The Proposal

At this point I am really beginning to feel the crunch. This is a busy time. I have to drag my ass to the records office for Dekalb county so I can then go to the DMV to get an unexpired license. My jury summons notice is for the 19th. Next month I have the premier of the new season of Doctor Who as well as a special 3D theater event a few days before. I also have not just a regular doctor checkup but also my quarterly Psychiatrist visit.

Everything we ordered has arrived. Saturday morning UPS knocked on the door. Next shipment I'm putting a notice on the door to leave the box instead of knocking until I answer, like every other driver, instead of waking me up. Scott has been working 3rd shift on the weekends. She never gets a signature and it's this one driver who annoyingly does it.

So what I didn't know is that also on Saturday the quill pen for our guest book was delivered in our mailbox. I just went to get it, but haven't opened it. The other package was items for the reception/favors. Without being able to order anything right now, with still so many decisions to make, I more and more ponder when would be a good time to mitigate our damages. I simply don't know if it's going to get done or not, and if not then why not just plan for the big "E" and quit spending money that could be used elsewhere in our lives. If we did, we would already have things we'll never use, why collect more?

There's another issue that has me bummed. I mentioned it last posts about not having discussed it with everyone. Well, I still haven't because I just haven't got a clue as to how to handle it. It deals with the person performing the ceremony. Again, it comes down to money. Maybe if we cut the reception, since most of the money is going there, and it's less than 3 months from now. That could be a sort of "E"2.0

I'm too tired to think about it right now, but something nice did happen over the weekend. Another niece (sister of niecezilla) and Andrea stopped by for a visit. We hadn't seen each other in a while and she's 15 now so it was a bit awkward and nice at the same time. She's more a person now than kid. The great news is that she may be in town for the wedding. Crap, that reminds me of the invitations.

I am bound and determined to end this on a positive note. Okay, got it. I'm going to share an episode from one of my all-time favorite comedies of all time, The Vicar of Dibley. Dawn French plays a vicar in a small village filled with morons and lunatics. Their last season was a series of specials where Dawn's character finally finds love. Another time I will share the wedding episode because it's just priceless.

So, this is my favorite TV proposal. Besides being sweet and heartwarming, it's hilarious to watch the confusion build until clarity finally comes to her as to what's happening. The reason I'm sharing this particular episode is that I introduced Scott to this show not long before he proposed to me, and when he did, I did my impression of Dawn doing her impression of Emma Thompson from Sense & Sensibility. Give it a go, it's a fantastic show, and a peek into our engagement.

One Hundred Nineteen Days

So we're just sitting here on the Fourth of July, watching Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel, planning our Halloween wedding. A holiday trifecta. I'm lucky this year because Scott, my fiancee, hardly ever has the 4th of July off. (I'm trying to remember to use the word 'fiancee' more while I can)

Today is a rest day, only discussing things pertaining to the wedding if they pop into our heads. We did take a walk and found a boutique where we couldn't resist picking up these jaunty little wedding crowns.

                                        fiancee

Then I had a heart-smart fry meal*

*Heart smart because I used to eat a 12pc chicken fries but they only make 9pc now

Not sure what we will end up doing but I'm hoping to write. What I need to do is give myself a deadline, like with the wedding. I'd be done with all my books by now.

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!!!

boomsisspow

The Weddinging, Day Four: Everything Falls Apart, or, I'll kill anyone you want for that cigarette

This is hard. I'm not gonna lie, I've had five cigarettes today. Better than 30. I am a complete bundle of nerves, on edge, anxious, dying to pull my hair out, I keep reaching for nothing. Oh, the disappointment when it isn't there. A little tear came out just then. Withdrawal suuuucks. I'd even stab you if you were next to me smoking. You know what, I'm not even thinking straight so let me get to it.

At this moment our location is fluid, the reception location is a different but similar fluid, and the time of the service is pending the drying up of the location pools. This is good. This is fun. It has to be.

We were going to have the service outside of Atlanta in the woods of the north Georgia mountains. After careful thought about our date, it's distance from us, we decided to look closer to home. Our current plan is to marry at the gazebo in Piedmont park with a small reception afterwards by our apartment pool or at my niece's. Personally, I like the idea of my niece's because of the decorating potential.

I'm not giving away what we have in mind for the procession in the park, but we will be able to adapt what I wanted for the woods. Wait, Scott has to ask his co worker to participate. So many hinges right now. Still many questions to be asked. It could all still fall apart. Why do I feel like my bones are chewing their way out of my arms? I'm usually more coherent.

