Nice To See StevieB: I Am Not One With The Force

By StevieB
 
I have never played a video game. Not Really.

I know, it seems strange, even to me in this day and age. I had played around with a game back in the 90’s, with Jamie the bestie. But I have never had a gaming system in the house. I have a strange addictive personality, where if I involve myself in something is becomes all-consuming. This is why I’ve never watch a single second of the television show, Glee. I know I would have quickly devolve into the biggest Gleeck, or Glick. I don’t have time to become obsessed with musicals again… I mean, Betty Buckley still has a Restraining Order out on my ass. 

I can tell you the beginning storyline, and ending story line for every character on Dynasty, Doctor Who, Dallas, and a dozen other shows before I identified my obsessive condition. With the amount of characters in Game of Thrones, I believe I couldn’t spare the brain space. So, spending free-time on video games, while I should be writing scathing essays on Shirley Chisolm for school, would be a catastrophe. 

Then we got an Xbox for Christmas. 

Can I tell you how embarrassing it is to be forty-five and not able to operate a controller? So, under the pretext of defending my honor, I have begun to “practice” my craft. A remote and icy planet in a remote star system known to locals as Hoth, is my training ground. Star Wars, Echo Base is where I will unleash my Jedi Powers. I have embraced the Dark Side. This means I can walk around and slash Rebel scum with my red Lightsaber. Really it’s because I can’t aim and shoot a blaster. Yet. I tried, but after having Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, die seventeen times because of my incompetence in shooting her blaster, I switched to the Lightsaber. Too soon, Leia, too soon. 

I hope to one day be a gamer. When school isn't in session. Right now, I’m a pushing middle-age gay gamer Wannabe.

Nice To See StevieB: Locked Into New Possibilities

By StevieB


I have to admit I had not been to the gym in a while. There was a couple days missed along with checking out the gym in the Highlands. The Highland area of Denver, that is. The Highland location 24Hour Fitness is quickly becoming my favorite gym in Denver. This is due to the inordinate amount of smoking hot guys at all times. You can't swing a Nasty Pig jock without hitting a hot bro. And, I've tried.

I had not been to the gym in several days, it was midnight, I was very tired. As I reached into my gym bag for my lock, the same way for thirteen years, my hand came up empty handed. My lock wasn't in my gym bag. Gone. Forever. I started to think back to when I bought that lock. It was upon joining 24Hour Fitness in Dallas, 2001. After the all gay, glitter gym closed down without warning, I reluctantly joined the 24Hour on Mckinney Avenue. I felt so common, having to purchase a lock, instead of the oak lined built-in-lock lockers at the fancy gay gym. But, I did. Out were the free heated towels; in were working out with... you know.... girls.

All of this history ran through my head, as things do when you're getting older, and you're standing alone in your Under Armour in public after midnight. One begins to reminisce about the old days, and things you once owned. Now gone forever. I raised my head; realizing that change is good. Change must happen in one's life. A new lock means new things coming into my world. I welcome new things. New people. New adventures. New..... oh.... that locker across the way has a lock on it that's very distinctive. Like mine..... could it have been left locked on an empty locker for all this time? I walked over, tried the well known combination, and snap. It opened. After days of being locked there, no one had bothered it.

Some times, life makes you wake up to new possibilities in tiny ways. Some times, I'm
forgetful.

Nice To See StevieB: Death On A Coaster

By StevieB
 
Remember that time I almost died on a rollercoaster? Okay, so you wouldn't remember because it's just a dream I have. A nightly, reoccurring dream.

I have three phobias in this life. Roller coasters, snakes, clowns, and Republicans. Four. I have four phobias in this life. And number one is about to raise its night-terror inducing head. No. Not Trump, he's the worlds night-terror.

In next week the Sweet Baboo and I head to Los Angeles for a vacation. A very nerdy get-a-way. The main purpose is to attend a Doctor Who convention happening at a hotel close to the airport. Mike the roommate is joining us as well. But, before that we are spending a couple of days hanging out in West Hollywood, going to Disneyland, and most importantly, Harry Potter World. The Sweet Baboo already has his magic wand at his side. But, there's a dark side to our adventure. After all this time I'll finally have to come clean on my child-like terror of rollercoasters. Yes, we've been in parks and been around the death coasters before, but this time there is no escape. I feel bad. Going to Disneyland and then saying, "oh. Sorry, you'll have to ride, rides alone" seems like a mean thing to do. So, do I just face my terror quietly to make the boyfriend happy? Or finically admit that I'm a twelve year old girl? The non-brave kind.

