Where do I begin?
First off, when I give Faithful Companion his Last Walk Of The Night, my ears are filled with the sound of spring peepers, wee little frogs, probably relatives of the coqui in Puerto Rico, chirping away. So this other cool thing happened. On the recommendation of one of my Starbucks buddies, I sent my resume to this progressive alternative school here in Bucks Co that's looking for someone to do fundraising. They called me and I have an interview on Tuesday. (Yay!)
And then... well, let me give the back story. At the Previous Place of emPloy, during my five month tenure as Executive Director, I wrote this proposal. In fact, I landed there, and pretty quickly developed this new and transformative vision about how the organization could fulfil it's mission more effectively. I was able to put that new vision into words, and also describe how we would go about making that happen, and I sent it off to the Pfizer Foundation. Welllll... Today I learned that the Pfizer Foundation contacted the Previous Place of emPloy and said, "Sounds good to us!" and is gonna bankroll that endeavor to the tune of $100,000 per year for four years.
Did you get all that? I'm there five months, come up with a new vision for the agency, and get them $400,000.
So I'm kinda good at what I do, huh?
And then tonight. I got my dad all squared away with something to eat for dinner, and headed up to NYC. First stop was the ACT UP action planning meeting. I found parking in one of my Top Secret Parking Spots without too much of a problem (don't ask me where, I'll never divulge, because if I did, you'd park there, wouldn't ya?) and headed to the LGBT Community Center. The meeting was on the third floor in the big room where GMSMA used to have their Wednesday night programs. I peeked in, and there were like ten people sitting in a circle.
Not a good sign.
I took a seat out in the hallway on one of those leather ottomans (they don't seem to be holding up too well) and set to work on last Sunday's Times crossword puzzle. Fifteen minutes later, I looked in the door to see if the numbers had swollen any.
And they hadn't.
So if I do go to the action next Thursday, it will be as an attendee, not as either a marshall or as someone risking arrest.
I headed to Bennie's Burritos on Greenwich.
Shocking development! I go up to the counter (I went to the takeout place on the north side of Greenwich) and I'm like, "Hi! I'll have a Mission Burrito with black beans and an extra side of guacamole for here please!" And they were like, "What?"
I repeated my order. The same thing I've been ordering from Bennie's Burritos since I landed in NYC seventeen years ago.
Again, they're like, "What?"
I was directed to the menu.
And it was all different!
Now, you order at Bennie's by telling them what you want inside your burrito--grilled chicken, carne (beef) asada, shredded beef, tofu, rice and beans, or spinach--and all burritos are now made with black beans.
What the hell?
How are we supposed to tell if the people ahead of us in line are clueless out-of-towners when they say, "I'd like a burrito, please" and then have to answer the follow-up question, "Black beans or pinto?" What happened to pinto beans? (I never liked nor ordered pinto beans, and neither did anyone else that I'm aware of, but still...)
Anyway, I managed to piece together a burrito order from this new and disorienting menu.
And Bennie's still makes a great burrito. And their guacamole rocks.
After eating, I still had some time to kill, so I headed up to Factory Café on Christopher Street and got myself a nice latté. Sitting in the window, I managed to knock out some more of the crossword. Finally, it was time to head to the Dug Out at Christopher and Weehauken Streets for the co-branded New York boys of Leather and MetroBears party, benefitting Bailey House, a hospice of people living with AIDS. I got in, paid my $5, and worked my way through a clot of bears ("'scuse me, 'scuse me, 'scuse me, 'scuse ME!") to where the boys were clustered at the front of the bar.
And there they all were! Gathered around a sling.
It turned out that the sling was an additional fundraising strategy: one of the boys would take his place in the sling, and $5 got you six clothespins to put on the boy.
boy ray was the first to take a ride. A very hot and very hairy MetroBear had first crack at boy ray, enjoying applying the clothespins and also working ray's butt with a thoughtfully provided flogger. And then there were a few other clothespin applications.
So I decided that even though I'm (ahem) on a fixed income right now, I could afford to part with some of my greenbacks.
But first, I inquired of boy alex, who was serving as Dungeon Master, if I could re-arrange some of the clothespins gracing boy ray.
"Sure thing!" said boy alex.
Cool. Because I know this about clothespins: putting them on is fun; taking them off is Big Fun! Y'see, when they've been on a while, it stops the blood from flowing into that portion of skin. And when they get taken off, the blood starts to flow back there a lot, and it's... uh... an intense sensation when that happens. I leaned in close, and whispered in ray's ear that I had just purchased twelve clothespins. And that I was going to re-position some of the clothespins that were on him.
