... So, like I was saying, there's just something about buff gay guys treating each other like so much meat that does it for me in the gay video porn genre. You can get this sort of attitude in straight porn, too, but the guys I've seen in those flicks have paunches and no chestular muscles to speak of. It's like, if you're a halfway hung straight man, you're ready for your close-up Mr. DeMille. Even if it's a close-up of an unimpressive, hairy, practically non-existent yet still flabby white-boy ass.

Lest you think I'm some body-type nazi, let me just state for the record: If it's you and me and I'm attracted to who you are, you will look like a sex goddess to me. I do have a thing for big noses and back muscles. And nice teeth. But if you're my two-dimensional fantasy tool on film, I want Jenny Shimizu. Or some guy who looks just like her. Or like Michael Jordan, but shorter. I want you to be built better than me, dammit.

The physiques on some of these gay porn boys are starting to scare me, though. They've got the chest stuff just perfect, but they're trying to have a waist so small it won't crease when they lock their ankles behind their head. Like viewers would mistake a skin fold for love handles or something. And then their legs look like little sticks, way out of proportion to their top half. Frikkin' boy-Barbies. Dear Guys: It's okay to eat something, honest. Have a roll. And beef up those legs. I've got better calf muscles than you do.

Well, enough of my shallow porn preferences.

On to last night's dinner. T-bones. Big honkin' T-bones. With a baked potato. No green vegetable. At all. Not even salad. And homemade ice cream from a Ben & Jerry's recipe. Little bitty chunks of dark chocolate in it. Soft-serve consistency. After dinner, I let the dog out and then Deb and I went to bed early. She read to me (Kathy Hogan Trochek). She let me warm up my cold hands on her thighs.

I asked her if she was trying to butter me up for some reason. She was shocked, Shocked!, that I would think such a thing. So I shut my big pie hole and enjoyed the rest of the evening. If somebody ever feeds you T-bone steak and homemade ice cream, then reads you a story and lets you warm up your hands on her thighs, I recommend you do the same.

'Nuff for now. Wish me luck tonight. I'll need it.

("Hey, who's that goober girl in the chaps?"

"Dunno. Her palms look sweaty, though. Ewww.")

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11