I'm gonna have to just face my fears, even if I would rather makeout with Trump, as he sports clown makeup and holds a snake. I wonder if there is some way I can get over my coaster phobia I six days? Only God can help me now.

Nice to See StevieB: Death to Steve

By StevieB

Since the day after Christmas, I had been fighting a cold. But, since it was Christmas, then New Years, I ignored my body and added Dayquil to my choices of holiday refreshment. This is when the sharp pain in my chest added a delightful appearance every time I began to cough. Still, I was too busy showing off my new Burberry coat I received for Christmas to take care of my lungs. This was until last Friday when an intervention was staged. Well, the intervention from my closest friends was staged because I started a fun new quirk where I would cough so strongly it would pull all the air from my lungs, causing none to reach my brain. This initiated a trick, of me blacking out. Yes, I would cough until I blacked out. Driving was fun. 

I was kindly asked to seek medical attention. By this I mean; my Kaiser card was ripped from my wallet and an appointment was made for me. After all the tests and a dramatic scene of me blacking out on the exam table, It was diagnosed; Pneumonia. Yay! I spent three days at home, unable to drive as I had promised not to kill myself. I simply just let the drugs work, and healing began. In this un-plugged state, I am reminded how I run non-stop. All the time. On a typical day off, I’m up and out of the house as soon as possible. This is followed by days filled with activities and adventures. So, when I was forced to stay home and rest, I quickly found the lack of movement strange. 

I did practice my video gaming skills, I’m sure you are wondering how that’s going. Well; I can now fire a weapon and move at the same time. So, I can add that to my resume. I had to stop myself from re-organizing closets or the kitchen. As I was ordered to not “exert myself.” And, the Sweet Baboo and the roommate cooked all the meals. It was a strange couple of days. Breakfast at home, followed by just quality time hangout with my little wonderful family. 

By Sunday night I found that I was sad about going back to work on Monday. The cocoon was beginning to make me happy. These feelings were based on the fact that I so enjoyed being around my people. It wasn’t the physical home (spending time at home, doing home-stuff) it was the great people I had around me caring for me.

Nice to See StevieB: My Girlfriend

By StevieB

It started rather innocently, at first. Just small talk. It has grown since the first day, around the end of August. It was when I started to work just West of the city. My habits changed and I needed to find a new gym. Although I will always miss the gay gyms of the past; my first in Denver, then Dallas. A new gym is always, to me, starting a new chapter in my life.

With the new gym, came a new path in leaving the new job and forcing my body to drive to the new gym. I’m sure it’s common, when you leave work you begin to tease yourself into just going home. You say “I can skip the gym today… I’ll work out extra hard tomorrow.” or, I’m really tired tonight, maybe I shouldn’t go..” or there’s always my favorite… I wonder if I can work out twice on Saturday, because I’m really hungry.” Meanwhile, the best thing to do is to not listen to these voices, the ones that want you to fail, and just drive. Just get into the car and drive. Because, nothing stops this voice of failure than walking into the gym. Your body is there anyway, you might as well just push some plates.

In my worst days, I make a bargain in my stupid head. A full workout first, then fast-food. Nothing buys my loyalty like the promise of food. These are the days I turn to her.... It is cheating really, an affair of the heart. It started rather innocently, at first. Just small talk. But, since our first meeting I’ve been in love with a girl. Did I mention that I’ve been dating a girl. I know it can’t last, It shouldn’t last, I’m in a relationship already. Damn me and my polyamorous tendencies.

My baby-girls name is Destiny. I mean the name on her name tag is Beth, but she’s Destiny to me. We are truly and deeply in love. The conversations were easy, about our hopes, dreams, and desires. I found it effortless to sit and chat. Me in my Jeep; Destiny in her window. It always ended with her giving me all she had to give. Exactly what I wanted and needed. A three piece chicken strips and a biscuit. Yesterday she was down, apparently she was being evicted from her house and had to find a place to crash. So goes the life of a KFC drive-up worker. It’s about once… maybe twice a week that I drive up to the window, usually around 5:15pmand the drive through is slow. This means we have a couple of minutes to chat. I’ve learned about her schooling. Well, her plans to go back. I’ve supported her in her dreams. We do that in our relationship. So it was a shock to see her so down.

