Technology Advancing

My cell phone was dying.  Not completely gone, but “…who…just when he seemed about to recover, felt the icy hand of death upon him.”*

Instead of just getting the basic dial-a-number-and-talk phone, I made a big (for me) step.

I have now been iSsimilated.

Yep, bought an iPhone.  Didn’t want to go that way. Partly because of the cost, but mostly the fear of becoming overly reliant on being constantly connected…v-, e-, and i-.

the beast in hand

I’m enjoying the iPhone.  It does have issues.  For example, the phone microphone is too good and picks up too much ambient background noise, making it hard for whomever I’m having a conversation with to hear me well…okay, especially since I call from noisy bars.  But, overall, it’s a wealth of information and capabilities that I still have not adequately tapped.

I’ve discovered and frequent the iPhone App store.  Here you can find applications galore to do just about anything you want (there’s another post coming on just that as I describe a recent and intriguing find).  Most of the applications charge a fee for downloading, but many are free.

Being the adolescent boy in a man’s body (pretty true of most of us guys), early downloads included the “Atomic Fart” noise maker, the “More Cowbell” app, and a game or two.

I’m turning into the over-reliant “Stepford iPhone Owner”.

I’ve become ‘that guy’ is used to shake my head at.  The one who was always within reach of the phone and always doing the internet searches when someone has a random question (a bane to bars running those trivia games.  How do you keep the game fair when the answers are (fast) key clicks from knowing?).

But there is also power and comfort in it.  That information at my finger tips is power.  I’m able to check e-mail from anywhere.  I can ping the internet.

Okay…I guess I’m not kicking and screaming that much on my way into the 21st century…

More to come on this!

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*Bonus points for sourcing that one – – – WITHOUT using the interweb.

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Masquerage 2009

Yay!  It’s that time of year again.  Masquerage was last night!

Last year I had a couple posts (here, here, and here) on a very fun evening of costume wearing and cross dressing, all for a good benefit — AIDS research.  Masquerage  raises lots of funds for this research, which still impacts way too many people.  And they raise money while still having a great time.

Last year, some of our primary crew of party goers were unavailable (flimsy excuses like vacationing on another continent or taking care of sick kids or other trivial reasons like that).  This year, bolstered by a few new friends, we had a great party of 7 folks going to the benefit.

This year’s theme for the party was “1930’s Circus”.

We spent the last couple of months coming up with costume ideas.  My best friend and I decided that it would be very cool to go as the Lion Tamer (me) and the Untameable Lioness (she).  Others went as the Ringmaster, the Trapeze Artiste, and the Fortune Teller.  Random costumes filled out the remainder (actually, the only requirement for attending is that you have some sort of mask on – – either a real mask or a painted one;  these could be as detailed or simple as you wished).

The event was in a different venue this year, but was just as sassy and exciting as last year.  Highly empowered by a pre-party at my friend’s house where, besides drinking heavily*, we did our final costuming and mask painting.

"Keep Your Eyes Closed!"

Popping glow sticks on the ride over, we found clever places to put them (my friend, for example, stuffing a few down her cleavage to glow through her top).

And once again, the event was a wonder of myriad costumes and people.  Not all stuck with the “1930’s Circus” theme (one glaring example being the two gentlemen who dressed up as Transformers), but there were costumes galore for viewing pleasure.  Some more pleasurable than others, revealing a bit more than what you’d expect from the average Halloween costume.

It was a tremendous party.  The drag queen troupe was there and they arranged for several side shows for the stage (the knife thrower…the contortionist…dancers between acts…etc.).

Gives me frisky ideas

Ouch...Eye Candy Hurts

I enjoyed playing the role of Lion Tamer, making free use of a riding crop I brought along (don’t ask) and having fun dragging her from place to place on a leash (yeah, I know that’s not really the way they did it in the Circus…but it had a kinky air to it that sort of thrilled me).  Found it amusing that, despite the fact she’s a grown woman and not really a lioness, I felt I couldn’t leave (to get more drinks or hit the little lion tamer’s room) without handing off the leash to one of the other party folks…almost like I had to make sure she was under control at all times.

here kitty, kitty, kitty...

