Breakfast bites

Taking a slow morning today. Thank God it's Merdeka Day which is an off day for me - fortunately :) While others might be out marching in the hot sun celebrating our Independence, I'm taking my time today. Had my leisurely breakfast - my usual kopi o and chappati - and read the newspaper, from page to page! Since I usually gobble my breakfast down like a starving man at a buffet - barely digesting it I'm sure - that's definitely a nice change of pace. It's actually been a while since I've had such little luxuries.

Planning a small DVD fest this afternoon with a bunch of friends from work ( seriously, I need to expand my circle! ). Gonna watch the the entire second series of Nip/Tuck while nibbling on the tiramisu Preity Posh promised. Since she's a cook of some renown, we shall be in for a treat. Sigh! There goes my diet again!

Am I paranoid?

Be careful of what you wish for :)

Old as it may be, it's a really true adage. My home has always been filled with people - and on the occasional weekends and holidays, I have tons of relatives over. Since I've always been part of a large, boisterous family that occasionally drives me insane, I sometimes feel a need to be alone... just be by myself for a few days or so, away from all the craziness, all the mayhem and all the noise. It's only lately that I'm feeling the pinch since I've developed a certain paranoia.

Nothing strikes the idea of being painfully single home more than being alone in an empty house. And what makes it worse is living in a large house with several empty rooms all alone. Bought the place somewhere out in the suburbs and I'm in a relatively new neighbourhood - and obviously they are those who prowl the night ( or at least according to the urban legends told to me by my nosy neighbour - hey, everyone has one, right? ). Some nights I've literally stared at the ceiling for hours listening to the eerie sounds of the night. Even the smallest creak in the night.. the slightest bump on the wall wakes me up - and I reach for my trusty hockey stick - don' tbe shocked but I used to play hockey - by my bedside. Don't know what I intend to do with it but at least I'd be able to toss the hockey stick to the awaiting prowler and leap out of the window while he stares in astonishment.



I'm starting to feel like the naive lil bimbo/nymphette in every slasher flick keeping her eyes open for the nearest prowler - and yet waking ever so stupidly into every trap held out to her. Or you can imagine the gay version of a horror flick in Hellbent.

Am I paranoid?

Desperate Househusbands II

Ever wondered whether reality resembles make-believe or the other way around? Sometimes, that actually happens. Lately my life seems to bear some odd resemblance to the happenings on Wisteria Lane. None of my ny neighbours have been found with a gunshot wound and you'd be forgiven for thinking that I have been having wild, adulterous affairs with the hunky under-aged gardener - though that would been tempting certainly.

It has been quite an exhausting Sunday. Along with the usual weekend spring-cleaning, I weeded the tiny plot of land outside, baked a cheesecake, and actually painted the finishing touches on the guest bedroom cabinet. It came to me with a shudder that I actually bore some passing resemblance to the anal-retentive Bree van Der Kamp - which was actually the result I received from the Desperate Housewives quiz. It came to me as I stared at the picture-perfect dining table ( with the most amazing brass candlesticks I purchased from a lil Indian shop ) that I was possibly turning into a house-proud but possibly certifiably borderline psychotic househusband. :)

Definite signs that I need to go out and meet some guys. Lately my social life hasn't been roaring of course but I have made plans to go to the gym - snce I wouldn't be short of a gym partner for once. Not only do I get to lift weights, I also get to ogle Barry's big biceps which is an added bonus. Lately, my hormones have been on an upswing and apart from the occasional fleeting warm memory of Barry's biceps, I also have had some salacious thoughts about some of the guys I've met online.

All this - and I still have to keep my nose stuck in the books!

Boxers or briefs

One thing I should know is men's underwear. And not only because I obviously wear them... ( and certainly not because I've been in intimate situations with other guys! ) but because I've seen a whole lot of them in a state of undress. And before you get any unsavoury ideas, I meant seeing them in the changing rooms at the operation theatre. Thought about this as I wondered about a young guy's fetish for underwear :) I won't name names but you gotta know who you are.