We do have a wedding budget. I'll only tell you what it is if the pictures come out nice. That will help facilitate planning but oh man there's the licence, flowers, invitations, alcohol, our clothes, food, rings, decorations, alcohol, favors, napkins, cake, oh god I could continue. Wait, guess what? I haven't even mentioned the honeymoon. Oh, I know I'm not breaking any news. Maybe one day little gay children can hope to have their parents throw them a wedding. I've had to reign it in and I've just started planning.

This much is happening. We are going to get married on Halloween. Saturday, October, 31, 2015. To be followed by an intimate autumnal reception with canapes, cocktails and orange and grape jello shots. (dont judge) Then we'll be whisked away by ourselves to honeymoon in New Orleans. I'm sure you heard of it. Four months and we still have to decide on one or two cakes, shoes, oh shiiiit I have to get my licence renewed, I need permissions and it's getting late. Oh man, is that cigarette in the ashtray only half smoked?

What the Hell is This?!?

I am so afraid when I watch this

Tiny Hippo

There is a web address at the end if the cartoon, but if anyone knows who the actual cartoonist is let me know so I can give full credit for the brilliance that is tiny hippo.

Lap Dance To Go

While I'm working on a posting about guilty pleasures, like soap operas (mine) and WWE wrestling (not mine), I thought I'd share with you what our neighbor has been up to. In order to get a good mental picture without using the thousand words, I've included a horrible drawing I did that you can reference.

Our apartments are pretty standard buildings from the 90's and 00's, with 3 floors and two breezeways. The buildings are the things in the drawing that look like brown envelopes. The green is obviously landscaping, and the white areas are the sidewalks. You can see where they enter the building at each breezeway. The gray is the asphalt parking and driving area.

At the entrance of our breezeway you also find the gated entrance to the patio by the pool. There's a red 'X' there which I will get back to later. In the lower left corner you can see where the gated entrance to the community lies, in front of the purple 'X'.

Now that I've laid that foundation I can tell you about our neighbor. We have a diverse little group of neighbors, but oddly have about 4 or 5 Mexicans in wheelchairs. Not that I find anything wrong with that, it just strikes me as odd that they all ended up living near each other. But they're all friendly with each other, so that could have been the plan. I can't stress enough how much that doesn't matter. But it is essential to the story so I have to describe it, but I would be telling this no matter who did it.

So there are different degrees of handicap with our neighbors. The neighbor I am talking about seems to be the most severe, or possibly he has suffered the longest. He's young, like 19-22 young. His arms are thin, but strong, and his hands have drawn up some. I think his chair is motorized. None of them have shown any propensity towards knowing english. Their home health workers that come quite often are latina. And I gave up long ago on nodding and smiling, since even eye contact is avoided. Que sera sera, I say. Live and let live. For the most part.

We live in that first breezeway above the red 'X'. There is a coke machine by the pool on the other side of the patio. One day we decided we would get some cans of coke so we didn't have to walk to the convenience store. When we came down our stairs, our neighbor was sitting in his chair at that red 'X', blocking the entrance to the patio. He was not sitting there alone, though, for there was a young latina with him, but in casual clothes, so not one of his home health workers. And they were making out. I mean they were fucking going to town on each other. Hands wandering and hair whipping and honestly I can't remember if at this point she got on his lap yet or not. but WTF, why would you sit right there blocking the way? Were you suddenly overcome and couldn't control yourselves. I don't think so, because of where we next saw them.

We went the other way out the gate and went to the convenience store anyway. I really don't think anything less than a garden hose would've parted them. At some point they did move, though. You see that purple 'X'? This is on the road, off the grass or sidewalk, right by a parking spot, about 30 feet from the gate. When we came back from the store and first caught a glimpse through the gate I couldn't believe it. Sitting there, FACING the gate was his wheelchair. She was on his lap, with her back turned to him, writhing, and her head was turned kissing him furiously as he groped the front of her body. It was like two kids home from the club just as their ecstasy was kicking in.

