Nice To See StevieB: Looking Ruff at the Airport

By StevieB

I think I've stumbled upon a great design idea. Elizabethan Travel Pillows.

My job has me walking around the airport all day long. Lately I've noticed something. Well, beside the fact that people will attempt to pull their luggage through you like you are Patrick Swayze in Ghost. Although he would never receive roller-bag marks on his new Nordstom wing tips. What I've really noticed is that everyone who travels has a "C" shaped travel pillow wrapped around their neck.

So, here's my big design idea. Elizabethan collars, that are also travel pillows. Think of it, how great would you look heading towards your gate like a mid-sixteenth century to the mid-seventeenth century noble-person? This new fashion trend will leave our airports looking like the fashion houses of the high Elizabeth era. Families heading off to visit grandma, will look like the cast from Love's Labour's Lost. Maybe this would spark a whole fad. Lute shaped travel bags and the like. It's going to be huge. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Adventure Time

By StevieB

I realized that I am an old gay man. This moment in my life occurred as I stood in front of the soda machine of my local Panara Bread. I was sporting my new cardigan sweater, sweats, and Uggs. I was dressed for comfort. Let's just say, that I would not be snapping a new Grindr profile pic in the Pandara bathroom. In my comfort driven ensemble, I approached the wide selection of iced teas. I was looking for a nice herbal tea. As it was 8:30 at night, I didn't want a tea that would keep me awake all night. I glanced over and spotted the Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi. Great! I could have it all!

This is when it hit me; in the recent past my nights were filled with dancing, boozing, and urban spelunking. Now I'm excited about caffeine free drinks.

That's it! I need to get back to scaring myself. I've gotten way too comfortable. I need to get back into doing things I love. Thinks that require risk. That's why I chose the fully caffeinated soda. I will drink the caffeine and go have an adventure. 

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

Looking Ruff at the Airport

By StevieB

I think I've stumbled upon a great design idea. Elizabethan Travel Pillows.

My job has me walking around the airport all day long. Lately I've noticed something. Well, beside the fact that people will attempt to pull their luggage through you like you are Patrick Swayze in Ghost. Although he would never receive roller-bag marks on his new Nordstom wing tips. What I've really noticed is that everyone who travels has a "C" shaped travel pillow wrapped around their neck.

So, here's my big design idea. Elizabethan collars, that are also travel pillows. Think of it, how great would you look heading towards your gate like a mid-sixteenth century to the mid-seventeenth century noble-person? This new fashion trend will leave our airports looking like the fashion houses of the high Elizabeth era. Families heading off to visit grandma, will look like the cast from Love's Labour's Lost. Maybe this would spark a whole fad. Lute shaped travel bags and the like. It's going to be huge. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Birthday Eve

By StevieB
 
I like to think of today as, “Birthday Eve.” It’s the anticipation that something good is good to happen. Although whenever I think of it in these terms, I begin to sing the old Kate Bush song, Cloudbusting “Ooh, I just know that something good is going to happen… I don't know when, but just saying it could even make it happen.” The simple fact about is, I love for my Birthday. And the anticipatory thinking is just one of the best parts. The best part began last night….

We were walking through the grocery store. It was “date night” and my idea of a great date was a hamburger, followed by Krogering. I casually mentioned that I needed to pick up a boxed cake mix, because I wanted to bake a chocolate cake for my birthday. The look that was upon my date’s face was heart-melting. He had already planned to bake me a chocolate cake from scratch. God, I love my Birthday.

My day will bring adventures around the city. With one notable exception. Readers of my blog over the years will remember that there is one restaurant I go to on my Birthday. It is a historical fact, and unwavering tradition that I eat my Birthday Dinner at Le Central, Denver’s legacy French Restaurant. That will change this year. After thirty-four years in business, Le Central closed last September. My Birthday tradition is gone… just like my youth.

