Brettcajun

Goodbye Losers:

2012-01-19T10:20:00.013-06:00

I am officially saying "goodbye" to mating sites like MH, Grindr and Scruff. My recent job promotion has kept me too busy to keep in touch with all the twinks with flare, cheating partners, fakes, con-artists, and losers nobody wants.

Being told I have beautiful eyes brightened my day for ohhhh... the first 1,000,000 times. Now, YAWN. In the end, my future husband... THE ONE... never found me. I no longer hold on to the fantasy that he even exists.

The truth of the matter is that the perfect person for me is ME! I can't cheat on me, use me, tirelessly argue with me, or endlessly annoy me. It all makes sense. I LOVE myself more than any man possibly can.

Which is fine, because I don't need a man. Men are bastards. They lie, cheat, get bored, and always selfishly pursue their own interests at the expense of all others.

By removing myself from online dating sites, I can start a new relationship with the one person who has always been there... ME! Can you think of a couple more deserving of each other? I can't! :)

Now, if you excuse me I need to check in with my other half to let them know I'll be home late tonight. I have an aggressive and sweaty engagement lined up with my mistress (TENNIS).

Ring. Ring. "Hello? Hey, you handsome scruffilicious husbear! I'm gonna be home late tonight. Yeah... tennis again. Is that okay? GREAT. You are the best! I LOVE YOU TOO!"

Happily Ever After. Don't be jealous! ;)

THRIVE:

2012-01-10T08:03:00.021-06:00

As you may already know, Alabama defeated LSU last night in the BCS National Championship game. Our offense and play calling were hapless. Les Miles, LSU's coach, stubbornly kept in Jordan Jefferson as quarterback. He should have replaced him with SMARTER Jarrett Lee, who can throw deep strikes and vertical passes.

I can smile that LSU won the SEC and finished with an impressive 13-1 record and #2 in the AP Poll. An achievement that basketball schools like Maryland and Tennessee (which has sucked for decades) can only envy.

Predictably, a ragtag group of haters had a field day writing on my Facebook wall:

Hahahaha!!! ROLL TIDE ALL OVER YOUR BELOVED TIGERS! GEAUX TIDE!!!

Reauxl Tide! LSU-zers!!

Ouch. What a humiliating loss. Embarrassed for you and the Tigers. Awful. War Eagle.

The way LSU got beat tonight, they're gonna have to change their mascot to Rhianna.

Do they have your tennis coach?

Do we need to put you on suicide watch yet?

Every one of these hateful commenters intended to inflict emotional pain. Little do they know I THRIVE on negative energy. When you knock me down, I dust off and get stronger. This is the way of the Sith. WE THRIVE ON CHALLENGES, CONFLICT, AND REVENGE.

So, as you haters gloat today over my misfortune... know that my head is still held high. If I had a choice to switch places with you losers, I wouldn't.

HATER STATISTICS:

Their favorite football team records:
Maryland 2-10
Minnesota 3-9
Tennessee 5-7
Northwestern 6-7
Auburn 8-5

Average anal diameter gape:(KK and CB skewed data)
6.8"

Average penis size:(not even LT could increase this stat to something respectable)
5.5"

Average Squish factor:
Pillsbury Doughboy

Average Masculinity:
Flaaaaaaming and fierce with lots of flare!

Average Athletic Ability:
Mama wrote notes to exclude them from physical education

Bama HATE T-Shirt:

2012-01-05T14:15:00.003-06:00

The liberal press is ALL OVER this t-shirt designed by a Bama fan for the upcoming BCS National Championship game between LSU and Alabama.

Someone should make a shirt, "Hey MULLET HEADS, we already beat the hell out of you and we'll do it again!"

Every homosexual should now pull for the LSU Tigers... except for Mike.

"Name me one homely Miss Mississppi"

2012-01-05T06:28:00.001-06:00

Happy Endings:

2012-01-02T18:47:00.021-06:00

My marriage to Jimbo is officially OVER. It was a loveless engagement where I couldn't even give the old gal a test drive to see if the engine was smooth running or clanky. I held out great hope that one good LAY would fix the bitchy attitude once and for all. Now, we'll never know if there was a cure. (sigh) :(

That's fine. I don't need a man. They are just trouble. Besides, it's not about "LOVE". At 41 years old, I have grown wise to the fact that people do not enter relationships for LOVE. It is really what that person can do for them... enhance their life so to speak. In that respect, I can take care of myself.

The year 2012 is shaping up to be a great year. Besides my alma mater, LSU, drop-kicking Alabama for it's 3rd BCS title, the New Orleans Saints look likely to win it's second Super Bowl in three years on the shoulders of Drew Brees (who SHOULD be this year's MVP).

On a personal note, I am beginning the year with no debt, a new car that won't get me laid but gets 33 mpg, and a substantial salary increase. I plan to SAVE lots in 2012 and not piss it all away on men, beer and travel. I will concentrate on my career, fitness, and an upcoming tennis season with lofty expectations. Men will NOT be a priority.

Who knows? Maybe I'll get back to writing my Sci Fi book. I rediscovered the 65 typed pages recently on a flash drive. I hadn't worked on it in well over 5 years, but surprisingly, it is funny and very well written. It made me proud. :) Hmm...

That is all.

2011: The Poseidon Adventure

2011-12-29T07:13:00.029-06:00

If I could sum up 2011, it'd be "The Poseidon Adventure". My Ex, Tommy, died succumbing to dangerous recreational use of inhalants. I think of him just about every day. While it was a privilege and honor to give his Eulogy, I am haunted by questions of what I could have done to save him.

There's got to be a morning after
If we can hold on through the night
We have a chance to find the sunshine
Let's keep on lookin' for the light

I traveled to Louisville, KY earlier this year to meet someone who had truly captivated me. I bulked up with a personal trainer in anticipation of the ~~mind blowing sex~~ meeting. Because of their fine tastes, I splurged extravagantly on an elegant room. Three days before I was set to arrive, he admitted to being married. Okay. That's cool. I was still prepared to meet this amazing person. Then came news that he couldn't meet because of a last minute work trip to China. It was a sucker punch I wasn't prepared for.

Oh, can't you see the morning after?
It's waiting right outside the storm
Why don't we cross the bridge together
And find a place that's safe and warm?

Then there was the masseur who seduced me. Life lesson: gay masseurs are nothing more than gypsy hookers who will tell you anything to get your money. I was so smitten by his fun and friendly nature, I agreed to buy him a plane ticket and book us a luxury room for five days in Chicago for IML. We were going to have SO MUCH FUN! Unfortunately, they secretly converted the ticket to fly to Atlanta to do necessary paperwork to become domestic partners with a flight attendant. He could now fly FREE anywhere with his new boyfriend. Yay! He had the gall to ask if they both could still bum together in my room (for free)? HELL NO.

It's not too late, we should be giving
Only with love can we climb
It's not too late, not while we're living
Let's put our hands out in time

Thank God for Jimbo! SNIFF. My future husbear is a godsend for a shitty year. Trust me, I am just as giddy as our fans who masturbate to visions of us rubbing our scruffy beards together making sweet love. Our Anger/Make-Up Sex will be the envy of all other couples. Take that Durban Bud and Chuck!

There's got to be a morning after...

Jimbo: Thank you for allowing me to go through the holidays with a beacon of hope that life will be better. I look forward to our Copulation Ritual. Mama already picked out a fancy white sheet to make sure you are indeed a virgin. LOVE YOU SWEETIE!!! SMOOCH. FANNY PAT. NIP TUGS. :)

Merry Christmas Germy Co-workers:

2011-12-23T10:21:00.003-06:00

Yes, I DID give this Christmas present to every office worker today. What can they do? They can still backstab, but I have taken away "Germ Warfare" from their arsenal of weapons to be used against me. :)

Ahem...

2011-12-15T17:01:00.029-06:00

This is a TRUE story. I was gushing over my future scruffilicious husbear with a friend today. He was genuinely happy for us. Without warning, he asks... "Have you two drawn up a prenup yet?"

Umm... nooooo. Do we need one?

My bud advised that a little pre-marriage planning now would prevent a MESS when the divorce inevitably happens. Considering Jimbo's track record and penchant for exploding into bitchy rages (why Jimbo?), I thought it would be prudent.

Without further ado...

1. Money: What yours is yours... mine is mine. We split living expenses, but don't share checking accounts or credit cards. I ain't supporting your Jem and the Holograms fan girl addiction or every time a female pop star comes into town. You can indulge in the fantasy of being a glamorous fem pop star on your own dime.

2. What Constitutes Cheating: Looking at online porn ain't cheating. Masterbating to online porn is cheating only if you don't approach me FIRST about getting your urges met. NO WHORE... you are not permitted to maintain Manhunt, Grindr, Scruff, Squirt, Bear411, Daddyhunt or any other pervy sites. I don't give a goddamn if you want to maintain contact with acquaintances... you ain't parading yourself on those sites under the guise of "just looking for friends" or "for chat only".

3. My Enemies are Yours (not to be confused with enemas): If I can't stand a person, then you can't stand that person either. Your loyalty is very important to me. That means no hugging or smooching on ANYONE I can't stand and vice versa.

4. Sex: Did you think I married you for companionship or witty banter? HELLZ NO. I expect lots of it and in every position. Basically, you are my Heaux and I will treat you as such. You must shower regularly and always be prepared.

5. Children: NO! If you have maternal instincts, then consider your relationship with me as raising a small child.

6. Pets: Dogs are fine. No cats. Also, my Dachshunds Boudreaux and Pierre will be permitted to sleep with us every night. Typically, they like to sleep between us... but they can be moved during spooning or makeout sessions.

7. Mama & Family: Don't ever embarrass me in front of family. That means no telling any hilarious stories that will forever be held over my head or paint me in any negative light. Also, no queening out or nelly hand gestures in their presence.

8. Bar Etiquette: I may want to place an arm around you or my middle finger snuggly in your asscrack. PDA is perfectly okay especially if we bump into Ex's. If a stranger gropes, kisses, tongues, pulls on nips, or rubs our furry chests, it's not a screech worthy dramatic event. Don't embarrass me with a "EEK! GIT YER HANDS OFF MY MAN!" Politely introduce yourself as my boyfriend without breaking their hand in a menacing iron grip.

9. Squish: A little squish is okay, but I expect you to regularly maintain your sexiness by exercising and putting gym time in. Working out with your partner would score you MEGA bonus points.

10. Food: I admit to having limited cooking skills. What can I say? I have been spoiled by Mama and two Ex's who liked to cook. I can basically make breakfast, sandwiches, spaghetti, tacos, taco salad, pizza, roasts, or grilled chicken with sauteed spinach. If you want anything fancier or healthier... you'll either have to cook, we eat out, or we eat at Mamas.

The BIG announcement:

2011-12-14T14:40:00.019-06:00

NOTE: THIS IS A POST DONE IN JEST.

You may have heard the rumor on the interwebs. IT'S TRUE! Jimbo and I have decided to stop being Mean Girls to one another and get engaged. Unlike classy Bette Davis in All About Eve, Cuntzilla (Bridezilla?) CAN be had for the price of a cocktail, like a salty peanut.

This should not come as a shock to anyone in the blogger community. Sexual tension fueled by biting quips and hair pulling has always been present. On more than one occasion, our exasperated fan bases begged -- "Would you two fuck and get it over with?!"

I guess deep down inside, I admire those who throw punches. They tend to garner my respect.

How Jimbo and I make love:
I diss the Glee character of Kurt Hummel. Jimbo tells me that I am even sissier playing the fag sport of tennis. He leaves me no choice but to put down Rugby players and the woeful Maryland Twerps football team.

Verbal blows soon turn into headlocks... "Admit you wear women's panties!" "Fuck you! I'll show you who wears panties!" We go back and forth physically wrestling for domination and subjugation of the other until it invariably turns into a spit infused HOT make out session.

I cannot fathom anything more romantic! :) Can you? Suddenly, I have STRONG Celine Dion musical urges:

Even though there may be times
It seems I'm far away
Never wonder where I am
Cause I am always by your side

Cause you're my lady
And I am your man
Whenever you grope for me
I'll do all that I can

We're heading for something
Somewhere I've never been
Sometimes I am frightened
But I'm ready to learn
Of the power of love

For those who need to know, Jimbo and I are registered at Walmart. NOTHING IS TOO FANCY FOR OUR TRAILER! Diapers and baby formula would greatly be appreciated as there are a buttload of babies on the way.

Le Retour à la Raison:

2011-12-12T14:44:00.023-06:00

Something went wrong
I made a deal with the devil for an empty I.O.U.
Been to hell and back,
but an angel was looking through
It was you, yeah, you
It's all because of you

You are the reason
You are the reason I wake up every day
And sleep through the night
You are the reason, the reason
Celine Dion -- "The Reason"

I am done listening to heart wrenching LOVE songs from Celine Dion. Blech! GAG. Ack! Love is a fantasy. It does not exist.

While it is true that relationships are hard work, it shouldn't be this tough. I'm a catch (ahem... pitcher). I shouldn't have to work this hard for another's affections. It is the same teenage girl role I have starred many times before in a Lifetime Original Movie. STOP TYPECASTING ME!!!

There is only one entity responsible for this... my namby pamby HEART. It has failed and embarrassed me for the last goddamn time. So, I have thrown it into a locked bird cage where it can ETERNALLY ROT for all I care.

