Staggeringly long blog posts don’t generate comments.
So here’s my adventure from yesterday, in bullet format:
• I didn’t work out at noon. I had lunch with Jennifer instead.
• It was too hot to run last night. Way too hot.
• On my way out the door from work, I got put on an emergency project that had to happen right now.
• I finished the project at 7:45 and decided to throw in a quick workout (chest and shoulders) in the gym in the basement of my office building before I headed home.
• I finished my chest workout and started my first shoulder set when an announcement came that our building was on fire and everyone had to evacuate.
• I got up to the sidewalk to find about 10 fire trucks surrounding the building and armies of (really attractive!) firemen slogging through the heat in their very-warm-looking fire suits.
• The fire was contained (and apparently very minor) and we were let back into the office to get our stuff.
• As I was heading home, I got a call from a friend who’s in town to compete in the Gay Games.
• I met him and his teammates at their hotel and we headed to Sidetrack for show tunes.
• My friend didn't know that "America" is from West Side Story (I know—I'm as embarrassed for him as you are) but one of his teammates is as big a show-tune queen as I am, and we sang together at the tops of our lungs for at least an hour. Our finest moment: "Maybe This Time." It's a crime that he and I were not eligible to win Tonys for our performance.
• My friend is so hot that heads turn and fingers reach out for a touch everywhere he goes. It’s especially funny to watch in a packed bar, where it happens simultaneously from all sides and people don’t even feign discretion. He’s like Jesus among the lepers. If Jesus were 6'4" and blond and distractingly muscular with an impossibly handsome face and the lepers all wore tank tops and expensive jeans.
• He held my hand and we put our arms around each other’s waists and everyone thought we were a couple as we moved through the throngs. I decided I was not too proud to bask in his second-hand glow. You know how shameless we homos can be when it comes to soaking up attention.
• His waist (hell, his whole body) is so rock-solid it makes me feel as soft and shapeless as a chenille throw pillow fresh from the dryer. My abs ached from holding them in so tight by the time I got home.
• Speaking of home, it was a school night and I hate to be tired and cranky at work, so I was home in bed by midnight. When I got to my house, the winds howled and the lightning flashed and the heavens opened up to create a kick-ass storm that was awesome to watch from my perch 24 stories in the sky.
• I slept like the dead.