My boyfriend says she was a hooker, and while she surely looked like she could have been a hooker, I'm not going to jump to that conclusion because it just doesn't matter. I will say that it was a tad bit creepy. Kind of like they were doing it for us, even though I know it was just coincidence. But I don't think that would be so far-fetched. They were obviously doing it as a display, which is sad. If being smack-dab in the middle of the entrance to the patio didn't tell me then "parking" in the middle of the road did. It was a trashy low-class display that I'm glad he isn't in the habit of doing. I don't care who you are, if you want the neighborhood to know you're seconds away from intercourse, "accidentally" leave your blinds open, don't shove it all up in everyone's business.

Sheridan's Mailbag: "Love, Mark"

We are in the process of moving, so I haven't had much time to work on this, but I just had to take the time to share with you this comment I received from a fan in Massachusetts in response to my AA post. (comment sent as it appears):

"Author: Mark Kelly

E-mail: lfarris1973@verizon.net

Comment:

NA DOES NOT MEAN ANONYMOUS

I RAN INTO A PROBLEM WITH A LONG TERM MEMBER WHO HAS GONE OUT OF HIS WAY TO BREAK THE ANONYMITY OF AT LEAST THREE MEMBERS. (SCOTT DIED OF AN OVER DOSE AND WE KNOW THIS PERSON BETRAYED HIS FRIENDSHIP. SUEZIE RAY AND ELLEN ARE LOST SOULS. THERE ARE MANNY MORE.) THIS IS NOT A MISTAKE OOPS NO THIS IS ACTING WITH MALICE, CONTACTING FAMILIES AND EMPLOYEERS - LEADING TO JOB LOSS AND THE BREAK UP OF FAMILIES. UTILIZING E-MAIL TO SPREAD LIES!

MARK KELLY YOU CAN NOT HIDE IN NA IN REVERE ARLINGTON BOSTON BROOKLINE NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS.

THE PRESS WILL FIND OUT YOU ATTEND THE NOON MEETING OF NA TUESDAY IN WATERTOWN. NO NEW COMER IS SAFE AT THAT MEETING. BECAUSE IT IS HIS HOME GROUP USING ANONYMOUS WITH IT LISTED IS FRAUD.

HE IS AN EXAMPLE OF THE SOCIOPATHIC USE OF TRADITIONS. WOULD I ALLOW A PEDOPHILE TO RUN THE BOY'S CLUB? SHOULDN'T WE IDENTIFY A THREAT TO THE SPIRITUAL FOUNDATION? IT ISN'T ABOUT ME WORKING STEPS BECAUSE THAT WAS COMPLETED AND I NEVER DID ANYTHING AGAINST NA. I BROUGHT NA TO JAILS. THIS PROGRAM WORKS FOR PEOPLE WHO AREN'T PSYCHOPATHIC- THIS IS A PERSON NOT CARING THAT WHAT HE DID AND WILL DO WILL HARM INNOCENT PEOPLE. SO NOLONGER A MEMBER AND WILLING TO SPEAK OUT ABOUT THIS DEFILEMET OF RECOVERY"

Now, while most of my readers are literate, I do not discriminate against those who choose to pursue a path of drugs (and probably prostitution as a result) as opposed to, say, education, when reading my correspondence. If someone who admires me reaches out, who am I to deny this touching spirit a voice? Wait, not touching. Touched. Touched spirit.

On the one hand, this seems to be a cry from someone wronged by a certain "Mark Kelly." I will call him a him" for no real reason, and refer to him by name as lfarris, being that this is his email address, a good indicator that Mark Kelly isn't his real name, but simply placed as the author to make it easily identifiable by Google search. I myself googled Mark Kelly in the towns listed. The only Mark of note is the astronaut husband of Gabrielle Giffords, political shooting victim. The shooter in that case was deemed unfit to stand trial based on mental illness. You can't help but recognize a healthy dose of crazy in this diatribe, but I stop short of connecting it with this other tragic event. My search also revealed the posting of this very same notice on one of the NA 12 step recovery message forums, which has been removed. Clearly this is someone who feels slighted and has a message about it, one that won't be stopped by conventional grammar, spelling, or sense.

But there is also a far more sinister source to be considered. That someone named Mark Kelly wrote this, and is a psychopath who refers to himself in the third person. Perhaps he is someone who trolls the NA meetings for his latest victim. He's certainly angry, typing in all caps, the calling card of the angry, elderly, internet ignorant, and serial killer. A professional might even be able to scour the note for clues in the words, such as "SUEZIE RAY AND ELLEN ARE LOST SOULS" and "THERE ARE MANNY MORE" and "NO NEW COMER IS SAFE AT THAT MEETING." Yes, I can see him now, typing on the computer of his latest victim, lfarris, and sending this message out in hopes that soon the police will come and stop him. He wants to get caught, or he is just taunting officials to try to find him. Perhaps I should send his IP address to the Massachusetts Police and see if they think there is anything in it. I should at least keep it in the event of any future contact.

