I Guess We've Hit The Big Time

Some evil, sick little monkey has decided that it would be a fantastic idea to start leaving little spam comments here on our little private place in cyberspace. I guess they're trying to tap into our huge following of a dozen or so loyal readers...

To combat this malicious little troll, I have turned on the comment word verification feature. Sorry for the inconvenience to all you legitimate commentators. If that doesn't get rid of our perverted little teenaged cocksucker spamming friend, then the next line of defense will be moderated comments.

Oh Joy!

I Am A Rock

I just wanted to remind you all that it is quite possible that I am one of the most clueless gay guys on the face of the earth. Yeah, I know that we covered this in another post a long, long time ago, but more and more evidence keeps surfacing every day that reinforces my belief that I am just not very good at being gay.

For example, something might happen to me on any given day that I would not think too much about at the time. Something like a little exchange of words between some hot guy and me at a club or at a bar or someplace like that. This little conversation would just happen and I'd not really pay it too much mind. Sure, some of the words that were said might seem a little strange to me at the time, but I'd just be oblivious to the possible hidden meanings or intentions of the words that were spoken or of the person who spoke them. But over the next day, the next week, the next month, you can bet that I would surely be going over every detail of the conversation, replaying it in my mind word for word just short of obsessing over it, trying to figure out just what that hot guy meant when he said... well, when he said what he said.

Yes, in retrospect, I do believe that hot guy was hitting on me. Possibly he was even asking me to leave with him to go to another bar down the street. Maybe he was inviting me back to his place to share a late night meal together. After that late night meal, who knows what kind of mischief we would have gotten ourselves into. I guess I'll never know.

Unless... hmmmmm.... I do think that hot guy peeks at this blog every now and then. Hey, hot guy, if you're reading this, please remember that the next time you're trying to hit on me, be sure to have a baseball bat with you so you can knock some sense into this seemingly unconscious brain of mine. Maybe that way it'll dawn on me just what is happening as it is happening and not a frickin' month later!

If You Wanna Be Happy For The Rest Of Your Life

Glen Burnie is full of hot guys. Blue collar guys, hairy daddies, young jocks, cute yo' boys, just all kinds of hot guys. Even a short trip to the local Target to pick up some toilet paper will guarantee glimpses of some stunning eye candy just about every time.

A curious thing about these hot Glen Burnie guys is their choice in women. Quite frankly, it seems that the hottest guys around here end up with the ugliest chicks. It doesn't make any sense at all. I have seen the most handsome, hairiest, muscle bound, beefcake, blue collar stud walking hand in hand down the feminine deodorant products aisle with the ugliest, fattest, hatchet-face of a wife/girlfriend. How does this happen? I mean, there are plenty of pretty girls around here.

I can only speculate that all the pretty girls in Glen Burnie must either be really slutty, really mean, totally neurotic or some combination of those things. There must be something that makes all those hot, hunky men decide that the pretty girls just aren't worth it. Or, maybe the girls start out pretty and then as soon as they land a hunk, they just let themselves go. That's a possibility. Maybe they all start out as beauty queens but then as soon as they sucker a hot man into a commitment, they just start pigging out on the Double Stuf Oreos and forget all about make-up and personal hygiene.

Or, maybe the ugly chicks are secretly all evil, hypnotist succubuses. Yeah, that must be it. There is no way those guys would fall for them otherwise. Maybe we need to set up some sort of intervention to save all of the hot guys of Glen Burnie. Who's ready to help me out here?

On a related note that just might explain it all, how come all of the hottest guys in Glen Burnie, even the ones with wives and girlfriends, are constantly checking out my cock when I wear sweat pants or flimsy shorts? They're not inconspicuous about it either. I catch them just staring right at it as it dangles past them. Sometimes they even catch me catching them sneaking a peek at the little guy. They don't even get embarrassed or look away. Maybe all of the guys in Glen Burnie are really secretly gay and they hire ugly chicks to pose as their significant others to please their parents or whatever. Or, maybe they just marry them for the tax benefits or for health care coverage. Who knows?!?

