Archive for the ‘Nigel’ Category

So yesterday, as technically this is posted on the 30th, was my birthday. I turned 46.

I have absolutely no idea why this number, out of all of them, was so utterly soul-destroying but, nevertheless, I had a mid-life crisis of confidence of epic proportions, which I shan’t bother you with nor with the fall out.

Let’s just say I wish it was easy to solve by buying a Porsche.

The problem was though, on top of all this which was crushing anyway, my birthday was just crap. Had it been any other day, it would have been crap. As it was my birthday, it was mega crap.

All my family (bar one) are overseas; all of my friends bailed on me with our plans for the day; I got two birthday cards, one of which was from my mortgage broker.

When my plans for seeing people all fell through, I spent the day trying to find a laundrette that specialises in cleaning dunas.  I’m sure I didn’t dream that there was a special washing/ dryer machine in the laundrettes especially for the cleaning and fluffing of dunas.

The nice thing was going to my brother’s for birthday dinner and getting my most awesome birthday cake, as decorated by my three-year old buzzing-on-sugar niece. In case you want to repeat it, it’s a mandarin cake with orange icing as you can never have too much citrus. The sprinkles are lovingly thrown on in a seemingly random, yet abstract art like, manner. You can never have enough sprinkles, either.

She has skills.

It could have been worse. Could have been a Jehovah’s Witness. Not even birthday cake then….


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And Breathe.

Very quick post. Being on nights is weird. All of sudden, while you weren’t watching, it turned from Tuesday into Wednesday. All of a sudden I’ve gone from two days to leaving to leaving tomorrow.

While I am amazingly ahead of schedule in terms of preparation for the trip ( packing like a gay man involves at least a day to fold everything) I still have this nagging feeling of missing something. Tickets, money, passport.. check. But the idea that I am leaving tomorrow almost made me have a brain meltdown.

It all feels completely surreal at the moment.

I am, however, looking forward to airline food, of all things. First time I will have had two regular meals in a row in I do not know how  long….

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Personal Best

My personal trainer made a huge joke today. He suggested that I would become one of those people who became obsessed with exercise. Evidently the fact that I was jumping for joy at the apricot sized muscle I’ve developed in my arms {I’ve got guns!!!!) and admiring said apricot in the mirror (couldn’t see it!) meant that one day I would become obsessed with the machines and develop cantaloupe sized biceps like my personal trainer had.

He said this as I was lunging across the car park like a spastic Thunderbird. It was so absurd I had to stop to guffaw, in between heaving for breath. Guffawing while gasping is an art form. If there was a pill that would get rid of this fat I’d overdose on them

Having said that I am secretly chuffed. I broke my personal trainer’s record for his male clients today. Evidently doing  75 kg on the lateral pulldown machine is more than anyone he has trained. Go me. Cantaloupes R Us here we come.

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Tales Of My Beard…. Belt

As you know I am on a weight loss push. Normally I  my don’t cut my beard and hair until I’ve lost 10 kgs. (That has started again, by the way. This has a dual effect of motivating me and drives JW to distraction which motivates me further… as he whinges.  A lot.)

However today is not about beards. The title should have had a strike through effect but I couldn’t get it to work in the heading. No, today revisits the belt. I put on a pair of trousers for the first time since buying them in November. And when I bought them this belt was tight.

And no, I’m not holding my breath. I’m still fat as but clearly a bit less. This is at the belt notch from November.

I was pleasantly pleased



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Court Out

My friend, Reza, is a translator in Farsi and invited me to accompany him today to the local Court house where attended to translate for a client. We both erroneously assumed it would take about ten minutes of contact as opposed to the 2 hours it did take. I had planned to go for a walk while he did his job and returned to find him still in the court-house, still with his keys to the car. So I leaned against the bonnet of the car and watched the local wildlife.