Maybe he is lfarris, a farsighted, elderly, recovering drug addict out to get the evil Mark Kelly and his sociopathic use of traditions. (Pedophile scout leaders? You have to ask yourself, would I?) Perhaps he's "A PERSON NOT CARING THAT WHAT HE DID AND WILL DO WILL HARM INNOCENT PEOPLE" who is leaving a trail of destruction  and breadcrumbs as he destroys NA from within. I don't care, though, because my fans come in many flavors, and I embrace you all. But secretly I hope the latter is true, since they have internet in prison, but I don't believe they do in the psych ward. I know how important  it is for my followers to keep in touch with me, as it is for me to hear from them.

I am humbled by your messages. But not so humbled as to not share them with the world, so keep 'em coming.

Catwoman and the Earlobe of Justice

When I was growing up, there were barber shops for men and hair salons, or beauty parlors, for women and children. My father did quite a bit of travelling, so when it was time for a haircut, my mom took me to see Terri at Audrey & Adrienne's Coiffures. Being gay, it was a treat for me to listen in on the gossip, see the assembly line of wash & sets, and look though the hardcover hairstyle collections that always seemed about a decade out of date. But one of the best things about going to the salon was the shampoo. You always knew a professional shampoo in two ways: smaller size/larger price and the smell. Suave and Pert smelled like piss compared to Redken. The other thing about the professional shampoo lines was that you could only get them in a salon.

Fast forward 15 years or so to find me working for one of the companies I feel brought about a turning point in the availability of the better shampoo brands. With locations in most of the Atlanta malls, this store carried most major lines, all the popular ones at any rate. There were, of course, the additional grooming necessities for hair and nails, even a small amount of expensive makeup nobody had ever heard of. But since you still had to be a working salon to sell these products, there was nestled away in the back of the store a styling chair or two and shampoo bowl. I enjoyed my time there, I learned many things, made many friends. And we partied. Lots of partying.

I worked in several of the Atlanta locations, but when I was at Cumberland Mall I had my closest interaction with a celebrity, an idol to many kids of the day. All of us pretty much did every job, so whoever was not ringing up one customer could help the one coming in. I was hanging about one day, looking disinterestedly available, when I noticed some customers eyeballing a couple who had just come in. Then I saw that a light crowd had not quite gathered, but lingered outside our store. It was what I imagined working in a shop in Beverly Hills to be like. I studied the couple in their slight disguises. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, she had on a long dark wig and also wore sunglasses. I didn't recognize either of them. I glanced around and ascertained that it was my turn, I was up to bat.

I used one of our pre-approved variations of "what do you want" to find out he was interested in getting his ear pierced. Now, this was a new process for me, but it was also quite easy. First things first, I coolly handed him the release form and began getting prepped for the procedure. I wore no gloves, for this was in that window of time when we could pierce in the open without as many safety issues. Ready, I took the form from him, giving it a glance as I set it down. I was about to pierce the ear of Atlanta Brave's baseball player, David Justice. He was at the height of his popularity at that moment, and in that moment I knew who his companion was. This was during his tumultuous relationship with rising star, Halle Berry. A brush with fame double-header.

Sadly, there's really just nothing left to share besides the piercing. It went smoothly after a brief discussion in regards to which ear to pierce. Nobody went so far as to mention the dreaded 'gay ear' fear, but he did seem to think Halle's input on the matter was important. I don't remember anything remarkable about his lobe, like a freckle shaped like a smurf or a strange odor when pierced. The couple was very nice in a casual, reserved sort of way, but didn't sign any autographs that I noticed. So, going against the rules and regulations of J.K. Templeton, Inc, I failed to include his release form in the piercing book, keeping it as a souvenir. I've always wondered if this unique autograph was worth any money. That is if the day it would have been hasn't already passed. He did almost kill Halle Berry, though.

I saw him once a few years later at the Atlanta nightclub, Velvet. He remembered me when I reminded him. You never forget your first. To this day I've always wondered if once in a long while he looks at the hole in that meaty lobe and thinks of me. Aaaah, he probably just thinks, "crazy bitch made me pierce my ear."