But, I will eat cake. And celebrate. My friends, will gather around, regardless of the physical location. I will celebrate the forth anniversary of my fortieth birthday. Meanwhile I will quietly sing… “I just know that something good is going to happen… saying it could even make it happen.”

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

Nice To See StevieB: Back To Class

By StevieB

Monday marks the beginning of the Spring Semester. Just the thought of this makes my head spin. It seems that just moments ago I was celebrating the end of the 2015 fall semester. My MacBook has not even cooled down from the massive amount of writing that I did, now it is time to crack it open, and log on to my on-line classes again.

Today finds me feeling a bit nostalgic about going back to school. There is no longer a formal return to the sacred and hallowed halls of my college, since I began taking all on-line classes. I somehow forget during these times of misty eyed revisionist history that the physical returning to the University also brought months of sitting in a class headed by close-minded idiot professors, droning on about their personal agendas. Although, if I am honest with my self, what I miss most was sitting behind hockey players who had allergic reactions to wearing pants. If I really examined my attending of classroom based classes, it was a trade off. Yes, I now avoid the close-minded Professors by taking my classes via computer, but I also miss hockey players falling asleep in class with the gym shorts slipping lower and lower.

But, I don't regret switching to my electronic class room. This means I can do my school work at one of the cities gayer coffee shops. With a wider variety of boys in gym shorts. On Monday I will have to scope out my territory. My new classroom. I will then quickly begin to countdown the days until May 9th. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Heteronormativity and Oral Care

By StevieB

Being in a same-sex relationship has it challenges. I know that was the understatement of the century. We all know that living in a hetero-centric society, when you’re not the norm is ripe with issues. Yet, is seems that most of the time being part of the GLBTQ rainbow is down-right amazing. This different view on life, makes us happy to be unique. When asked about her struggles in life, Carrie Fisher stated "Find your tribe. Don’t wander around feeling different than everyone else.” This speaks to beginning a relationship with someone. The romantic path seems to be the same for everyone. Yet, in a society that sometimes unknowingly gives easier steps to male-female stereotyped relationships feeling different is sometimes hard to avoid.

I thought about all this as I stood in the oral care isle of my local grocery store. I was getting to the step of buying a toothbrush for my Sweet Baboo. If you have never been in love before, this is a critical step in mating. You wake up at the other person’s house and discover that they have gone out and purchased a new toothbrush for you. It means that they think you’ll be sticking around. It symbolizes a bond; a next step in the dating world. I was ready to make this plunge and declare my deep “like” by presenting him is his very own toothbrush. It was a huge step, and I was nervous.

This is when I noticed how toothbrush manufactures were a bunch of heteronormative jerks. Jerks I say. Every two pack of toothbrushes had a perceived masculine color and perceived feminine color. Oral-B- Purple and green, Colgate- blue and pink, even Reach had only blue and pink. It was a straight couple toothbrush conspiracy. From standard to electric brushes, if you wanted to save money and by a two pack, you were forced into hetero-centric roles. Sure, it’s easy to buy to separate blue toothbrushes, but it’s the point of having to buy two separate toothbrushes. To cram them together, like your just like everyone else. Straight couples don’t have to buy separate packaging. They don’t have to decide who gets the blue brush. What? One of use should be forced to decide to take the pink brush role?!?! Outrageous.

Being in a same-sex relationship truly does have challenges. But, I refuse to wander through the grocery store feeling different than everyone else. Carrie Fisher wouldn’t want me to do that. For now, my same-sex partner and I have separate packaged toothbrushes. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: School Is Out

By StevieB

Have I mentioned that this is my last week for my semester? I know I haven't blogged a lot about my classes this semester. This was due to the fact that I had a Science class which attempted to kill me, and a creative writing class that left me bored. Horridly bored. Both classes were painful. Not in a "oh I gotta write 1,000 words on Lucius Tarquinius Priscus" kind of pain, the "make it stop, this is idiotic" kind of pain.

