How many gasoline cans constitutes anal retentivity?
(the update to how many angels can dance on the head of a pin)

Yesterday was initially an exercise in frustration. Since New Year's, I have been running into roadblocks outside my control that have pushed closing dates back. In my reality, closing dates = income. About 1:30 in the afternoon, my friend James started calling me - he sounded tense. Seems that he had rented a U-Haul to move some furniture, and had run out of diesel.

Funny, but I had just that morning moved one of my red, plastic gasoline containers from the pantry (don't ask) to the bathroom cabinet (I said - don't ask.) I was delighted with James' need, because a.) it was a valid reason to leave the office, and b.) it gave me a reason to poison one of my gasoline containers with diesel, and thereby get rid of it, leaving me with one.

So, I dashed out of the office, ran home, grabbed one gasoline container from the bathroom (now, quit it. I can see you over there thinking about asking, and we covered that.) Popped into the car and drove over to the stranded James and his BF Bassem. As I was driving, I thought .. "Don't I have a gasoline can in the trunk of the car?"

Yes, I did. So, I had THREE gasoline containers -

Does that constitute anal retentivity, or just good planning?

My home is still all caterwampus (another technical term) as Joey the satanistic flirt paints. Gradually.

Today, he promises to be done with the living room, and that means I can put all of the furniture back in place. Once that's done, all of the furniture in the den/guest room gets moved so that they can paint THAT room.

Then, I have to buy paint for my bedroom and contemplate new bed linens.

I'd ask my boy Brian to help me pick out bed linens, but his tastes run to Nieman's and Frette.

Spent part of my last night looking at pictures of first class compartments on major international airlines. Woof! British Airways looks to be the most luxurious around. How can I find a job where all I have to do is fly around the world to places I haven't seen or love a lot in first class?

Time to make something happen in the laundry room. More as it happens.

Opus 2, Vol 12, Movement 29

Enteracte -

(Joey enters, stands quietly up right)

Day nine of my self-enforced "no Y Chromosome" campaign. Things have gone relatively well. Today, Sunday, I did not log onto gay.coma at all. My realtor called me at about 7:00 to ask where the heck I'd been all day - he stays logged in ALL day. Yesterday, I was on around 9:00 at night for 10 minutes, then logged off in disgust. Friday, I wasn't on at all.

Friday night, I intended to just watch DVDs and be quiet. Saturday, Stevan (the dog groomer) came over early, and we cleaned, cleaned, cleaned. Pulled everything away from the walls, cleaned behind, under and around, put away the Christmas stuff, threw out four boxes (he's an efficient packing machine) and I bagged up three big bags of clothes for the next garage sale. I also started through my picture/image collection, and re-framed a bunch of stuff. Today, I hung up most of my Continental Airlines stuff, and got the rest of my Lockheed Constellation stuff ready to take to the office. I still have about three Continental things that I need to frame, and then there are the two 20th Century posters, and the eight 20th Century magazine ads that need to be framed.

Been talking to Eric from LA (who really lives in Vancouver) about colors for the apartment, and he's got some great suggestions. I want to bring him down here to help me finish up my website work, and to .. heck .. I don't know .. hang out and drink.

So, yesterday and today were productive, even though the guest bed still looks like someone urped all over it.

Urped is a technical term for "vomited." It comes from the midwest.

Back to Joey. Isn't it nice that he's been sitting patiently in the background?

So, Joey was sent to me by Scott (aka Scotticia, aka Scooter butt) for some home improvement stuff. Now, I knew that Scott had been all a-twitter (another technical term) for Joey for months after having met him on AOL. However, I was not prepared for his demon sexiness when he arrived Friday night to "check out what I needed done."

Now, let me be clear - Joey is NOT flirtatious. But, it seems he's done a stint as a male dancer, and so he knows how to work the crowd. He wanted to jump right into the home improvement work, so Friday night, he wired up some halogen lights over my sofa table (bought them six months ago, never installed) and re-wired my home theater (running the wires behind the walls and so on; something I had wanted to have done for nearly five years.) The home theater now ROCKS it sounds so awesome.

Now, while doing this, he peeled out of his shirt, wearing only his white shiney Addidas warm-up pants, which revealed quite clearly that he was commando.

He asked for 1/4 down (which I gladly coughed up) and said he'd be back in about a week.

Now, he's calling several times a day, wanting to get started RIGHT NOW.

I need to schedule him to work when I'm at work, so that I don't have him naked in front of me. It would detract from the anti-Y campaign, totally. I'd start getting ideas, and then I'd develop expectations.

Which lead to cramps.

I have decided that this next year will be the year of the website. I'm going to re-do drdivo, my personal site, and I'm going to have my airline site launched (it will be nearly functional, but won't offer tickets or travel .. 'cause that would be bad. However, I do intend to create and market marked goods - like leather travel folios, luggage tags, etc.) So, I wrote to E tonight and asked him to come down. Then, I need to meet with David (the married - talk about distracting) and visit with him about the airline site.

So - time to try to watch "Enigma" again. It's billed as a "thriller" and it's really [so far] about as exciting as watching white paint dry. On a wall that was already white. In a place you don't own. Or care about.

Ciao!