The EGO is back in charge. GOD. HELP. YOU. ALL.

For your own safety, I suggest you leave the premises immediately. Molly, you in danger girl."

2011-12-07T08:38:00.008-06:00

The wisdom I have gained in 2011 is immeasurable. Through both good and bad experiences, I have pretty much figured out myself, people, and life in general.

Why has it taken me so long? Stubbornness? Naivety? I dunno.

I can tell you this... NOT ANYMORE. I ain't putting up with your bullshit or anyone else's.

Now if you will excuse me, I've got a show to do! (flips hair and sashay's off in high heels)

M.I.A.

2011-11-28T11:40:00.002-06:00

Has anyone seen these two? No blog posts. No return phone calls. I guess some people want to be left alone in their own little hermit worlds. Tsk. Tsk. I held out great hope that boot camp would have knocked some normalcy (and less squish) into these two. It's like my Daddy always says... you can lead a horse to water... but you can't make them hung. (SIGH)

I:Robot

2011-11-21T11:29:00.009-06:00

Recently, I stepped out of a comfortable programmed lifestyle to test the waters of being human again. I can confirm there are exhilarating highs and painstaking lows. My routine has gone from following a script of commands to achieve a predictable result, to a muddled mess of human emotions.

Which is better? THAT... I do not yet know.

I am perfect (stronger) as a robot. As a human... meh... wimpy... whiny... insecure. I detest my human traits. I do not know what the future holds. I fret about uncertainties and variables (i.e., people) I cannot control.

My Ego is impatient. He has given the Heart a narrow window to succeed or be vanquished back to the icy cold circuitry as a robot. Love will no longer be an option, but neither will heart ache or disappointment.

Madness? Perhaps.

But it describes my thoughts succintly.

2011-11-15T12:21:00.021-06:00

If I could give an award to one of my favorite bloggers, it would be JIMBO! His raging bitterness about anything and everyone provides me with constant entertainment.

Psst... my Ego wants to do sadistic things to him. If I had magical powers, I would instantly teleport fellow bloggers (even Karl... UGH!) to a locked room.

We'd sport hipster glasses and mischievously chat with one other ONLY with our iPhones. Hell, we'd invite drunk Jennifers to come over and party with us. If they were part of a bachelorette party with penis Mardi Gras beads... all the better! The fantastic night will end in a frenzy of sassy and smooth twinks gyrating their size 28 skinny jeans all over a bound and gagged Jimbo. HEAVEN! :)

It would almost be as fun as putting a shirtless Durban Bud in the center of a crowded dance floor without any technology... or Purell. The more he tried to exit the steamy dance orgy, the deeper the crowd swallows him up. Sweaty shirtless bears rubbing their stanky armpits all over. Is it so wrong to wish this upon TJ? (Note: those who know TJ personally would find this scenario completely hilarz!) SMIRK.

Anyway, congratulations Jimbo!!! Your relentless and seething bitchery has won you the coveted Bloody Tampon Award. RAGE ON Cuntzilla... RAGE ON...

(Mental Note: So glad I don't have any quirks!)

Reality Check:

2011-11-14T05:26:00.001-06:00

I am back from Houston. While I did not win any trophies, I was competitive in all tennis matches. My inability to finish strong and hold a lead was a recurrent theme.

In singles, I was eliminated in the first round. I was cruising along fine 6-1,4-1 against a player nicknamed "Hollywood" by the locals. Hollywood is a physically fit and conditioned athlete who is mirror image of myself: excellent runner, chases down everything, hits everything back like a back board. I got stuck playing in SAFE MODE after having a commanding lead, while Hollywood fought back with impressive winners. He defeated me in three sets in a match that lasted 2 1/2 hours.

In doubles, Rod and I scored a stunning upset of the #3 team. Our reward was playing a stronger team thirty minutes later. Before this match, my quads, hamstrings, and knees were all shot. Thankfully, I had knee braces in my tennis bag and that helped. We took the first set 6-4, had 5-3 leads in the second and third sets but blew them. We did not finish strong.

After 8 sets of tennis, I was hobbling around like an old man. I have never felt this crippled before in a tournament after the first day. What changed? Sure, I am older... but so is everyone else! The only thing I can put my finger on is that I haven't worked out my legs in the gym all year. My excuse: "I play tennis five times a week. I don't need to work out my legs." Now, I am starting to wonder if that holds true. Perhaps my legs DO need to be worked out and bulked up. Hmmm.... something to ponder.

I am thankful to Robert, my host, for accommodating me and my furry rugrats. He has a beautiful home in the Heights and the sweetest Shih Tzu. My dogs got along fine with his well mannered pooch. Robert is an excellent Masseur... so his trade was very much appreciated and needed. I hope we weren't too high maintenance for him. GRIN.

My next tennis tournament is in March 2012 (Austin). I have 4 months to bulk up legs and ramp up conditioning. As evidenced by this weekend, I am no where near where I need to be.

Things that make MEN squirm:

2011-10-25T04:52:00.004-05:00

It was a simple question asked after a moment of intimacy: What are you looking for? Are you open to dating and pursuing a relationship? Ruh Roh.

After choking and coughing on an imaginary item lodged in my throat, I startled the inquisitive soul with a long pause. My face flushed three shades of crimson. I felt difficulty breathing. Clearly, I would have won BEST DRAMATIC ACT OF BEING CHOKED TO DEATH BY DARTH VADER.

My response was the most convoluted and obtuse ten minutes of psychobabble I had ever given. After listening to the painful attempt, the puzzled guy replied -- "I have absolutely NO IDEA what you just said. Answer the question. Are you open to dating? YES or NO?" (GULP!)

Why am I having difficulty with this question? I suppose it is because neither him nor I have ever talked about our feelings. We are presently enjoying each other's company with no strings attached. Perfectly "OK" short term, but not practical the longer we see each other.

I could easily fall for this guy, but it scares me. I have had so many disappointments. What will happen to my meticulously constructed lifestyle that has protected me from ever having to feel hurt, jealousy, or a broken heart? While it has suited me well, it offers me no such protection if I hurl myself off a cliff yelling, "I DO!"

I shiver in fear treading on the precipice of being human...

It's a skeery world. Am I brave enough? Can I throw caution to the wind to love and be loved again? Pondering such things leaves me perplexed. I go "UGH!" and frantically search for anything else to occupy my thoughts.

Life is easier as a Sith. Human? Not so much.

The Silence of Bees

2011-10-14T11:35:00.006-05:00

I was greeted by visitors to my home many months ago. They were a curiosity to me. Dutifully going about their business climbing wood columns and disappearing under siding. Everyday, I watched with fascination as they climbed with bright yellow pollen on their legs.

I had a moral dilemma. Many times I have read where the bee population has been decimated nationwide. What do I do? I called various Bee removal services and they all charged quite a bit. In the past, I have witnessed large dragon flies swooping down to eat the bees in the afternoon. Hmm... can't I just let nature take care of nature? Perhaps we can all co-exist peacefully together? That was a pipe dream.

Everyday, I calmly walked out to my vehicle and ignored the bees buzzing around me. Sometimes they would bump into me, but never did they sting me. It was a little annoying to navigate through a swarm of bees, but a part of me felt proud that I let them be.

As time marched on, the swarm got bigger and bigger. With a low mosquito population, there aren't as many dragon flies on the farm eating bees. A part of my brain told me that I had to do something that I did not want to do.

After a morning of tennis, I arrived home and regretfully got my first bee sting. I have been stung enough by wasps, yellow jackets, and bees as a child to not have a highly allergic reaction. Sure, it hurt but it was more of a nuisance than anything else.

What if I had a visitor who was highly allergic to bee stings? I had to do something. I stalled for weeks, but eventually did what must have been done.

The next morning, I found scores of bees dead. There was no buzzing sound or bees flying around to greet me as they have done so on a daily basis. It made me sad. I killed them all. I am a bad person. :(

Why are we forced to hurt or kill other living beings? Why must our very existence harm nature time and time again? Reflecting on such things is pointless because I always arrive at the same answer: "that's just life!" Somehow, it doesn't make me feel any better.

"Oh..."

2011-10-05T07:56:00.004-05:00

"It's alright to say you want it
Get inside my dirty mind
Burns like ice the way I bring it
Again and again and again all night"
Britney Spears, Up n'Down

The moment of clarity I mentioned in the previous blog post has had a profound impact on me. I began questioning everything from my relationship with others to how I conduct my life. What if it is not THEM that are crazy? What if it is ME? Do I live in my own Bizzaro World?

It is a daunting task to untangle from a carefully woven web we have spent decades spinning to protect ourselves. Layer upon layer spun to catch intruders. The thicker and stickier... the better to shield ourselves from certain truths and realities.

I am often asked the most cringe worthy of questions -- "Why are you single? What is wrong with you?" Nothing pisses me off more than those two. In fact, not only do I take great umbrage... my serpent tongue splits in two as I defiantly cut down the perpetrator who dare ask!

An earful of fiery rhetoric in my best Julia Sugarbaker tone on WHY I am not settling follows. The poor bastard receives a LAUNDRY LIST of conditions that must be met before cohabitation. In the end, they are usually left in an exhausted heap wishing they had never asked. My intention exactly.

Do you remember when Maryann the Maenad was puzzled by Sookie in True Blood? She carefully studies Sookie and with a look of amazement asks -- "What are you?!" This is exactly the reaction I get from others.

I am a person who has been hurt and disappointed many times. What you see before you is someone who has carefully built up defenses. I have created my own world which often keeps me too busy to pine for or stew over others. In a way, I have unconsciously built a perfect world bereft of human frailties such as emotions or feelings.

Is it right? No. As I am being courted by others, I must knock down the bulked up defenses if I am ever to find true love. This is where my mind is. Full of contemplation.

On a side note -- do you know that one of my favorite poems is by William Wordsmith? For me, "Tintern Abbey" invokes great thought on reflection, contemplation, and spiritual awakening. Check it out.

Epiphany:

2011-09-12T10:41:00.013-05:00

If we give pause to our hectic lives, we may gain valuable insight about ourselves. Sure, hints are thrown our way. The whole picture is not always clear, until suddenly it hits you. These are powerful moments.

Recently, I met a guy. On the surface, he met ALL of my criteria. Kevin M. would call my preferences "superficial", but I know what I like. He's my height, a few years older, sports a muscular build, loves dogs, masculine, sexually compatible with nice parts, football crazy, loves his family, has a job, college educated, loves cooking (BONUS), non-smoker, drinks very little (DOUBLE BONUS), not pretentious, and is receptive to learning the sport of tennis (TRIPLE BONUS).

After a respectable movie and dinner date, we make out on the couch. We did not "SEAL THE DEAL", but I was okay with that. The next day, we introduced our dogs to each other. They got along wonderfully. He announces -- "Well, now that our dogs get along fine... the Daddies can date!"

The only problem was that Southern Decadence was looming. I had made plans to spend the sluttiest weekend of the year in New Orleans. I couldn't cancel, because I had friends coming in from all over the country. We agree to spend two of the days together

When he arrived at my hotel, I knew I had crossed into a creepy vulnerable state of mind. Standing in front of me was a truly beautiful man. My heart went pitter patter. Where I was in control prior, I wasn't in control now. DAMN!

As we walked through the French Quarter, I beamed. Next to me was a fine looking man. Periodically, I'd give him neck massages or affectionate hugs. I was in bliss as I gleefully introduced him to friends.

He stated -- "Gawd... you know a lot of people! Everyone and their grandmother loves you." I nodded, "Yeah, I have a lot of friends". I didn't pay much attention to that portentous exchange, but it would hold a key to what would later transpire.

The evening turned into nightfall. We were dancing shirtless at Oz. I hadn't gone dancing in ages, so I was having a ball. A couple strange things happened: a girl pinched my nipple and held on for an uncomfortably long time and a total stranger lustily felt up my sweaty hairy chest and pecs. I am used to this sort of behavior, so I just smiled and continued on as if nothing had happened.

After gyrating on the stage for two hours, my date announces that he had had enough and was ready to leave. It was only midnight. I could have danced for another hour, but willingly agreed to call it a night. Besides, I looked forward to spending one-on-one time with his hunky self.

On the walk back, I got an eerie feeling that something was troubling my date. I asked if he was okay. He replied, "Everyone was hemming and hawing over you in there." I could see the EXACT same resentment on his face that my Ex used to give me.

What do I say or do? Naturally, I put my arm around him and gave him a big kiss. "It doesn't matter... I'm with you." We quietly walk back to the hotel in drizzling darkness.

We shower and climb into bed together... naked. His skin feels sooo good. I turn him on his side to spoon. I cup his pecs and rest my lips on his neck. As soon as I kiss his soft ears and neck, he abruptly announces he wants to sleep. I pout inwardly, but say "Okay".

The next morning, I awake with a serious case of morning wood. Once again, I am denied. I was dumbfounded. This is exactly what happened countless times with the Ex! I stare off into blankness. Why is he denying me? It was at this precise moment that I was hit with a thunder bolt of clarity.

Oh.

Tennis GAWD:

2011-08-25T08:33:00.007-05:00

Across from my desk, Dad-Boss plops down. He smugly greets me with a smirk... "The Tennis Pro!" I grit my teeth and utter "that's right!" We gnash our teeth and glare in awkward silence.

