Trifecta

Last night at Ho(t)me(n) Depot, I was working with my Department Head getting ready for inventory. And he popped the question: Do you want to go full-time?

And I said "Sure." Not because I am sure, but just because I was asked. And because instead of having to work three jobs, I'd be able to only work one. (Although I'd still like to get down to Hard Labor Ready on weekdays off to keep my hand in the mix and give me a little extra cash.) And hopefully, this will give me a little bit more say in my availability for work, and make my weekly schedule a wee bit more predictable.

That said, I decided that after my ninety day probationary period is up, I'll start perusing the want ads again. Not that I'm unhappy at Ho(t)me(n) Depot--quite the reverse--I just worry that too much time there might blight my resume. But we'll see. As I learned during the first eight months of 2007, employers aren't chafing at the bit to bring on board a forty-three year old when there are all those twenty- and thirty-somethings eager to open veins and give blood to have a job.

But regardless, I take that gesture as indication that The Like Me, and after this long sojourn in the desert of rejection, that is welcome indeed.

And speaking of being liked, I got a call from my softball coach today. He was calling to make sure I'd be at the league awards ceremony tomorrow night.

When the call came in, I was working for Installer Guy tearing up carpet. (Tearing up carpet is really hard work. If anybody ever tells you, "Buddy, you've got a big future ahead or you as a Carpet Tearer Upper," just go ahead and deck him.) So there I am, with all these other carpet tearer upper guys, my cellie blows up, I see it's George and answer it, and give him the bad news.

No, in fact I won't be there tomorrow night. I have to work at Ho(t)me(n) Depot.

My coach was really disappointed to hear that. And he explained why. I'd be missing out on getting the trophy everybody on the Ball Breakers is getting for coming in second in the season. But what's more, after much discussion among my teammates, I am going to receive the Managers Award, which comes with its own trophy.

So there I am, standing amidst all that tearing up of carpet, and I start to cry.

George explained that there are few more dedicated Ball Breakers, and, most importantly for him, I am the source of No Drama Whatsoever. And, I'm beloved by each and every Ball Breaker.

(Yeah. I'm crying again.)

Okay.

Change of plans.

Tomorrow when I get off work from Ho(t)me(n) Depot, instead of heading for home, I'm gonna head down to the PA Turnpike, take it east, hook up with the Jersey Turnpike, through the Holland Tunnel, and I should arrive in NYC in time to meet up with the Ball Breakers at Ty's on Christopher Street after the awards ceremony.

For one thing, no way could I miss that.

And for another thing, it's been what--weeks? months?--since I went out and had a good time. (Not that hanging out at Starbucks isn't a Good Time, but you know what I mean.)

And for another thing, NYC is no doubt diminished by my absence, and I'd best amend that.

And for another thing, I'm getting two softball trophies!

(Oh. Wait. We covered that already.)

And just a note for my NYC readers, I should be hitting Ty's around 9:30, 10 pm. A mere sixteen days remain until I turn forty-three. So if'n you'd like to wish me the best on my next journey 'round the sun, this might be your only opportunity.


So that's all good, right?

But wait. There's more!

I got a call from a guy I worked with at the Previous Place of emPloy. He was the Program Director for the harm reduction intervention we did for trans folks, and he was a great guy. Absolutely one of my favorite people on staff there. We had several memorable talks over coffee and cigarets, which would start out with him educating me about trans issues, and not infrequently end with both of us kicking back and talking about how totally cool it was being a guy. (And as that had not always been the case with him, his appreciation in many ways exceeded mine.) Ah, the joys of getting punched by a drunk in a bar, sucking it up and being out of touch with your feelings, being able to strike up a conversation with any other guy on the planet by opening a paper to the Sports page and saying, "can you believe this shit?"... So anyways, as if he wasn't busy enough, he's doing this party at a nightclub down in Philadelphia. And once a month, they do a BDSM theme. And he has people do demos. And it seems that he's unable to find anybody to Top in these demos other women--possibly because it's explicitly trans-friendly, and perchance did I know anybody...

And, I did. A few people I could ask. And, of course, I'd be happy to oblige.

And he was thrilled about that.

So get this.

On November 3rd, I'll get to leather up, head down to Philadelphia, be On The Guest List at a trendy club, and do a demo!

Oh, schwing.

I was thinking of singletails (natch), but I'm wondering if chain bondage might be more fun. When I've done chain bondage demos before, I pass out lengths of chain to onlookers and have them do some of the lays. And at the end, when we've exhausted all 200 pounds of my chain, we have a lucky bottom immoblized by cold, eternal steel. And then, of course, there's the Grand Finale, when I remove the padlocks and he struggles to free himself.

(Yes, I need a demo bottom. Yes, if anyone knows Buck Angel personally I can't think of anybody who would be more appropriate, but I'm open to other possibilities.)

So I've hit the Trifecta: Job, Softball, SM.

Perhaps 2007 will close on a better note than that with which it opened.