I need to break up with Destiny, I know. But, her chicken strips keep calling me back.

Nice To See StevieB: Run Stevie Run

By StevieB

It has been 19 days since signing up for the Big Gay 5K race being held on June 17th, 2017 as part of Denver's Pride celebrations. This means that I have 148 days until I will be jumping from the starting line for this race. It will be my first every competitive race, and I am quite proud of the fact that at 45 years old, I will be completing (hopefully completing) a road race. The course of the "5K" seemed so exotic and professional until friends who run all the time explained that 5K is just 3.10686 miles. The course of this race leaves from Denver's Civic Center Park uphill through Capitol Hill, around Cheesman Park and back down the hill to Civic Center, so.... the end of the race literally is all down hill. Still, for me it 3.10 miles will be my 26-mile marathon.

You'll ask how I am preparing myself for this epic race to celebrate my 45 years on the planet? Well, I have had pneumonia for the last couple of weeks... so no training yet. But there are 147 more days to get prepared. Step one; take the first steps and get running shoes on and take my first steps.

Nice To See StevieB: Small Town Boy

By StevieB

There comes a time when you realize that your youth, no matter how far back on the calendar, is officially ancient history. For me, it was when I received the news that Carrie Fisher had passed, but even closer to my heart, it was when I heard that Larry Steinbachek, keyboardist with pioneering synth-pop trio Bronski Beat, died at the age of 56.

Never heard of Bronski Beat? Yeah, it's truly a generational thing. Bronski Beat was a band starting in the 1980's British synthpop scene. Never heard of synthpop? Yeah. It was just one of the most distinctive subgenres of new wave. A sound heavily influenced by David Bowie.  During this generation, a trio achieved success with their distinctive sound and lead singer, particularly with the 1984 No. 3 in the UK chart hit "Smalltown Boy." They made a video for "Smalltown Boy" and it was late at night when a twelve-year-old me, watched it for the first time. It was a message in a bottle washing up on the shores of my deserted island.

All members of the group were openly gay, their songs reflected this. It was pop music with a commentary on gay-related issues. In a generation of subversive and double entendre messages, Bronski Beat was clear in message.

Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy
You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down
And as hard as they would try they'd hurt to make you cry
But you never cried to them, just to your soul

In 1984 I was twelve. I had already come to terms with being gay. What I could not comprehend, nor functionally comply with was how to operate on a rural ranch outside of a small town in the middle of nowhere. Within a dysfunctional family with Mormon ideal. I was failing to cope. Then, late at night, as I sat crying, the Bronski Beat video came on television.  It was a bolt from the blue. I could. I had to wait, but I would get out. I would have the life I wanted. The life I needed. Thank you Larry Steinbachek, rest in peace. You saved my life.

Nice To See StevieB: I Am Not One With the Force

By StevieB

I have never played a video game. Not Really. 

I know, it seems strange, even to me in this day and age. I had played around with a game back in the 90’s, with Jamie the bestie. But I have never had a gaming system in the house. I have a strange addictive personality, where if I involve myself in something is becomes all-consuming.  This is why I’ve never watch a single second of the television show, Glee. I know I would have quickly devolve into the biggest Gleeck, or Glick. I don’t have time to become obsessed with musicals again… I mean, Betty Buckley still has a Restraining Order out on my ass. 

I can tell you the beginning storyline, and ending story line for every character on Dynasty, Doctor Who, Dallas, and a dozen other shows before I identified my obsessive condition. With the amount of characters in Game of Thrones, I believe I couldn’t spare the brain space.  So, spending free-time on video games, while I should be writing scathing essays on Shirley Chisolm for school, would be a catastrophe. 

Then we got an Xbox for Christmas. 