I start the conversation. "Did you know that I beat Jeff (brother-in-law) 6-0, 6-0? Yep. That's called a double bagle. We played a third set and I won that one 6-2. So, if you are counting... I won 18 out of 20 games". Dad Boss sneers as if unimpressed. More awkward silence.

On days like this, my spirit is on fire. In fact, I walk around with a little pep in my step. Tonight starts four straight nights of tennis... a sport I rule. No one, not even Dad Boss, can bring me down.

People wonder why I play so much tennis. It's not very hard to figure out. The sport of tennis rewards me. I am triumphant, respected, and feared on the courts. It is something a Dad-Boss has never given me. I am just his strange gay son. Perhaps his greatest embarrassment?

And that is why...

Adidas SITH SHOES: Long have I waited for the last Jedi to fall at my feet.

The Lonely Beagle:

2011-08-18T06:12:00.013-05:00

Before you think I've gone all soft and squishy, please note I am a cold and heartless DBAG. One icky post should not be enough to shatter an image I have spent years meticulously constructing. Ahem...

Continuing with the story... I was dropping off payroll to my brother yesterday, when Lexi the beagle runs across my sister's yard to greet me. She rolls over and yelps out the most pitiful cry. Her cries cut right through me because I know she needs to be loved.

My brother-in-law bought Lexi as a puppy for his kids. She was made to be an outside dog. The trouble is that my sister's family is never home. Between work and the children's rigorous school, gymnastics, and baseball schedule, Lexi often spends her time alone. For a beagle, a social dog, it's misery. :(

I always pick up Lexi and give her gobs of smooches. She's a welcome guest in my home. Lexi plays well with my dachshunds Boudreaux and Pierre. Whenever I keep her, she relaxes with us on the couch in the evenings and sleeps peacefully in our bed at night. We are one big happy loving family!

As we played the jumping in my vehicle game yesterday, I couldn't help but hurt for Lexi. She so desperately wanted to come home with me. I'd take her out my vehicle and she'd jump back in over and over. When I thought I had finally won, she placed her cute little head between the door and floorboard. I couldn't close the door. Her eyes... determined... desperate... left me defeated.

I took Lexi home and texted my sister that she would be staying with me for the night. To my surprise, Lexi has slowly adapted to the social norms of my household. She was on her best behavior and did very little play biting. Lexi did make ME yelp once when she bit the bulge showing in my boxers. OUCH! Gawd dammit!!! Don't worry -- "Slab" is okay.

My sister has realized Lexi would have a better life somewhere else. She has offered the dog to me. I already have two dogs, so one more will not terribly alter my lifestyle. One drawback is two small dogs are sometimes manageable to travel with, but never three! Also, having three dogs would be considered a big negative in the dating department. I already worry if my house smells like a kennel to others. I dunno. Does it?

There is another person that has agreed to take Lexi. He'd like to make her a rabbit hunting dog. My question is... what would her life be like? Would Lexi be treated as a member of their family? Would she be their only dog? OR... would Lexi be locked up in a cage sadly remembering the only time she was ever happy (in my home)?

Humm....

The Real Housewives of the Blogworld:

2011-08-10T10:14:00.042-05:00

It may surprise you to know that I actually watched two episodes of "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" on Sunday. I did NOT want to watch the show, but a part of me had a fascination with why gay men love it.

On my widescreen HDTV, the women all look like hags. The outright bitchiness and way they cut down each other made me think: I am normal... they are THE train wrecks! Honestly, I was entertained by the twisted spectacle.

Then my Gemini mind began to roam. Wouldn't it be FUN to have bloggers entertain the masses with their outright bitchery towards one another? Ohhh.... yeah... I kinda already do that with TJ and Jimbo! LOL. For the record, I DO love those guys.

They are so much a part of my life along with other bloggers such as: Homer, Kelly, Moby, Kyle, Blobby, Mangina Monologues, Erik,RG, Jay,Jim,Lewis, Ryan and many others TOO numerous to mention...

We should plan a future blogger weekend someday. Maybe like a cruise? Can you imagine the rivalries? The putdowns? The incest? Wouldn't that make for REALLY GOOD reality TV?! Bravo should totally pick up the series. :)

W R E C K:

2011-07-27T15:23:00.021-05:00

Some goofy ass cat blogger informed me recently that the only reason people follow my blog is because I am a train wreck and people love train wrecks. Mmmkay. At 41 years old, I don't give a flying sheeeet what anyone thinks of me. I am entitled to be an angry and grumpy little man well into my twilight years!

But the comment did gnaw at me. I got pissy every time I thought about it. Why I outta go up there and impale the sonofabitch with my light saber! While I am at it, I should take down Sith Cuntzilla too. Aren't we all sick and tired of hearing about her swamp ass? One thrust up the patootie, and it'll be good and cauterized. The endless bitching will surely stop.

Fortunately for those two, I properly channel my anger on the tennis courts. Every time I play, I imagine the haunting words taunt me: "train wreck... train wreck... you are a train wreck... you are Lindsay Lohan... train wreck".

This mind trick has served me well. In the Mixed 7.0 League, Lisa and I are one win away from completing a perfect season. No one has taken a match or set from us in nine tries. We are court villains compelling others to sit and watch our games in bleachers hoping we lose so their wanna-be team has a chance to win it all. They are denied each week. Muahaha! :)

In Mobile, Alabama this weekend, I will be playing in the USTA Southern Sectional Tournament where I will face the #1 team from each Southern state. I am pegged to play both singles AND doubles after impressing the Team Captain last weekend where I took down the top players on our team.

I owe all my recent tennis court success to TJ... the MEAN GIRL who gave me the motivation to slaughter the competition. This train wreck is whooping ass! Thank you, bitch cunt from hell!

HAPPINESS IS...

2011-07-24T06:25:00.009-05:00

1. Hiding your hands under a blanket so the little mongrel won't bite them AGAIN.
2. Catching a whiff of something foul and searching your home for little presents left behind.
3. Constantly refilling a water bowl only to wipe up a flood of puppy pee (biblical proportions) for the umpteenth goddamn time. Grr...
4. Watching the little bastard sleep so you can refrain from the first three things for at least seven good hours.

Guess WHO I am keeping for a whole week?!

2011-07-22T21:51:00.008-05:00

I don't want to ruin my reputation and make anyone think I am a BIG SOFTIE, but I absolutely love keeping my niece's Beagle Pup Lexi. She is the sweetest thing. :) While my niece and her family is on vacation in Florida for a week, I'll be watching after Lexi.

SCRUFF:

2011-07-20T19:58:00.008-05:00

Haunting Dreams:

2011-07-18T11:10:00.010-05:00

I do not like dreaming. Mine always seem to be either dreams of frustration or ones that upset me. A typical dream is like a parental unit torturing me with scoldings... guilt. WHO IS IN MY HEAD? Is there a higher power working to influence my choices and behavior? It creeps me out and I wonder if Sylvia Browne was perhaps right about an afterlife.

I blogged recently about not remembering the last time I dreamed. The Universe has apparently decided that it was unacceptable because I have since dreamed three times in the last five days. Each dream was about my ex, Tommy, who died accidentally four months ago.

Images of Tommy play in my mind. He kept an impeccably clean house. His vehicles were always clean and smelled fresh as if he had just drove them off the car lot. Every piece of clothing was neatly hung up with a perfect inch of spacing between them. On top of his extreme organization, order, and cleanliness, Tommy was a very well mannered and liked individual.

In my dreams, I feel the distinct guilt that Tommy should have never passed away. I should be the one gone. I keep a messy house with clothes stacked everywhere. My SUV typically smells like a locker room with sweaty towels, tennis balls, and used shoes carelessly tossed around.

I wake up from these dreams feeling extreme sadness and guilt. For someone that had so many disadvantages growing up poor in rural Arkansas, Tommy overcame them. He was so proud of his bright son, Matthew, who was actually living with Tommy as he attended LSU. To think that someone from such humble beginnings had conquered setback after setback to have a great career leaves me with a proud lasting memory.

It still saddens me that Tommy didn't have a very well attended funeral. He had friends, but he never made them quite the priority some of us do. I know why friends are important to me, but lately I have been questioning my own priorities and choices in life. In a nutshell, I would like to no longer feel guilty that Tommy is gone while I am still here. :/

The Book of Brett: A Fag Hag Rises

2011-07-14T07:56:00.007-05:00

From a land far away, where bridges and roofs regularly collapse from God's wrath at the wretched state of football played there, a Fag Hag will rise up in the political world with her lispy and nellier-than-a-blogger-wearing-a-Scottish-Kilt husband. Hypocrisy will doom her political campaign as a truth eventually comes out.

2011-07-12T11:22:00.009-05:00

Jarred awake at 4:30am. I feed dogs, shower, pack work clothes, and dress for gym. I rush out house without a moment to spare. I workout, report to job, and battle promiscuously against other males on the tennis courts. I limp back home by 9pm, having only a small window of time before I must go to bed to do it all over again the next day.

This strict routine prepares me to be in the best possible form for tennis. I may not win all of my matches, but I at least give myself a fighting chance. I am conditioned to play tennis for hours each day under high humidity and scorching hot temperatures.

The downside is that I morph into a lean and mean T-1000 Terminator machine bereft of human emotion. I experience no joy in conquering foes. Victories are regarded as confirmation of my hard work, preparation, and skills. My brain is imprinted with a giant scoreboard tallying statistics, rankings, and the accumulation of points.

Just last night, I observed to my Mixed League doubles partner Lisa that we have lost the first game of the second set in every match this season. The female player on the other team annoyingly asked, "Who keeps track of statistics like that?" Lisa shrugged, "I don't know... Brett does." By the way, we crushed that team 6-1,6-2 and raised our record to a perfect 7-0 (14-0 in sets).

It is terrible. I find myself going to grocery stores and scowling at imperfect humans buying booze, cigarettes, and lottery tickets while their squishy children whine for more candy. With contempt, I think "what a waste... none are prepared for battle... such slothful and gluttonous creatures!"

SHITTY, EH?

All is not perfect here. It has been eons since I remembered my last dream or enjoyed a blissful 8 hours of sleep. I can't remember the last time I experienced strange human emotions of: "happiness", "sadness", and "love". Why have they become foreign to me? Have I intentionally programmed myself to NOT feel those things?

Sith or batshit crazy? Could it be that my heart was hurt one too many times? Perhaps a momentous decision was made to raise the defense shields high and replace the wiggly heart with a computer chip so that I will never suffer from pain and disappointment again? It's all very plausible.

One day, I will meet my soul mate. A smile will return to this face and my heart will soar once more. Just us... perfectly made for each other... together and partners for life. That is my dream.

Hanging with Austin's FINEST:

2011-06-25T13:19:00.006-05:00

I love when sexy friends visit. Joey and Crail, from Austin, hung out and spent the night with me in New Orleans. Unlike many of the locals ~~Matt D.~~, they are adorably sweet!

There was only a smidgeon of drama at the Bourbon Pub last night. Someone had scathingly referred to me as a "midget" and questioned my coordination on Facebook last Sunday. We are not Facebook friends, but I saw the status update because a mutual friend had commented on it.

At 41 years old, I ain't taking ANY shit from anybody! If someone wants to poke fun at my height, I can sure as hell find a dozen physical, mental, and behavioral flaws on them.

As Crail and I passed by this Facebook coward, I loudly said -- "GODDAMN! THERE SURE IS SOME NELLIE ASS PEOPLE IN THIS BAR!" The Poof turned around to find me menacingly staring him down with fangs out... staying locked on even as I turned the corner. YES, I am that damn coordinated!

Later, the evil Facebook status updater had the gall to try to approach my buds Crail and Joey. (he has a thing for scruffy manly men) At the precise moment he was ready to introduce himself, they handed me a beer and put their arms around me. I couldn't have written a better bitch slapping script!

The moral of the story: IT IS ALWAYS BEST TO BE ON MY GOOD SIDE

The Love of a Dog:

2011-06-24T09:14:00.024-05:00

There was a time when I flirted with turning away from the Dark Side. No longer was I scowling at squishy grocery store patrons in line to buy beer, cigarettes, and lottery tickets.

I was preoccupied with Lexie the Beagle, who had a voracious appetite for Marrobone treats. I also had to buy large rolls of paper towels for all the times I had to wipe up dog pee.

Babysitting a puppy is not easy, but it is rewarding. Lexie's playful exuberance brings a smile to my lips. She is so full of life and innocence. The dog just wants to be loved and give love back. The greatest feeling in the world is having a puppy sleep soundly against the warmth of your neck.

It worked. I spent hours reflecting on my life. Much of the past two years have been dedicated towards tennis and very little else. Battlefields are littered with disposed foes. I not only command the respect of each team captain, but rival players as well. Is it time to move on from living like a Terminator?

What about the Sci Fi book I began to write 6 years ago, but then stopped on page 48? What about making room in my life for a new partner? Hmm... really deep thoughts indeed!

I'm convinced Lexie's heroic mission was to find and rescue my cold dead heart. It's a brave new world.

Sharapova: SITH LORD

2011-06-20T10:35:00.008-05:00

There are very few people who I actually admire. Maria Sharapova is one of them. Why? She is a terminator on the tennis court. Sharapova's steely desire to win coupled with the way she menacingly stares down opponents made me sell my soul to her a long time ago. Sharapova is my Sith Lord.

