Archive for October, 2013

That Was Quick

Mike took delivery of his new BMW 4 series coupe last Thursday. It was white with a red leather interior. Mike didn’t like the $800 a month payment so he sold the car yesterday for a small profit. His new E class will be here in a few weeks. In the meantime, he’s been driving his new Honda Ridgeline. Mike said he didn’t really want to have three car payments. It’s a good thing he’s an auto broker.

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From Lame to Wild

I stayed out way too late on Saturday night. The night started out at a lame costume party attended by a number of Social Security eligible white men with partners of several different races in their twenties. Most of the young partners were in search of action on the side. One friend, who is older than me, wore an extremely skimpy costume that only succeed in making him look desperate for attention. He became upset when only women and fat guys thought he looked hot. Sometimes it’s better to leave some things to the imagination. Another friend dressed as a California highway patrolman. He was popular all night attracting admirers everywhere we went. This only aggravated the skimpily dressed friend because he is used to getting a lot of attention. I dressed as fifty shades of gray with the help of paint chips from Home Depot and a few other accessories.

A second stop was made at a pre-bar house party hosted by older/younger partners. Extremely strong drinks were served. The party was mostly uneventful, except for when the younger partner tried to blow the California highway patrolman in the lower level media room while his older partner was tending bar upsatairs.

The highway patrolman and I went to the Wrangler to be around men in our age group while the skimpily dressed friend headed to Tracks in search of young meat. The Wrangler was fun but we soon moved on to the Eagle where a number of men were wearing wrestling singlets or simply jock straps. Things soon started to get out of control. There’s something about Halloween costumes that allow people drop their inhibitions and, at times, their pants.

Not wanting to see the lights go on at last call, the highway patrolman and I headed home. It was a long night that left me feeling lacking on Sunday. After sleeping in, I ran a few errands, blew off the gym, took a nap and turned down an invitation from Mike to go to beer bust.

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The $5 Donut

Tom and Sheila took me to the Cherry Creek Farmer’s Market this morning to get empanadas, breakfast burritos and donuts. Then it was back to their house for coffee and breakfast. Tom has a special coffee concoction he prepares that includes two types of coffee beans, cocoa, cinnamon and frothy milk. He serves the coffee in a cup the size of Montana. It was probably to best cup of coffee I ever had. The donuts were half croissant/half donut. The donut was good but I don’t think it was worth $5. Yes, $5 for one donut. Everything is more expensive in Cherry Creek. Even the donuts.

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Thursday Night Out

I met up with Carlos for a workout yesterday afternoon after work. When I got home from the gym I found I had time for short run around the neighborhood before having dinner at Tom and Sheila’s. Sheila had picked up lobsters at the fish monger so I knew diner would be calorie-laden treat. It was a cool afternoon but it felt good to be outside. The run gave me one last chance to enjoy the post-peak fall colors. After my run, I had plenty of time to shower and change clothes before walking next door for dinner to celebrate the end of construction. I popped a couple of Advils to ward off muscle cramping before leaving the house with a bottle of wine I picked up on the way home the gym. Ferdinand followed me over to Tom and Sheila’s house. He got a warm reception from Deb and Jessie who had just pulled into the driveway.

Tom and Sheila’s house looked great. The walls were expertly patched. It was hard to believe that almost every wall in their house had been torn apart for the pipe replacement. Sheila chose a sophisticated gray and cream color palate which accents their art and furnishings.

I was relieved that I didn’t have to see the lobsters meet their death. It was a tasty, but rich, dinner. Dessert was blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream. After dinner we adjourned to the family room for after-dinner drinks and conversation. I stuck with water since I had to get up early for work. The night ended early. Deb, Jesse and I left together. Ferdinand was waiting in the side yard for me. We walked home together with his tail high in the air with a slight curve.

I was having trouble getting to sleep with a stomach full of food. Most week nights I’m finished with dinner by seven. I got up and took an Ambien to help me drift off to sleep. That probably explains why I had a hard time getting started this morning. I’m hoping to take a nap before meeting up with Fritz for the final Friday event at the art museum tonight.

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What To Wear?

Sam invited me to go to a Halloween party on Saturday night thrown by an organization of gay professionals. Sam has decided to dress up as a pharaoh. He bought an Egyptian collar from the gift shop in the history museum and is reusing arm bands from the Roman gladiator costume he wore last year. Of course he will be shirtless. Sam is trying to come up with some sort of skimpy bottom so he can show off his muscular legs. I need to find a costume, or at the very least, some type of mask. Whatever I decide on, it will surely include a shirt and pants.

Update: Guess who is trying to lose five pounds by Saturday night?