My Science class was entirely on-line. This meant that the tiny bit of fun in doing labs was even taken away. It was eight weeks of drawing diagrams of molecules and energy waves. I am a Right Brain kind of person, the go with your feelings kinda guy. I quickly discovered that a Science class, on-line was the wrong choice. I would be on route to failing the class miserably if not for the help of the Boyfriend. He happens to be some sort of medical scientist statistician working of HIV programs. So, he may-or-may-not have helped me. But, your associated with my University, he didn't. At all. Totally. And, why are you reading my blog, you've got university stuff to go do.

The writing class was just about "finding your voice" and "setting the scene." Those are the last things I need to think about my writing. The second I think about "finding my voice" I seize up and won't blog for two months. The last time I thought about becoming a better writer, it took Patrick from Pacspad blog a week to talk be down from the "I'm done with blogging" ledge.

So, this week marks the end of another semester at school and good riddance. Onward to Spring semester and Ancient world Religions...

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: This Grill Is On Grindr

By StevieB

A while back I went to a diner in downtown Denver. Now you may know, but I have a passion for diners. I could seriously eat every meal for weeks on end in a diner. And, I have. Remember when I was on a date with that Olympic Swimmer at a Diner and the grill at the diner caught on fire? That was October, 2014. You can read the blog post on how I sang "This-Grill-is-on-Fire!" That was Denver Diner. This week the media announced that the Denver Diner, just the best damn diner on the planet, has completed their post-fire reconstruction, and are set to re-open later this week.

This makes for a very happy Steve. Countless number of times I have said "Man, this would be a great time to sit in the Denver Diner.... damn it!" Soon, the best damn diner on the planet will reopen its doors. I will be there. Asking for pancakes. Then I won't have to mess around with other greasy spoons. Like the one I was dining in a while back when I went to a diner in downtown Denver....

The diner, I dined with, whilst I waited for Denver Diner to repaint, and run one of those five-fingered microfiber things through the mini-blinds, was called Sam's Number 3. Presumably because there are two other Sam's. Maybe it is a generational suffix? Either way, I went in with couple of friends after hanging out in the "theater district" of Denver. Upon being seated, we were promptly ignored. As my norm, I cranked open Grindr. Quickly I received Grindr service. A guy popped up with the ubiquitous "Hey." After finally having the waiter tear himself await from the bar, we got our order in. Then waited, what seemed to be a lifetime, for our food. The same dude, popped up on Grindr. "Hey!" He seemed familiar so I replied, How YOU doin'?" Quickly, as I waited for the server to finally notice that my Diet Coke glass had tumbleweeds blowing through it, he popped up. "Your[sp] hot." I looked again at his profile pic. He seemed familiar because he was our lame-ass waiter.

Our server was ignoring his tables to hit on guys on Grindr. He then hit on one of his tables, he was ignoring. I showed my table mates. "Ask him for my ranch he said he'd bring." So, I did. I asked if I could have Ranch Dressing, and a refill of my Diet Coke. I watched as he turned to face me. Then, slowly slid off of his bar stool and went back to the kitchen. Returning with our requested items. The service was awful before then. The service didn't much improve after that.

Let us just say I am excited for the re-opening of the best damn diner on the planet, Denver Diner. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Do You Voodoo?

By StevieB

It's been awhile since the Voodoo Doughnuts opened in our town. There was this amazing vibe around the idea the Denver had a hip and alternative doughnut shop, like exotic Portland, Oregon. Like our version our ancestors seeing an Oriental vase. Now, cheap and only sold in junk shops inside of the Aurora Mall. 

I over heard someone awhile back, bragging how many times they have gone to pick up a pick box of glazed doughnuts in recent history. How can that impress anyone? 

I had this thought as I sat at a light in front of the popular business. A line ran out the front door. The best part; however, was the small assembled groups of citizens trapesing away with their stacked pink boxes. The look of devotion upon their faces. It reminded me of another group which made a recent pilgrimage. 