Surprisingly, just a handful of the guys I see wear boxers at work actually. The guys I see wear all sorts though the majority of guys I know wear briefs. And there are some really sad specimens of briefs hanging about men's loins over here... with holes and stains... you get the general idea. I have also noticed something odd. For some inexplicable reason, the guys with the worst buils - think sagging manbreasts and bulging bellies - just seem to enjoy strutting about the changing room only in their briefs... is there some medical hypothesis for that?

Personally I swing.. :) Between boxers and briefs, depending on my mood that day. As the temperature in the theatre is kept at a chilly 15 C, I usually wear boxers at work. Honestly speaking though, I even have a really odd leather thong in my drawer - don't even ask! I've always been curious what your choice of underwear tells about you. Does choosing plain boxers really mean you're serious and conservative?

Kids on bikes

Since I'm still in post-call euphoria, I'm gonna rant about a certain pet peeve of mine. It actually has nothing to do with anyone I know personally. It has to do with everyone else. One of the most frequent cases that come in deal with underaged children on motorcyles... in all sorts of motor vehicle accidents. Arms and legs broken, ribs cracked.

Surely I know that kids aren't that easy to control - especially nowadays - and it wouldn't be easy trying to get them off their obsession with going around on the motorcycles. What can I say? Teenage boys ( withou a valid license, mind you! ) have a penchant for stealing off on bikes to go for a joyride - till they run straight into the nearest lamp pole. Hell, their feet can barely touch the pedal.

And that always drives me crazy. Perhaps it is time for the government to do something about it.

A lil less patience

The past week has been a tiring one - which is quite obvious if you've been tracking the posts and noticed my odd disappearances here and there. Difficult being a Chatty Cathy when I hardly have time to take a shower and have dinner :) For the past few days, I've been unwillingly tied up and chained to the ventilator, stuck there till the sadistic surgeons are finished with their onerous procedures. Came back really late for a few nights - all gassed out and sedated from the various anesthetic gases...

So tired today that I actually blew off poor Big Bicep Barry ( who surprisingly doesn't think I'm a pesky twerp and actually called me back ) when he asked me to the gym to help him workout. But I told him I'd see him there next week so who knows... :)

Still, being a lil groggy wasn't reason enough for me to abandon my hunky gardener. Managed an hour or two every evening, desperately trying to keep my eyes open to ogle the desperate men and I finally managed to crawl my way three episodes to the end. Certainly can't wait to see how the next season comes around and I'm so jealous you guys in the US will be able to catch the new season next month ( while we're still moving towards the climax over here ).

Temptations

It's a week of sweet little temptations...

So let's start with the more minor temptations I'm having at the moment. Like all well-meaning enablers, My ISO knows me far too well - and he knows how obsessed I'm getting with Desperate Housewives. I've been a good little boy and tried avoiding watching the entire series in one big gulp as I did all the other series I obsessed over ( yeah, that's me.. I don't have much patience and willpower when it comes to hot gardeners ). The man deliberately left an entire pirated season of the series on my sofa in plain sight... practically daring me to pick it up. He knew instinctively that I would fall.

Then the cell number still in my phone... it's practically daring me and I'm still far too chicken. I have sent several horribly persistent messages to poor Big Bicep Barry who probably thinks that I'm a irritating pest. As I tried chatting him up about his impressive gym build, he keeps sending me advice on bodybuilding instead when all i want to do is feel him up. Doesn't the fucking sod get it? Cute guys can be so dense sometimes... must be all that testosterone build-up that retards the nerve signals. So why am I wasting my time on this potentially straight guy ( and there are actually more of them on this planet ).. am I that bored?

Then there are the potentially tempting guys I've met online. Naming no names but there are a few I'd certainly love to do more than touch online :)

Making the moves

Believe me, it's easy enough to make the moves on a girl. So very easy to just chat up a young lady, flirt with her, give her a smile and an easy compliment. Well, it's easy for me anyway since there's not much pressure on my side anyway.