Fun Times With Furry Men

Lots of fun was had, lots of drinks were drank and lots of dancing was done this past Saturday at Blowoff. It was a great night. The weather was perfect for shorts and t-shirts. Of course, as the night wore on, there were less and less t-shirts and more and more furry, naked chests. Blowoff continues to attract the hottest, hairiest gay men.

It was nice to finally get the opportunity to chat with a couple of people who we had been hoping to meet for a while. Jimbo and Tom, it was a pleasure meeting both of you.

It was also nice to hang out with some of the other guys that we have met over the past several months. We really should all try to get together more often than once a month though. Let's do dinner some time, seriously!

As always, the music selections and the live set were top notch. Great stuff! Every month at Blowoff, I hear something new to explore musically which is always good. I have been on this quest lately to discover new music. Well, new to me that is, some of the stuff I have been finding lately is actually not so new. I am really looking forward to the Blowoff CD. Oh yeah, and hopefully there will be another LoudBomb CD available really soon... (hint, hint)

Worth 5,000 Words...

Here are a few pics from Blowoff this past Saturday night. Words will follow later today, or possibly tomorrow.

Spring Fever

Greetings from on my bike, somewhere under the sun. Where else would I be on any one of these gorgeous days? I am typing this with no monitor to read it back from, because the monitor fell off my bike and hit a pack of cycling nuns that were riding along behind me. The Lord moves in mysterious ways...

Well, I have been drifting in and out of a heavy spring fever lately, eating only frozen Reese's peanut butter eggs. With each passing day, I find myself trying to hold on to some sense of reality, but my reality just keeps getting sucker punched because every time I go out side, I hear this whispery voice singing:

"Come and play with me Mumi.
Come and play with me,
And I will take you on a trip
So you can really be free."

Yeah, it's my bike calling out to me. I usually respond by telling work that I must leave right away because the day is calling me to be come and be a part of it and being in buildings when the weather is so nice is making my temperature soar to way above normal and if I don't leave right now and cool off with a refreshing bike ride then I will be forced to take off all my clothes and do the Galla Balla dance which involves cutting the head off of a live chicken and pouring the blood all over my body. They probably wouldn't mind the naked part, but I think they could do without the chicken part especially since I usually have these spring fever attacks right around lunch time. So, they tell me to leave, and I go off on another adventure.

Like on Tuesday, when I put Bubala on my shoulders and biked down to the beach (Sandy Point) to relax and get some sun. I've been going to this beach for years now and this time of the year, before school lets out and on a weekday, is the best time to go. We put our blanket down far away from everyone else over by the Bay Bridge. We just laid there, held hands and even snuck in a few kisses. Yes, that was me in the black Speedo doing my abs workout on the sand. If that was you in one the trucks, honking as you drove by, then thanks for the motivation. Every little bit helps. After my workout, Bubala read a book while I drifted into the sun for another daydream.

After sunning ourselves for a few hours, we came home and it was back on the bike for me. This time, I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the trail. Everything started to look so beautiful. The sky was so blue. The sun was shining so intensely. What a day to go for a ride in the park! There were huge flowers blooming all around me. A soundtrack of songs, all from 1966-1968, was playing though speakers hidden in the rocks and trees. Ahhh, the responsibilities of work disappeared, and I started to feel so free. Then, I saw this this guy dressed in a tuxedo and a top hat. He stopped me and told me not to worry about life anymore. He told me that all that is good in life will have it's way and there will be much happiness in the world. He informed me that everyone in the Bush administration was suddenly going to be involved in a mysterious accident (something resembling the French Revolution) at the Easter Egg Roll on the White House lawn this weekend. He also informed me that I didn't have to worry about GW inflicting his apocalyptic fantasy upon the world anymore because Rush is making a new album and nothing bad can happen until after that album is released and after they tour again. Really, he told me that's just the rules dude. That's just the way it is.

So, I rode on a little further, happy with my new found sense of living, and I noticed that professionally framed works of art had been nailed to a lot of the trees along the trail. A whole host of woodland creatures all dressed in waiters uniforms were offering free bottles of water to the all of the bikers and joggers. And, everyone was smiling and laughing and friendly and happy. As I rode down to the bottom of a hill and off the trail a little, I saw these tiny gnomes. They were smoking their gnome grown herbs in small curved shell pipes. They asked me to stay for tea and have some fun. They said that their friends would all be dropping by. I told them that I really couldn't stay because I was riding my bike but that I wouldn't mind a hit off of one of those pipes. They all laughed and filled my pockets with large bags of their special yield.