One of the five pillars of Islam, is to make a pilgrimage to Makkah. This means, to be a devout follower of Islam, one must make a trip within ones lifetime to the holiest of all shrines. Annually, two million people make this holy trip. I am positive that the look on their faces after walking around the sacred shrines is one of utter happiness and contentment.

Yet, the visitors of Voodoo doughnuts have the same look? Over fat filled baked goods. I will state that I have made my own hajj to Voodoo. They didn't seem any different. I guess it all in how you market a mecca. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Do You Voodoo?

By StevieB
 
It's been awhile since the Voodoo Doughnuts opened in our town. There was this amazing vibe around the idea the Denver had a hip and alternative doughnut shop, like exotic Portland, Oregon. Like our version our ancestors seeing an Oriental vase. Now, cheap and only sold in junk shops inside of the Aurora Mall.

I over heard someone awhile back, bragging how many times they have gone to pick up a pick box of glazed doughnuts in recent history. How can that impress anyone?

I had this thought as I sat at a light in front of the popular business. A line ran out the front door. The best part; however, was the small assembled groups of citizens trapesing away with their stacked pink boxes. The look of devotion upon their faces. It reminded me of another group which made a recent pilgrimage.

One of the five pillars of Islam, is to make a pilgrimage to Makkah. This means, to be a devout follower of Islam, one must make a trip within ones lifetime to the holiest of all shrines. Annually, two million people make this holy trip. I am positive that the look on their faces after walking around the sacred shrines is one of utter happiness and contentment.

Yet, the visitors of Voodoo doughnuts have the same look? Over fat filled baked goods. I will state that I have made my own hajj to Voodoo. They didn't seem any different. I guess it all in how you market a mecca.

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

Nice To See StevieB: I knew His Smile in an Instant

By StevieB

Atlanta was a great trip. It is funny how Patrick’s friendship just continues online and offline without missing a beat. Not physically seeing Patrick since our cruise, over a year ago, we simply just picked up where we left off. He was a great host. The excuse for the visit was for Atlanta’s Pride celebration. Understanding the heat of Atlanta’s summers I understand how they began to throw the weekend celebration in October.

The first night was a kick-off party as the Atlanta Aquarium. A huge party thrown around the world-class aquariums and tanks. Patrick and I literally partied with Otters. A long list of Atlanta’s best diners, and dives followed over the weekend. Topped off by the main Pride Parade on Sunday. As Patrick, his large and very nice group of friends, and I settled into a safe spot to watch the parade; I quickly become bored. Patrick suggested we sit on the near-by Italian restaurant’s patio. We snuck away from the jubilant friends and ordered a little lunch, alfresco.

At this point in my story, I need to mention that anytime I am awake my head is buried in my phone. This trip, I was constantly texting the same cute boy I had been seeing in back home. All through the Aquarium, the diners, and the parade I was texting him non-stop. It’s actually quite disgusting. I mimic a fourteen-year old girl. As we slipped away from the parade front, I sent a selfie to the same cute boy, giving him a literal picture of the mayhem we were about to escape. I casually let him know Patrick and I were going to grab food. The boy too, was away from home. In Connecticut for a week at a family wedding. We chatted non-stop about our separate adventures. I had been secretly bummed that he couldn’t join my adventure in Atlanta. But, at least we could text.

I relished the Sunday afternoon. Sitting with one of my dearest friends, soaking up the day with a great person. We still had a great view of the parade as it crossed over Piedmont St. About half a block away, it was great to see, but not get too involved. It was also just enough space to cruise for cute boys. And, Atlanta has no shortage in amazingly cute boys. Patrick and I had all the time in the world to watch them wander by. As my gaze roamed the sea of Atlanta cuteness, one super-cute guy caught my eye. Slim. Muscular. Flowing curly locks of hair. Tall. The sun bounced and danced upon his light caramel skin. But…. Suddenly I became that 70’s Pina Colada Song. I knew his smile in an instant, I knew the curve of his face. It was my own lovely boy…. I sprung from the table alarming Patrick and our group of dinning friends. The boy I had been obsessing over, the one in Connecticut. Just wandered by. Of, course his head was down, texting me. He was causally asking me what the name of the restaurant I had mentioned.