Definitely not that easy when it comes to making the moves on men for me. My tongue gets all tied-up, my heart starts to do the wild pitter-patter ( in regards to the hotness quotient of the hunk in question ) and I start sounding like the over-eager, brainless dimwit who drools on his shoes. Certainly not a welcome sight to endear myself to any future suitors.

Still I try my best.

And I did it again last night. Feeling absolutely remorseful over it though. I was at work at the hospital, you see, but it certainly wasn't a patient. It was thankfully enough a patient's employer since I wouldn't want to break my own personal rules regarding doctor-patient relationships. Easily thankful since the man had the most amazing build this side of the Indian Ocean - with the most awe-inspiring pecs shown to geat advantage by an Abercrombie shirt with the sleeves torn off - and crazy, overwhelming lust just short-circuited the logical part of my brain. I don't know what it was that made me overrule my own rules but I could certainly make a guess - the sight of the man's arms itself were quite enough to have me reconsider.

So I drooled stupidly while I babbled inconsistently to the hapless man ( who most likely thinks I'm a little insane - and would most probably turn out to be hopelessly straight ) and I somehow wrangled a number from Big Bicep Barry after being awfully, irritatingly persistent during the conversation. After all I've told him, I landed just short of asking him to my bed.

I am a crazy, forward slut.

Study updates

My weekly rant so if you've heard it before in numerous variations, you're welcome to skip down to my last blog :)

Remember that course I mentioned I was taking a while back? Well, damn, it's harder than I thought :) Going back to the world of relentless mugging isn't as easy as I thought it would be.

Years back as a medical student, I only had my books to think about - and very little else actually. Right now, I have a lot more balls to juggle about... my work ( and the inherent politics that gives me a headache ), my semblance of a social life ( and my near nonexistent dating life ) and now.. my studies! It simply doesn't help that the thought of pharmacology and physiology, the core of Anaesthesiology... puts me to sleep. Hell, I like the work but the theory is a complete sedative. Just reading the text would knock out a 300 pound man in seconds.. it's that dull and dry.

Work and my studies does put a crimp on my social life. It isn't easy making dates when I'm feeling groggy from work ( with all the anaesthetic gases floating happily about ) - or even worse, i have to prepare for a tutorial or a presentation of some sort. Still I need the occasional break! :) And the sight of a handsome smile across a dining table helps.

Chinese Opera

It's the 7th month on the Chinese lunar calendar - and that's a time for the wandering spirits to leave the netherworld to travel about to feasts held in their honour by their families. Feasts and celebrations are held to herald their return - along with the prerequisite entertainment. Just imagine Halloween and All Soul's Day - but for a whole month :)

A friend's e-mail - the Dashing Darrel - reminded me of the fact that I haven't been to a Chinese Opera in ages. Well, that's actually an exaggeration since the last time I went to one was about a year or two back. Back when I was a kid, I had a zany babysitter who was obsessed with operas and every Chinese festival would find me perched on a stool watching delightedly as the acrobats/actors dance their way across the stage. Dressed in their glittery, colourful costumes and their thick pan make-up ( far more elaborate than any wannabe drag queen ), they re-enact amazingly intricate storylines and plots, expressing a myriad of emotions with only a flick of their eyebrows or a twirl of their fingers.

These days of course, apart from paying attention to the convoluted script, I usually keep an ogling eye out for the sexy male actors. Trust me on this, they have the most amazing gymnast/acrobat builds ever since all that lifting, jumping and leaping around has to burn some calories... and though, they might hide it in their bulky, elaborate costumes.. there's always a backstage :) Just keep an eye on them when they come out for a cigarette break ( like my friend did ) and you just might be rewarded with some delicious eye candy.

Gotta find the time to go catch a few shows - in between playing around with my new laptop. Still trying to get a hang of the new tool :) Anyone with ideas on an easy to use graphic program? Just want to fiddle with some pics - kinda like what I did with my old Adobe Photoshop.