Two years ago, Sharapova suffered a shoulder injury which severely affected her play. Many pondered whether her career was over. I never lost faith. Sure, like any Sith, I was FURIOUS when Li Na eliminated her in the French Open. Grrrooooowl! I eventually forgave her.

I now look upon Li Na as a challenge that us Sith thrive on. I relish the thought of Sharapova eliminating Li Na in the semi-finals and WINNING Wimbledon. It's going to happen... and Sharapova will once again reign supreme in women's tennis. Muahaha!

IN OTHER NEWS...

A Beagle pup named Lexie continues to occupy my weekends. Once again, I am babysitting her for my Niece. I don't mind because the Beagle pup is adorably sweet. My dogs really like her.

Loving a puppy is WEAKNESS for us Sith. I am convinced that she was sent to covertly turn me away from the Dark Side. MUST... RESIST... RESUSCITATING... MY COLD DEAD HEART!!!

The Cruelest Video:

2011-06-15T08:34:00.002-05:00

I am trying to get through the WORST and most horrible day of the year and some bitch named Chad sends me this. SNIFF. I have really cruel friends.

By the way, I have turned "41" today. I have purposely made this day like any other day. GYM, WORK, and TENNIS. I'll be damned if this day thinks it is any more special than any other day.

Keeping Lexie the Beagle:

2011-06-13T10:47:00.011-05:00

I must be getting old. Besides playing only three sets of tennis Saturday morning, I didn't do much of anything. I spent most of the time on the couch with my two Dachshunds and my Niece's beagle puppy named Lexie.

While her owners were out of town, I pampered Lexie the beagle and made her co-dependent. We cuddled and watched LOTS of "Hot in Cleveland" episodes. I fed her people food. Whenever she tried to play bite me, I put a rawhide in her mouth.

It can be therapeutic to have lazy weekends. I felt good giving my pups and Lexie plenty of attention. I think we humans often take our pets for granted. That is sad because they have a considerably shorter life span than we do. My dogs are my children and I treat them as such.

If I had to guess, this week will be another do nothing week. Sure, I'll workout and ward away the Squishy. I'll play some tennis. Purposefully, that will be about it. This week will go down as the most uneventful of all weeks for 2011 as so ordered by my Ego. ;)

When Things Go Awry:

2011-06-09T09:29:00.009-05:00

Grrrooooowl. FAILURE! I'm licking wounds from consecutive defeats at the hands of Sith Jacob. We channeled our emotions and rage to unleash the most powerful tennis court battle the Hilton Riverside has ever seen! Each match was a thrilling slugfest oozing with testosterone, aggression, and stellar athletic play.

My preferred style of play is fast paced balls-to-the-wall aggression. I fire missile after missile at 100 mph... charge the net... then put the ball away in dramatic fashion. There is not a ball I can't get to as I hunt it down like a deranged Honey Badger.

Unfortunately, Sith Jacob possessed something I didn't... patience. He wisely won the consistency battle by altering his pace, shot selection, and risk. I had to thrawt Sith Jacob's EXCELLENT running ability by trying to hit winners on every shot. Infuriatingly, I blew 40-0 and 40-5 leads... ultimately losing the matches 6-2-6-4 and 6-3,6-4. Argh! :(

In other news...

Some DICK HEAD keeps placing the following bumper sticker on my vehicle:

This is the FOURTH TIME in over a year that this particular bumper sticker was slyly placed on my vehicle. Each time, the SUV was parked in the French Quarter. It HAS to be a job done by really CLOSE FRIENDS who know my vehicle, live in New Orleans, and monitor my Facebook check ins.

Do you know how embarrassing it would be if my co-workers or family saw this on my vehicle? Grrr... the perpetrators WILL BE CAUGHT!!!

So, we meet again...

2011-06-07T10:20:00.009-05:00

"Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you." ----Darth Plagueis

Once upon a time, as a young Sith Acolyte, I met Mexico City's racquetball champion. In our first tennis tournament, we were paired together as doubles partners. Jacob had less tennis experience than me, but his tenacity caught my attention.

Jacob has a passion for winning. During play, every fiber of his being is committed to defeating his foe. He lunges ferociously after each and every ball like a charging bull to a matador. We are kindred raging spirits.

It was at this tournament that I would learn the cruelness of Sith training. Not only would I join forces with Jacob to defeat weaker teams, but I would have to eliminate him as well. Which I DID... SMIRK. ;)

As the years have past, I have watched Jacob's progress from afar. To my surprise and dismay, his on-court success and ranking has outpaced my own. In fact, he won last year's HOUTEX, whereas I flopped out in humiliating fashion in the second round.

Today, Darth Jacobus arrives in New Orleans as a more powerful Sith Lord. Naturally, he challenged me to a tennis match. As is customary between Sith, we trash talked each other. (Cracking Knuckles)

I texted Darth Jacobus, "Rest up little boy... it will be a battle at the Hilton Riverside!" He replied back, "This little boy is going to whip your ass so bad that you will be asking for mercy. See you at the battlefield."

Groooowl. Such talk intoxicates us Sith, filling our hearts with adrenaline and whipping us into a bloodlust frenzy. Defeat me and I will respect you. This is the way of the Sith.

Sith Jacobus vs. Sith Brettcajun
Hilton - New Orleans Riverside - Indoor Courts
5:30pm, June 7th, 2011

IML - Sinfully Delicious!

2011-05-31T13:21:00.027-05:00

I have returned relatively unscathed from my first trip to IML. I didn't know what to expect. Maw Maw had me convinced it was an old leathery queen event brimming with STD's. "All it takes is one lick to get anal warts!" Mm Hmm. You can justify your crazy cat lady life all you want Debbie Downer, but you ain't deterring me!

Staying at the Hyatt (host hotel) provided PLENTY of opportunity for mischief. All you have to do is launch Grindr and you can have all the sex your slab or pucker hole can take. Sling parties in private rooms were readily available and advertised on various social networking sites.

It was common to not even leave the confines of the host hotel or go to any of the leather contest events. That's what I did with a couple (Chris and Chris) from KY. We had fun just roaming the Leather Mart and hotel lobby bar each and every day people watching. They are the sweetest couple and are quickly becoming best buds!

This is Joe -- a cool friend of Chris and Chris. He has an adorable personality. It was a pleasure to hang with him and the Chris couple.

IML is full of HOT GUYS with muscle and scruff. So many look like porn stars. Like Brad McGuire from Treasure Island for example. He was very personable and said "Hi" each and every time I passed.

On trips such as these, it is always good to meet other bloggers if nothing more than to prove you are the sanest of the bunch. The following bloggers were sweet and socially adept functioning human beings:

Chris from Wild Cuddler is a GIANT. I am not this goddamn short!!! Arggh. There was a time at IML where my iPhone violently vibrated non-stop. Everyone under the sun was suddenly texting me! I tried in vain to ignore my vibrating iPhone, but I couldn't stand it. I... I had to look! What if someone died? Chris threatened to take my iPhone away and smash it if I dared look at it again. GULP!

I also had the pleasure of meeting J.P. from Life is Such a Sweet Insanity at the Leather Mart. J.P. is a sweet guy.

I did BRIEFLY see a popular CINCY couple (Brian and Donald), a Louisville power couple (Bill and Chad), and wild Ricky almost every single day. We hardly got to spend much time together. We hugged, kissed, and quickly went on our merry ways. I didn't take it personally considering all the madness going around.

On Monday night, I went to my only IML Event "The Black and Blue Ball". I had lots of fun dancing with my friend MP. It was nice to hear club music with singing instead of just repetitive dance beats. Being picked up on the dance floor and french kissed by muscly Brian is still fondly remembered! ;) The guys that attended this were circuit boys who had the BEST BODIES. YUM! :P

Special thanks to Kevin for loaning me a cool leather cop uniform, belts and a vest. I received a lot of compliments from the cop uniform. Hmm... can I buy this from you Kevin since it fits me so well?

WILL I GO BACK TO IML NEXT YEAR? HELL YES!!! LOADS OF FUN!!! :)

A Time for Battle:

2011-05-23T11:12:00.006-05:00

There are moments in life when we are challenged. Conflict is a necessary and core tenent to being Sith. It elevates the strong and weeds out the weak. Butterflies fill our guts. Are we good enough? Doubt creeps in. We are about to receive a reality check. It's moments like this that I thrive.

Do you know what a real warrior is? A tennis player. We are true athletes. As our skill levels rise, we are plucked from obscurity and drafted on teams where we become warriors battling against others for supremacy. Our self worth is measured exclusively by skill, rating, and record. We are Sith.

This past weekend, my Baton Rouge team played in the Louisiana Championship Tournament. We were invited to participate after winning our nine team division with a perfect record. We faced the five best teams from Louisiana who earned the right to play by virtue of slaying their own competition.

After twenty-five matches, my team finished #2 in the tournament. Unless we miraculously get a wildcard spot in the regional playoffs, our four month season is over. As Sith, we are not happy with the result!

I personally feel shame towards my own performance. While I beat a team's #1 singles player on the first day, I lost a critical one in three sets to another team's #1 singles player. I must now grapple with the reality that my Team Captain could purge me from team next season. Your value to the team is only as good as your last match.

This is the way of the Sith. Life is harsh.

Cowboy Collage:

2011-05-21T05:41:00.005-05:00

I have a hodgepodge group of followers. Some tune with twisted fascination to see what crazy thing I will do or say next. Most people hate me and want to punch me in the nose. I'm a douche. What can I say?

However, there is the rare exception. In the far corners of the world, I'll have a friend like Tai from Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. He appreciates the oddity that is me. He made this cowboy collage. Thank you, Tai! :)

Under House Arrest:

2011-05-18T09:13:00.012-05:00

There lies my Heart. Imprisoned. Tortured. It hasn't seen the light of day in many moons. The coup d'état took place approximately two years ago. On one fateful day, the Ego could not take it anymore. He flung the mamby pamby Heart into a cold and empty jail cell. "I'M IN CHARGE NOW!" And the rest is history...

The Heart still beats (rots) in a dark and damp cell. It's fed a ration of bread and water... only enough to survive. For kicks, the Ego likes water boarding him. It's a nice way of letting the Heart know exactly who is in charge. Hey, if it toughens him up a little... then a primary goal is achieved!

One day, a Champion will rise up to challenge and TAKE DOWN the Ego. It will take an asswhooping of epic proportions. When the Ego cries for mercy, the Champion must slay it! It will be worth it. The long suffering Heart will escape it's cruel imprisonment to see blue skies and abundant sunshine once again. AMEN. :)

Word to the Brave: Good luck. The battlefield is littered with dead bodies.

IML Virgin:

2011-05-16T01:21:00.002-05:00

IML 2011 is fast approaching and I am giddy with excitement! :) It may surprise you to know, but I am an IML virgin. When I am out with the gays, I typically dress very casual with jeans, a polo shirt, and a ball cap. I have a couple of leather harnesses and armbands, but I am upgrading to a more hardcore rougher look for IML.

Yep. In less than two weeks, I will be sporting leather boots, naughty t-shirts, and tawdry jocks to look the part of a trashy gay man. I know some of you prudish readers may be blushing. It's okay. I accept you for being skeered little Puritans.

I pray at Lady Gaga's alter...

Lady Gaga teaches us, "‎Do not allow people to dim your shine because they are blinded. Tell them to put on some sunglasses, cuz we were born this way bitch!"

Thoughts on Latest Glee Episode:

2011-05-11T12:52:00.011-05:00

I have an extreme man crush on Max Adler, the actor who plays Dave Karofsky. It is especially heightened since his character is a gay man having an uncomfortable time coming out. We even got to see his sensitive side in last night's "Prom Date" episode. The fear he struggles with is exactly what we all felt before coming out.

Except for Kurt. He doesn't seem to struggle. He acts like he's been GAY, GAY, GAY since sliding out the womb. His character usually makes me scowl, but I DID feel sorry for him when he won "Prom Queen" from fellow student write-in votes. It was a poignant moment, but he recovered nicely with support from Blaine.

I really like Kurt's father Burt. Kurt is lucky to have him. Burt is the perfect father of a gay son... accepting... involved... cares about what goes on in his son's life. He is what a parent should be like.

Many of us have families that don't care to know much about what goes on in our lives. You excitedly begin to tell them about a fun trip you just took or a great guy you met, only to be immediately cut off with a subject change. Frowning, you look down at your iPhone to see what your "other" family (gay friends) are doing.

It's particularly cruel when conversation shifts to talk about who your twin brother or nephews are dating. Your family listens with GLEE to those stories. It's fun to quiz nephews, who are way too young to date, talk about what girls they like. Umm... what about me? Am I a eunuch?

You get the keen sense that your life doesn't matter. Clueless that their behavior borders on mental abuse, they wonder why you've become so detached... and bitter. :(

Who Am I?

2011-05-05T10:12:00.001-05:00

The Book of Brett: Truth about Pakastanis

2011-05-04T07:52:00.010-05:00

The Pakistani military establishment and government officials are two-timing whores. Screw morals! They don't give a damn about anything but taking money from U.S. taxpayers, Iran, AND Al Qaeda. We give them billions of dollars annually while they harbor terrorists, blow up a hotel in Mumbai, and pretend to hunt down Al Qaeda while secretly hiding Osama Bin Laden.