I ran through the crowed, I began to doubt whether I actually saw him at all.

Then, I stopped running. There he was. The most beautiful boy ever. The crowed stopped moving, the drag queen, upon the nearby float frozen in time. Glitter held its place in midair. The very movement of blood within my heart stopped. Nothing existed. Reality faded into a grey blur on the edges of space between my trembling hands and him. The curve of his face. I threw my arms around him and squeezed. The glitter began to fly again. The waving drag queen upon her float slowly came back up to speed.
The boy had ducked out of the wedding in Connecticut and flew down to surprise me. Following my clues of selfies and unknowingly cryptic texts. The most romantic thing anyone has ever done. Me and my boy. We watched the remainder of the parade. Intertwined. 
 
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.

Nice to See StevieB: Got A Long List of Ex-Lovers

By StevieB

Apparently, it was ex-boyfriend week here around the old Stevie B blog. This is the time when all of Steve's ex-boyfriends contact Steve, just to ensure he is still alive.

The US Swim team, Olympic swimmer was in contact. Yes, he's happy with the fellow hottie he left me for, just fighting with him this week, and wanted to say "Hi!" to me.

The skinny-ginger from Colorado State University, drunk-texted me in the middle of the night to re-declare his love for me. If you remember, he was the one I woke up to one morning, staring at me, stating that if he can't get a monogamous commitment he was out. I'm sure you know my answer. He grabbed his Express Tote Bag, and ran. Jim Beam had apparently convinced him otherwise.

Next was the muscled Lebanese, University of Colorado Volleyball player. He just let me know that he's going to study in Prague. That being petrified of his hotness, and thus avoiding him, probably was not the best technic in flirting.

The blonde from Colorado School of Mines, just mis-dialed me, thinking it was his Professor Steve, not the creepy 43 year old that sodomized him in his Jeep Liberty.

Then, there was the big Ex. He was in contact to announce that he is officially a Realtor, with his own agency. I couldn't tell if is was a general announcement, or a sales pitch. Either way, I believe it's a great idea to have your Ex, help buy a house.... sure. He then invited me to a Fetish Party he was hosting. Also a great idea to attend a play party hosted by your still somewhat questionably hostile Ex... sure.

Well... that was my week. My tattered ego and I are glad it is over. 

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

Nice to See StevieB: Homosexuals and Jeep Repair

By StevieB

Through a series of unfortunate events, I received huge dents in my front bumper, and back bumper of my Jeep, Wrangle. My front bumper, was dented during my first and last visit to Tom's Diner. The back bumper got destroyed thanks to a drunk unemployed man in a rusted-out Subaru. A drunk unemployed man who spent the time waiting for the cops attempting to buy me off.... with the crumpled up fives in his wallet. Needles to say, he got hauled away, I got an insurance check.

Thankfully the damage on the front and back of my precious Jeep was completely isolated to the bumpers. And, if I haven't mentioned it yet, my handsome (and available) roommate is a Certified Jeep/Chrysler mechanic. Mr. Handsome was able to locate two new bumpers. This was easy because Dude/bros that buy jeeps take the first opportunity to rip off their bumpers to replace them with steel welded jobs with wenches and lights attached. The factory ones get tossed. Unless they're needed for Steve's Big Gay Jeep. So... score.

Saturday night was spent hanging out in a repair bay of Mike's Jeep dealership. Who knew to people could laugh so hard; especially in the act of car repair. By late Saturday night, I had shiny new bits of plastic, Jeeps calls bumpers, bolted onto the Jeep.

Lets see how long they last....

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

Nice To See StevieB: Not-A-Soul Man

By StevieB

I believe that I might not have a soul.

