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11:04 a.m. - 2002-11-13 Today I had to go do a service call that entailed changing a defective panel on a door. I have never done this particular fix before, and thus expected to encounter many a problem thanks to the wood gods being the kind of gods that love for you to learn from your mistakes. I made mistakes, but in each case the problem that could have arisen from my lack of experience was by sheer luck and good fortune avoided. Keep in mind that when hanging a door, a sixteenth of an inch discrepancy any direction plausible in our three dimensions will cause grief worthy of cuss and swear, but today I was smiled upon and rewarded for something good I did when I was just a wee lad or some shit. Consequently I am home already. Now then. I am getting just as bored with myself and my diary redundancy problem as all of you are. How to fix it? I have had interesting experiences in my life that gave me perspective to write about and stories to tell. Most of these have come from being in unusual situations, or just in a position to observe enough people by volume that shit will unfold to be stored in the ol think piece for later. But here is the thing, every day to day experience I have at work can be filed away as plenty uninteresting (not unlike my little door story above). So what is the answer? Yep! Moonlighting as a stripper for a male revue! I am thinking about it is all. See, the thing of it is, I am way past being scared that I am gay, in fact, like I have said before, it would probably work out quite well for me if I was. The simple truth remains though, I have no desire to smooch a man, and smooching young bean gets me hot and bothered as a motherfucker. That is all there is to it I believe. Men are a bunch of hairy smelly jerks. Women are soft and nice and vagina owning. No contest. So, if gay men want to pay me to wiggle my bare ass around in front of them, who am I to get in their way? I�m seriously considering it. Updates forthcoming.
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