite Sam just punked by Bugs Bunny.



That is it! I marched across St. Ann to make a special purchase at a nearby speciality shop. If we are in a present giving mood, I will give that MOFO a present! I found the same bartender and asked him to deliver it to the person who gave me the empty beer bottle. It was a soap labled "Super Bitch". That will serve him right.

Not five minutes later, the bartender came forward with another gift for me. This time it was the gift of ..."I'm Super Slutty!" Bath Oils. You son of a bitch! Who are you calling super slutty? The nerve!

I marched my ass right back across the street to buy CC yet another present. This time, it was the gift of "Mental State Soap". The side of the box contained the writing... "I'm a prima donna!" Perfect for him. I wondered if the bastard was even going to get the hint of why I kept giving him soap? Once CC was given the "Mental State Soap", he turned bright red and couldn't control his laughter. The smile on his face was priceless!

That should do it. Surely, the steady stream of insulting presents will stop. I was wrong. Within five minutes, I was given yet another empty beer bottle with an "UP YOURS!" arm sticker AND a box of "Viagro" powdered body wash with hard as a rock formula. Ahem... I have no problem in THAT department. But I didn't mind putting it my back pocket to save for later.

When the night was over, CC passed by and gave me a good spanking on the ass. I said, "OUCH! That hurts!" We smiled. It was the perfect send off to a unexpectedly funny night. Some people make amends in more traditional ways. CC and I make amends in the only way we know how. I couldn't help but smile a lot last night.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

LSU's Mike the Tiger Enjoys the Snow!





Cruella Deville, a friend and former roommate in the 90's,  sent me these photos of LSU's mascot, Mike the Tiger, enjoying the snow day in Baton Rouge.

Friday, December 12, 2008

A Blog Conspiracy?

I didn't fall off the last turnip truck in Chickapin Parish. There is something amiss in the blogworld! One by one, bloggers who were once daily reads are dropping like flies. Where have you all gone? I have my suspicions.

First Large Tony and Brushstrokes started the exodus to some secret hideway. Then Patrick suddenly disappeared away into the night. Atari Age, Jimmi, This Boy Elroy and All Prep and No H have seemingly left their blogs to sputter and die.

This blog taint has now apparently afflicted Durban Bud, who can't seem to post one goddamn thing of any relevance! Hmm... this smells like a conspiracy that I am not privy to!

The truth must be out there somewhere. To get to the bottom of this, I have created the following poll that I hope will ultimately shed light on the situation:

Thursday, December 11, 2008

SNOW IN BATON ROUGE TODAY!



I am supposed to be at work, but I am witnessing a Christmas miracle! It is snowing in Baton Rouge! This is a video I did on the scene just moments ago.

From the French Quarter in New Orleans, E.Shrew took the following pictures this morning:

The Creole Queen Riverboat

Andrew Jackson Statue

Tying Up Loose Ends



From this day forward, I am making a conscious effort to be off my man period. If I were laying on a psychiatrist's sofa, they would eventually get me to start spilling the beans about why I have been so angry lately. It wasn't about the itty bitty nips thing. That was just a smokescreen. The heart of the matter is that some friend of mine injured my pride lately. It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Let's start at the beginning. I put a lot of time, money, and effort into improving my skills when I hired a tennis coach from Argentina. I wanted to make the jump to playing in a higher division. I was tired of making it to the finals in the lower division, only to lose in nail biters.

Here is where the tale of woe gets interesting. I met the Devil, who I'll name "M". I was promised a life rich with the taste of victory if only I clung onto his coattails. That meant leaving behind my good friends Whipping Boy and E.Shrew, who had to languish around in their mediocrity.  On that fateful day, I sold my soul and danced with the devil. 

The Devil and I honed my skills to ensure that I would be at home among the brightest stars in the local tennis world. My skills jumped by leaps and bounds.  There seemed to be a dark arts magic swirling around the sudden lethalness in my groundstrokes. My new powers were truly awesome to behold. I was now a card carrying member of a more elite club. There was a certain status attached to being part of this elite club.