This conclusion comes from a consistent problem in my life. One were I don't exist to certain necessary inanimate objects we all intact with daily. I don't register to electric eyes. Touch-less faucets seem like a futuristic and technological miracle. One simply places their hand under the spout and water starts flowing like magic. I always think that I am not smart enough to move in the right way to trigger the motion sensor. It's a presence sensor designed to detect the presence of hands under the spout and turn on the faucet. When you remove your hands, the sensor tells the faucet to turn off. When your hands come within a few inches of the lip of the spout, infrared light bounces off your skin to the detector, which sends a signal that turns on the faucet. They're easy enough technology. But countless times, you can find me in the airport men's room waving my hands like a flustered chicken attempting to register to the stupid faucet.

This was proven to the roommate after he bought one of those "touch-less" trashcans for the kitchen. He has had hours of enjoyment watching me act like a cat playing with a laser beam as I attempt to have the lid raise. Doors refuse to open as they don't see me coming. If it has any kind of electric eye, it will be blind to me.

I really don't know all the technology of how these things work, I just assume it works off the human soul. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Dog Sitting

By StevieB

Last weekend my best friend spent his precious time off dog sitting. He was amazingly dedicated to the task as well. When I urged him to just toss a Swanson's Frozen Sliced Beef Dinner through the back door and come cruise for boys with me, he would hear nothing of it. I got a raised eyebrow when I suggested giving the dog, whom he was assigned, no dedicated, to care for, some Benadryl so it wouldn't notice that his temporary caretaker was off putt-putt golfing. Some people take their jobs so seriously.

I was asked to dog-sit three times in my life. Each time hilarity ensued.

Back in 1994, I was asked to watched the dog of an elderly gay guy, well I thought he was elderly. Looking back he was probably the age I am now. He had one of those fluffy yappy dogs. I took the two week job, because I needed the money. Also, my roommates at the time, decided that it would be better if they never saw my face again. So staying at a strange man's house, whom had a dead kitty taped to his head, was the best option. It wasn't a real dead kitty. It was just that his toupee was so cheaply done, it looks like a cat had died upon his head. The two weeks of dog sitting; however, went exceedingly well. well... the one tiny thing was that I jimmied open the locked cabinet where the unused dead cats were stored and fluffy attacked some of them. Guess he thought they were filleted felines as well. I came home late one night to find dead, dead kitty bits all over the house.

I was never asked to dog-sit again.

I was asked by a friend to come over to his house and meet his partner and their dog. They would be gone one week and wanted me to stop over twice a day to feed, and let the black lab out into the back yard. Seemed simple. The first day after happy couple left, I let myself into the house to check on the aging lab. As soon as I entered the house, all memory of our meeting was gone. Kind of like some dates I've had lately. Suddenly, I was a complete stranger entering the house to utter shock and horror. Kind of like some dates I've had lately. The lab freaked. It then proceeded to hide in a closet. Every day. All week. It didn't eat. It wouldn't go out side. When I was gone it would release its evil upon the antique area rug right in front the closet. If I attempted to dislodge the terrified creature from the closet, all sorts of terror, filled with biting and deep growling would ensure. Again, not unlike my dating life. The happy couple returned to find their dog, ten pounds lighter and a family heirloom rug destroyed.

I was never asked to dog-sit again.

The last story of my dog sitting trilogy still gives me shivers. I spent ten days watching a Basset Hound in an upscale townhouse in Dallas's Turtle Creek neighborhood. The owner of the dog, was a friend, and Cadillac Salesman whom adored his Basset, named Dudley. One afternoon, as one does when one has the keys to a brand new Cadillac and upscale townhouse, I went to cruise for boys. After bringing home, and playing with the found boy ass; I mindlessly toss my condom onto the floor. Dudley gulped it up. Without going into dramatics I had to reach my hand into a Basset and grab hold of a used condom and yank it out, before the dog swallowed. With a slimy dog slobber enhanced grasp I pulled out the filled condom. Somehow the rubber exploded. Dudley... swallowed.... I still can't see a Basset hound without thinking that one... uh... my.... okay...

I purposely never asked to dog-sit again.