The mustache came off quickly…could NOT drink with that sucker on and I was not willing to give that much to the art.

Food and drink fueled an evening of dancing and just plain fun.

Highlights of the evening included my Lioness borrowing my riding crop to whip a clown, the dancers who entertained between acts, and being stopped numerous times to get our picture taken.  That latter included folks from the local paper who posted us on their website.

Heading back, happily, well after midnight, it was clear that the evening was a hit with all of us, designated driver included.

I’m already jazzed for next year’s event.

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*Worry not as we got another of our theater friends to be the designated driver.

Skin Deep

Wow… there she was.  Petite.  Toned.  Shapely.  Very Cute.

I was thinking that this was going to be fun.

I am afflicted with a mild case of sinistrobipedalism – – two left feet – – when it comes to dancing.  However, I try and not let that stop me from actually getting out on the dance floor.  Indeed, I look for opportunities to learn to overcome that problem.  (okay, I’m not really *that* bad).

A while back, my dear friend found just such an opportunity in a local offering of Latin dance lessons and, bravely, agreed to go with me as dance partner.  The flyer said we’d learn the ‘standard’ Latin dance steps – salsa, cumbia, bachata, cha-cha…

We arrived to find a small-ish class with a variety of people, to include one very cool dad who brought his just-barely-teenager daughter.

Excited for this adventure and  learning something new (plus expecting to get a bit of aerobic exercise in the process), I was even more jazzed when the instructor arrived.  She was that babe I referred to leading off this post.  Hot, Puerto Rican with a cute little Latin accent.  Eyebrows a-wiggling, we started the lessons.

…at a very high speed.  I’m not talking about the tempo of the music, but rather the speed at which the instructor was teaching the steps.  Fast.  Too fast.  Okay, to be fair, there were a couple overachievers who were getting the steps right away.  But the majority of us were left in the dust as she showed us a step, let us practice a couple times, then charged off to the next step with a terse, “Okay?  Good.  Let’s move on!”, without even asking if we felt comfortable knowing the step.

I was getting frustrated.  This wasn’t as fun as I’d originally thought.  Now, I was getting good aerobic exercise.  But felt I wasn’t really learning much.

When she started teaching us intricate arm weaves to go with the steps…and most of us were even more lost…she started to get very impatient with us.  Almost like it was a race to get all the steps in, whether we knew them or not.  And we rookies were holding her up.

I was starting to not like her quite so much.

Then, the last straw…

The young teenager?  She was getting frustrated too.  She started taking longer breaks (where, bless her heart, she was actually doing homework…and they say kids today aren’t good…).

The dance instructor bitch (did I slip in that extra qualifier? Hmmm… [grin]) called the young girl out.  Loudly.  Publicly.  With a very chastising tone not necessary at all, she chided the young girl for not dancing.  Now, I’m sure you remember that awkward early teen time in your life and how the littlest slight can be devastating to the ego.

So… when the instructor did this?  It was like a switch was toggled off in my head…okay, both heads.

This spicy, good-looking woman became suddenly – and irrevocably – very unattractive to me.

Beauty is, indeed, skin deep.

…and the ugly inside can make the beauty outside a moot point.

Banana Hammock Friday

Well, I did it…caved in to pressure.

When I first started blogging, I found the delicious Nursemyra and her Friday Corsetry.  Not thinking (well, I am a guy, right?), I made an offhand comment about how maybe I should start a Banana Hammock Friday.

I got demands from both sides of this continent, plus another three continents chiming in, to “put up or shut up” (so to speak).

They wanted to see GnuKid’s banana hammock.

Those demands continued.  Some vociferously, some slyly, but continuing nonetheless.

So, empowered by a bit of beer, I herewith offer my first…and likely last…Banana Hammock Friday.

I hope you’re happy…

What a happy banana and his boys…

(this IS what you meant, right?)