So, I pumped up a big hill and passed under a waterfall of pink lemonade and turned a corner by a field of red mushrooms with white speckles on them. It was there that I saw Scott McKenzie. He yelled out to me, "If you're riding to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair." Only, I'm bald, so that wouldn't work unless I put them in my chest hair.

So, I crossed a bridge, turned at a bend in the trail, rode for a while, went up a hill then down a hill, rode a little while more, then turned the corner and I was on my street. I saw my house, and Bubala was there and he waved to me. My little boy Max was running around the front lawn and I thought to myself that I must have died of spring fever, because right now, I'm in Heaven.

Coming Soon...

Just a few more days until the hottest party around hits the 9:30 Club in DC again! I, for one, am really looking forward to Blowoff this month. Our great friends, Tim and Donn will be there. We always have a blast every time we hang out with those two guys. Also, the weather is supposed to be georgeous, so I'm hoping that all the hot men in attendance will be wearing a whole lot less clothes than in months past! It should be a very sexy night!

If you live in Maryland, DC or Northern Virginia and you have never been to Blowoff before, then what the heck are you waiting for? It's only ten bucks to get in. The live set alone is worth at least that much!

Hope to see you there!

Ah, To Be Young Again....

I was searching through the house trying desperately to find my very fist baby picture. I know that it is around here someplace, but I just can't seem to find it.

While searching, I came across a stash of old naughty Polaroids that I took of myself when I was just a young man, 18 years old to be exact. Let's see, that was more than 17 years ago. Hmmmm, I guess I have always been a horny little monkey who just loves to get naked and show it all off!

Looking at those old pics made me realize that I actually used to be thin! You know how it is. Since you see yourself every day, you don't notice the drastic changes that happen over the years. It takes something like finding the secret stash of naked Polaroids to make you realize exactly how much that you have changed. Look at me. I actually used to have a half way decent looking body. Yeah, I was just about hairless back then, but I was thin and even a little toned!

If only I had come out a lot sooner. (I didn't come out until I was 26 years old.) I could have been showing off my hot, young, thin body to all of the guys. Now, I'm afraid that my body is not quite as young and definitely not as hot or thin. The only thing that is thinner on me now is my hair... *sigh*

P.S. I tried to recreate the photo above to post in this here blog so you could see the difference that 17 years can make. (I actually still have the same tiger blanket that is hanging in the background!) The results, however, were just way too scary to post.

2

On Friday evening, I biked around the BWI Airport for the second time this year! Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking, big flippin' deal! Two whole times around the airport in 97 days, woo hoo... I'm sure that Mumi has been around something like six or seven hundred times so far this year. He's a biking, monkey fool for sure. But, hey, look at it this way, two times around the airport for me so far this year is twice as many times as I went around last year! That's a 100% improvement! Sounds more impressive now, doesn't it?

Now, don't go thinking that I am lazy couch potato or anything like that. I do manage to get out and exercise some. Hiking is my thing though. I love to go hiking! Trail hiking out in the woods is my favorite. I love to be alone, out there in nature. Just me, the animals, the trees and the trail. Very relaxing. I must have hiked close to a thousand miles last year. For me, hiking is much more fun in the warmer months. That way, I can get nearly (or sometimes totally) naked and stroll along with the breeze gently blowing all around my naughty bits, checking out the beautiful scenery along the way. You have to be very careful of thorns while hiking naked though the woods though. Trust me on that one! Otherwise, it can quickly turn into a very "prick"-ly situation. Groan!

I guess it's time to get my Maryland State Parks season pass. All this talk about hiking has made me want to strip down to my birthday suit and get out there on the trails!

Anyone care to join me?

Oh yeah, here is a cute little story about a couple of gay ducks that I read about on Towerload. Funny!

Music Is My Therapy

I have been busy working on my music. Recording, performing, producing, mixing, etc. It is proving to be more of a challenge for me than I had expected. I am truly an amateur musician. It's more like therapy for me than anything else. I have no desire to make money from it, although I wouldn't mind being able to spend more time working on it. Of course, I cannot do that so easily since I have a full time job and all that fun stuff. But, whenever I do find the time to play and record music, it is always time well spent.