Whenever you see a Pakistani diplomat, you should point your finger at them and shout "WHORE!"

Finding Mischief in Louisville:

2011-05-03T07:57:00.015-05:00

Two weeks ago, my Ex wrote me:

"I'm not responsible for your reputation. It speaks for itself. You have turned into a bitter bitchy queen. You used to be fun and charming. You have let this competitive edge rule your life and it has damaged your relationships."

I would be lying if I said it didn't profoundly affect me. There have been similar whispers about my attitude from other quarters. Chirps here and there. My stubborn male pride bristles at any suggestion that I'm a douche.

An inner voice seethes and hisses, "master... they are jealous (and squishy!)... don't heed their warnings!" Then there is my heart still heavily guarded and under house arrest. It's the only sane part of me. It pleads, "It's not too late to turn away from the Dark Side! There is still time to heal the hole in your soul!"

The Louisville Trip would provide a perfect test of... Can I get along well with others in a non-competitive environment? On the surface, it was a risky trip filled with potential for great disappointment. Most of the people I was meeting were strictly Facebook friends whom I had never met.

THE TRIP:
I checked into my hotel at the Museum 21 C. It is a posh downtown hotel worthy of a Queen. My room was large with a great view, king sized bed, and a nice bathroom. The turn down service every day was appreciated, because I never had to worry about running out of fresh towels. Everybody knows or should know that I take frequent showers.

On the first day, I met up with owned bud Chad. He has a wonderful sense of humor in both the Facebook world and real world. We ate at a Qdoba Mexican Grill in Bardstown and had good conversation. From there, Chad took me around to see the gorgeous Cherokee Park and Cave Hill Cemetary.

I was passed off to the friendly couple of Chris and Chris (not pictured) where they introduced me to the wonderful chrisandwich. It was quite delicious! We eventually reconnected with Chad and his Daddy Bill, where we ate at the Irish Rover and had drinks at the Q (home bar of the delightful Casey Leek and singing cartwheel legend J.Buttons).

On Friday, Casey and I dueled on the tennis courts. I was whipping his ass in each set, before he would stage amazing comebacks. We ended up splitting our sets 7-6,6-7 and called it a "tie" so neither one of us would pout on the drive back. See... I can sometimes put the greater good ahead of my own blood lust for winning!

It was on Saturday that I would meet SUPER NERD Brian again after a fateful Southern Decadence meeting with his partner Donald a few years ago. Brian has a penchant for embarrassing you with really witty illustrations on your Facebook page:

I was dragged and forced to GEEK OUT with Chad and Brian at a Star Trek Exhibit:

On Saturday night, I went to a fabulous party with Bill, Chad, and Brian where I met some very friendly Kentucky boys and a WOOFY West Virginian named Alex:

After socializing, drinking, and making mischief, we ended the night at Tryangles and The Connection where I lost track of how many people I slobbered over. Bill and Chad must think I am super slutty when drinking. LOL.

By Sunday, I was totally exhausted and flew back home to Louisiana. Thank you, Louisville for renewing my spirit and teaching me that happiness can exist outside of a tennis court. I look forward to seeing you guys soon... at IML in Chicago. :)

A Message from the Editor:

2011-04-20T08:19:00.014-05:00

I would like to apologize if my last post offended anyone. It was over-the-top super cunty. I edited out the mean parts.

My Ex has been a total dick to me, so I raged against him. I poked fun of his woeful tennis game and squishiness. Why did I do it? I was treated so nicely by others (mostly strangers) this past weekend. It was nice to be appreciated . The nicer they became, the more it gnawed at me how my Ex treats me.

You may also notice that I edited out racially insensitive material. My best friend in High School was a Vietnamese guy named Tuyet Huy Tran. He changed his name to "Huey" so everyone could pronounce his name. I mistakenly thought my quarterfinals opponent did the same. I apologize if you, Wayne, were offended. I should have never made that assumption.

My online persona is immature and bratty at times. Even *** I *** can be Cuntzilla at times. I guess Jimbo passed that to me last time I was in DC, just as TJ gave me purserpes (pursing lips syndrome). I totally blame Homer for giving me gray. I should have never fubbed any of these people! They carry things. (scratch scratch) Doh!

The Day After:

2011-04-18T06:42:00.021-05:00

So, I played in this little gay tennis tournament. I didn't care if I won or lost. I was in it to socialize and get laid. In singles, I beat my first two opponents in 40 mph winds.

My cute double partner, Jerry, and I rolled over our first round opponents but lost a nail-biter in the second round. All of this activity was in the first day.

You non-athletic squishy bitches would have dropped dead.

On the second day, I had to play the #3 seed in singles. Wayne had 10 friends from NYC watching and cheering against me. I... had... SNIFF... nobody. They cheered and clapped every time Wayne hit a winner. They were tacky and cheered when I made unforced errors. RUDE! After leading the entire first set, I allowed Wayne to catch up and beat me 7-5,6-2 eliminating me from the tournament. Grrr...

My own family has never watched me play tennis. I tried to get my dad to watch me play this weekend. He said, "Why in the hell would I want to do that?" I told him, "Cuz... it's a gay tournament... it's gonna be fabulous!" He opted instead to fly to Charlotte to see my older brother race. :/

I had an enjoyable weekend hanging with my doubles partner Jerry and his friends (Sean the pole dancer, Wes the birthday boy, Dennis with pretty teeth, Arno the wicked backhander from Holland, fierce Puerto Rican dancer Scott, and Dwayne hot ass). You guys made me feel "special" and not the way my local friends do. I appreciate you for it. :)

DC Scruff Commission:

2011-04-14T08:29:00.012-05:00

SNIFF. I feel as if I have been tarred and feathered. Some damn Yankee organization called the DC Scruff Commission launched an investigation into my beard. It was a conspiracy waged against a good, kind, and humble soul.

As you can see, I DO have sprinkles of silver in my beard. So what? I will be 41 goddamn years old next month. I am supposed to have some gray hair.

Ya know, it's always someone kooky stirring up the sheeeeet. I think we southerners should launch a witch-hunt investigation against the leader of this willy nilly DC Scruff Commission. I hear he worships Stevie Nicks, a known witch, and once dressed up like a goddamn woman! Ain't that some sheeeeeet?!

Now if you don't mind, I've got a tennis tournament to worry about. The first fag that goes "Really?! Really?!" after every missed shot is gonna get their ass whooped... BY ME. Grrr..

I'll be sporting new Sue Sylvester "Super Dyke" Battle Armor. (pictured below) How menancing you look counts for 50% of your on court skills.

GAGA: New Orleans

2011-04-11T09:35:00.005-05:00

On a whim, I plucked down megabucks on StubHub! to see Lady Gaga. I went with my events bud Chris. We have gone to LSU football, New Orleans Saints, and Hornets games together. This was our first concert.

I am mentally prepared for you gay hyenas to question my manliness. I can hear you hissssing, "Ohhh... you are sooooo butch... why would YOU go to see Lady Gaga?" Mmmhmmm. Unlike y'all, my life is not dedicated to the fantasy of being a female pop star. I like my dick. Anyways...

The opening act was Semi Precious Weapons. A good comparison with the lead singer could be made with Dead or Alive's Pete Burns. I giggled thinking how my family would react to seeing this flaaaaaaaming lead singer dress in sparkly heels and panty hose with no underwear. They would have said, "Well, ain't this some shit!" LOL.

Lady Gaga was phenomenal. She was like an aerobics instructor demanding her audience jump up and down and move our arms around. If we weren't moving them strong enough, she fussed! I admired her bossiness.

Gaga sang every song live. I appreciated hearing her talk to the audience a lot. It was nice to hear her praise "New Orleans" and "Louisiana" so many times. Yep, we are the coolest! :)

Lady Gaga did take a stand on gay rights throughout the night. She pretty much said she didn't believe the Bible was correct to condemn homosexuality. No one gasped. We all cheered.

What I like about Lady Gaga the most was the therapy she administered. She urged us to accept that we can do anything we set our minds to. That we should forget about the past and not let it hold us back.

During the concert, I finally understood Lady Gaga's song "Teeth" (Show Me Your Teeth). Apparently, it means show me what you got... show me your excellence... show me your brilliance. Now I get it!

On a related note, I was informed that Cuntzilla ~~Jimbo~~ goes into rages because I put tampons in backwards. WTF?! How am I supposed to know how to properly use tampons? I am merely trying to stop the gushing rage.

Jimbo as Cuntzilla (note his TEETH):

Cuntzilla: Before the Glamor

2011-04-05T15:05:00.028-05:00

You may have stumbled upon a witch's prophecy foretelling of Cuntzilla's Rise. Cuntzilla was NOT transformed instantly into a beautiful and powerful woman. To suggest so is heresy!

As you'll learn in future chapters of "The Book of Brett", Cuntzilla will face an uphill battle in her silly quest to be an icky sugary pop princess. One fateful day, a fairy will wave a magic wand and chant, "No longer will you be a pig in a bar, become that who you are!"

Instantly, ~~Jimbo~~ the bitchy gay man becomes a gaping wide noxious pussy. Upon seeing itself, shrieks of fury ~~queefs~~ howl through the night. It ain't pretty!

Cuntzilla will eventually meet a powerful 200 year old Master ~~athlete~~ who will defy the aging process naturally. The Master will regularly pummel Cuntzilla with large super absorbent tampons. She will be taught humility, servitude, and obedience!

Cuntzilla bides her time and takes the abuse until a dark period known as "The Bloody Insurrection" takes place. This is when Cuntzilla discovers her secret powers.

Stay tuned... it's an exciting tale with bite!

The List

2011-04-04T05:41:00.021-05:00

Have you ever got your ass chewed out publicly? I have. Just yesterday. I was having a good 'ole time at the Bourbon Pub. I met a HOT muscle daddy. I was up to my usual bar flirtation rituals: pulling on nips, feeling solid 19" arms, and lightly punching hard pecs with both fists.

The juice head gorilla reached in to kiss me. What was I to do? It would have been disrespectful to hold back and not do the manly exchange of spit. So, I obliged. Then someone got the red ass.

See, there is a significantly younger person who has been interested in me for quite some time. He was a nice play thing. I never took our friendship seriously because of the age difference and the fact that he could move away at any moment.

In recent weeks, the younger person clearly let me know they would like a relationship. I purposelessly used male defense mechanisms of: tone deafness and cluelessness.

It was with great surprise to see him out at the Pub, because I hadn't heard from him all week. Usually, I'd get texts and cute pics through out the day. This should have been a clue. (Duh!) I shrugged it off, hung out and chatted with him over Bud Lite.

When it was time to call it a night, I kissed the juice head gorilla "goodbye". The young fella offered to walk me to my vehicle. (insert Admiral Ackbar's classic it's a trap!)

Just a few feet away from the Pub, I was abruptly stopped on the sidewalk. Unleashed was a fiery asshole-ripping speech going through a laundry list of what was wrong with me. Oh my gawd. Not in front of my stomping grounds!

So, there I was. Motionless. Taking the brutal beat down. Friends walked by and smirked. Every word he seethed was completely true. Hell, I would think I was a douche too!

At this moment, I had a familiar feeling that I had witnessed this scene before. What dramatic television series was this from? Oh yeah... this was when Felicity undressed Ben from "The List" in season two:

In the future, I should convey exactly what I am looking for so there are no communication issues, hurt feelings, or dramatic scenes played out in front of the Pub.

I wonder if I should mail him an Emmy for best dramatic role in a soap opera? I'm sure the scene got GREAT ratings from Pub patrons. (BLUSH)

Bubble Boy

2011-04-01T13:46:00.002-05:00

Blogging is a dying art form. Twitter and Facebook are slowly killing our ability to construct more than one sentence.

We remaining bloggers must stick together and take care of each other. My project has been quirky as shit TJ. He's not like us. Ever since he was a wee lad (before he became fat), he only went outdoors in a protective bubble.

I encourage all of you to work towards helping TJ. Will you please join me in saving TJ from his hermit-like existence? TOGETHER WE CAN... GET TJ A TAN!

It is Time:

2011-04-01T07:35:00.008-05:00

Today, I face demons that have haunted me for two years. Tucked away deep into my soul was that disastrous 0-6 finish in a higher tennis league.

No matter how hard I tried, I could not pick apart foes or deflect their mind games. They were so mean to me! I suffered the humiliation of having the worst statistical record. Rivals laughed. I wanted my Mommie. :( Sniff.

I was so terrified by the experience, that I retreated down to a lower division where I have easily won with back to back 6-0 seasons. While it felt good to be TOP DAWG, my heart yearned for a bigger challenge .

So, I have decided to play in the skeery higher division once again. In order for my tennis game to grow, I must battle these players. I may have the snot beat out of me, but this time it will be okay. I hope...

RUN B*TCHES! SHE'S COMING!!!

2011-03-30T20:28:00.004-05:00

What have I done?! The Prophecy from "The Book of Brett" has come true. Cuntzilla has risen. She's a man-eater and she ain't putting up with our shit. HIDE YO KIDS, HIDE YO MEN. She's coming for us all! We must cotton ball the Washington Monument before the Potomac flows a sea of red!

