6 Years Ago...

Well, six years ago, Memorial Day Weekend, Michael TOM and I met. Do ya'll wanna hear how we met? Well, tough. No matter how much you beg to not hear it and that you'd rather me write about how much water I consume in a day, or the longest toe-nail I've ever grown, todays post is about how we met. Get in a comfortable seated position and prepare to be enthralled. So, let me get started...

I was looking for a cheap hooker and...oh wait...wrong story.

Six years ago, I had had enough and decided to give up for awhile.

I decided to give up trying to meet "the perfect person." There were 3-4 guys I was dating at that time, but they all seemed to have issues that I just was not willing to deal with. So, I gave up on them.

I knew almost everybody at the bar I hung out at on the weekends, and most of them were just my friend because I was there. No true friends, just hang out friends. None of them knew my favorite TV show, what type of car I wanted when I grew up, or my favorite fast-food restaurant. So, I gave up on them.

What I needed was "me" time. At the time, I had a second job on the weekends being the stage manager for a comedy improv group. After I finished working at the improv, I was going to go home, watch my favorite TV show, and go to bed. By myself. And I was going to like it!

So, on this particular Saturday night, I was closing down the comedy show and was about to go home to watch "Will & Grace", eat me a Jumbo Jack with Cheese from "Jack-In-The-Box" and eat 2 Snickers Bars, when my best friend Cynthia and her boyfriend came in to say "hi". We talked for awhile and Cynthia really wanted to go somewhere where we could all talk and hang out for a little while. "Will & Grace" would just have to wait. Since I'd given up on my regular bar, I told her that the only place I could think of was this lesbian bar. So, the 3 of us headed there, while I secretly wanted nothing more than to get me my Jumbo Jack with cheese. Luckily I was dressed nicely. Snug fitting white polo shirt, jeans (much smaller size than I wear today), and sandals.

I go to the bar to get us all a drink before meeting them outside on the patio. There were some scary looking women out that night. Please bartender...hurry with my drinks before Liz-The-Lezzie beats me up! I look across the room, and there is this cutie looking at me. Me being used to "the pick up game" raise an eyebrow, and appear more interested in getting extra limes before going outside. Dang it! He's standing by the one and only door to the outside! I walk past him, not daring to make eye contact with him. Success! I made it outside to the safety of my friends.

Cynthia, her boyfriend Dan, and I are talking when "the perfect dance song" comes on. Cynthia and I make a bee-line for the crammed dance floor and, knowing that there was someone watching me, I broke out my "secret" dance moves. I lean over to Cynthia and ask if the good looking guy by the door is watching. While doing her famous "head roll while spinning around" she scopes the scene. Reporting back to me that "yes, he is...along with 6 of the girls around him" I start to get nervous. The song wasn't over, and all the good dance moves were done. I'd already used the secret "chest out, hands over head, swaying back and forth while showing just a hint of my bare then-flat stomach" and didn't have any more moves. We made it thru the rest of the song making up different dance moves.

We decide to stand near the good-looking guy and his group of tough girls. I lean against the wall, propping one leg up against the wall and ask Cynthia if I look better holding my beer waist high, or across my chest like I'm pledging my allegiance to Miller-Lite. We decide waist high. It worked! But it wasn't the good-looking guy coming over, it was a girl with a mullet holding a pool stick. Perhaps my posing was too good? No, she wanted to introduce me to "the whole group" of friends, one of them happened to be the cutie. His name was Michael also. We talked for a couple of minutes, then parted ways.

Cynthia and Dan decided to leave, leaving me there all by myself. Dang it! Who is going to help me decide what pose to use to get him to come back to talk to me? Before I had time to decide the best pose on leaning against a bar stool, "Michael-The-Cutie" came by and we talked a little while longer. Before long, they announced that the bar was closing and we needed to get out of there.

"You wanna grab a bite to eat?" Michael-The-Cutie asks.

"Sure, where do you want to go eat?" Please say Jack-In-The-Box...please say Jack-In-The-Box.

"Denny's?" He asks.

"Great! My favorite place."

I knew I found someone special. I was willing to give up my Jumbo Jack for this guy and knew the road ahead was going to be wonderful!

And it has been.

Neither of us was supposed to be there that particular night, but circumstances made it happen.

God bless circumstances...and good posing.

Younger brother Jason

This is a picture of my younger brother Jason. And no, it isn’t me tying him up. I was able to talk my friend into doing it for me.

Happy Birthday Jason!

I promised not to tell anyone how old you are, so I won’t. Hard to believe that this is your last year in your twenties!

Can’t believe that my younger brother is so grown up now…well, kinda. I remember him as this little punk kid who had a cute smile, charming personality, and was such a good kid who loved Superman, He-Man, and The Smurfs.

Jason was the perfect younger brother. He was an older brothers dream come true. I was able to pick on him and tell him anything and he would believe me…until he got smarter and learned to talk.

