Big Fat Hairy Living

As some of you might know, e-mail delivery to my Yahoo Group hasn’t been working. Unfortunately it appears to be Yahoo’s problem and I’m not able to figure out how to solve it. I’ve decided to set up my own mailing list right here on my own site. I invite everyone who still wishes to receive my blog posts via e-mail to sign up for the new list.

To sign up, visit the subscription page and follow the instructions. All you need to do is enter your e-mail address, a password, and choose whether you wish to receive posts individually or in a daily digest. You will receive a confirmation e-mail to prevent someone from gratuitously subscribing you.

As with the previous group, you can unsubscribe from the new list at any time, and your name and e-mail address will remain private. As a side benefit, the new list e-mails will now be free from Yahoo’s advertising banners. Enjoy!

Spacing.ca reports that the Toronto Community Foundation unveiled a proposal to redesign three subway stations along the University Avenue subway line yesterday.

The design for Museum station (there are two different renderings) looks the nicest, probably because it’s the least busy of the three. All of them look like maintenance nightmares; they look good in a computerized rendering, but how often will they need to be scrubbed down to keep them looking good?

Part of the proposal involves renaming Osgoode station to Osgoode-Opera, which is incredibly tacky. The sad thing is that Osgoode station is the best looking station of the three. It’s pure 60s.

My body aches all over, my head feels like it’s being continually stabbed with an ice pick, and pain killers aren’t working. I decided to call in sick this morning, but because I’m a contractor I’m not getting paid for this. That means I’ll probably go back to work tomorrow whether I still feel like crap or not.

After finally waking up and realizing I couldn’t get back to sleep, I decided to pass the time by ordering some big-boy sized jocks. Yay, butch underwear for fatsos! Thanks, Terry!

I also spent time reading through Martha Stewart’s Baking Handbook. Much more butch than sweaty XXL-sized jockstraps.

For the past week I’ve been feeling like shit mentally and emotionally, and now I’m feeling like shit physically too. I have all the symptoms of the flu. I ate some chicken on the weekend. I think it might be the bird flu.

I saw a cute guy in the cafeteria today, the first guy I’ve seen here who can be called cute without any qualifiers at all. He’s a cute, short little cubby guy with a shaved head and a goatee. His name is Josh.

The gym was hot last night.

I arrived in the locker room to find a short, thick, beefy, daddy blow drying his hair and talking to his buddy about politics (he doesn’t like the Conservatives
— yay!) He was built like a powerlifter with big thighs, a massive chest covered with tattoos, and a bulging, undefined gut. His cock was jiggling in his boxers as he turned around and moved while he blow dried his hair. I stuck around long enough to get to see his cock when he slipped off his boxers. Average, but definitely not attached to an average man.

Last month, Claude wrote about Sonny, a fat Italian weight lifter at the gym who flexed his muscles for Claude naked in the shower. Sonny is amazing. He’s short, incredibly beefy, has a huge gut and has tattoos all over his arms. As if that’s not enough, he’s a construction worker. Talk about fantasy material!

Last night I got my turn. I was in the shower when Sonny came in and joined me, taking the shower head next to mine. I tried not to stare at him too much, partly because I didn’t want to freak him out and partly because I didn’t want to get a boner. I wasn’t successful. I got a boner. Luckily nobody was paying attention.

His dick perfectly matches body: it’s short, fat, and uncut. I made sure to pay close attention to it, and I could tell by the time he’d done that all the soaping and scrubbing had worked. I then got to watch him dry off, amble over to the mirror, and shave his face, naked and with a semi-hard dick.

The hottest thing about him is the fact that he’s not afraid to show off his body. He walked naked in the change room with no shame, not making any attempt to hide his cock or change his clothes quickly.

Homophobia, transphobia, and the general fear of any kind of unconventional sexual or gender expression is so ingrained in our society that it’s completely unnoticeable to most people.

This morning, one of the businesses adjacent to us in another unit of the industrial plaza was doing work with some kind of noxious chemical. The office was filled with what smelled like tile sealant. About five minutes after the smell started filling the room, the business development director called out to one of the engineers: “Hey, is that your nail polish?”

The director who hates my earrings responded. “No, I thought he was wearing fruity smelling nail polish these days.” Nice choice of words there. “Fruity.”

Apparently the idea of a man doing something feminine like wearing nail polish is a good subject for a joke. I’ll admit that my feelings about cross-dressing are highly mixed given my experience with my father. But if the idea of a man who does something a woman does is laughable to them, how far is it from there to the idea that a man who loves a man is laughable? Or the idea that a man who loves a man shouldn’t get a contract extension?

I signed up for two more night courses next term. That’s two courses closer to not needing to do engineering any more.

Mark is back from his trip. We spent all last night snuggling and talking.

At one point he was talking about the large Mexican population in California when I jokingly wished that Bumblebee Man from the Simpsons were real. That’s when he got all excited. “I SAW BUMBLEBEE MAN ON TV! HE’S REAL!”

Bumblebee Man is real!

The Australian:

A Rugby fan who cut out his testicles with wire cutters to mark a Wales victory is at a loss to explain why he did it.

Geoffrey Huish, 31, performed the impromptu self-surgery in February when his beloved Wales beat world champion England.

After performing the deed, Mr Huish put his severed anatomy in a bag and took them to his local social club to show fellow fans.

He collapsed with blood loss and was rushed to hospital but surgeons could not reattach his missing parts.

He was put in a psychiatric ward but has no history of mental illness and was at a loss to explain why he did it.

And according to another newspaper, he cut his dick as well. Presumably not just his foreskin.

The Virtual Museum has an exhibit about Bendale, the neighbourhood I grew up in.