And this is why you don't ask Steve to dog sit. 

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

Nice To See StevieB: Get Up Swinging

By StevieB

My long relationship with waking up, covered with sweat, standing in the middle of my bed has been rekindled. There is nothing more exciting than not knowing when my Sleep Terrors, decide to begin again. But, apparently they have come back for a visit.

It certainly makes inviting someone to share my bed ... awkward. With the great possibility that I will bolt upright, eyes open, with a look of complete panic on my face. Screaming or barking orders is a whimsical bonus. How would I explain to a boy I like that there is a chance that I will begin punching and attacking in the middle of the night. "Uh, I really like you, so please don't run out of my house just because I begin to physically assault you at 3 am."

My roommate, The Mechanic, casually mentioned at breakfast the other morning about whining and crying coming from my bedroom. He debated whether he should have attempted to wake me. Fearful coming into my room might make the situation worse. Which it historically has. I really feel like a whiny werewolf. Without the fun of turning furry.

I might need to buy earplugs for The Mechanic, and maybe a lock for my bedroom door. One that locks from the outside. This is due to the events two nights ago; when I woke up to find I made a full Chinese Chicken Salad at 3:30 am. And ate it. Who sleep walks and makes a salad? Seriously.

I can only hope they go away soon. Guys do not buy flimsy excuses about not wanting fall asleep with them. 

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

Nice to See StevieB: Summer

By StevieB

Can you believe that it is almost the end of July? What happened to the future plans of summer? I started to ponder this the other day as I daydreamed; looking upon clouds in the middle of Cheesman Park. Reclining on a blanket with my face looking upon the clouds. The clouds and I shared a lazy agenda, to waste an afternoon. Their plan was to slowly creep across the huge blue sky. My plan was to watch their paced path. 

It is funny how, upon the first breath of Spring, the plans for “everything you want to do this summer” become laid. The long path of warm weather. A chance to enjoy. The scheme of being able to look back in September and recite to the class, “How I Spent my Summer.” 

Here we sit at the end of July. How has your plans come along so far? This is fair warning to the end of fair warming. So, maybe the roadtrip to Mount Rushmore isn’t going to materialize for this summer. But, a road trip somewhere will. Get out there! There isn’t much time.

There isn't time, there isn't time
To do the things I want to do,
With all the mountain-tops to climb,
And all the woods to wander through,
And all the seas to sail upon,
And everywhere there is to go,
And all the people, everyone
Who lives upon the earth , to know.
To know a few, and do a few,
And then sit down and make a rhyme
About the rest I want to do. 

-Eleanor Farjeon

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

Mona Lott Sez: That's Offensive!

By Mona Lott

I love drunk women, they’re so fun and happy and easy to sell into white slavery! We’re you offended? Good, then I did my job as a comic. Why were you offended? Is it because you’re a woman who gets drunk way too often, or is it because you’ve been sold into white slavery, or is it because you’re just an uptight jerk with a sphincter so clenched that if turds were footballs you’d never fumble! Sorry if I just offended turds. 
 

Frankly, I’m kind of tired of people getting offended lately. Actually I’m more offended by the way they react to being offended. It’s as if being offensive to someone or some group of people means you are evil personified and should not be allowed in public anymore or even in Congress! Being offensive is simply, according to Google, “causing someone to feel deeply hurt, upset, or angry.” So what is wrong with that? You can hurt someone by simply telling a guy in a bar who just bought you a drink that you’re not interested. Not that I’ve ever turned any guy down in a bar. But I have been rebuked by a few poor unfortunate souls. You can hurt someone by strategically placing a screwdriver attached to a block of wood under an ex lover’s sofa cushion but, wait a moment, I don’t think that’s the kind of hurt Google meant. Though if you are in the market for hurting someone in that way I have a cousin named Vito ... You can emotionally hurt someone by simply breaking off a long term relationship, especially if you tell them in a text message that "It’s not you, it’s me." And hell, I’m sure you’ve made plenty of people angry just on the drive to work this morning. So why have cries of “that’s offensive” become so damn full of pretentious importance as of late?