But the day soon came where I was told by the Devil himself that he had "mastered" me. After a 6-4, 6-3 victory, he announced he would not be playing me anymore. I was dumbfounded. Mastered me? The Devil did put an impressive win streak together against me, but mastered me? Was I the unwitting star in Mean Girls?

I was not going to be discarded this way! I was sold bright dreams, and ended up leaving behind Whipping Boy and E.Shrew. It was at this moment that I felt the tinge of betrayal. The very fabric of my soul was on fire and ready to ignite. I was now left with nothing. Neither Whipping Boy nor E.Shrew would have anything to do with me on the tennis courts. My smugness had turned them off completely.

The tragic tale doesn't end here folks. I had an axe to grind with the Devil named "M". There was one weakness there that I could exploit. You see, "M" is not a very good team player. In doubles, the Devil fails miserably. With three seasons of a doubles league under my belt, I knew I could exact my revenge and drive a stake right through "M's" cold black heart.  

So, I plotted my comeback. The Devil would RUE THE DAY he ever disrespected me! That day finally came last Saturday at the University of New Orleans. The Devil was being his usual chummy self with the best players in the GSNOT league. Because an even 12 players showed up, we had the rare opportunity to play doubles sets with the same people.

The Devil and I played five sets against each other while taking turns sharing and switching out the same doubles partners. Something was terribly wrong with him. His vaunted serve was missing. He missed 90% of his first serves and double faulted a staggering twenty times! At the net, the Devil stumbled badly hitting most of his shots WAY OUT. I made a few errors, but my steely desire to win carried the day. I triumphantly went 4-1 in sets against the Devil. All his dreams were crushed. It was an achievement that I'll fondly treasure always. :)

Now there is this tournament in Miami in January that both the Devil "M" and I will partake in as competitors. The trash talking has escalated via email and text messages since his humiliating performance on the courts last weekend. I have already warned him... hell hath no fury as a Coonass scorned. Give me a challenge and tell me that I am not good enough, and I'll rise to the occasion! 

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

The Beast Released


Has anyone noticed that my blog has changed recently? You are not imagining things. I have been off Adderall XR for a few weeks. Someone said Adderall XR is like legal Meth. It keeps me wired like a robotron and extremely well focused, but I often feel soulless and bereft of a personality.

Adderall XR did a great job in keeping my inner raging Cajun subdued. I became non-reactive to things going on around me. I didn't need an emotional stimulus from others.

But since I am off the stuff (for now)... I would advise you not to fuck with me. I have been planting my foot up many asses lately and yours could be next! Heed the warning. That's all for now. Ta-ta.

Monday, December 08, 2008

Nipple Gate


I just want to get something off my chest. What is so fucking wrong with my nipples? I am tired of reading the comments... "Ewww... stop showing your nipple!" Exactly what is wrong with my nipples? Sure, they are "ant-bite" size... but so what? Just because they are tiny doesn't make them ugly.

And what is really the point of judging another man's nipples anyway? Biologically, we all began life as females with ovaries and clits. Without sufficient estrogen, the fetus becomes a male after 6-8 weeks after conception. The male nipple becomes essentially useless unless you are like me and derive sexual pleasure from sucking on and playing with them. I personally get excited when mine are tugged on.

Just let me assure you small nip haters that it could be way worse. If you don't believe me, then let me deeply ingrain your brain with the following visual:


Do you find this nips & chest combo sexy? Hmm? Or would you settle for my small nips? Yup. Thought so! Leave it to me to always take the NUCLEAR OPTION when making a point. :) Don't fuck with me. Mmmkay?

Sunday, December 07, 2008

The Fan Grope and Meat


Sometimes as a Blogger, you have to pull yourself away from your laptop kicking and screaming and get out there and meet your fans. It's a higher duty that I encourage all bloggers to do no matter how traumatic it is to be away from your precious.  I can assure you that the umbilical chord will eventually be reattached.

I met a fan of my blog yesterday. We had been exchanging emails and Facebooking for quite some time. (Facebooking is like being sassy with your schoolmates on the playground.) We agreed to meet outside the Bourbon Pub in New Orleans at 5pm yesterday.