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On The Move

After the company closed the building in the southern suburbs, most of the employees who moved to the north campus got fed up with the hellacious commute and started working from home. Now that the recent downsizing has been completed there is a surplus of office space. Half of the building is now empty. The company was looking for a tenant to sublease part of the building, but instead, accepted an offer to lease the whole building. The building has to be vacated sometime next year. The hunt is on for a new location for the remaining employees. Let’s see if the private-equity owners can pick a location that is inconvenient for the remaining workers.

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Pastry Chef Needs A Lift

Once again I found myself without plans on Saturday night. After throwing together a quick dinner of mahi mahi en papillote (just a fancy French way of describing steaming fish and veggies in parchment paper) with quinoa, I decided to look for cheaper flights to Ft. Lauderdale. Airfares were even higher than when I checked earlier in the week. I decided to see if I could use miles. I logged on to the United site and was surprised to find out I had 195,000 miles. I was even more surprised to score flights with only a $10.00 fee.

I emailed R & H with my itinerary. I requested they dispatch a car to pick up their pastry chef on the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I’ll be baking the desserts for their Thanksgiving dinner. I’m sure I’ll also assist R with the rest of the dinner as his sous chef. The only thing left to do is find a place to board Ferdinand.

I spent the rest of the night watching Stars in Shorts on demand before climbing into bed with a stack of November Bon Appétit and Food and Wine magazines from the last few years. After dog-earing a number of potential Thanksgiving dessert recipes I turned out the light and headed to dreamland with Ferdinand curled up beside me.

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False Alarm

Four weeks ago my mother’s oncologist informed her that the most recent scan showed an abdominal aortic aneurysm. She was referred to a surgeon but had to wait a month for an appointment.

My parents don’t own a computer so my mother checked out some medical books from the local library. Her research on abdominal aortic aneurysms revealed a serious and often fatal condition. My mother has been a nervous wreck for weeks.

My brother accompanied my parents to the surgeon’s appointment yesterday, armed with a list of questions provided by his wife, who is a nurse. The surgeon could not understand why mother was there. The enlargement of the abdominal aorta was insignificant and there was no need for surgery. My mother should not have been diagnosed with an abdominal aortic aneurysm.

My mother’s fear of dying has turned into rage. She’s planning on giving her oncologist and earful at her next appointment. My mother has a vicious tongue. I’m sure she’s going to let him have it.

When I talked to my mother last night I knew she was feeling better. She was laughing while being passive aggressive and manipulative while throwing my sister under the bus for not calling for two months. The old mom was back and up to her old tricks.

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Updates 10/17/13

Sheila sent over a container of vegetarian lasagna on Sunday as a thank you for the guava-cream cheese pastries I sent over during their plumbing crisis. The lasagna was tasty meal when I got home from beer bust on Sunday night. The plumbing repair work is in the final stages.

Mike ordered the new 428i BMW. It’s sitting on freight train somewhere outside of Denver waiting for repairs to a flood damaged railroad bridge to be completed. He’s also ordered an E350 convertible and a Honda Pilot. He couldn’t make up his mind so he ordered all three. He’ll keep one and sell the other two.

Trish rented a house in a small town in New Mexico for two weeks. She left on Monday. She plans on writing, hiking and sketching on her retreat.

Cindi is back from helping her mom recover from knee replacement surgery. She leaves tomorrow for a trip to the Grand Tetons with the boyfriend.

My mother has an appointment with a surgeon today for what will probably be a death sentence. I don’t think she is a viable candidate for surgery given her poor health and age. I’m expecting a call from her later today with sad news.

R & H invited me to Ft. Lauderdale for Thanksgiving. Airfares are a lot higher this year. The trip may be too expensive given my rapidly approaching new financial reality. I’d better start looking for a back-up plan.

I’ve thought about getting a housemate when K moves out. Studio apartments rents now average $1,000 in the city. Mike thinks I could easily get $800 – 900 given the location and neighborhood. I’ve never had a roommate who wasn’t a boyfriend or partner. It may not be worth giving up my privacy.

That’s all for now.

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Crossdressing Hunter?

Cindi is back on the ranch in Montana helping her mom recover from knee replacement surgery. She sends me this text yesterday:

Dirty bloodstained Carhartt pants and jacket with a Gucci handbag. So wish I could had got a photo for you.

I can’t wait to get the details. Cindi doesn’t wear Carhartt and doesn’t have a Gucci handbag. I wonder if her brother, the professional hunter, who wears nothing but Carhartt, has started cross dressing.

Update: Cindi saw a young woman at the convenience store in town get out of an Escalade wearing the bloody Carhartt and carrying a Gucci handbag. There was a dead dear strapped to the top of the Escalade.

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