Can I tell you how embarrassing it is to be forty-five and not able to operate a controller? So, under the pretext of defending my honor, I have begun to “practice” my craft. A remote and icy planet in a remote star system known to locals as Hoth, is my training ground. Star Wars, Echo Base is where I will unleash my Jedi Powers.  I have embraced the Dark Side. This means I can walk around and slash Rebel scum with my red Lightsaber. Really it’s because I can’t aim and shoot a blaster. Yet. I tried, but after having Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan, die seventeen times because of my incompetence in shooting her blaster, I switched to the Lightsaber.  Too soon, Leia, too soon. 

I hope to one day be a gamer. When school isn't in session. Right now, I’m a pushing middle-age gay gamer Wannabe.

Nice To See StevieB: 2017

By StevieB

Well hello there. Welcome to 2017.

Since I started blogging in 2007, I have done a lot of New Year Resolutions posts. This meant I listed things I was to fix about myself the adjacent year. This was all good and fine, and most of the time it worked. This was because they were published for me to review throughout the year. Today; I have realized that starting a new year really is a great time for this. But, also It's a great time to stop and listen to the lessons learned the previous year.

I learned in 2016, to just go hiking. Don't wait for others to join in on an activity I love. I stopped waiting for others to acknowledge the things I love to do. I don't need the approval of others to enjoy any activity. I strap on my hiking boots a get on a mountain trail. So I guess I've stopped being afraid of being alone.

Speaking of friends. In 2016 I finially learned what being a friend really is. It's not history, it's not statements about friendship; it's actions taken every day. No demands of proving whether you're worthy by sending to proper given amount of text messages. Friendship is organic, a concept that can't mean calculated. Only measured by phone calls for no reason and invites and silly adventures.

I realized in 2016 that my work life sets a standard for everything else. Don't stay in a job that makes me unhappy. I encountered the world's worst boss in 2016, and felt there wasn't other options. There was. There are always other options. You just have to uncover them. This advice hold true for the previous statements. There's always other options. In healthy friends and better hiking trails.

So do I have resolutions for 2017? Kinda. Yesterday I signed up to run a 5K in June. It has always been a dream of mine to run a road race. This year I will do it. Dear God, help me. I better start training, June isn't that far off in regard to me waddling my way through a organized running competition. Step one. Clear out the bad stuff in my kitchen and strap-on some running shoes.

Come on 2017, you are full of options. Let's go choose the best ones.

Nice To See StevieB: Just Another Day

By StevieB

I was out at dinner last night with some friends and as conversations always go our talk came to systemic, chronic diseases. Drugs, treatments and doctors were all discussed. Keeping healthy or preventive steps was the order of the day. Two of the friends are positive with a zero viral load and one has diabetes. At one point I stopped and realized that I had nothing to add due to not having any personal experience. I thought, “How boring am I.” Then some sort of odd guilt set in, Mormons aren’t permitted to have guilt, maybe gays ones do?

I was listening to a podcast the other day and they referred to HIV – AIDS as an issue in the past. They did do this in all reverence like referring to victims in the towers on 9/11. Yet it seams odd to be in a day where the STD sirens are not blaring and we now refer this as a chronic illness. Now if you say these words “chronic illness” in front of someone who worries about the health insurance due to that the drugs they will be taking for the rest of their life’s would be three thousand a month if it where not for the “safety net” of the drug coverage of their insurance you just might get slapped. Being a HR Manager I talk to employees about health benefits. It’s very telling when medical and drug coverage is discussed.

I guess when you start to grow up everyone has choices to make and deal with the crap that’s thrust apron them, or not thrust upon them. It reminds me of the Oingo Bingo hit Just Another Day. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Christmas Tree

By StevieB

To begin our celebration of Christmas, the roommate and I decided to head to the mountains in order to get our own live Christmas tree. We had decided that we would go massively overboard for Christmas this year, so this was the first step. This choice stemmed from me having just ending a nine year relationship with Mr. Scrooge himself, and the roommate, whom had roommates for years, never had his own celebration the way he wanted it to be done. First step? Go murder an innocent tree and drag it back to the house. I declared this trip into the woods triumphantly to the boy I’m dating, (still known as TMBBE, or “The most Beautiful boy ever” for the lack of a better nickname) as a normal, healthy super-Christmasy thing that normal people do. This is when he calmly informed me that he never had a Christmas tree before. Like ever…ever.