I actually was deeply sorry I hadn’t gone into the court with Rez as I suspect it would have made a fantastic Talk of the Town. As it was, watching the people leave the court-house was entertaining enough. Firstly I think if I were to go to court I would wear a suit and possibly comb my hair. I don’t think I would be too surprised if I was found guilty after presenting to the court wearing a fluorescent pink track suit over an electric blue too-short-to-cover-my-entire-belly t-shirt.

Problem solving capacity is clearly lost on these people.  A denim mini skirted ‘lady’ was confronted by some plastic stuck underneath her car and causing an ungodly noise as she drove out of the car park.  Her solution was to get out of the car and scream at it. For five minutes.  Amazingly it didn’t spontaneously remove itself.

One man came out and was clearly happy with his case.  He came out and did an impressive moonwalk. Unfortunately he was about 600 pounds larger than Michael Jackson but full marks for effort. Very happy, he was.

Which was more than could be said for the next man who came out of the court-house. He came out the door, turned around at the court-house and screamed ” You f***ing c***s can go f*** yourself. You don’t get to f*** with me.”  The doors of the court house didn’t appear to care. Presumably he had been told he needed to attend  anger management classes. The man was built like a truck, as solid as I, except all muscles. Covered in tattoos. Shaved head. He then got into his car and very angrily pulled out of the car park at a rate of knots. Right into Reza’s car.

He pulls back and gets out and unleashes further expletives at the car and at me, his witness and the reason he can’t run off. I go to get info off him and ask him, sweet as pie, for his details and he  threatens to “***ing hand me my head if I don’t back off.”

And this is  who I am now. I was bored. His threats bored me. Seriously, afterwards, I was amazed at my reaction. Years of being screamed at and threatened in my day job had made me completely impassive to this idiot’s threats. Having said that, had I had a gun I’d have shot him and no jury in the world would have convicted me. Lacking a gun I went into de-escalation mode.

Unfortunately in terms of timing, prior to the accident I had initiated a chat with my policey friend Lisa, using messenger on my iPhone.  As I am trying to de-escalate this putz, my phone is going off every ten seconds with Lisa asking where did I go and was I alright. Hard to calm people down when your pocket keeps loudly buzzing at you.

Fortunately I’m good at my job. Got the putz’s name and mobile. Didn’t have insurance naturally.  Got the car details. Had him eating out of the palm of my hand by the time I was done with him.

But total putz. Total, total putz.

Ironically it was the complete opposite of there never being a policeman round when you need them. Policeman in my pocket, being bloody loud. And persistent. When I told Lisa how close she came to getting me killed, she laughed like a drain. Honestly. Oh the cynical South Australian Police Force.

What’s more, Lisa will laugh more when she reads this. You so owe me a drink.

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Well this took a turn I hadn’t expected.

I was wracking my brains trying to think of who I was crushing on in the teens and couldn’t think of a one. I suspect that I was so full of self loathing at the time for having homosexual thoughts that I didn’t allow myself the luxury of actually lusting after anyone. I certainly remember the teens being years full of ‘I really am straight and goodness dont those boobies look lovely’ self deception.  I remember having chats with my friends about how bosoms were the most amazing thing ever and I would stand there (you never sat in High School) and wonder what all the fuss was about. I spent my formative years loathing myself.  There was not time for crushes. Crushes were signs of weakness.

In an effort at self-denial I would buy playboys and other stick books and try to find the nude women arousing. I just kept thinking they looked cold. On the plus side I have a stunning knowledge of 80’s racing cars and fly fishing. (It would appear most playboy readers had only the three interests.)  It was one of the few times in my life I showed endurance, sadly. I managed to keep the whole denial/ you are the most useless evil person schtick going all the way through university. Uni should have been a fabulous time of sex, drugs and rock and roll. Instead I spent the entire time in prayer meetings with well-meaning Christians who, among other things, told me being gay was the biggest sin in the  world. Stupidly I went along with them. It was a comfortable hell. Without realising they were doing it, they reinforced the self loathing beliefs I had  about myself. Seriously, that’s the one moment in my life I wish I had a time machine to go back and correct.  Uni was a mess.