Wishful Thinking

Yesterday I told the story about running over a rabbit while driving to go for a bike ride.  And my faithful reader(s?) will recall that my friend and I agreed to return a different route in order to avoid seeing the results of that tragedy.  Gruesome or otherwise, I really didn’t want to see what I had a hand in (stupidity of the rabbit being in the middle of the road as a major contributor aside).

However, the next day, there we were heading over to do some more exercise.  And, forgetting the events of the prior day, headed over the same road.  We both cringed as we realized simultaneously that we would be witness to road kill of our doing.*

As we neared the scene of the crime, we didn’t see a corpse.  Now, the Wilds of Ohio has plenty of road kill and the state actually does clean it up.  But, like any bureaucracy, takes its own damn good time in doing so.  A day later and they’ve already cleared the corpse?  Not likely…

So, we started to wonder…I did hit the little guy, but did I just stun him?  Did  he actually listen attentively in bun bun school when they were showing the “Roads of Death” film in Rabbit Safety 101?  You know, the part where they urge all rabbits in a similar situation to “Stop, Drop, and Roll”?

Friend:  “I’m sure he just was dazed!”

GnuKid:  “Yes, I’m sure of it.  He likely just had his fuzzy little ears knicked up a bit.”

Friend:  “Yes, that’s it.  He likely got up, brushed himself off, hopped on his merry way, and is, even now, happily making new bunnies…”

GnuKid:  “…with tattered ears.”

Our wishful thinking was brought to an abrupt end when we realized we were NOT at the scene of the accident.  Driving around the next bend, there was a furry, lifeless, gray corpse on the side of the road.

Shit….shit….shiiiiiiittttttt…..

But part of me is still hopeful…maybe that was some poor guy’s toupee that blew off his head while driving a convertible…

okay, but a little more gray than this...

…and bun bun is, even now, doing what rabbits do best…

bunny sex FAIL

Yeah…wishful thinking…

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*Notice how I’ve cleverly assigned some of the blame to her?  “…our doing.”?  Makes me feel less guilty.

Driving PSA

I’m a soft hearted guy.  I reminded myself of that fact this past weekend.

I’ve been trying to lose a few unwanted pounds to regain a more studly figure.  My best friend and I are pretty well matched in exercising*, so we bike or run/walk together on weekends and any time during the week work will allow.

I will typically drive over to her place and load up her bike on the car, then head off to the local bike trail***.

Living out in the country (-ish), we see lots of critters on the short drive there, but have never had a ‘run in’ with them.

…until that day…

Coming up over a rise and around a corner, there was a bunny right in the middle of my lane.  ACK!!

obviously, credited to fotolia

Public Service Announcement:  You should never swerve to avoid hitting an animal in the road.  It could be detrimental to your health.  Brake the vehicle as best possible and just hope the critter gets out of the way.

Of course, despite foreknowledge of  that PSA, my gut reaction was to swerve.  But, I conquered that urge in a millisecond and kept going straight…

…right over the poor little rabbit.

I was hoping he hunkered down and the car would just pass over him, but the bass “Wump!” underneath my feet belied that wish.

Before I could even react to that fact, a car careened past me in the opposite lane.  If I HAD swerved?  It would have been much noisier – – – and painful for us – – – than a mere “Wump!”

My friend thanked me for not swerving and comforted me as I was now grumpily saying,  “Aw, shit…shit…shiiiiiitttttt…”.

By mutual agreement, we decided to drive home a separate route to avoid seeing the poor little critter.

It’s just a little rodent, but it still made me sad.  Wah.

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*…well, in most things.  She can kick my butt anytime she wants on doing stomach crunches and maybe even pushups**.  She’s been making that a standard evening routine…whereas my standard evening routine typically includes nothing more exerting than scratching and belching on the couch.

**This is a good thing.  Even typing that she can kick my butt has fired me up with a desire to change my evening habits and actually get my sorry ass on the floor to do a few exercises.  Let a girl kick my butt?  Harumph!

***The Wilds of Ohio have a most excellent network of bike trails.  The old train lines that used to run from town to town were bought by the state and converted into paved bike trails.  Yep, other states have done the same.