My mouth dropped open. I stammered. “Like growing up you never had a tree?” He flatly informed me that no, his family had never. The next question that came out of my mouth will forever be noted as the stupidest thing I have, or ever will say. Please note the stupidity level… I said…. “But… where did you put your Christmas presents?” Oh. My. God. There is not a more ignorant thing I possibly could of said at that point. And I said it. I was an ignorant baboon asking someone raised Hindu where they kept their Christmas presents if they didn’t have a tree. The Most Beautiful Boy Ever was polite in response to my stupidity.

What I learned is that if you take a grown man, who was raised Hindu, to a Christmas tree lot, and ask him to pick out any tree he wanted, you're going to see a lot of Christmas repression un-cork. It was non-gentile to Santa elf in 3.5 seconds. I have never had so much fun picking out a tree.

I had spent nine years with someone who saw Christmas as a hassle. A chore that involved assembling the same artificial tree over and over. Then, suddenly I was standing in a muddy field watching someone search for the perfect tree. I watched the grin on his face grow. A grin that comes from the magical act of family going to the tree lot and taking home for the perfect Christmas. I was cold, I was muddy. I was never so happy. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: The Annual Christmas Rant

By StevieB

WHAT THE F*#K DO PENGUINS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS!?!?

Have you seen the inflatable, glowing Christmas crap that everyone displays on their front lawns? Big billowing snowmen, elves, and insidiously happy penguins. Seriously, What the heck to penguins have to do with Christmas?

At night it’s quite a cute little scene. A winter wonderland all blown up and bopping around to the forced air whooshing up their butts. During the day it’s another story, driving through any upscale neighborhood it's a reenactment of Jim Jones goes to Christmas town. Dead, flat elves and snow people scatter the lawns like a mass suicide cult hit the North Pole. A massacre of merriment. One half-inflated penguin dragging its self off the lawn coughing out,  I only live in Antarctica and parts of South America why am I even here?

Aaaaaaaaaghh!

 
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Train

By StevieB
 
I always thought living in proximity to a train track sounded romantic. I once had a house out in the country. At night, when the wind was just right, I could hear the far away call on the train whistle. Its lonesome call in the middle of the night evoked a call to iindividualisticwandering on a Jack Kerouac scale of fiction. No matter how stressful my life was, I could sit in my bed late at night and escape to a dream like world as the drifting call of a train whistle mixed with the late-night breeze. Blowing the sheers. Calming my busy brain. 

When the roommate and I were looking for new place to rent, I was excited to see an opening in a building within walking distance to a train stop. Just two blocks down, and we could be on a train platform that would whisk us to either Denver’s city center, or Denver’s Airport. I was also secretly excited that my train, the one from my late night visits would be back. 

The first night in the new place I drifted off to sleep with the window open.
HHHHOOOOONNNNKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!

I startled awake! The frickin’ train sounded as if it were running through the driveway. Why would moving next to the stupid train tracks be a smart move? All night a train horn blared every fifteen minutes. All night every night. Since this Jack Kerouac nightmare started in June, I have now become accustom to the late night train whistle. I drift off to my dream like world as train cars full of passengers make their way to and from the airport. Horns ablazing.
 
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Nine Years of StevieB

By StevieB

(This month) marks the ninth anniversary for the Nice To See StevieB blog. This means you’ve been subjected to nine years of my teenage girl angst. I’m a large bear with a raging teenage girl trapped inside. A teenage drama queen that needed to write in her online diary. Nine years of documenting the ups and downs of your average gay bear. Although I deny that cliche title. As I’m truly an otter trapped in a bear’s body.

But, damn! Nine years. I first began blogging via the electronic means, recently invented, of MySpace. Seriously. I quickly noticed other bloggers using blogger.com and hopped on the bandwagon. I sat at my Apple G4 Power Mac on November 11, 2007, and began to online diary.

So here we are; nine years of me, rambling on. And on. Let’s see what happens next. 


This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: It Is Time To Fight

By StevieB

Don’t you remember? It has been sixteen years. So I understand if you don’t. In a way, we as a people have had it good. Damn good. Yes, there has been struggle, no denying that. Yet, Barack and Beautiful Michelle have helped us created more equality, and kindness in the world. Now it has all changed.