As soon as I look up and see the Fan, he promptly pats me on the head and says, "Aww... you a widdle man!" I cringe and say, "Yeah, I am a short fucker."  Why wasn't he warned by my publicist that I am only 5'7"? Hmpfh! Now I am panicking that all the poor boy's dreams are crushed. 

We spent the first hour watching Florida beat Alabama in the SEC Championship Game. The Fan was an Aubie that was all giddy when Florida began pulling away in the fourth quarter. I was personally rooting for Alabama.

In the next couple of hours, we watched music videos and SNL clips being played on the screens at the Bourbon Pub. It can be quite mesmerizing. I don't know if I am similar to other Bloggers in this respect, but sometimes I zone out and fantasize I am that Hoochie Mama on the screen shaking my thing. The Fan had to interrupt my fantasies a few times and forced me to engage in conversation utilizing my mouth and ear as opposed to my fingers and eyes. The Fan is so old fashioned!

I swear I only lustfully fingered my iPhone a few times. Just having it on the table nearby and directly in front of me gave me a certain comfort. It was like a security blanket while I was not plugged in to my addiction. 

Of course, it wasn't until we get to the restaurant Mona Lisa that the Fan blurted out, "OH MY GAWD! YOU CAN TALK!" I winced. What was I, a mute at the Bourbon Pub? Lordy. Why don't others tell me these things? Twilight Zone music suddenly begins to stream in my head. Maybe I AM crazy and totally dysfunctional?

So I am a complete mess at this point. The Fan has looked into the depths of my soul and quickly deemed me to be batshit crazy. My hand is shaking for my iPhone. I made up some excuse that I wanted to show him how fat a Facebook friend was, but I really was just getting my iTina hit.

Before he escaped, I tried to save face by forcing the Fan to meet my furry children, Boudreaux and Pierre. Surely if he saw how much they loved me, he would walk back to his car instead of running away screaming from the insanity. I crossed my fingers that my Dachshunds wouldn't ferociously attack his ankles. Thankfully, they were well behaved and sweet. 

The moral of this story is that bloggers should really meet their fans. Don't be afraid of letting them see how twisted and fucked up in the head you are. It is great theatre for the fan and will only build up your legend well into the twilight years!

Thursday, December 04, 2008

The Photo Shoot


The photo shoot yesterday went well and was wrapped up in just under an hour. The biggest challenge for me was to follow direction and to stop looking so mean whenever I was told to look serious.

My photographer, Tate, was very good at making sure I pushed my chin out and down. That gets rid of the horror of any possible double chin action!

I had to laugh at one point because I was in an uncomfortable pose that was hurting my toes. When I got out of the pose and breathed a huge sigh of relief, he told me that sometimes you have to suffer for your art.

Here is a mere sampling of the pictures taken. You can click on the images to look closely for unsightly nose hair, gray hair or crow's feet. Try it... it's fun!








Yeehaw! I'm gonna rope me that wild bucking horse and break that bitch in good!

Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Oh, You Cunning Vixen!


Hillary Clinton continues to enthrall me. Like the characters of Margo Channing or Alexis Carrington, I simply can't worship this Diva enough. In the past, I have screamed for President Elect Obama to pay down Hillary Clinton's debts. Lord knows that Hillary has gobs more money than I do, but I was only concerned for her welfare. She is like Jesus Christ Superstar! to me.

Sure, I was pissed when Hillary threw in the towel in Denver, but I have had a change of heart. If Hillary does indeed become the next Secretary of State (still needs to be confirmed by the Senate), I may just give her campaign another $100 to help retire her debt. I have thoroughly enjoyed the theatre of Hillary outmaneuring that traitor Bill Richardson. She plays a much more wicked game of Chess than he does! EVIL GRIN.

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

New Hairdo



Since I have a photoshoot tomorrow, I had to hurry up and get my hair cut. I am excited because the photographer is one of the best in the business. Tonight, I'll have to hit the gym hard and make sure all of my harnesses are attached properly for those naughty fantasy scenes.