A Beautiful Day on the Farm:

2011-03-26T15:57:00.002-05:00

The Book of Brett: Salvation

2011-03-25T06:35:00.023-05:00

Do you want to improve your sorry lot in life? Do you thirst for true happiness? The Book of Brett can give you purpose and guide you to a better life!

Without further adieu...

Negative outcomes have negative consequences. If you play your heart out and still lose, you have defiled your Lord and Savior! A just punishment is an early 5:30am gym workout. Puking from that workout is an acceptable penance... and... is really the only way to receive salvation. THE MEEK SHALL NOT INHERIT THE EARTH!

This is word from the "Book of Brett". Thanks be to Brett. Amen.

Trimming Down:

2011-03-23T20:43:00.007-05:00

YES, I realize I look like a greased up PIG in this photo. I had just gotten back from a stand up tanning bed and had some bronzer/tingle like stuff all over me.

There are five weeks to go before I make the glorious trek up north to Louisville. I am supposed to be bulking up and getting all sexified for the trip. Instead, I am actually trimming down!

I think a voracious tennis habit is thwarting my bulking up goal. Either I cutdown on tennis (GASP!) or settle for being trimmer. Something has to give.

Finding the right balance is leaving me perplexed.

HUMAN-LIKE

2011-03-22T08:04:00.004-05:00

Weeee... I am holding a beer at 7:45am Saturday morning. A shocking and rebellious act considering it is totally against my moral code.

What was the occasion? Baton Rouge held a belated St. Patrick's Day parade at 10am that morning. I was invited to a house party with 300 (mostly gay) mischief makers near the parade route.

When I arrived at the party, I was taken aback by the loud music pumping and people already drinking! Because of a bad past experience with an Ex, I scornfully view drinkers as un-athletic squishy good-for-nothings!

Which made my predicament humorous. I thought to myself, "OK. No tennis today. You must fit in. What the heck." So, I popped open a few bottles of Bud Lite, let my hair down, and had a pretty good time! :)

There were no points to be scored. It was all about socializing with others and getting phone numbers for future dates. (which I DID) I was thoroughly enjoying the human experience!

In fact, I had so much fun at Artie's party, that I continued on the merriment that night at George's bar in Baton Rouge. I even scandalously skipped tennis AGAIN, socialized and drank some more at Sunday Tea in New Orleans.

Is it possible for life to exist outside of a tennis court? What if life is not all about winning or losing? Do I continue to be the cold terminator machine bent on crushing opponents or do I accept a world that I have previously held with such great disdain?

Hmm... lots to ponder.

The Take Down

2011-03-16T12:24:00.005-05:00

Last night, my tennis captain warned me that I was up against tough competition in the Baton Rouge USTA league. My foe, who was African American, arrived on the court full of pride. A part of me smiled because he had no idea what he was in store for.

In warmup, I sensed my opponent thought he was going to whip my white boy ass. Appearances are deceiving. He clearly didn't know that I have only lost one singles and one doubles match in the last two months. (I play at least 4 times a week)

Every hit to his backhand was returned as a drop shot, which I easily placed in the opposite corner. When he came to the net to impose his athletic superiority, I expertly placed the ball out of reach with pin point precision. He was PISSED.

I soundly beat my foe 6-1,6-3.

In two weeks, I will be playing in FIVE tennis leagues. A bit much? Nope. I can do whatever the hell I want without any nagging or bitching. Those are the perks of being single. :)

2011-03-15T10:21:00.005-05:00

With each passing day, I think of things Tommy has missed. He hasn't endured seeing the horrific images and videos coming out of Japan. On the flip side, he has missed beautiful Spring days here in Louisiana. That's sad, because we both endured a long harsh Winter.

Tommy's death has changed me profoundly. It's like someone with a long needle popped my balloon. Happiness for me was once measured in thrilling tennis victories. Being with friends made me happy.

Tommy died happy. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do. He no longer has to worry about growing older, paying bills, or getting to work on time. Tommy does not have to witness friends or family dying in the future. He doesn't have to worry about being stricken with cancer or some other debilitating condition.

I envy him. He got out while the getting was good. I seem to go through the motions doing things I always do... inevitably marching towards my own death. I now question things that I used to value.

Was it all worth it?

Hmm...

The Hardest Day

2011-03-13T11:20:00.004-05:00

This is the day where I honor the life of my ex-partner Thomas Foster, Jr. I will be delivering a Eulogy for the first time in my life. I am not nervous about speaking for such a momentous occasion because I know that Tommy would have wanted me to deliver his Eulogy. He will be smiling down upon us all celebrating his life. It is going to be so rough on me today. :(

Haunting Memories

2011-03-09T07:04:00.007-06:00

Last night, I celebrated Tommy's life with some close friends at a restaurant in Baton Rouge. It was very comforting to get that support. I am still very upset by the loss of my Ex.

I feel a lot of guilt. Because of me, Tommy quit his job and moved from Natchez, MS. He risked his career and moved further away from his 16 year old son to share a life with me.

My friend Luke smiled at the memory of how much Tommy adored me. Tommy would sit next to me and pet on me continuously. "Isn't he precious?", Tommie would ask. "Do you need anything baby"? Luke cringed and told us we made him sick. I was Tommy's pretty bird.

As I mentioned in the previous blog post, here was the inside of a card Tommy wrote to me:

I feel horrible guilt about it now, but I remember wanting to be out of the relationship because I was bored. We didn't know at the time, but Tommy had a thyroid issue that made him very tired and subject to extreme mood swings. It seemed all Tommy wanted to do was lay on the couch or sleep. I had a hunger for a more active lifestyle. So, we went our seperate ways.

Tommy moved on to another relationship rather quickly within a few weeks. I was very happy for him, because JP was a good partner for him. They made a sweet couple and were always smiling.

In the last three years, Tommy was single and seemed to revel in it. He told me that his whole outlook on life had changed. He was perfectly happy being single. It was quite the turnaround from the guy I knew.

I just wish I had picked up on the warning signs. I am not going to write about his personal business here, but Tommy's death was accidental and didn't have to happen. I am struggling with an extreme sense of guilt for not doing everything in my power to help him.

Unfortunately, life doesn't grant us Time Machines. If I could go back in time, I would and make it all better. I'm sorry I couldn't do more to help you Tommy. It pains me that such a true Southern gentleman is now gone. :(

Thomas H. Foster, Jr.

2011-03-08T01:44:00.013-06:00

I am so terribly sad. I found out today that my Ex, Thomas H. Foster, Jr., passed away on Saturday night. Originally from Stamps, Arkansas, he was only 48 years old. Gone way too soon.

Our relationship lasted for six years. We owned a beautiful home together in Baton Rouge. Tommy always had dinner cooked on the stove. He was the most organized person I knew and kept a spotless house.

He used to buy me cards all the time. I just found one dated 12/31/98. Tommy wrote:

I care for you so very much! I hope and pray you will let me love you and care for you a long, long time. You (Brett), have all my love.

The last message I got from Tommy was at 11:19am on February 14, 2011. He texted me, "Happy Valentine's Day".

Tonight, I am holding my furry rugrats very close. Especially Pierre, my chubby Daschund, who he absolutely adored. Tommy always lovingly called Pierre "Dahla" for some reason. He liked Pierre the best because the dog loved to eat and sleep... a lot like himself!

Whenever I travelled on vacation, Tommy kept Boudreaux and Pierre. In fact, he kept them just a couple of months ago. I always felt great comfort when they were in his hands because he would give them plenty couch loving and ice cream.

I miss you so much buddy. I am shocked that you are not here anymore. I love you with all my heart. You are making me cry BIG tears tonight.

BIG HUG,

Brett

Adele is a Cunning General

2011-03-02T08:15:00.009-06:00

The clever combatant imposes his will on the enemy, but does not allow the enemy's will to be imposed on him.
- Sun Tzu

The War Machine was running smoothly until I made a tragic misstep in listening to Adele's "Someone Like You". It was like a torpedo penetrating and ripping out my tough exterior ... exposing my beating heart.

YES, I do have a heart. I often pretend it doesn't exist. The truth is that it has been locked away and imprisoned under house arrest. You can't wage war with something so WEAK.

The beauty of Adele's voice grinds me to a halt. I am reminded that I am not a terminator hellbent on destroying mankind. I'm a mamby pamby human with frail weaknesses called "emotions".

Adele, you are a bitch cunt from hell!

THE GOAL: Improve in Ten Weeks

2011-02-24T21:24:00.003-06:00

To coincide with a planned trip to Louisville, I will ramp up all efforts to push myself harder in the gym and eat healthier. I am now working out chest and arms twice a week. Any cardio will come solely from tennis. Wish me luck!

The Prophecy

2011-02-24T04:12:00.004-06:00

The Book of Brett is a collection of truths, wisdom, and prophecies. Unlike the Bible or Qur'an, it's not filled with bullshit made up stories to influence ignorant people. IT IS THE TRUTH. All will be revealed in coming months.

As a new follower, you must first learn the Prophecy of Cuntzilla. Legend holds that a riveting event will take place in the future. A bitchy gay man cracked out on ecstasy, beer, and Viagra will be visited by a fairy.

In the throngs of his drug induced delirium with one helluva boner, the bitchy queen is granted his one true wish. POOF! The fairy makes him a female pop star.

He is instantly teleported to a concert stage in front of 12,000 adoring gay men and 800 fag hags. He turns and discovers (in horror) that his stage name is "Cuntzilla". He pauses and thinks, "Hmm... it fits..." He hikes up his skirt, twirls around and belts out the most icky auto-tuned songs the Universe has ever heard (even more cringe worthy than Kylie).

The set list includes popular dance club smashes: "SWEATY ASS ON THE METRO", "I'M A CUNT 4 U", "GIMME GIMME GIMME YOUR BOYFRIEND AFTER MIDNIGHT", and punk infused "BITCH BITCH BITCH!".

After out-sleazing rival Ke$ha, Cuntzilla receives a standing ovation. It is proudly her best moment ever... right before vomiting and waking up naked in a bathtub in DC. It was all just a drug induced fantasy!

The moral of the story:

Sister... you ain't gonna be a female pop star! You are a 40 something year old gay man who has irreparably ruined your vocal chords from years of cock sucking. No matter how high you hike up your skirt or pop out your boobs, it ain't gonna happen. All your dreams are crushed. Sorry.

The Book of Brett

2011-02-23T11:29:00.010-06:00

In an effort to improve humanity, I will be dispencing valuable universal truths. From time to time, you'll see wisdom referenced from "The Book of Brett".

It is proper, customary, and expected to reply with the following refrain: "THANKS BE TO BRETT. AMEN!" Failure to do so will get you sucker punched in the cunt. Ahem.

Without further adieu...

1."Losing is for Losers. Winning is intoxicating. If you are playing just to have fun, you are squishy, wimpy, and not very athletic."

Deviance from Norm:

2011-02-21T05:23:00.024-06:00

Did y'all have a good weekend? I sure did. I packed up my pups and made a weekend road trip to Houston, Tx for the Robyn concert. You'd be surprised how many straight AND gay folks do not know who Robyn is. It's quite scandalous.

I had a good 'ole time merrily eating, drinking, and making mischief. It was so unlike me to let go and not worry about the next tennis match or gym workout. I actually felt joy and happiness occurring naturally in a non-competitive environment. How is this possible?!

Robyn had two opening acts. Natalie Kills and The Diamond Rings. Natalie Kills was a sexy kitten clad in leather with two female backup dancers. She had a Lady Gaga sound to her. The Diamond Rings was a one man band that sounded Depeche Modish. I enjoyed them both.

By the time Robyn came on stage, I had a good beer buzz going. She opened with "Time Machine", a song fresh off her new album. It was a cathartic experience seeing her live. Robyn dances soooo slutty. Criminal intent? It was a treat to see her rock the house with great vocals and an unlimited burst of energy.

I drunk texted Jimbo concert pics/vids. He promptly scolded me to enjoy the concert and put down the iPhone. What a dick. If a fairy does grant Jimbo his lifelong wish to be a female pop star, I hope he is instantly transported to a stage only to turn around and see "Cuntzilla" as his Pop Star name. Grrr...

Anyway, I had a great weekend hanging with buds and being human-like. I learned several lessons: Alcoholics and Squishies are people too, Happiness can exist outside of a tennis court, and it IS possible to eat (and dip) chicken nuggets with two dogs on your lap while driving. Ahem.

Tranny Trading Card Game

2011-02-17T07:59:00.004-06:00

Grindr continues to entertain me. Do you know a fun game you can play with your friends? Take a photo of a Grindr profile from your location that makes you go... "WHAT THE FUCK!?" Text it to your buds and compare who has the funniest pic. The above picture was shared with me by my buddy Kody (Dallas). Obviously, this twink loves playing with makeup.

Do you have a funny Grindr pic that you would like to share? Feel free to text me. I may even include it here on this blog. I would love to see if yours beats out Baton Rouge's own Trixie Lixxx:

My Secret Life as a Super Pr*ck:

2011-02-15T09:10:00.002-06:00

If my life was in song, it would be "The Imperial March" (Darth Vader's Theme) portraying power and totalitarian rule over Jimbo's ass -- otherwise known as "the Galaxy". Muahaha!

Contrary to false rumor and conjecture, I am not single because of an inability to get along well with others. That's poopy cock! I have high standards. Impress me with athleticism and strength, not how far you can extend your pinky, sipping on a girlie drink, while wearing a fagulous flowery shirt.