Maybe we should ask that gay pride event in Scotland that banned drag queens because transgendered folks might be offended. Did you catch that? They banned drag queens because transgendered people “might” be offended, not because they were, but just because they might. Being offended is just a part of life, folks. And frankly, if you are offended by a drag queen, then maybe the problem is you and not drag queens. The same goes for those butt clenching morons who get offended when a woman pulls out a boob in public and feeds her hungry child. You’re offended? Oh well, I’m sure you will get over it. And those black folks who were so offended by the confederate flag in South Carolina ... oh wait, now that’s a bit different. Is it, you ask? Well, yes it is because it’s not offensive, it’s malicious.

Malicious, does that make a difference? You bet your sweet ass it does and here’s why. Malicious as defined by Google is “characterized by malice; intending or intended to do harm.” See, though a transgendered person (notice how I didn’t say 'tranny' in fear of offending someone) might be offended by a drag queen, they are not in danger of that queen causing them harm, unless of course they step on her fucking dress. Then it's all bets are off. And I’m betting the word “f**king” will get edited in this article because we might offend someone. But really, I think this is the line you have to cross in determining if a particular behavior or word or item should be banned or not allowed. 

The fact that someone or some group might be simply offended is not enough to eliminate it from everyone else. Yes, it may be insensitive and it may show the stupidity and small mindedness of the GOP ... oop,s I mean of the person spouting the offense. But if it’s not malicious then it shouldn’t be banned. Is the confederate flag offensive? Maybe it is, but even moreso, it’s malicious. After all it was a battleflag used by the side that fought and killed in an effort to continue enslaving a whole race of people whose only offense was being born a different color. It’s malicious in its use since then by the Ku Klux Klan and ignorant, backwoods, cousin marrying morons to taunt and intimidate black folks with the threat of harm to themselves and their families. 

So is it offensive then when some bible thumping, four-time divorced clerk in Texas says she thinks gay marriage is wrong. Yes, it’s offensive to me. But it is it malicious? No. But when she refuses to do her job as mandated by the Supreme Court it crosses the line of offensive into malicious territory. By taking away a person’s equal rights you are intending harm and that’s why I hope she finds herself in jail for this. 

So yeah, I’m offended every damn day, by religion, conservative politics, and coworkers who think they’re hatred for themselves should be directed at me. And will I post offensive remarks and jokes about the Pope and Mike Huckabee and that bitch in the cubicle next to me who doesn’t seem to realize that the whole office can hear her personal phone call to her therapist? You bet your ass I will. Will some people be offended? Sure they will. Do I care? Hell no I don’t because I’m not promoting a wish to kill them or break their knees or throw them in jail. Well, I might call my cousin Vito about that bitch in the cubicle next to mine. Anyway, it’s time to quit giving so much power to being offended. Lighten up folks, unclench and fumble a football once and a while.

Nice to See StevieB: Super Squishy Elle Shaped Sofa of Love

By StevieB

It is back. After years of banishment, I get to announce its return. The return of the Super-Squishy-Elle-Shaped Sofa of Love.

Back in my blogs from the 09-10 blogging season, I wrote a lot about having an "L" shaped sectional sofa that I loved to lounge upon during my free time. In 2010 the homosexual companion partner declared that the couch I loved, christened the Super Squishy Elle Shaped Sofa of love need to go away. Its replacement was a leather set that was not comfortable, was not fun, but was high style. Ever since saying good bye to my super squishy lover, I have had a hole in my heart.

That hole was filled last weekend. When The Mechanic and I brought home a new Super-Squishy-Elle-shaped Sofa. It was love a first sight. I proverbially slammed a champagne bottle against it bow and christened it the new Sofa of over delightful squishiness. By eating pad-thai upon its loveliness.

I would like to introduce to you... my new friend...



God bless her, and all that sail upon her. 

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