BANG. 45

I love you guys.. you know who you are. I spent the first night of my birthday weekend good and smashed. No not because I was turning 45.. just checked the mirror that painting in the attic is still doing it's job hahah! Nnnooooo!! I was happily buzzing along down the left turn lane past the row of parked traffic to my right, when suddenly Evil Birthday Wreckerman (EBW) who is in his huge assed OJ sinister rolling roadblock (Ford Bronco) decides to make a last second pit stop at the party store and hooks a left from the right lane in front of me.

Given the fact he has done so not 20 feet in front of me and I am at a good 30 mile an hour roll I nailed him good, even after having locked up my wheels tires burning all the way (My ABS has been out since my X tried killing me) I SO HATE the sound of two vehicles connecting. He hobbles off to his destination (the party store) and I grind my poor smashed Exploder to a halt behind him.. I got out - took one look at my truck and the best I could come up with was "What the FUCK were you thinking???!!!" His reply "Come an man, you know you were coming too fast" I'm like oh hell no.

I then did what any REALLY upset queer does, having just pulled the full coverage off his beloved bright red baby, sat down back against a lightpole and cried. At this point EBW is worried - "Are you alright man?" he was clearly feeling the weight of his evil misdeed.. (as if) We trade info while the cops are coming which I have to tell you in the Detroit burbs during rush hour is a lot like waiting for stupidity to be cured.

I get back in my crumpled chariot - which now makes an utterly dreadful racket due to the new location of the bumper.. wrapped snugly around the right front tire. Then the tears really pour. I know it is really dumb but I love my truck, maybe because like me it has been beaten like no other and crawled back from the edge of oblivion..(This thing had survived three rollovers) maybe because of the blood sweat and tears I had in it, reviving it to put it back on the road. Maybe it's because it was all I had left when I rolled away from my X, almost like it was forged just for that job. Maybe it's because every guy I have ever dated hates it.. it is apparently de-classe to drive domestic. Or it could be the reality that I really did not need this.

So I rolled it into a parking space facing the field across from it's normal spot - poor baby didn't do anything but I just could not handle looking at it. I then toddled over to the local "I have wrecked my truck and had a REALLY really bad day" place, and proceded to get completely blitzed on Long Island Iced Teas. Somewhere along the line I took my last valium, and then came home and started drunk dialing the sparkly people while drinking pucker fuckers. OK I called my crunch because really, who else would listen to a drunken homo cry in his pucker fuckers?

I woke up the next day looking positively scary - quick shower and dark glasses, off to face the last few days of 44 quietly, it was a big year.

I cut a deal on a used Range Rover through a friend of mine,although I won't get it till next month. Oh I am still fixing my baby.. I can't just let it go, not like this. But it will take time and money - and I can barter my painting services against the price of the Rover. Ironically he is the same one that sold me the Exploder.. Maybe I should have the Pope sprinkle it with holy water before I drive it? Yeah that'll work.

Straight guys have been saying strange things to me all week.

There has to be some atrological anomaly taking place right now. I am back at my friends shop as of Monday, bailing him out on a custom finish. His guys are really the coolest, all supposedly straight but his painter, a married twinkish guy of 26, flirts with me like no other. "I missed seeing your hot ass here all the time" "Scott you have to quit wearing those jeans I won't get anything done" These are things every straight guy says right? Seriously, straight guys really are SO GAY!

The next day, the subject of my birthday came up.. my buddy can never keep his mouth shut, his other painter tells me that the 20 year old porter thought I was 25, hahaha - give that boy a FAT raise! And glasses. Wierder still,last night at the gym, the new trainer comes up and gets on the elliptical next to mine and says "Hello and how is Mr. Pitt this evening?" Funny how life strokes your ego when you least expect it... and probably most need it. Although that last one got me very flustered, the only other place I have ever been hit with a line like that was online, having already been approached twice in public as a result of my online shenanigans - I blushed and waited for the other shoe to drop - it never did.

I've heard other bloggers write about being approached publicly, and I always wondered what my reaction would be, thought for a second last night I was about to find out... I don't think I handled it very well, he followed me from point to point through my workout and at one point I was so distracted I actually forgot what year Jaguar Satan just acquired. But hey my head didn't explode, and truthfully it doesn't matter. Some strengths I am building have nothing to do with the gym.

I am apparently also the master of disheveled dating.. I have managed to make dates with 2 actors, both hot, both sweet and both here at the same time. This was not supposed to happen - how the hell did I know they were both in the same production!Gah!

Then if all of this wasn't too much already for my feeble mind to keep up on, there is an affair of the heart brewing on the other side of the continent with sweet "J", who is trapped in the middle of nowhere, and "P" has been hitting me up as fast as I can dodge him. His timing is as usual flawless, he crooks his finger and I always come running.. not this time. Once again running before he can run from me.

Dear gawd, I am the runaway boyfriend.