Do you know what I did for Valentines Day? I played a foe from Grindr who said he was going to kick my ass. Do you know how to charm my pants off? Tell me you are gonna kick my ass.

I warned this Grindr foe that we were playing "Loser Bottoms". I swept the 6'2" giant 6-0, 6-2 in straight sets. I would have collected on the bet, but my Mama had already called me to come over and eat. He should thank my Mama for saving his ass from certain destruction.

It is no secret that I have a deep seeded need to conquer, WIN, and subjugate all opposition. Does this make me crazy? One treacherous soul suggested that I should consider taking an Abnormal Psych class just for fun. Skating on thin ice, he remarked - "You could get your pic in the book and be famous!"

Instead of knocking the fuck out of him, I clenched my jaw. His disrespect was duly noted. I actually gave him 1 point for bravery. Payback WILL be forthcoming. I don't get mad... I get even.

Tonight, I play the sixth tennis match in seven days. On top of all the on court terror, I have worked out with a WOOFY personal trainer four times in the same period. No, I am not crazy. I'm dedicated.

N.H.G.

2011-02-03T07:48:00.017-06:00

I'm a manly man. In fact, if I were at the Gold's Gym in Castro right now, I'd be pulling Moby forward by the shirt collar and telling him to MAN UP! If he didn't immediately respond with a "YES, SIR!", hell hath no fury. Grunt.

Which makes the incident that happened this morning so shocking. I was running around the house getting ready for gym and work. At one point, I stopped... flipped my wrist... and muttered "I don't need that shirt." Staring up at me in horror was my dog Boudreaux.

I was flushed with shame. "NOOOO... you didn't see Daddy do that, did you?" Boudreaux growled.

A little background information: Boudreaux is a Dachshund who has "little dog syndrome". He'll regularly fight with other dogs much bigger than himself. I have tried in vain to help him with his "Napoleon Complex". All to no avail. Tsk. Tsk.

As a man, God has graced me with superior logic and reasoning skills. I immediately fetched the squeaky rabbit toy. The challenge for household Alpha status was on!

For ten minutes, we were on the floor growling and tugging at the stuffed rabbit. My growl was louder and unrelenting. I even tapped him on the hind leg to startle him into dropping the rabbit. RAWR! WHO's THE ALPHA DOG NOW?!

After firmly demonstrating my dominance in the household, I drove to the gym and performed a ball busting HARD workout. Thankfully, the nelly hand gesture has NOT reappeared. I'm on watch, however, as the nelly alert level is apparently on pink. GROAN.

The Art of Soaking Cork

2011-02-01T09:22:00.017-06:00

Ohhhh yeah... keep going baby... don't stop... that's it... all the way down... awww Gawd... awww Gawd... YES... YES... YES!!! HELL YES!!! THE LORD IS MY SAVIOR! Whew. Good boy. (pats Jimbo on the head)

Sorry about that. I had to relieve some tension. How in the hell are y'all doing? I'm good. Well, actually I've been bad. After a five month absence, I have returned to revisit my wicked past. Yup. I have been spending time in the bars with people half my age.

At age 40, I am "Daddy" to the twenty something year old set. I remember when I was in my 20's. I didn't date people my own age . My loins yearned for older "Daddy" types. Now that I am 40, I enjoy the perks of being on the other side of the equation. It's kinda fun and makes me feel younger! Next thing you know, I'll be driving around in a convertible. LOL.

Do you know a pet peeve of mine? Us older gays are not doing enough to mentor those twenty something year olds in the art of cork soaking. There is a whole generation of young gays who either do not know how to properly soak cork or do it only sparingly. You could have the meatiest Slab, and it goes unappreciated. SIGH.

I blame our culture of immediate gratification. Call me old fashioned, but how about a little foreplay? We are brainwashing our young ones to focus more on quantity and less on quality. I'm sorry, but dropping your trousers and wanting me to "put it in!" ain't cool. We MUST educate our twinks before cork soaking becomes a lost art.

On a completely different note, how many of you launch Grindr just to giggle at the funniest user pics? I do. If I were to pick Baton Rouge's most hilarious Grindr user, IT would be this:

WTF?! WHAT IS IT?! MALE OR FEMALE? I'M SKEERED!

A word from my sponsor:

2011-01-26T13:53:00.021-06:00

This is not a real ad. I created it to poke fun at a famous blogger who always picks on me. He is going to die of embarrassment when he see's it. Hee hee. All in fun! :)

Jenny from the Block

2011-01-25T09:04:00.010-06:00

It amuses me when I meet others who only know me through this blog or FB. They nervously wonder if I am truly the asshole I portray. Surely, Jay must have pondered this as we shared a room in Biloxi.

I have blogged for five years and cranked out 1,429 posts. Do I write about the pleasures of leisurely laying on the couch with Jean Pierre (my Daschund)? No. That would be sooo gay. It's not the image I want to project.

Making my Brettcajun character an egotistical, opinionated, and politically incorrect ASSHOLE is much more fun! ;)

Bloggers do show a side of their personality online. If I wrote it, you can believe I felt it. However, it does not give a complete picture to my very essence. I am choosing to show you only what I want to show you.

Where am I going with this? There are individuals out there who will have you convinced everything in their world is white picket fences and wholesome gooeyness. The reality? YOU SHOULD RUN! If they are too goody two-shoe appearing, they are probably the freakiest.

How do we differentiate between the truly sweet and those who are douchey/bonkers? We must do our own research. Ask others who have actually met them in person. Therein lies the truth.

MEAUX CHAMPIONS:

2011-01-24T04:44:00.001-06:00

Jay, a blogger and fellow tennis addict, flew down from Planet Hoth (Minnesota) to enter a tennis tournament as my doubles partner. We KICKED ASS and are USTA's newest 3.5 Doubles Champions.

We out-muscled the other teams to win the Championship. Jay had the killer serve and expertly hit monsterous lobs. I was the anchor in consistency and haul-ass ability. To win the Championship, we had to survive three match points. Our strengths made for a potent team. :)

While I now have 8 tennis trophies, this was my first Championship Trophy. One day, I hope to have as many trophies as my idol Sue Sylvester. We are kindred spirits.

I would like to thank Jay for a wonderful weekend. We have a budding friendship which I look forward to continuing. Jay is someone who I greatly admire for his tennis playing skills. He's a fighter that continues to work on improving his tennis game. I admire that trait.

A Samurai in the Land of Squishies:

2011-01-19T15:36:00.017-06:00

Precisely one month ago, I questioned my sanity. What have I become? In my mind, I was what every human ought to be -- a warrior in fine fighting form. Life consisted of: gym, tennis, and work. That was it. Anything else was a hindrance.

My typical week consisted of 3-4 tennis matches and three gym workouts. On the rare occasion where I had no gym or tennis, I felt shame. You are like one of them... weak and mortal.

If you were squishy and dared stumble upon my line of vision, it took every fiber of my being to not harshly judge you:

Look at this squishy fool. Inebriated. Fat. He probably can't run around for five minutes without passing out. What a waste.

In my world, survival is based on points, victories, and being measured against others. My motto would be: GIVE ME POINTS OR GIVE ME DEATH! Is this rational? Not at all.

How can enemies be subjugated if you are not armed to the gills? Shouldn't everyone exude power, stamina, and toughness? Isn't life a battlefield where we must be strong to survive? This is my world view.

The tennis courts are a perfect setting to test my battle preparedness. Every week, I battle with others for superiority and league dominance. I need constant affirmation that I am a great warrior. Perhaps it was the way I was nurtured... but it is firmly encoded in my DNA.

On the Farm with Tim:

2011-01-14T08:33:00.002-06:00

These pics were taken last weekend with the stud horse George. Tim is the first person I have invited to the Farm since I became single two and a half years ago. He got the whole tour, including seeing my furry rugrats. Tim and Boudreaux (my alpha dog) hit it off particuliarly well.

G@y Panic

2011-01-12T08:32:00.019-06:00

I have been reflecting on the posts I have written in the last month. When I shared my feelings about the character of Kurt on Glee, I was lambasted. I did receive (mostly private) support from individuals that shared my viewpoints.

The people most upset were those living in urban areas, many of whom are estranged from their own families. They are the ones who typically post Twitter or Facebook updates dreading spending the holidays with family. They also tend to be the ones most like Kurt.

I received a lot of flack, but I stubbornly stood my ground. The firestorm let me know that I had indeed touched on a hot button issue in the gay community. Who is right? I have spent the last month soul searching for the answer.

It may have come from the most unlikeliest of sources. A tennis court rival, who I call "THE DEVIL", exchanged interesting texts with me recently. He texted, "I finally got u figured out". I wrote back, "Do u? So what's your diagnosis Doc?"

He then sends the following:

Your father constantly belittles you cause you suck cock so you try, in your best high pitched voice to act 'manly'. And you have to attempt to belittle other gays to make yourself feel better. And all of your negativity makes you an unpleasant person to be around. Will make for a lonely existence as you continue to age.

My response? "Wow. That's very true."

The reality of my situation is that my father does not directly belittle me. He does so indirectly. His favorite word to describe people he hates is cocksucker. Just one year ago, he screamed at a nephew for walking down the hall like a girl.

The worst thing I can remember is when I first came-out to the family 13 years ago. My brother informed me that our Dad wanted me to stand up in a meeting with all of my co-workers and admit to them that I was gay. (A public shaming?) I was to ask permission if it would still be okay to work with them. Fortunately, I never had to do that. It does make me teary eyed every time I think about it.

Just recently, I went to a grocery store with a friend. While I know he would have loved to walk side by side shopping for groceries, I didn't feel comfortable with that. I found myself leaving his side to find things in the store we needed. No need to make rednecks gawk. Being from Louisiana (and now living in NYC), my friend knew exactly what I was doing. I got a stern lecture afterward.

When my friend Tim came down from Wisconsin this weekend, he placed his arm around me while I drove. I was okay with that until we were about a mile away from the farm. I began to panic. What if neighbors see a man hugging on me? My face felt flushed with heat and I had difficulty breathing. Either I immediately remove Tim's arm or I suffer in silence. I correctly chose to let Tim keep his arm around me. The last mile was so uneasy for me however.

When we went to my sister's house to play ping pong with my brother and nephews, I requested that Tim not hug and kiss me in front of family. He told me he totally understood and he complied. We had a good time there, but I did feel guilty about the request.

I have made great strides in dealing with my sexuality, but I am not quite there yet. Let's hope 2011 helps me get a little closer to figuring it all out.

The Probe

2010-12-21T09:57:00.008-06:00

This is a true story. A group of brave scientists risked their lives to anally probe me. A spacecraft and crew were miniaturized to "fit". Upon impact, the tip of the spacecraft opened and crew members were fired deep down my chute.

The mission: to find out what makes me tick.

Dr. Susan Pratt was the first to stumble upon the Chamber of Secrets. She peered through thousands of files on individuals. "He obviously places a high value on masculinity and athletic ability. Look here. This file is on "John W." His athletic ability is rated as marginally average and his file is stamped 'NELLIE'". She sighed.

Next to the Chamber of Secrets was the War Room. Dr. Pratt was in awe at all the electronic monitors. "He actively records all of his WINS and his rival's losses! OMG. His main focus and concentration seems to center on competition with others."

Before she could investigate any further, Dr. Pratt hears... "Come quickly. I've located the prefrontal cortex!" She raced to meet her fellow scientist.

Dr. Strout was found peering at a handheld instrument. "Hmm... if these readings are correct, Brett does not get into the Christmas spirit, cry at funerals, or celibrate "Suck a Hot Cock Day". He's an outlier in almost every statistical category!"

"We must send shockwaves through his prefrontal cortex. Otherwise, he will remain a dickhead", concluded Dr. Strout.

Dr. Pratt tearily gave a nod -- "It's the only way."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Join the Fight Against Foursquare!

2010-12-16T06:33:00.005-06:00

There are manly men, then there is the typical Foursquare user. If you read this blog, then you are cool and probably have no idea what Foursquare is.

Bascially, Foursquare is an ap for losers. Typically, Foursquare users are squishy do nothings who lack anything to be proud of. They spend their wretched brainless lives trying to be a fictional mayor of some establishment (or loser corner).

I would like to thank Jimbo for bringing this issue to light. I actually wanted to rail against Foursquare users ten days ago, but my bitchiness-in-every-post was starting to scare me. Jimbo gave me the courage I needed: IT'S OKAY TO BE BITCHY. LOL.

Mean Angry Torso

2010-12-13T07:55:00.005-06:00

Just yesterday, a tennis friend (who I soundly beat) let me know that he and his partner have been talking about me. They were concerned about my mental health. They both thought it would do me some good to get out of the house.

I growled, "like where? a bar?". I used to frequent bars, but lately I am turned off by them AND their patrons. I see squishy people everywhere who don't have physical fitness as their priority. Does your ass make tsunami waves when poked? When squeezed, are your arms squishy like a woman? Eww. Yes, I'm a prick.

When sexting, I see all sorts of torsos. Rather than judge the torso on merits of exercise and diet, I do something strange. I imagine nips as eyes and belly buttons as mouths. I look at the "face" so I can peer into one's true self... their soul. (try it!)