Love handles

Today I feel off the wagon... again! :) I can't help myself. My guilt's made even worse by Wingman Will's latest blog about hunky pan-asian Carl Ng... damn, that boy's abs could make me weep. He was on the front page of the newspaper pullout the other day but I didn't have time to drool since I was on-call.

Honestly, I don't think I've ever had abs like that :) The most I've come close to ( and that was years back ) is a deep etched line down my flat abdomen - certainly not the sculpted six-packs we all aspire to. Certainly my fault since I know I should have stayed away from the finger-lickin goodness offered by the Colonel. Compounded with the heavenly caffe mocha I took at Starbucks, the first shot of caffeine I've had for weeks...

I should be spanked. I have been bad.

Still I managed to squeeze myself into a thong. I figured since I was a buying one for Handsome Hui, I might as well get one for myself. Damn, I have got to lose some weight - maybe even get back the 30 inch waist I once had ( comfortably hanging on to a 32 right now, I proved it by buying a pair of preppy Dockers in that size... and it fits, dammit! ). All of us might outwardly decry the gay men's obsession with youth, good looks and the perfect abs but let's not fool ourselves, we all search for it - and let's face it, all the brains and wits in the world wouldn't be worth as much on the gay marriage mart as a delicious six-pack and a Chris Evans smile. Unfortunately, I would say.

Tell me. How do you guys stay away from burgers and fries? The delicious char kuay teow? I know my ISO maintains a horribly devilish regime that I simply can't emulate since it would be like cutting off my own arm but I shall start cutting down on some stuff. Definitely no snacks after 8, that's for sure!

Just a lil romance

If spring brings romance into the air, obviously the sparkling magic palls by late summer... a number of the girls I know have been in break-ups recently, including my wedding pact member, Graceless Grace and also Preity Posh.

Of the two, Preity Posh is the one who surprised me most when she broke up with her long-time boyfriend out of a sudden. She plays the role of a toughie but she has a soft heart that's easily squashed. Grace might be a great friend but I know her faults too well - one of them being a tendency to criticize just a bit too much so I can imagine how that must have pissed off her boyfriend. They are both incredibly different and yet the both of them cited a lack of romance as one of the reasons for the breakups which made me smile inwardly because... I know exactly what they feel.

Everyone I know would say I'm a simple, practical guy ( at least I think they would! ). A guy who talks straight and shoots from the hip without thinking. A guy who'd take books and ties for presents rather than the occasional rose and a note on the windshield. A guy who'd prefer chicken soup and a shoulder to cry on rather than fireworks and moonlit walks.

But they would be totally wrong. :)

Deep inside my conservative, no-nonsense exterior, I fear that I might be a closet sappy romantic. When the evening gets cool and dark, I play a lil jazz... a lil swing music. Just like in the old movies... I imagine that right guy coming along to sweep me off my feet to trip along the light fantastic ( I've always wanted to use that line! ). It's the problem with some of the dates I've been to. Perhaps I am looking for too much but I need a little magic. It doesn't have to be the perfect date - I'm certainly full of faults myself - and I can certainly live with the mundane and the usual grind... but every once in a while, I'd need the sunbursts and marble halls.

Yeah I know, lately, I've been kinda a sap.

A sap who buys thongs for straight guys apparently, since I'm going shopping tomorrow.

Screen husbands

Just a short note as I'm watching Desperate Housewives. Sure I could probably get the whole series and finish it but.. I love delayed gratification. I like it slow, steady, almost torturous with the occasional pulse of pleasure before the great big finish. I'm weird that way.

Tom Scavo is one of the husbands in Wisteria Lane but he doesn't appear all that much. Desperately working to keep up with the rest of the neighbourhood, he drops by at home rarely - just enough to give his harried wife, Lynette, a kiss before rushing out again... and yet I think he's one of the best husbands around ( certainly not perfect but he's the best, in comparison to the rest ).