But, think back to the year 2000. Sixteen years ago when the popular vote went to an environmentaly focused inclusive candidate, but the White House went to Bush. A wave of sorrow swept the land and evangelical hate filled specialty groups moved in to influence the President and American doctrine. I distinctly remember the same wave of defeat that this week has brought to us. Trump, with a potato sack full of segregationist and right-wing hate groups ready to push back common sense and equality. Trump’s winning is just like when Bush came to power. But, now the self-centered and self-interested groups that are, right now, ready to take the wheel and push back the country to a segregation and white-Christian past, are more powerful.

The one thing that I remember clearly about sixteen years ago was that after Bush set his Neo-conservative agenda, we also began to mobilize. Now is the time. As the advocates of hate began to tool up and weaponize, gaining power and influence; We too must advance. It is a battle of faith. Of words. Of ideas. We have proven our skill in the 2000’s fighting against the far right wing. We have a proven track record and equality is on our side. Having Obama in the White house, we proved that fairness and racial equality raises us as a people. We have this to prove our justification.

Can you feel it? The call to fight. A fight not with fists, but words. “If you join us, you are welcome to stay and we will all work together to ensure our survival. I understand if you feel you can’t. But as for us, we are going to fight. We will begin training immediately…” Jennifer Outwater. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: When They Go Low

By StevieB
 
I'm sure you don't need to read my take on the 2016 election cycle. Americans are overwhelmed with adds, speeches, and propaganda. I for one; have isolated myself from the daily tsunami of information. What we cannot isolate ourselves from, it seems, this year, is the vile, defeating, and degrading hatred that has attached to this year's elections. All civil discourse has been distroyed.

To quote Michelle Obama, "When they go low, we go high." And, as most mature adults find out, seems to work. Most of the time. But, the lowbrow slander and lies, seem neverending.

No one will ever be moved to your way of thinking by posting negative slander on your Facebook page. So, why do it? Spreading negativity in the world must be a symptom of self-hate. So you hate Hilllary Clinton... I hate your hairstyle. How does that detente improve anything? Just move forward feeling what you feel. But, know that others, like me, feel differently. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Checking Monsters

By StevieB

I got home super late last night. One of those nights where you dump your belongings and drag yourself up the stairs. I dumped my countless number of bags inside the door and stripped naked as I ascended the stairs. My only goal was to be horizontal within my 800 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. Nothing was going to stop me. One thing did.

I stopped and checked my closet for monsters.

In my sleep deprived state, it hit me. I just checked my closet. I began to think; do I do this a lot? Yes, without even thinking of it. Every night I'm alone I open my closet door and flip on the light to ensure that there isn't anything evil lurking behind the Pumas. Hiding behind the flannel shirts. I'm a fully fledged adult, and yet I check for monsters in my room.

I'm sure this habit began when I was eight. My brother hid in my closet one evening to jump out and scare me. To this day it is my foundation in my belief that brothers are just simply assholes. Ever since that night I have checked my closet. This habit has ingrained itself into just who I am for my entire life, so much so that I don't even remember or acknowledge doing it.

In the movie 'The Dark Knight' The Joker says, “We stopped checking for monsters under our beds when we realized they were inside us." So maybe, that fact that I'm a full ground man and still checking behind the closet door every night, symbolizes that I don't have a monster inside of me. That evil is still an abstract. To be pushed away with one small ritual.

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: My Part

By StevieB

One of my earlier memories was getting my haircut. It was in a strip mall in our small hometown. My Father took my older brother and me to get a buzzcut. I remember the stacks of coloring books and having my very first comic book adventure. Gazing at nineteen seventies Superman taking flight upon the page. This was when my love for comic books was born. I remember the feel of sitting in the huge barber chair; a booster seat to bring me up to the barber’s level. The barber seemed younger than my Dad, but still ancient. In my tiny brain. The image of my Dad wondering out the door, stating he’d be back to pick is up. I had a scared feeling, wanting to jump from the chair as the buzzing steel clippers came close to my ear. Being comforted by the barber that he wouldn’t hurt me. Softly whispering in my ear that I was safe. His hand moving under the cape to find its way into my jeans. Feeling warm and special because the barber clipping away on my brother in the next chair was not being even acknowledged. I exchanged warm smiles with the barber-man as he cut my hair. One handed. 