Steps towards acceptance came only after years of self-disgust and loathing. Realising I was dying and needed saving, one of my uni Christian friends looked at me knowingly and told me simply “God doesn’t make mistakes.”

She was right. I stopped hating myself for whom I was. I mean, seriously, why would anyone choose to be in a minority group?

So in all of that time I never allowed myself the luxury of lusting after anyone. (which may go to explain my whack a doodle tendencies now.) Fortunately (or rather sadly, really, as I had grown way beyond such fantasies by then) I indulged in one last hurrah before being yanked from the closet.  This man (and for the Adelaide people this will be hilarious)

George Donikian. Newsreader on the new multi cultural television station SBS. Now for Adelaide readers, who have known him as the newsreader for channel 10, now considerably older and much, much more stuffy, this will seem an odd, positively hysterical, choice. However at  the time , in his younger days, he was a total stud. Truly aDelaideans.He was amazing. And the way he pronounced all of the foreign cities as he read the news. Every syllable accented and extended, every T was guttural. It was like poetry being read to you at news times by a swarthy market seller.
You knew you were in the presence of a talented tongue.

I figured it was time to move on from fantasy stuff.  I moved onto realio trulio people from here. No, the irony isn’t lost on me either.



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More embarrassing memories, more public humiliations.  Anyone would think I was masochistic. (Hush, you.)

I had gotten into real live humans at this point ( I am so proud) and was prey to 1970s Australian television. 1970s  Australian Television was a plethora of cop shows basically and you could take your pic of the combination of policeman gracing your screens. Thin cops, fat cops, corrupt cops, insecure cops, male, female, detective, uniform. It was the exact same story each week, only the trappings were changed. At the time, even I was bored  and was waiting for the next best thing. Had I known that the next best thing  was going to be reality television Id have kept my mouth shut.

Three shows grabbed my attention; the first is a legend among Australian Television. Homicide. Went for umpteen years with a rapidly changing cast. It was, it was considered, Australian Drama at it’s best. Truly it was awful but there was one thing that kept me glued to the screen each week. This man:

sigh… Gary Day. Played Senior Detective Phil Redford on Homicide for  five years. He was  in the first episode of Homicide shown in colour which also may have helped. He was magnificent. I was completely in love. I mean, look at that fringe. Is that just not superb. I would spend all the hour of the show hoping for a glimpse of his fringe. His partner would always be taking his kit off to do some type of excercise on the show ( he was  a karate expert or some such) and this was completely wasted on me. Anything that took away screen time from Senior Detective Phil Redford would annoy me intensely. As such I have no idea of the plot of any episode of Homicide (they solved murders I am guessing from the title). I was too busy watching Senior detective Phil Redford.  I suspect I would have married Senior detective Phil Redford except for fact that the show was cancelled. Senior Detective Phil Redford and his magnificent fringe were consigned to television history. Sadly for Gary, his magnificent fringe deserted him as the years progressed much as did mine (who am I kidding, my hair has always been complete crap and my fringe was never magnificent) He is balder than I am now, God love him, and I am plenty bald.

The second love was American and, sadly for Senior Detective Phil Redford, I was two timing him for this man:

This man needs no explanation. I mean, look at him. Kent McCord. Adam 12. He is superb. Also with magnificent hair (which he has managed to keep unless he has a realllllllllly impressive toupee) and looked even more outstanding in the earlier shows when his hair was shorter. He is also, I suspect, responsible for my love of people with sticky out ears. Again I have no idea what he did in the show other than look awesome  but presumably they solved crimes.  I remember one episode set in a comic shop where a comic got stolen which I thought was the worst crime ever. (Oh yes, my geekdom goes way back.) Again the show got cancelled which saved me from the heartbreaking task of having to choose between him and Senior Detective Phil Redford.