When I look at my torso, I always see mean and angry. It makes me shiver. Is my inner soul mean and angry? Also, why do I always project my values onto others? What makes my values superior to yours? Hmm... something to ponder.

STFU

2010-12-11T20:08:00.004-06:00

A Day Without BC

2010-12-08T08:07:00.009-06:00

Let's face it... I'm a douche. Any opinions I have is not shared by ANYONE. Apparently, I cannot go one single day without pissing off a soul. I should just shut up and jiggy dance. So, today... I am choosing NOT to express an opinion. I'll be back. With vengeance.

Tim vs. the World

2010-12-06T06:51:00.011-06:00

I am back from planet Hoth (Wisconsin). It was my very first trip to Wisconsin. My only reference is Jimbo. Surprisingly, Wisconsin is not overrun by Gingers. I found the people pleasant and not bitchy at all. By the way, I love Jimbo dearly... in strict ten minute increments. ;)

What was I doing in Wisconsin? Tim. Yep, it was our fourth meeting. If anyone would like to dissect what kind of man is right for me, it's Tim. He's everything I like in a man. He's manly, shovels snow, drives three hours to fetch me from the airport, and feeds me jalapeno poppers while I lay on the couch.

Like me, Tim didn't cut and run to a gay ghetto. Rather than cowardly hide from heterosexuals and be insulated, Tim bravely bought a bar and grill in a small hilly town in western Wisconsin. I especially love the fact that Tim lives near his family and sees them regularly.

I enjoyed spending a typical weekend in Tim's life. Driving through snow covered small towns away from the hustle and bustle was very romantic. It was nice seeing vast amounts of farm land, silos, and barns away from the sickness that is urban sprawl.

The funny part was hearing the Wisconsin accent. Tim hides it well, but you'll sometimes hear a true version of it when he talks to other Wisconsiners. Every time someone sounded straight out of the movie Fargo, I couldn't stop myself from giggling.

I really adore Tim. He's an important person in my life and I am glad to have him. :)

Playing in Wisconsin Snow

2010-12-04T13:25:00.002-06:00

I am in rural Wisconsin enjoying playing in the snow with my buddy Tim. We have been exploring snow covered small towns in Wisconsin and across the border in Iowa. It is very charming!

Rebel Fleet Crushed

2010-12-01T14:49:00.018-06:00

The rebels sent me their WOOFIEST player tonight, but I crushed him 6-0,6-2. The best part was hearing that other Flex players have spoken quite highly of me. Translation: I'm the league's BADASS. :) I rule the Flex League galaxy.

This marks the second straight season I have gone undefeated in league play. Of course, come playoff time, I have yet to win the Championship. Last season, a punk-ass 26 year old beat me in the Finals. Grrr.... it pisses me off I am the Susan Lucci of the goddamn tennis world.

You can be sure my laser cannon will be fully operational in time for the playoffs. I am playing well nowadays, so foes had best be ready!

Socially Norm

2010-11-29T06:01:00.019-06:00

Many were offended by my comments about being too embarrassed to bring the character of Kurt to meet my Mama or take him to a football game. Let's talk about that.

Can we agree with the following statement? To be accepted in society and get along well with others, we follow a set of written and unwritten rules of appropriate values, beliefs, attitudes and behaviors. In Sociology, we call this social norms.

Loudly bragging about that big dick you sucked right next to a family with small children would violate a social norm. Similarly, dropping your trousers and pooping on a public beach in broad daylight would also violate a social norm. Social norms govern our behavior so we can get along with each other as best as we can.

When I bring anyone over for Thanksgiving Dinner with my family, for example, I make a conscience decision of who I invite. They are expected to dress and act appropriately. It's important for me to not make my family feel uncomfortable.

Would I feel comfortable bringing someone over that wanted to kiss me in front of my family? What if they wanted to dress in drag or wear their best leather? Honestly, no... I would not feel comfortable.

On the same note, I would not want to bring someone to a football game that wanted to make it a point to lovingly kiss me in front of others to shock all the hetero people in attendance. Or do their best Men on Film impression and scream, "Gurl! All these menses with their tight pantsss on... they can tackle me anytime... they get two swirls and a double snap!" We are there with 93,000 fans to cheer for the LSU Tigers... not satisfy your sexual urges or fight a culture war.

Which comes to my point. If you live in California and want to smooch on your assless chap leather clad boyfriend in a sparsely attended stadium... FINE. You are a brave soul that is on the forefront of fighting the culture war.

As for me, my preference is to assimilate more conservatively in my community. I am proudly OUT OF THE CLOSET, but I do not make a spectacle of myself. Well, except for on here perhaps...

Final Thoughts

2010-11-28T07:52:00.018-06:00

Kurt is a TV character that I do not care for. He is not manly, he's manipulative, and creepily stalks others. Now that bully, Dave Karofsky, Meeeooooow... he turns me on.

The key point that the gay mafia is missing is that I would never advocate violence against a real person. That would be wrong. If I saw a "Dave Karofsky" beating up a "Kurt Hummel", I would intervene and kick Dave's ass.

It is interesting that the gay mafia are not creeped out by Kurt. All those crocodile tears were shed so he could spend his dying Dad's Honeymoon money to stalk yet another handsome guy. Is this your hero? Really?! Really?!

I would like to thank all of the people who are privately emailing me with support. Thank you. Let them belt me with their Louis Vuitton man purses while they sing their show tunes. I am still standing.... bloodied... but still standing.

The real reason I have upset people is because they themselves feel insecure about the amount of sugar and twinkle in themselves. That is what this is really all about. I GET IT.

What I also get is WHY certain people have taken great pleasure in giving me a swift upper cut. You've been wanting to do that for years, haven't you? I GET IT. Fine. Get your licks in while the getting is good.

It has been nice to see friends, frenemies, and haters actually have strong opinions on this matter. WOW. Beneath all those air-headed tweets, whimsical Facebook status updates and Kylie blaring in the background... you CAN get fired up about something!

As one General to another... "Good Job".

Some People Pray to different Gods

2010-11-26T12:31:00.003-06:00

I walked into a Barnes & Noble today. Shannen Doherty's new book "BADASS" caught my eye. Initially, I thought it was an autobiography. After perusing the pages, I realized that Shannen Doherty wrote a self help book about "unleashing your authentic self- from the inside out" with sprinkles of information about her personal life.

I was so impressed with the book that I bought it.

2010-11-26T07:46:00.004-06:00

2010-11-25T07:53:00.002-06:00

The Problem with Kurt Hummel:

2010-11-23T15:37:00.007-06:00

Preface: I am choosing to share my feelings about Kurt Hummel (the gay character on Glee) to create an open dialogue. I feel that this character has successfully achieved one thing: dividing the gay community.

I have shared my disdain for Kurt Hummel on Facebook and recently on Jimbo's homophobic cat blog entry. When two individual commenters expressed their support for my viewpoint, I knew this was an interesting topic worth discussing.

What is my problem with Kurt Hummel? His character is so outrageously flamboyant, he makes me cringe every time he is in a scene. I find myself rooting for the closeted school bully, Dave Karofsky, to beat Kurt up. Is that mean? Not in my book. His character drives me nuts!

I'm a gay man. How do I act? Well, I play the manly sport of tennis 4-5 times a week. I don't decorate for holidays. When I am not attending an LSU or Saints football game, you can typically find me watching sports on the couch. In a nutshell, I am a typical male that happens to like other men. I do not live up to Hollywood's stereotype of what a gay male is supposed to be like.

As awful as this must sound, Kurt Hummel does not represent ME. I could never take him home to meet Mama. I would be too embarrassed to take him to a football game. The moment he started acting all nellie, I would have a sudden urge to ditch him. Being completely honest, Kurt makes me extremely uncomfortable.

Do I have deep seated insecurities that cause these anxieties? Hell, yes! I can't help it. I do feel partly ashamed by my reaction to the character of Kurt. I know it is wrong, but I just can't stop myself from feeling that sense of embarrassment. Was I born and nurtured to feel this way? Probably. Is there anyway to help me overcome my prejudice against Kurt?

You tell me.

2010-11-15T06:32:00.005-06:00

Hung:

2010-11-04T09:14:00.005-05:00

Do you ever question the point of your existence? You get up, go to work, drive back home, pay bills and do it all over again.

Some of us have time and money left over to enjoy simple pleasures in life: Taco Bell, sex, travel, tennis, Glee, or Facebook. Is this really all there is to life? Sadly, it is for me.

As a gay male, I am not charged with responsibility in raising offspring. My #1 priority is food and shelter. CHECK. My secondary priorities are staying in good health and being physically fit. CHECK. Everything else seems like money and time pissed away. Surely, there must be more to life than this?

I am no more important than a single ant in a great big ant colony called LIFE. I'm just chugging along doing the same thing over and over again. When I think of life like this, I began to understand why old people tell us they are ready to die.

It's depressing feeling like a slave to the human condition. There must be more to life. I want to contribute something greater someway. I am bound and determined to find out how!

She's baaaaaack!

2010-11-01T07:52:00.006-05:00

Queue the Twilight Zone soundtrack. As much as I love a good fight with an extraterrestial with plucked eyebrows, I am choosing to BLOCK and diss on the blog.

YES... I LOVE SEX like Jane Fonda loves smoking pot. With my furry ears and manly nose hair, I am built for good sex. Boink. Boink. Boink. YES! YES! YES!

I HATE Eyebrow Pluckers

2010-10-26T13:07:00.007-05:00

Anyone that knows me can vouch that I get along with just about everybody. However, I have a ZERO TOLERENCE for bullies, moochers, or eyebrow plucking queens.

This particuliar Grindr QUEEN (pictured above) was pissed that I ignored her messages. She hissed, "Damn dude R U that much of a stuck up bitch?"

I thought... WTF?! Nothing pisses me off more than some nellie queen trying to cop an attitude with me. I should have ignored the message, but I AM a hotblooded Cajun.

"Beze" then messages me something full of grammatical errors: "Your just stuck up becouse u think your so hot an that ego a look is all u have an no personality to go with it look fade personality don't." Plucked-Eyebrownics?

My internal temperature gauge began to boil to RAGIN CAJUN. I wrote back, "Do you do Drag? If you want to attract someone 'manly', perhaps you should reconsider plucking your eyebrows".

The bitch-cunt-from-hell then asks if I strip and says I look fake enough to do porn! OH, BITCH... THE GLOVES ARE OFF!!!

Tennis Player

2010-10-25T06:41:00.005-05:00

I eat like a PIG. Hell, I haven't worked out in a gym in over two weeks. So, how does this 40 year old stay in shape? I play tennis! (typically four times a week)

If you have pesky love handles or belly fat, why not take up a sport like tennis? At the spur of the moment, you must run/stop/swing/run your ass off for the next ball. Your match can be as short as one hour or it can stretch to three hours. Tennis keeps your muscles completely stressed and off balance at all times.

It is the perfect exercise to staying fit, being healthy, and having fun. TRY IT! Tennis does the body good.

Good Morning Baltimore

2010-10-19T15:46:00.016-05:00

I have never been to Baltimore, but I will be flying there tomorrow. I have absolutely no clue what to expect. Is Baltimore even beautiful? My only point of reference is the movie "Hairspray".

Is Baltimore festering with racial tension and frumpy big haired girls? Will Maryland Terp fans beat me up for all the times I have poked fun of their underachieving football program? (I fondly refer to them as the "Maryland Twerps!")

This trip will be interesting on so many levels. Not only do I have to dress up all fancy, but I must share a room with a straight co-worker (awkward!). We have never talked about the fact that I am a "Heauxmeaux", but I am sure my Dad has already blabbed it to him.

My co-workers have been snickering about it all week. Whatev. Can we please all act like adults? I will have my own bed. Ain't nobody gonna be jumping in the other's bed. LOL.

If I get an itch, I can always cab it to the Eagle. $1 draft beer tomorrow night! Let's all pray I don't come down with a case of Miss Baltimore Crabs. Ahem.

Miss Dee Urban Rosebud WINS!

2010-10-14T08:32:00.007-05:00

Congratulations to Miss Dee Urban Rosebud for being your 2010 Miss Power Bottom USA Queen. YAY! Garnering 36.73 percent of the vote, DC's own Miss Dee has beat out that bitch rival, Charlene Hilton, to win the prestigious award. I couldn't be happier... considering... EVIL GRIN. :)

In the event that Miss Dee can't fulfill her power bottoming obligations, Runner Up Man Gina Vagina will gladly assume the position. So to speak...

The Beauty Contest

2010-10-13T06:00:00.018-05:00

In honor of the upcoming Power Bottom Appreciation Day holiday, I thought it would be a good time to go ahead and name some lucky individual "Miss Power Bottom USA".

The contestants:

Melon E. Head:
Insatiable. Competes with Casper the ghost in the lightest skin category. Spends most of her free time tirelessly exercising.

Man Gina Vagina:
Demure. Slutty senior citizen. Spends a lot of time playing with Trom's bone.

Charlene Hilton:
Trampy socialite who is known for high hair and one bitchy attitude. Don't piss her off... or else!

Home Err Squeal:
Down to earth Michigan gal, has a kitty named "Puff", and strongly dislikes Republicans.

Dee Urban Rosebud:
Famous cat blogger, obsessed with buttsex, and has probably sampled well over 1,000 brands of poppers.

Please VOTE NOW: