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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
Lunes 07/14/2003
Freakingly large amounts of money, and freakingly large packages.
Painting a home costs a freaking lot of money. If the home is on a hill resulting in a deceiving appearance where the apparently one story house you see from the front is roughly three stories tall in the back, it gets even more f�ing expensive. Paying for the installation of scaffolding to wrap around said house so that the painters do not need to repel down to paint the back wall is disgustingly pricey. Add on the costs of paying someone to remove the boganvillias (so I don�t have to risk injury and death by doing it myself), tearing out the driveway, installing a new driveway, purchasing shutters so house will no longer be �unbalanced,� getting a new doorbell, as well as new outdoor lights, and even new bloody house numbers and you end up with me on the verge of a nervious exhastion.
John and I are spending money hand over fist, our house is in bondage, the cats are unhappy with all the noise, and I want this all to be over already, even though prep work for the painting has just started today.
Yup, after a year of talking about it, the little house on the hill is getting repainted, and considering merely the cost of supplies needed, little is not really a very good adjective.
The scaffolding was an interesting process, sort of like putting together an overly large puzzle. It was also weird seeing workers walking around outside the (roughly second floor) kitchen windows. It made for an interesting view when mixing together formula for the new kitten.
How�s that for a segue?
A friend of John�s runs a cat shelter, which somehow resulted in our now having a new nearly all white kitten named Mochi. There are real reasons of course; mainly that John has experience in rearing extremely young kittens. When we first got Mochi, she was maybe three days old, and no one knew what had happened to her mother or the rest of the litter.
She has grown considerably in the week that we have had her, and her eyes slowly opening. She still spends nearly all of her time sleeping, eating, pooping, and dreaming about sleeping, eating, and pooping, but when awake, she uses considerable amounts of effort to escape her box, whatever room she is in, and even the house as well. The beginnings of a wild escape artist personality are starting to show.
The reason for the odd name is that I was given the task of naming her. After offering odd suggestions ranging from Mercedes to Dulce, we latched onto Mochi as a temporary name, and it stuck. It�s a name that made John burst out laughing when he read an old book on Japanese cooking, and discovered that every year many older people die on New Years when they gorge on Mochi and accidently choke to death. We had no idea she was so dangerous.
So things have been fairly busy here, with taking care of killer kittens, getting ready for both painters and scaffolding, and ripping out most of the front yard (painting has provided a unfortunately convienient excuse to redo the front yard). If that weren�t enough to stress out about, there�s always work.
Work has been exactly that, work, meaning tedious, long, dull, spirit crushing, and smothering, all leading to an overly cranky nico. I desperately need a break form work and am using the San Diego Comic Con as an excuse to take a couple of days off, and boy do I need those days off.
Despite my horrible attitude, there are two not really work related stories worth mentioning. First was the sad discovery that it is disappointing when a gorgeous man with silent era movie star looks, reeking of lust inducing pheromones comes into your office and spends the entire twenty minute conversation picking his nose, digging away as if there were no tomorrow. It�s disgusting as well.
The second needs to be prefaced by mentioning that I�ve spent the past few months attending local community meetings representing my crumbling little agency. Of the other people who attend, one is a young Latino man in his early twenties named Cesar. While not overly tall (he�s even shorter than me), he is very attractive in a former gangbanger sort of way.
Last week, when he walked into the room, he seemed a bit different. He seemed to take up more room somehow, to have more of a presence. As he walked by me, I realized that he was taking up more room, or at least something in his pants was.
Cesar was, um, in a very, very good mood, or maybe he was just sporting one of the bulge enhancing undies sold in the catalogue I mentioned a couple of entries ago. The boy was huge all of a sudden. As for why I noticed that his um, package had
More later,
nico
-By the way, John just told me a conversation he had this morning with the head painter. As they were discussing the prep work, the painter told John that �A house is held together by caulk.� John did not respond. The painter then went on to mention waterproofing and it abilities to �fill up tight spaces but good.�
Johnny still did not respond. Proof that he has a lot more control than I do.
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