I'm sure he's gonna turn out to have some scandalous, shocking secret - especially with all the wicked lil shadows in Wisteria Lane ) but so far, he looks delicious to me.

Sending messages

I actually had a weird bunch of SMSes yesterday - and surprisingly I wasn't the one to initiate the odd turn of conversation. At work yesterday, I started ranting about some horrible, frustrating mix-ups at the hospital ( starting with a disappearing doctor ) that left me with a pile of work. Actually left me running about the hospital picking up patients for pre-anaesthetic rounds - work that should have been left to a MIA doctor. Added to my referrals, it left me pretty pissed. And when I'm pissed, the hospital rumbles.



It began innocently with a rant to Handsome Hui. It wasn't too long however before the SMSes started getting extremely raunchy - through no fault of mine, I swear! - and I don't know how we ended up talking about Hui in a thong. Somehow we started discussing thongs and how he'd look in it, various types of men's underwear... Don't even ask how I managed to steer the conversation that way since I didn't exactly plan on it.

It left me with my rusty gay-dar rattling like crazy but I'm still unconvinced.

Straight men and babies

It's a popular adage but I've never actually had it proven to me till today. If you're a straight man and you want to garner female attention, it's easy enough. Go borrow a baby.

For the past few weekends I have actually been babysitting my baby niece, mostly on Sundays to give my brother and his wife some time off. Kinda like practice for when I get a kid of my own ( if ever! ). So if you don't see me on the occasional weekend, I'm probably chasing her all over my house.

She's a year and a half - and she's more than a handful, for all her petite size. Isn't it a wonder how kids can have so much energy in their little bodies? If I ran about aimlessly like her all day long, I'd be dead exhausted after ten minutes ( what can I say? I need an aim in life like running towards the Kenneth Cole Sale ) - but she can keep it up for hours literally! My niece and I have the occasional tussle during the night when I initiate a WWF throwdown with her while she protests vociferously about her regimented sleeping hours. Getting a baby to sleep without anaesthetics isn't as easy as it seems.

Since I still have to do my grocery shopping, I sometimes bring her along - all decked out in Osh Kosh. There are times when I pick a shirt just to match hers - and hell, we do look great. Holding her hand as she toddles along, I frequently garner quite a lot of female attention. I'm practically a babe magnet when my niece is in tow. Somehow or rather, females melt when they see a guy with a baby. Must be some instant hormonal changes triggering the maternal instinct turning them into cooing, giggling mothers-to-be. The misleading image of a nurturing, sensitive guy helps too, I guess.

Which is obviously the opposite of what I'm aiming to achieve. Somehow gay men immediately tag me as a breeder and automatically discount me. A hot straight guy might be desirable but somehow a hot straight dad is instantly hands-off for some reason :)

Hell, no wonder I can't get a normal date.

Techno-himbo II The Attack of the Clones

Stop the press! There shall be no moaning about the unavailability of single men in Malacca anymore... I've finally found where all the cute single guys have been hiding. Actually spent an hour this afternoon getting myself shoved and jostled against a bevy of hot, sweaty guys - sure most of them are probably not gay or even bicurious but hell, they make some pretty cute eye candy.

I'm obviously talking about the PC fair here in Malacca. Since I needed a pen-drive, I decided to make a trip to check out the bargains there. And what can I say, boys will be boys - and obviously the place was packed with them. Well, forget about the stereotypical techgeek with the thick glasses and the leaking pens... there are some techno-hotties over here, that's for sure.

Somehow during the trip I got talked into two pen-drives, some DVDs, an MP3 player and a broadband subscription. What can I say? A sexy salesman in a tight blue shirt ( showing off some pretty nifty pecs, I tell ya! The way those cute nips hardened, I would have given him my firstborn! ) can talk me into anything. Unfortunately I must have drooled all over him like a mentally challenged Neanderthal himbo with an oversexed drive - since...
a) I didn't understand half the bits he was blabbering about since I'm essentially a techno-himbo who can't handle anything vaguely mechanical
b) I was much too busy wondering whether I should bite into his left nipple - that actually seemed to be making overtures

But I believe the Cute Techno-hottie did mention something about whether my new laptop supports some thingamajig and whether it was capable of some whatcamaccalit.