"Take a deep breath, boy," I said.
When ray took a deep breath, I yanked off the four clothespins on his nipples and was rewarded with a yelp from boy ray.
(My evil plan was working perfectly!)
Then, I put those four clothespins and the six I had purchased in two neat lines in crescent formation along the bottom of ray's pecs. And spent some time gently flicking them and running the tip of my finger along the lines they formed.
boy ray seemed to be enjoying this.
I sure was.
So the heavily tattooed guy was there. A little woozie after a killer week at work. He's had to deal with a sizeable portion of the thousands of men in town for the Black Party (which he has taken to calling the Blech Party (à la Mad Magazine: nice). I couldn't take my eyes off him. I'd be talking to somebody and look up and spot him through the crowd, and totally forget what I was saying. When I was near him, I couldn't take my hands off him. He's got this great, tight heavily inked body. I want to see him naked so bad.
But, alas, as is usually the case among men who do it for me in a big way, I was all kindsa bashful around him.
boy david relieved boy ray in the sling. I totally wanted a piece of boy david--adorable, and such good taste in music--but I didn't think I had the money to invest in more clothespins.
But wait! boy alex was having a snack! Tasty-Cakes! (Tasty-Cakes are from Pennsylvania, and so am I!)
"Uh alex," I nonchalantly asked, "how much for a Tasty-Cake?"
The price was one dollar.
I slapped my dollar in alex's hot little hand, and put the end of the Tasty-Cake in boy david's mouth. And then we recreated that controversial Super Bowl ad and ate the Tasty-Cake from both ends.
It was a wonderful moment.
After that, of course, I needed a smoke. So I headed out into the little coral.
Whilst smoking among the bears, I heard my name called. I turned around, and peering at me through the bars were Lolita and the current President of GMSMA.
Whoa! Whoa!! WHOA!!! Way cool!
When I got back inside, Lolita and El Presidente were mingling, working their way through the crowd. You know, the way personages do.
I sidled up to heavily tattooed guy--let's call him Bruiser for now, that fits him pretty well--and pretty soon, Bruiser, and Lolita and I were chatting.
Now maybe it was because I was teasing Lolita about how the New York boys of Leather are soooo fabulous that perhaps Leather Pride Night should be re-branded as "The New York boys of Leather present... Leather Pride Night!", or maybe, "Leather Pride Night! Brought to you by the New York boys of Leather!", that Lolita leaned over to Bruiser and announced, "Y'know, he's got a crush on you."
I... I... I felt like someone had just yanked four clothespins off my tits!
Bruiser's face lit up.
And then I didn't feel quite so bad.
The three of us continued chatting. About that. About other stuff.
I, of course, couldn't keep my hands off Bruiser. And Bruiser put his arm around me. And we stood there, talking to Lolita, our arms around each other.
And that just felt so good.
So good like I can't believe.
Damn. That felt good.
boy joey took his turn in the sling, and of course, he instantly had a line six deep waiting to have at him. I joked that all those guys were men that joey had slept with in the past week. This was joey: "Yeah. I'll go home with you, but there's something you have to do for me..."
"Nah," said Bruiser, "Not the past week. Last night."
The evening wore on. Bruiser announced that since he had a full day tomorrow, it was time to call it a night.
"It's about time for me to hit the road," I said, "How about I give you a ride home?"
And Bruiser accepted that.
(Yeah. It made me feel good to be leaving with him, hot man that he is.)
Outside, the night was cool and springtime fresh. Bruiser and I walked to my car parked at... Aha! Thought you had me there, huh! We piled in and headed crosstown then uptown to Bruiser's humble abode.
"So, growing up in NYC, did you ever learn to drive?" I asked.
"Yeah," he answered, "when I was fifteen we used to steal cars and go joy-riding."
The little delinquent!
(I could have creamed my leather pants when I heard that. I. Want. Him. Bad.)
Way sooner than I would have liked, I turned down Bruiser's street.
We kissed goodnight, just a peck, and he climbed out of the car.
I felt almost dizzy, watching him walk up the block.
As I passed him, my eyes fixed on him, he turned to see me and smiled.
On the drive home, all the songs coming out of my iPod made me think of Bruiser. And I sang along at the top of my lungs.