Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Rocky the Rooster

Dearest Marjorie:

What's that Marjorie? You have some criticism about me that you would like to discuss? Well pull up a chair, Hon! Now let me warn you that at the precise moment you go too far and cause me to catch the red ass, I advise to RUN or be prepared for a full verbal assault.

Ahh... so I am insufferable? OK. And what else? I put too many pics and videos of myself on this here blog? And you have a problem with that because of? Hmm... very interesting. What else? (rolling up sleeves) That Giving it Up for Lent video where I made love to a burrito was the stupidest thing you have ever seen? (cracking knuckles)

Well let me tell you something Marjorie... you ain't perfect either! I could wag my tongue all day long about what a quirky fuck you are. Hell, I feel like boxing your ears when you act all judgemental with your snooty big city attitude.

Let's talk about YOUR reputation. Oh yeah... we are going there! Honey, everybody knows you sleep with other people's husbands as often as you change your underwear. Gasp. Guess who we call "Suzy Homewrecker"? Yessss... that's you guuurl!

And let's talk about your granny panties. Where do you shop? At a K-Mart bargain bin? You buy your packs of 5 white briefs for $2 on a bluelight special? If someone chooses to cover their crown jewels with such plain jane and RATTY underwear, can we all assume that means there is nothing special underneath? Oh, I think so!

Next time you wish to discuss me, Marjorie, we'll talk about the time when I won the 2006 Mr. Bayou Grizzly Contest where 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation. And yes BITCH... flames illuminated my tear-stained face.

Ahem. Now that I have gotten that off my chest, we can now return to our regular scheduled programming...

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Furry Friend Treats

This morning, I decided to visit with some very friendly faces on the farm. These palomino fillies are just as sweet as can be. They sure enjoyed the bucket of treats I brought over. I love how truly majestic horses are. Hanging out with them is good for the soul.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

The Quest to Be a Normal Gay

I have been single for exactly 46 days. Who would have thunk I would have survived this damn long? My friends all made wagers that my singlehoodness would not last. Who can blame them? My track record for staying single is not very good.

I have kept myself occupied by having a very hectic schedule. If I am not working out with my trainer (3x's per week), I am playing tennis in three leagues I belong to. I sometimes work out AND play tennis on the same day.

My life has sped up so fast since I became single. I often feel like I am barely holding on by the seat of my pants. There have been consequences. My once orderly house has become messy. My dogs are not getting enough attention. I am even taking risks by driving home from bars inebrieted.

The best way to describe how unbalanced I feel is to compare myself to a three legged chair. I am all wobbly because I am desperately missing my fourth leg. In a nutshell, I need to be a more normal gay. Life doesn't have to fly by so fast. I am not missing out on anything if I stay home. That's a lot coming from a Gemini, huh?!

So, I ordered some cookbooks from Amazon. What in the hell do cookbooks have to do with my condition? They hold the promise of giving my life more balance. It's a start... especially since I lost my cook in the divorce.

The closer I get to being more balanced, the happier I'll be in the long run. I am all about happy endings. :)

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Crack is Whack!

Goddammit. I post a few pics of me running around on the tennis court and a rumor swirls that I have Whitney Houston arms and legs. Hmpfh! My body looks more like a pornstar than a crackhead.

Let me show all of you Diane Sawyers two pics that were taken yesterday...

The very friendly Jorge and Me:

Me and my Super Sweet Doubles Partner Kevin:

Monday, April 20, 2009

Consolation Finals Drubbing

In front of five fans and one hater, Brazillian Alec drubbed me in the Consolation Finals 6-1, 6-2. While I moved on the court with great speed, I often played impatiently and couldn't place the ball where it needed to go.

Here are a few action shots on the court:


Sunday, April 19, 2009

Finding My Manhood

Tennis tournaments are funny. When you are sore and cranky from lots of playing, you tend to shed any nervousness or anxiety on the courts. On the second day of the New Orleans tournament, I won both my singles matches to advance to the Consolation Finals. This time I didn't choke and blow a lead.

At 9am tomorrow, I play a very good slicer named Alec. He is from Brazil, but lives in New Orleans. I will definitely have my hands full. If I have any chance of winning, I'll have to display a full assault of aggression at the net. Stay tuned for the results...

Time for a Little R & R

Can someone fetch me a beer? I am not a big drinker, but boy do I feel like downing a cold one. Don't let my relaxed look fool you. I may be luxuriating, but I am really pouting here at the fancy Whipping Boy Resort and Spa.

In the first day of the Fleur-De-Lis New Orleans tournament, I had extreme butterflies and played like a pussy. I got knocked out of the first round by blowing two matchpoints and losing 5-7, 7-6, 6-2 to Brooke. He was the same player that beat me in the finals in last year's tournament.

In Doubles action, my friend Kevin and I got blown out by the #2 seed 6-2, 6-1. Our opponents crushed our spirits by executing everything perfectly. We stood no chance.

So, today I'll be vying for Consolation Queen. It is not a shiny title, but it is better than nothing. Wish me luck!

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Viva La Resistance!

Psst... have you ever wondered what bloggers are really like in person? While it is widely accepted that we are gifted in the art of written communication, the reputation of bloggers is that many of us have limited social skills.

A week ago, I was put to the test if I could pass for a normal person. I visited a longtime reader of this blog. He was all giddy that a famous blogger (his words) was sitting on his couch with his toy poodle in their lap. He told me that he really enjoyed my blog because it made him laugh. I told him that I was thrilled to hear that, because the rumor going around is that my crazy blog makes others feel normal. He neither confirmed nor denied it. He simply smiled.