One thing I know ( hell it sounds vaguely medical! ) is that I need to get a good anti-virus application for my new laptop. That's gonna be another chore - figuring out what to get and how to get it up :)... see why I need a macho techno-hottie for a boyfriend?

Bewitched?

As much as I'd love to metamorphose into the perfect househusband in khakis and a sexy lil apron, I certainly wouldn't want an imperfect husband like Darrin. And I do mean the husband Darrin in Bewitched. If the rest of you guys are like me and have been brought up with regular reruns of 1950s sitcoms, you'd know what I'm talking about ( not forgetting the recent, much less fascinating retool of the series Bewitched starring Nicole Kidman and Will Ferrell ).

Somehow I always saw Darrin as the helpless, dimwitted husband who continually tried to keep poor Samantha from showing her true colours - which is why I never actually liked him. Damned controlling bastard. Spellbinding Samantha would have done so much better to have wiggled her pretty lil nose, turned him into a frog and moved on to the next guy - perhaps some hunky tool-time neighbour?

Damn, the things i could do with some magic. I'd have turned Colin Farrell into Darrin instead of Will, that's for sure. I mean, come on, we needed some serious male eye candy there.

Unfortunately even practical magic - and some serious male eye candy - couldn't help one of my blogfriends with his problems. At least I can hope to be called his friend. For a young gay man, coming out has always been a real hurdle - and the biggest leap to take is the one when you finally confront yourself with your unconventional sexuality. It isn't easy finally staring at yourself in the mirror, and it's even harder when you find yourself disliking what you see there. Wasn't easy for me either and it took me a while to get where I am, actually loving what I see, warts and all, love handles and all :)

I might not be the sexiest guy who ever walked the earth but I'm fine the way I am ( that doesn't mean I don't hope to have the perfect abs! ). Gay, bi, straight... those are all plain words and it all doesn't matter actually. God, this is gonna sound so damned Oprah but it's what's inside that matters. I hope my friend gets to appreciate how beautiful he really is one day.

Surfer hair

I've mentioned some of the hare-brained stuff I do when I'm postcall. In the midst of being partially stoned, I usually resort to some of the oddest behaviour known to man. It was an exhausting call last night, I'd admit, barely slept with the pile of laparotomies coming in and a handful of craniotomies.

My hair was growing a tad too long and I decided to drop by the neighbourhood salon for a cut. That was the original plan, just something high and tight that would be simple and manageable. In a fit of insanity ( no doubt after getting inspiration from the various style magazines ), I had my hair tinted and dyed. The most amazing thing. Lulled by the monotonous music and the chatter of the hairdresser, I just blanked out for a moment under the scissors and woke up dyed blond! It's not the first time I've done so but I haven't had my whole head coloured before!

So here I am, looking vaguely like a stoned surfer dude - minus the tan. Who are we kidding here? And also minus the tight abs.

Blue-collar hunks

Does an unglamorous job preclude romance? Read this interesting article today about women in Singapore who shun men with unglamorous jobs. It left me thinking - rather guiltily, I might add - about some of the things I have posted over here. Let me reiterate.

Don't get me wrong. :) I've talked about my plans of joining the Desperate Housewives club to slave over a stove, agonize over the perfect cushions and chase dirty, diapered babies. Hell, it's always been a quirky lil dream of mine. One would expect me to be in search of a sinfully wealthy man who'd be able to give me all that ( and I am, but let's not talk about that :) ). That would all be great of course but till Prince Charming drives over in his Lexus ( I wish! ), I am content to work my own wages and pay for my own bread ( with my woefully meagre wages ), thank you very much.