This is when it happened, I believe. He cut a side part into my hair. On the left side of my head. I have worn a part on the left side ever since that day. Mostly, this is because I have a massive amount of callicks (or cowlicks) on the back of my head. My hair resembles the back end of a guinea pig most days. Always using a massive amount to product to keep my swirling and unruly hair in its place. 

I recently had to find a new barber, as Nick the Super Barber moved to new town to start a Bed and Breakfast. I gave in and went to the hipster barbershop that my roommate uses. It is SUPER hipstery. I have a happy connection with getting my hair cut. Obviously, from my past of Superman and having my dick awakened for the first time. I went in for my first appointment half-hoping there would be comic books. There was not. I met the barber and began to explain my swirl and callicks on the back of my head. He stopped. “It’s because you have your hair parted on the wrong side.” He explained. “Your swirl and callick goes from right to left, opposite of how you’re laying your hair.” He combed my hair over from right to left and all my stand uppity hair laid flat….. Holy hell. That guy…. When I was just a kid… gave me thirty years of bad hair days??? Guess you are never too old to move your part from the left. I’m all right now. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Panda Express

By StevieB

I spent the entire day yesterday writing my term paper. I have entitled it my Mos and po-po paper. Not realizing that I had wasted an entire day sitting at the dinning room table with nothing but the dog staring up at me, around seven p.m. my stomach decided it was time for me to stop clicking away on the keyboard and throw some food in it.

Without considering the social norms of good grooming, I grabbed the Shar-pei and headed out onto the streets for nourishment. I have a level of guilt for patronizing the new Panda Express fast food chain that has opened up recently. I have always dined at the locally owned and operated Chinese take-away, but after a day of writing in my sweat pants, I feared that Mr. Wok would assume that the zombie apocalypse had begun, and this particular zombie had a taste for Asian brains, and I would be shot in the head. One should not fear being mistaken for a zombie and shot just because one desires chinese food, but one should also take a shower and remove ten hour old Pop-Tart crumbs from one’s beard before heading out into public. So I went to Panda Express. They don’t judge.

As I did my zombie shuffle up to the “Order Here” sign, the guy behind the glass sneeze guard smiled and said “hey, we chatted on Scruff!” peering into his dreamy blue eyes and swimmers build wrapped in a fast food uniform, I recognized him as well. My stomach and other bits growled. I thought, it’s Mr. “watts up” and “your hot.” Pondering his very bad grammar, I quickly thought, who am I to judge the proper use of you’re verses your? This hot twenty-two year old wants to give me his egg rolls. Under the panda embroidered polo shirt is a six-pack that thinks I am hot. I smiled my best “How YOU Doin?” smile and ran my hand over my right pectoris muscle covered by my coffee stained tee shirt.

I then grabbed my to-go bag and retreated out of the restaurant like a defeated Mongol warrior, yet giggling like a Japanese schoolgirl. 

This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice To See StevieB: Job

By StevieB

Have I mentioned that I have a new job? In late July I pretty much hit a wall in my job. The busy restaurant management company drove me over the edge and, as I felt my mid-life crisis was starting early, it was time for me to run away. I had the luxury to stepping away being finically secure enough to take time to explore. This led be to talking most of August off. Sleeping in late, long workouts at the gym, hiking up in the mountains every day, the whole gainfully unemployed game. It was strange; having all this free time to just relax and rethink my career choices. I have been a Human Resources Manager most of my adult career, or for what seems like an eternity. During my down time, mostly hiking about Boulder, Colorado, I thought about my next career, what I really wanted. And, even with the bad taste left in my mouth of the last HR job, in mid-August I was recruited for another Human Resources gig. Yet the feel of the role was completely different.

During the initial phone interview I really bonded to what would be my future boss. It was also just the change I needed, a corporate position with short and long term care facilities. Teams of educated doctors and nurses in the role of caring for people in need. A far universe away from attempting to maintain dignity around Bartenders and ego-driven Chefs. Goodbye high end dining, hello medical field.


So far it’s like being on vacation every day. The work is very hard, don’t get me wrong, but I went from Bar Managers dropping bags of cocaine in the kitchen, to verifying medical degrees. It’s early days, but I feel like I have a purpose again. So, maybe the mid-life crisis can be averted for a couple more years.