This past weekend, a couple from Fort Lauderdale approached me at the Bourbon Pub. Are you Brettcajun?, they asked. Why...yes I am, I replied back. They were genuinely thrilled to meet me. I am quite sure I gave them a bigger Brettcajun experience than they expected. Hey, if you are a loyal reader and take the time to talk to me, I am going to make it worth your while.

Which comes to my point: bloggers are real people too. We have feelings and emotions just like anyone else. Contrary to popular belief, physical contact with the real world is just as important to us. Perhaps we do spend too much time thinking, writing, or daydreaming. But that is what makes us special.

I am proud of this blog. I love every friend I have met as a
result of it. Despite what others may think, I have made true friends for life that I'll always cherish. I will not bow down and end something that brings me endless happiness. Viva La Resistance!

Sister Girl Bunifa!

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Hissy Fit Agreement

I am quirky. You are quirky. We all possess something in our personality that annoys the fuck out of everyone. When we become intolerable, our friends have every right to call us on our shit and do an intervention. Oh, yes Marjorie... your noonie stinks too!

Recently, there was an intervention done to me. Sniff. Apparently, my local tennis buddies could no longer tolerate my competitive zeal on and off the court. They crafted a joint effort to fix my red wagon kill my ego for good.

My first sense that something was amiss was the condescending tone that was consistently displayed in person, via text messaging, and during phone conversations. They were all talking down to me! Grr... it annoyed me. Suddenly, all text messages and phone calls stopped. Houston, we have a problem!

The torpedo that would soon rip through my heart came via email. It was so well written, that it could have only been done by a committee. One by one, the words were daggers to my heart. I felt as if I were Julius Caesar stabbed 23 times during the Ides of March by fellow Roman senators. Et tu, Brute?

My initial reaction was rage. I had the usual wicked thoughts... Don't fuck with me fellas! I will hunt each of you bitches down and there will be hell to pay! If it's war you want, it's war you'll get! And that's why I should never be in charge of an army. EVER.

Rather than get temporary satisfaction from going all mega-bitch, I held my tongue. Do you know how hard it is for me?! I suffered with my fury in silence. A small part of my brain deemed it to be a good idea to sleep on it before I reacted. I agreed.

I am glad I did. I pieced together the sequence of events which led us to the brink of war, and I was able to see the error of my ways. So, I wrote an email response that was as close to an apology I could possibly muster. I also promised to curb my "Bwahaha... I just drubbed XYZ on the tennis court!" text messages.

My email must have ushered a new era of peace, because tennis matches were soon offered from two of the friends involved in this spat.

In fact, I played Tom last night and won 6-2, 6-3. The old Brett would have written... Aiieee! I sure impaled Whipping Boy's ass last night! How long is my winning streak against him now? But I have matured... so I didn't text or write that. ;)

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Remembering Ryan White

Today is the anniversary of Ryan White's death. Ryan was born a hemophiliac and contracted AIDS through contaminated blood. His struggle to be accepted and allowed to go to school was one of the most moving stories when the AIDS epidemic came the forefront of the nation.

Ryan's story will always be etched firmly in my mind. It demonstrated the worst in human character (his community) as he was expelled from Western Middle School in Russiaville, Indiana. His fight to be accepted, despite his diagnoses, showed the best of human bravery.

Upon checking Western Middle School's daily announcements page today, I was disheartened to find that there was no mention of Ryan White. I clicked on various links and could find no tribute to Ryan White on any web page representing this school district.

I hope his community gives a special tribute in some form or fashion. Ryan should be honored for his bravery in the face of a scared and misguided public. If you are from Indiana, I am curious to hear any local efforts being done to celebrate Ryan's life.

Monday, April 06, 2009

That Jerky Single Guy

I have seen it happen too many times, so it was only a matter of time before it happened to me. When people suddenly become single, they go through a period of whining and grieving. Then you get past that point.

You become thrilled you don't have to make one goddamn compromise with another half. You smirk at the misery you see in the faces of couples. Ha! Suckers!

The realization comes that you are truly the blessed one because you have a multitude of choices at your fingertips. You are the ruler of your own universe. You can do whatever the fuck you want.

The trick is to not lose all of your friends in the process.

My first stumble was securing places to stay while going out in New Orleans. I have loyal friends that have been very supportive of me through this D.I.V.O.R.C.E. Mi Casa Es Su Casa.

I'll go out... get a good beer buzz... and completely forget about calling my host to let them know I was driving home or staying somewhere else. Texting... Sorry you lost some sleep waiting on me to come in bro! doesn't cut it.

My second stumble is managing those interested in me. How can I juggle people without letting them know they are being juggled? While they may have been single for years, I haven't. I still have yet to figure out exactly what Brett wants.

Which comes to my next stumble. Why in the hell can't I ever give non-specific answers to questions? I end up blabbing my business (like having another date) because I am not skilled in the art of bullshit. I need to read some sort of "Mastering the Art of Being Single for Dummies" guidebook.

In the meantime, I bought several cookbooks for "single guys" and lots of new cookware. It is time I evolve into someone that cooks, rather than the person always eating out at restaurants. I have a few other things I need to "evolve" in, but I'll save that for a future blogpost.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Your Nether Regions Will Come Alive!

If you follow me on Facebook, you already know that I promised to share a picture of Durban Bud naked.

I was shocked by the sheer number of people puzzled by this status update. They were all like... "Who in the hell is Durban Bud?" I was like... "OMFG! He is only the most famous blogger there is and ever will be!"

This is for all you pervs always touching your nether regions deep into the night...