Sitting around staring at the monitor all day ( the ECG, the pulse oximeter, the capnograph and all that jazz ) I realized that I don't need a man in a glamorous job. It doesn't really matter all that much to me. One of my best friends is a guy with an amazing brain - and a glamorous job but I wouldn't date him. God, it would be impossible living with a man who can never concede his mistakes. It would drive me crazy.

Sure... I want a man with a brain, not a brainless himbo but he certainly wouldn't need to be a genius. I want him to connect to me emotionally, mentally and physically. The job description doesn't really bother me. So even if he was a dispossessed karung guni man, I'd love him, warts and all. He doesn't need to resemble Chris Evans ( though it would be a major plus ), he wouldn't need to be a Nobel Prize winner...

Just as long as he loves me :)

God, I can be such a hopeless, dithering romantic. What a sap!

Wedding pacts

A few months back, I actually had a proposal of sorts from a girl. Way back when I was actually contemplating the straight and narrow life ( yeah, I actually did think of that! ) after one or two dissastisfying run-ins with guys of a similar nature, I actually seriously considered starting something with her. Since I had no strong feelings for any girl that I knew, I figured I might as well try with Graceless Grace, one of my oldest friends since I knew her best. That obviously didn't turn out as well as I'd planned, since I have this weird but yet unsubstantiated feeling that she might have feelings for me in return.



However when I learned that Grace already had a new boyfriend a few weeks ago, I was pleased for her - and more than a little relieved since it released me from the wedding pact I stupidly made with her. Straight-acting I might be but I wouldn't want to live the straight life forever. I must have spoken too soon since during dinner this evening, she sobbed all over my shoulders with tales of her boyfriend's iniquities. Heartbroken over the fact that another one of her affairs has turned out badly, she turned her heart-shaped face to me and named the terms of our unholy pact again.

Unable to bear my ongoing perfidy, I blurted out that I'd been in a failed relationship before ( you know the one I'm talking about! ) and I didn't have any intentions of starting something new on a rebound ( hell, that's a lie, I just didn't want to start a relationship with her! ). Before I could leap out of the closet on her, she sidestepped that odd remark of mine and started blubbering over her problems again.

I dragged the conversation kicking and screaming back to the door of the closet, tried to open it and yet again she drew back. I talked again and again about the idiot ISO and our time together and she just blanked out. Time and again just as I was about blurt out the fact that I'm gay, she turned to something else and slammed the door on my personal closet.

Perhaps she already knows of my pink passport! Is she in denial?

......

After reading Kitjar's latest post on the gay happenings at the gym, I have been inspired to lift weights again. My last trip would have been devoid of hunky boys flexing biceps - well if my ISO hadn't been there yelling at me ( he calls it giving moral support ) in his shorts. The latest stories about the wild and woolly happenings at Fitness First have given me hope yet again, perhaps the boys in Malacca have been given similar inspiration.

Damn, where do I get my hand on a chunk of that pie?

A guy's fetish

Straight guys all have their thing whether they have a preference for bubbly blondes or brainy brunettes, whether they lean more towards the trembling T or the awe-inspiring A. Everyone has their own likes and dislikes.

Lately after that wicked dream I had a month back - and the following odd ( if not painfully psychotic ) revelation I made about a patient's ass, I've come to the conclusion that I'm actually an ass man. It's actually true. I might rave about a guy's smile, a guy's eyes, a guy's arms... but I always look at the ass. Just to make sure that I'd come to the right conclusion, I confirmed it with my ISO who nodded emphatically.

Armed with that knowledge, I kept my eyes peeled for sexy bubblebutts all evening when I went out for a drive - and confirmed my hypothesis. Don't know what it is but I always get a quick rise - and a tingle when I look at a cute ass. :) Just one of those crazy random observations that I just thought about today.

Techno-himbo

Seriously that's what I am. A Techno-Himbo.

I've had the same laptop for several years now and I've been looking to get a new one. It's an age-old story that has been repeated time and again... It's time for a change after all, to bring in the new model and throw away the reliable, trustworthy - but slightly wrinkly, cellulite-and-porn laden old laptop.

