Dang.

whipping boy is in town, and is looking to play. Upon going over my schedule for the next few days, I'm not sure I can make it happen. Tomorrow is a beach day with UnFortunate, and afterwards, I'll be dining with him at the Comfort Bistro. And then on Saturday, we're having our two final softball games of the regular season (look for us in the playofffs!), and I'll be beat afterwards. Actually, I'll be beat on Sunday. Sunday will be the long-awaited session with PunchPig. Look for me at the Eagle on Sunday night... I'll be the guy with the black eye and fat lip smoking a cigar on the roof deck. But, I'll need Saturday night to get myself psyched up for that.

Busy busy day. First I had my therapist. I got her Seal of Approval on the welding school plan. Enthusiastically so when I related my trip to General Technical Institute of Linden, New Jersey and my conversation with Cage Guy. Now I just need to get my Dad on board, as I'm hoping he'll be up for bankrolling some portion of this venture.

After therapy, I went to the only offices of the state Department of Labor listed in the phonebook. Alas, there is now no such thing as an unemployment office. Everything is done on-line or over the phone. But the nice lady there was able to provide me with a phone number that worked and a phone to use. After waiting on hold for ten minutes, I spoke to a human being. The problem should be on the way to resolution.

Then, I grabbed some pizza and an iced coffee. I was sitting in the window of Starbucks at 8th and 16th and Photographer Guy walked by. I met photographer guy when he tried to pick me up on the street when I had a date with Alabam (that Alabam stood me up on). It was one of those "Are you talking to me, or is there someone good looking standing behind me?" experiences. Photo Guy is a hottie. We ran into each other again on Pride Day.

Well, Photo Guy stopped in and sat and talked. He and his BF have split, but they're still co-habitating. (It often goes like that in Manhattan. I had a "I want out of this relationship" then roll over and sleep in the same bed together experience myself.) He asked me if I dated. I said, "Sort of," and went on to explain that I'm into S/M, and I meet up with men to do scenes. Sort of intense dating.

Now, isn't it odd that he should ask that question, when just the other day I was blogging about how I was horny for Date Sex. Huh.

He expressed interest in S/M. He's into fisting, and spoke very much like a worshipper at that shrine. He also likes getting spanked, but said he had tried to get his boyfriend to spank him, and BF just couldn't get it right, starting much to hard right away. I told him that in whipping, I started easy and built slowly. "I want to do that sometime."

I'm booked through the weekend, and he's going to be on Fire Island next week from Monday through Thursday. I'm gonna give Friend and Landlord a call. F&L just issued an invitation to stay at his place in the Pines. And it's supposed to be beautiful next week, hot and humid.

Danger! Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! Spending four days in the Pines with a hot man who is clearly hot for you and very much on the rebound from a recent break-up could put you smack in the middle of a relationship and you don't want that! Danger! Danger!

Huh. That is a consideration. But perhaps I could make it clear that I am not one to be settling down.

And perhaps Richard Serra could hire me as his personal metalworker and all my worries would be over.

And how is Faithful Companion? When I got home this evening, there were no puddles! And Faithful Companion seemed bright eyed and bushy tailed and his happy and robust self.

Taking no chances, right now I'm making him rice cooked in beef stock. It's binding, and good for dog diarrhea. I'm so glad this wasn't a prolonged illness. I'm wondering if it was just the heat that got to him?

Anyway, I've gotta go to the Eagle tonight. There's a Tom of Finland party, and the hot boy that's doing the promoting made me promise I'd be there.

I think that's a Peggy Flemming.

Now there's a Pop Cultural Reference no one is likely to get.

A Peggy Flemming refers to a throwaway line from the old Bob Newhart show. In one episode, Carol comes into Bob's office while he's in the middle of group. As she enters, we hear Bob say, "No, Mr. Carlson, I honestly don't think that Peggy Flemming was flirting with you at the Ice Capades."

Get it? Peggy Flemming wasn't smiling and waving at Mr. Carlson, she was smiling and waving at everyone. And hot boy wasn't going out of his way to make sure that I'd be there so we could throw him over my shoulder and haul him back to Jersey City for a night of wild debauchery, hot boy was promoting a party, which is... like... his job. It was a Peggy Flemming.

But, I think I'll make an appearance. It's a party to benefit the Tom of Finland Foundation, and I love those guys.

Anyway. Blah blah blah blah blah. Looks like Faithful Companion isn't the only one with diarrhea, although mine seems to be coming out my laptop rather than my anus.

I'll close now.

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