If you're interested in hearing some rough mixes of some of the songs that I have been working on lately, you can hear them on my MySpace page here. Also, feel free to comment on the tracks. Let me know if you like them, if you hate them, if they suck ass, etc. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings if you don't like them. I like them, and that's what matters the most to me. It gets so hard to be objective about your own music though, especially after listening to the same track over and over and over for three weeks straight.

I am pretty proud of them at this point, but I do realize that I'm not gonna win any grammies or anything like that. It's just a bunch of random noise put together by a gay boy in his spare bedroom. Just a bunch of cheap therapy sessions. Me, the keyboard, the 16-track recorder and the couch. Now, tell me about your childhood...

P.S. I'm thinking these tracks need some acoutic and/or electric guitar tracks in them. I can't play the guitar. Any hot, gay guitar players out there with some free time?

Coming To Grips

Damn it, damn it, damn it!! Will someone please tell me why in the hell I didn't join the wrestling team way back in high school? Oh yeah, that's right, it was the gay thing... it was the walking around in a tight singlet with a massive boner thing... it was the grabbing, hugging, groping, fondling, pressing my young manhood up against hot guys' buttocks thing... it was the after match showers thing... Yep, I do believe that those were some of the reasons.

*sigh*


Well, I guess I could always join the college wrestling team... hmmmm, maybe I should go back to college this fall.

Spring Sha-wing From The Bike

I am writing this blog while riding on my new red bicycle somewhere around the edges of the BWI Airport. No, I don’t have a laptop. I just piled the whole computer onto the back of the bike and I am running a very long extension cord.

Since the warmer weather has hit, I’ve found it harder and harder to stay focused on anything other than daydreaming and being outside on the bike. As I pedal harder up this hill and the wind blows up the inseam of my sweat shorts, I realize that staying focused is not the only thing that I’m having a hard problem with. The wind blows against you no matter which way you ride around the BWI Trail and a lot of times it feels like you are getting hammered by huge waves of wind as you grip harder and pump furiously with your legs to get through it. It’s great fun, but only when it’s warm outside.

That’s how I lost my beard and hair, by the way. Yeah, one night last week I was just hanging out with a full beard and a hairy head. The next day I’m riding along on my bike and one of those HUGE waves of wind blew right at me, so I did what I always do. I held on tight, kept breathing and just kept pumping away at the pedals and suddenly I felt this strange shiver come over my body and especially my head. I didn’t pay it too much mind. Only, I was getting some strange looks from passersby as I continued to ride. When I got home, I realized that the wind had blown my hair and most of my beard completely away and it was all stuck inside in my helmet. It was kind of an uneven buzzcut. I guess the wind is not a very good barber. So, I had Bubala touch in it up a bit. I guess it was about time. I mean I can’t pretend to be a guy with hair on his head forever, can I?


As I’m riding along here, I’m catching up on a few other blogs. I noticed this one by a most excellent substitute blogger. It got me thinking about the perfect moment game. I came to know about this game through a film and a book called Swimming To Cambodia written by the late actor/monologist/writer Spalding Gray. (RIP) In the story, Spalding Gray tells about his experiences playing a minor part in the movie, The Killing Fields, shot in the Far East. Spalding’s part in the movie is shot early on. Only, instead of flying home after his scenes are filmed, he decides that he can’t leave until he has a perfect moment. That way, he could feel complete, and then he could go home. So, in my own life, I try to look for these perfect moments. The things that somehow stop the fleeting tick of the clock. Things that you can add to your memory banks and then move on. I have discovered that you have to be sort of a detective to discover these perfect moments though. They don’t just jump right out at you. They are little, often unnoticed things. But, if you happen to be sleuthing in just the right place at just the right time, these moments of perfection can be found.

Well, I am running out of extension cord, so I’m gonna head back home and drop this computer off and pick up my new piccolo snare drum. I’m going to put the drum on my bike next. I figure that it saves time to do as many things as you can at the same time. By attaching my snare drum to the bike, I’ll be able to beat off with my hands while pumping with my legs all the while searching for my perfect moment.