Tentatively I broached this request to my ISO - and he started blabbering some mumbo-jumbo about gigabytes, hertz and pixels. All I could see was his cute lips moving and wondering if he would shut the hell up if I were to kiss him. I admit it, I'm an utter himbo when it comes to computers. Sure, word processing and spreadsheets are fine sine anyone with half a brain should be able to come up with something but when it comes to technospeak, I am utterly lost.

That wasn't the worst of it. When he heard that I still subscribe to a dial-up connection, I think he almost suffered a stroke there and then. Hell, if I'd known that was what it would take to kill him, I would have told him years back. Since my home's pretty far out in the suburbs, I haven't had the choice of broadband till recently - and I have been far too complacent to set it up.

So right now I have a choice between Dell and perhaps Acer... any ideas?

Missing in Action

For those who have been wondering where I am, never fear. I have not been murdered by my ISO ( or hiding from the authorities after burying his body under my pool ) after having him read the horrifying secrets of my blog. He still hasn't found where my blog is, I think - and hopefully never will. Since work has become a chore - and I need a break, I have actually taken a short sabbatical to stare at the sun, the sand and the sea. Not to mention the hot cabana boys.

Went over to a beach hotel in Port Dickson with a group of old classmates. My ISO offered to accompany me actually and so far we've managed to keep from killing each other. No falling onto couches or quick gropes in the dark though since we're keeping it strictly platonic.

Unfortunately I feel totally isolated on the beach - so far away from my Internet connection. My laptop's been left behind ( I think it's one of my ISO's diabolical plans!! ) so I'm left with a cranky lil machine in the nearest cybershack - and I do mean shack! - and a dodgy mouse who seems to veer left when I want to go right ( some guys just can't take instruction! ).

BTW, has anyone seen how hot this country singer looks? Look I know most male country singers look hot - since a cowboy hat and boots turns every other regular guy into a studly mass of muscle and testosterone. I don't know how Keith Urban sounds like ( hell, he could screech like a cockatoo for all I know ) but hell, he looks hot! Doesn't anyone want to toss him on the floor and stick a tongue down to his tonsils ( or is it just me and the fact that I haven't had some sweet lovin' in several months! :) ). Hope he sings half as good as he looks though!

Coming out II

I mentioned a while ago, when I first started this blog, that coming out is a life-long process. In a world where homosexuality is seen as an aberration ( or even worse as a blasphemous, earth-shattering, morals-degrading sin ), all of us are judged to be straight till proven otherwise - or till we voluntarily shove ourselves out of the closet.

I remember being back in school, puzzling over my inexplicable attraction to my brutish classmates as they attained puberty and started developing awe-inspiring pecs ( they used to be so gross and disgustingly crude - and suddenly, I'm drooling over them? Gotta admit it's weird. :) ). Feeling all hot and tingly in the changing room as I tried my best not to stare a moment too long over a particularly delectable piece of ass. Coming out to myself certainly wasn't a painful process but it was a difficult time. It isn't easy throwing away a lifetime's worth of convention to settle for something utterly unprecedented and ...taboo, especially in a right-wing, conservative corner of the world like Malaysia.

So, for all those guys taking their time to search for themselves, take your time. Everyone finds their own groove in their own damned time. It's your life. :)

One guy who never had much problem with his coming out - well, not much from what I saw, was my ISO. He just... turned gay all of a sudden when I wasn't looking. Just a few moments in the past when I turned my back on him and when I turned around, he was... well, we were falling down onto the couch but that's another story altogether. ;) An evil gay lawyer made me realize that my blog might not be as private as I think it is so I decided to come clean. Somewhat. So I told him about my blog - but left out the address ( silly me! ), and he just smiled.

Not sure what that means but in case my ISO's reading this - and maintaining his silence like the evil lurker that he is, I'm gonna say that he's a nice man who buys me good dinners occasionally. :) And hell, I'm sticking to that story!