One of my favorite memories that involved Jason was during church. I was a punk of about seventeen, which would of made Jason around eleven. To pass the time in church, we would pass notes to each other. Figuring that my brother would fall for this joke, I wrote on a piece of paper:

Say: Can I
And then spell out the word “cup” out loud.

So, in a whisper, he said “Can I C-U-P?”…then a little louder once he didn’t get it…"Can I C-U-P?”…

I was about to wet my Z. Cavarichi pants. Still not getting it, he decides to ask Dad, but in a louder voice that several rows heard: “Hey Dad! Can I C-U-P?”

By this time, I do not believe I still had any control over my bladder and when Dad looked at me he gave me “the look” that no one liked. His head was lowered, his glasses pushed down his nose so his eyes could look at you without the glasses being in the way, and every wrinkle in his forehead showing. All it took was one word. “Michael!”

It dawned on Jason what he was saying and he covered his mouth trying to stifle the laugh. I rushed out of the chapel and tackled anyone congregating in the hallway that obstructed my way to the bathroom.

About 2 weeks ago, we were at the same church for our nephews baptism. I passed him the same note. This time he got it.

Have a wonderful birthday Jason! Love you! Now, say: “Owa ta boo by em”

May 21st...

...was a very special day. This was the day, a year ago, I was lucky to have married my best friend and gain a second family that I am so eternally blessed to have.

We had a wonderful committment ceremony, with lots of funny stories, that you know I will have to post soon. Like how I totally forgot to eat anything because I was wanting to say "hello", "thank you for coming", "it's so good to see you! Now, where's my gift?" Stuff like that kept me away from the food table, but not away from the open bar. I think I flirted with some of the waitresses... don't remember. But I do remember that my Michael never looked so handsome. And the "Picture God" was watching over me that day. I looked thin. But someone forgot to tell me to color the goatee. A couple pictures looked like Michael Tom married Grandpa.

I look forward to posting more pictures from the ceremony. Michael Tom has kept them hidden from me for the past year.

Well, we are off to our Anniversary Dinner. Michael Tom made reservations at the local IHOP. We got a coupon for a free "Rooty-Tooty-Fresh-And-Fruitie."

Celebrity Siting?

Did Myrna, Michael TOM, and I go to Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills and run into some hot ladies and crash their lunch? No, but I can see how you might think that. These cuties are our moms! For Mothers Day, we decided to introduce all our mothers to each other and had such a blast!


Michael TOMs Mom, Big Sister Myrna's Mom and Mom. Aren't they all cute? They had fun comparing notes on their gay kids. Who had the gayest kid? Well, Michael TOMs mother won that hands down. Who had the most feminine? That was a threeway tie. It was such a wonderful time, we decided to do it again next year! Perhaps next year we will all make breakfast in bed for our mothers? I'll make the "Cottage Cheese Pancake Grossness" from the last post! Michael TOM will make "Pepto Bismal Smoothies" and Big Sister Myrna can drive us all to the emergency room.

Perhaps just a nice brunch every year will be safest.

Mommie Dearest...

I love my mommy.

All week long, the radio station I listen to is having callers call in talking about how wonderful their Mom is. I’m refraining from calling, because once I tell them how special/wonderful/fabulous my mother is, no one else would call because you can’t top the best there is. The rest of the week, if anyone actually did call, the DJ’s would tell the caller, “Yea, nice mom you have there, but Michael’s mom is better.” And you all should know I am not one to have people go around with hurt feelings.

How she raised 5 kids, worked at home while Dad went to medical school, moved several hundreds of miles from her own parents and brother is beyond me. But she did it…and she did it very well! And didn’t slap us kids once! Well…

How she didn’t drop my butt off at an orphanage with a note saying “Here, he’s yours now” is also surprising. I know most everyone believes I was a perfect angel who kept his room clean and did his chores without asking, but here is a surprise:

I was no angel.

Close your mouths, I know it is a bit of a shock. I set a little fire to a church that burned the porch when I was about eight years old. I cussed in church. I ripped tags off of mattresses…even under penalty of law! My younger brother would somehow get stranded in a field of stickers without his shoes on and scream for Mom…and she knew I did it. I even tried running away, until I realized that I would miss Moms good cooking and came home before they realized I actually did run away. But that’s it. I did nothing else bad as a child. Unless you count the time I gave Mom yogurt for Christmas, but later got mad at her and ate it. Okay, that’s it. Perfect child after that. Yup!

During a phase of me being nice (it was known to happen) I made Mom breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day when I was fourteen. “Family Circle” gave a delicious recipe for a Mother’s Day breakfast, so I tore out the page and went with Dad the next time he went to pick up groceries. No one, not even Dad, was to know I was doing this for Mom, because I wanted all the glory. I snuck some of the ingredients (after having to make substitutions to particular items) into the shopping cart and “helped” unpack the groceries.

Sunday morning came, and I woke up extra early to make the breakfast: heart shaped lumpy pancakes with peaches and cottage cheese filling, drizzled with maple syrup. Just the thought of it now makes my stomach churn. She probably thought I was trying to poison her. When I came to take the empty plate away, I just knew it would be her favorite breakfast and would want to add the recipe to the “Favorite Recipe” box.