Then my taste got really weird.

I had a serious two-year love for this man:


I have no idea why.

Peter Adams.  Detective JJ Johnson in Cop Shop. Cop  Shop was the thematic successor to Homicide and it was even more appalling. A soap, it was considered more ‘sexy’  and had storylines about the sordid affairs between the police as much as it did about crime fighting. Now this man, God rest his soul for he has since passed, was my major lust object for a good two years. Looking back I have no idea why. The only thing I remember is he came back with a really short haircut one week (unheard of in the 70s) and  he looked amazing, I thought. (I couldn’t find a picture of that particular look. I doubt I could have convinced you anyway. Clearly my hormones were not well.) His role continued however I soon lost interest. He did a shirtless scene once and, God bless him, I have never seen a more pasty, hairless chest in my life. It was like having cold water thrown over me. I moved on to television new.

Alrighty, your turn. TV Police crushes. Go.

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This post is for KB, who inspired it with a suggestion a while ago. As she is sick with broken arms and having a delightful time not being able to do anything fun like drive or wipe herself I figured she needed a cheer up. This is before Wednesday night where  we will all get maggotted on Hendriks martinis and cheer ourselves up the old-fashioned way. With booze.

Initially it was going to be a long post but I’ve decided to  be nice on myself and not list every embarrassing moment in my childhood thus yet. Don’t worry I will get to them. However I got no sleep today and my reserves are limited. Whinge whinge who cares…. On to the Show.

Today’s theme: Childhood Crushes.

It’s massively embarrassing really to contemplate who I was completely in love with when I was a kid. (As an adult, the cycle continues and it gets more embarrassing but that’s what the counsellors get paid for. heh) The list of people I fell in love with as a kid is really long and really dumb ( and then nothing changed. This may turn out to be therapy). Too long for one post and do I really want to be that embarrassed in one hit? Nope.

So lets begin.

Romantic Crushes : The Cartoon people

(oh yeah, this is gonna be cringeworthy)

So sue me when I was a kid I was totally and utterly in love with some cartoon characters.

Firstly this guy:

Oh man, Underdog. I still can’t hear the Underdog theme without sighing and thinking of love lost. I was 6.  I am not sure why I loved him so. I suspect cos he was such a nerd in his closet identity (which may explain my deep love and lust for nerds and geeks now) or the fact that he was wicked cool as he saved people with his cape flapping madly behind him as he flew. In my fantasies I was Underboy (Oh lord….) and would fight crime with him. This, however, got boring in my fickle brain and I moved onto the gloriously exciting world of forest fire fighting

Smokey the Bear…. Ohmilord. I had such the hots for him. Ages before I knew what a bear was in gay lore I became a walking cliche and was so in lust with Smokey. The deep gruff voice, his height (he was so tall), his muscular build, his whole general butchness in fighting fires. In my brain I was off fighting fires with him and then having picnics. I’m not sure how long it lasted but long enough to get really frustrated at the general lack of anything Smokey the Bear merchandise related. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t able to take a Smokey the Bear teddy to bed with me.  (OK, I went and YouTubed Smokey to see if his voice was as deep as I remember. OH. MY. GOD! It was like he had been voiced by Barry White. I have chills.)

I imagine the interest in Smokey lasted as long as the tele show. That and the fact that I was becoming aware that forest fire fighting was probably not my cup of tea, even if there was promise of a picnic afterwards.  Fortunately for my therapy bill I discovered humans to lust after….

But that’s a future post. This was mortifying enough thank you. OK, your turn. You know you were all in love with a cartoon when you were a kid. I am sure it wasn’t just me. Was it? (That would explain so much!)

Your turn.

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Tales of My Beard

Remember this?

It now looks like this:

Because, yes, I FINALLY got past the ten kilo mark after weeks of hundred gram losses. Finally. Man that was a pain.

Anyway the clock is reset. On to the next ten kilos. See how feral looking I can become in the next ten.

Note to Lloyd.  I weighed myself post haircut. I possibly lost a couple of grams at most. I also expelled wind prior to weighing myself so the results may be skewed. You’ve got way more hair than me though buddy. You could easily lose half a pound. heh.

Better though, no?!

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Apologies for the lack of posts over the last few days. As my last post may have indicated my mood was not in the right spot for writing up posts.  (That doesn’t stop me writing up stuff when I’m in those moods, heh. When I’m dead check the draft folder  of this thing. It’s quite the reading. ) So rather than vent my spleen on you poor unsuspecting readers, I chose to keep schtumm and lick my wounds. God, I was flat though.

Someone worked this  out  and very, very, very kindly sent me an email to lift my spirits.
The Subject Line :  To Cheer you Up.

And the content……

Zhonghua Nan Ke Xue. 2010 Dec;16(12):1095-7.

[Sexual function and mental state in patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis].

[Article in Chinese]

Yang L, Ruan LM, Yan ZJ, Cheng Y, Wang GY, Ji YX.

Department of Psychology, The First Hospital of Ningbo, Ningbo, Zhejiang 315010, China. yanglu20091111@hotmail.com


OBJECTIVE: To investigate the correlation of sexual dysfunction with psychological abnormalities by analyzing the sexual function and mental state of the patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis.
METHODS: This study included 216 randomly selected patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis and 85 normal male controls. We conducted investigations among the subjects using a questionnaire on the general data of the patients, Chinese Index of Sexual Function for Premature Ejaculation (CIPE), International Index of Erectile Function (IIEF), and Symptom Checklist 90 (SCL-90). Then we assessed the status of premature ejaculation (PE) and erectile dysfunction (ED), calculated the incidence of psychological abnormalities, such as depression and anxiety, and analyzed the correlation of PE and ED with the mental state of the patients.
RESULTS: The PE and ED patients scored significantly higher than normal controls on SCL-90, somatization, compulsion, depression, anxiety and other factors (P < 0.05). CIPE scores were correlated with the scores on SCL-90, somatization, compulsion, interpersonal sensitivity, depression, anxiety and other factors, while ED-related scores showed no correlation with the scores on SCL-90 and other factors.
CONCLUSION: Patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis have poor mental health, and there is an interaction between PE and the mental state of the patient.

Initially I thought Wesley had sent it to me in a very bold move to irritate the life out of me. After I considered it though, I had to give him points for both balls of steel and the genius of finding something so perfectly hysterical and yet so pertinent. Literally when I got it I didn’t stop laughing  for ten minutes.

To make matters ever more genius though I realised the email hadn’t come from Wesley at all but from an unknown email address with no hint of sender.  My very first fan mail! I was so proud!! Here was one of my circumcision fans, coming out of the woodwork and earning points for being concerned for my wellbeing and earning points for being focussed.

I wrote a reply thanking my Very First Fan for his very welcome email however have yet to receive a reply. I love the fact  he  emboldened and highlighted poor mental health in red just so I completely get the message. It’s like he’s known me all my life!

So there you have it. My depression is a result of a redundant foreskin.

Wow! If I had known it was that easy I’d have let Wesley circumcise me the first time he offered. I hope the pharmaceutical companies don’t get wind of this as there could be a fortune lost in anti depressant. I am updating my depression inventory (a checklist of factors that influence depression) to include questions of foreskin intactness.

So God bless you, my Very First Fan. That email was the best tonic I have received in forever. As someone who does flirt with depression I am, clearly, very interested in the study. Now that I know there are mental health benefits as well as the physical benefits Wesley has already mentioned I am teetering into acceptance.

I will be back in the states in May and visiting Dr Wesley.  I am sure he will have his clamp on standby. Watch this space, Very First Fan.

Circumcision Week is coming. Bring popcorn.

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