Years later she confided in me that she tried a bite, choked it down, and dumped the rest in the toilet to avoid hurting my feelings. I’m glad she kept that secret from me, but always wondered why she never asked me to make that breakfast again.

This year, I’m just going to give Mom an Egg McMuffin from McDonalds. Cause I’m an angel like that. And she didn't dump me at an orphanage when given the chance.

Michael TOM turns another year older

Vicky, Big Sister Myrna, Dad, Me (if you do a close-up, you can tell I missed coloring my goatee), Michael Tom (aka Sister Christian, Diva Michael, Sweetie), Mom (notice...we wore the same styled shirt, cause I always liked dressing like my Mom), Doris, Lus, and Karen.

This past weekend we celebrated Michael TOM's birthday. After church we, along with our church family and my parents visiting for the weekend, went to Michael TOM's favorite restaurant...Mi Cocina. Great food and a margarita that will make you forget what number comes after 8 and has been known to be the sole reason for unplanned pregnancy. No, sorry. Michael TOM isn't pregnant, but according to him after a few sips of margarita, the number Q follows the number 8.

It was a wonderful time and we thank everyone who called or sent a card. We love you all!

Oh, and Michael TOM, I promise to not tell anyone you believed the number Q comes after number 8 or that you just turned 41. Your secret is safe with me. Love you baby!

Younger Sister Chrissy

My younger sister, Chrissy has her birthday tomorrow, May 4th.

We were born 1 year and 5 months apart, so we've always been pretty close. Sometimes we would say we were twins. In school, she was one grade under me, but with my maturity level, she was always way ahead of me. Way ahead.

I’ve decided to share a couple of our “Brother/Sister” lessons we lived thru growing up. Hope ya’ll enjoy. If you don’t, well…sucks to be you. It's not your birthday.

Chrissy had long pretty hair at the young age of three. I took her into the bathroom with Mom’s scissors to have her cut some of my hair. It just didn’t look proper, and as a four-year old, I needed to look good. She had a hard time getting it to cut my hair, so like a good older brother who wanted to teach his sister something new, I showed her on her own head. Several inches of light brown ringlets fell to the cold linolium floor. I didn’t cut a lot off, just a few sections in the back of her head. Think of it at a slightly “layered” cut. Deciding that what I just did might get me in trouble, we planned on not letting Mom find out. Hiding the cut hair on the top of the trash in the bathroom trash can (yea, like Mom would NEVER find it) and fluffing her hair to hide the short spot, we went outside like nothing was wrong. Let me just end the story by saying:
1. Mom found the cut hair
2. Mom found out it was me who cut Chrissy’s hair
3. Mom found out that no matter how hard you spank my butt, my butt-crack won’t get pushed up to my ears.
4. I deserved to have my butt-crack pushed up to my ears
5. Chrissy forgave me for her first “layered” hairstyle

When the “Booby Fairy” started blessing Chrissy with little chubbies when she was in 4th grade, I was one of the first she told. Holding her rainbow striped shirt tight across her chest, she asked me if I could see it…and only one seemed to be growing at that current moment. When I said “no” she really wanted to prove that she was getting a boob and offered to show me. Uh, no, that’s okay. When I asked her how she told Mom, she got a twinkle in her eye when she said that she told Mom, “Hey Mom, I got tits.” She lied, but it sure made us laugh.

We weren’t allowed to say the word “butt” for some reason as little kids. So, Chrissy and I instead of saying “You are a butt!” would say “You are a circle with a line down the middle of it!” We couldn’t say the word, but would find interesting ways to explain our way around the word.

We both would walk to Modoc Junior High when we lived in Alturas, CA. There was a bus that could have picked us up and taken us, but as painfully awkward pre-teens, the bus ride with the pretty popular people was hell. Don’t shower us with sympathy, we lived thru it. Pimples and greasy hair parted down the middle and all that was a good lesson on self-acceptance we learned together. But, I enjoyed our walks to school, just talking and laughing. Chrissy has a cute laugh and would belt out a belly laugh and point at stupid people. And in a small ranch community filled with cousins marrying cousins, there were a lot of times I almost wet my Sears Brand Jeans before making it to school.

In high school, I always had crushes on almost any friend of Chrissy. She could almost always sense when I was planning my future wedding and kid’s names with one of her girl friends. I would tag along whenever they would hang out. I’d run for the phone to answer it when I thought it was my future wife calling for my sister. Never once did she tell me to leave them alone. But, I never did hook up with any of her friends…wonder if she knew something about me before I would admit it? Nah…her girl friends just didn’t have any interest in a guy with a mullet hairstyle that would stalk them.

Well Chrissy, hope you have a great birthday! I’m blessed to have you as one of my sisters.

Love,
Big Brother Michael
Aka Circle-With-A-Line-Down-The-Middle-Of-It Head