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Carlos was recently called to do an interpretation for the
Florence County Court Solicitor’s office, which is about an hour or so from
Camden. When he explained that he doesn’t drive, they offered to come pick him
up, and then drive him home, so he agreed. But then he worried about the ICEstapo because although he’s
a legal documented immigrant that hasn’t stopped the ICEstapo from grabbing
people up, so he decided to research the name of the woman who called him:
Christine Lowe … a made-up name because she doesn’t need to be on here. He
looked and looked and found nothing about her and got a little worried, so I
said I’d take a shot at it and Googled Christine Lowe and also found zip, zilch
and nada. I told him I’d come out of the house and meet her when she
picked him up and told him to get a business card from her for his records and
then give it to me to check. She arrived, we said Hello, she gave me a card and
it all looked legit; she even wrote down her home phone on the back. Still, I
went back to the house and Googled her again because her name isn’t Christine
Lowe but Kirsten Love. And she’s an investigator for the Florence County Courts. And
she had Carlos home by 5PM at which time I told him to pay attention when
someone gives their name because Christine was Kirsten and Lowe was Love and he
said it all sounded the same. Bless his heart. |
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This Tuxedo story is from February 15, 2009 … Carlos and I decided today would be a good day to do some deep cleaning, so we worked from one end of the house to the other with vacuums and sprays and laundry baskets and window cleaners and furniture polishes and floor cleaners. I planned dinner. Sunday is usually Carlos' day, but I was in the mood for marinated pork loin, so there you have it. I gave Carlos a haircut. Not the pseudo-mohawk he wanted but something short so he wouldn’t have to mess with it too much. I stripped the beds and was doing laundry and wondered where the cats had gone. All of them hide on cleaning day. I don't know if it's because they think they're getting a bath, or they simply don't like the turmoil. I discovered Tallulah napping behind the love-seat in the sunroom. MaxGoldberg hid under the guest room bed. But Tuxedo was a harder find. Until I walked in the bedroom and caught a glimpse of something cat-like. I lay down on the bed and peered into the pile of blankets, and there he was. Hiding out because he doesn't like it when you clean; all his regular smells and places to play get cleaned up and put away. I feel that way sometimes myself. Crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after me.  |
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Former reality TV star Josh Duggar, serving a 12-year prison
sentence for possessing child pornography,
spoke from behind bars to dismiss child molestation allegations against
his brother Joe. The family that pedophiles together … |
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I saw this headline on JoeMyGod: NYT: [Corey] Lewandowski Had Access To Classified Briefs And I assumed because of their extramarital affair that ‘classified briefs’ meant Kristi Noem’s
panties. |
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I’m an Old School Gay; y’all can have Madonna, and Gaga, too. For me, the Gay Diva Icon to end all Gay Diva Icons is one Diana Ross. And so, since today is the anniversary of the birth of the Diva known as Diana, I will make do by reposting my story of A-Run-In-With-Diana, er, Miss Ross. As a younger gay boy living in California, I waited for Miss Ross to come to Lake Tahoe, or even Reno, although Reno is tacky and dirty and Lake Tahoe is gaw-geous. So, when I saw the announcement that she would be appearing somewhere, anywhere nearby, I instantly got on the phone to my homies, er, homos, and homo-friendlies, and we made plans to see her. One time we invited our friends Ann and Steve. They liked the idea of a show, but a Diana Ross show? They weren't fans; but then we enticed them with the idea of cocktails and gambling and Lake Tahoe and cocktails and cocktails, and they relented, so we went. Now, back in the day at the casino showrooms, if you wanted a good seat, you tipped the ushers at the door to get closer. So I did. And we were seated next to the stage! Well, I was two seats away from the stage because a couple of queens of mine stepped in front of me. Ann and Steve sat behind me. The show starts and she appears; sings, dances, and works the crowd. Reach Out And Touch! Ain't No Mountain High Enough! Baby Love! She appeared at the head of our table and, well, Steve, Mister I-Don't-Like-Diana-Ross leapt up, sprawled across my head and the two queens in front of me so he could, as he says, just touch her. I think I created a monster. A few years later, Miss Ross was back at Caesars Tahoe and once again there were phone calls and invitations to the performance. We invited a straight couple--probably because Ann and Steve couldn't make it and we like to keep a nice gay-straight ratio. I went with my best fag hag Lisette and our straight friends, Shawn and Lori, wanted to close, so they tipped this time, and we were once again next to the stage. Lisette sat right at the edge and I was behind her. Show starts. Lights dim. Orchestra plays. Miss Ross sequins out and divas all over the place. She tells the crowd she has a bit of a cold, and they bring out a small table with hot tea for her. But she soldiers on. Come See About Me! Love Child! My Man! Stop! In The Name Of Love! I'm Coming Out! The Boss! And she keeps coming over to our table to talk to us. She says she loves all the good energy we are sending her and then she looks down at Lori, who was about 26 months pregnant at the time, and asks Lori about the baby, wishes Lori and Shawn all good things, and … They. Just. Sit. There. Needless to say they were never part of the Caravan To Caesars To See Miss Ross again. Anyway, Miss Ross starts to sing ‘It's My Turn,’ and she comes back to our table and holds a hand out to me. I rise, like any good gay boy in the presence of diva-liciousness and clasp her hand. No, she says, up here. I believe I used Lisette's head as a steppingstone and I rose to the stage. Miss Ross wanted to slow dance with me; and we did, center stage at Caesar's Palace, while she sang It's My Turn. And at the end, she kissed my cheek and told me that I was a gentleman. Somehow I returned to my seat until The Boss. We were up in the aisles dancing and Miss Ross came to us once again and called us all on the stage to dance. I believe I was trampled on by the homos behind me, and this time, I actually let Lisette go up first...after all, Miss Ross had said I was a gentleman, so I was not about to disappoint! Needless to say it was a fabulous concert and one of those memories that will never fade. At the end of the show, Miss Ross once again appeared at our table to thank us for being so nice to her. Happy Birthday Diva! Eighty-two looks fierce and fabulous.  |
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There wasn’t a single Democratic elected official who
celebrated Charlie Kirk’s death, not one, but Cankles openly celebrated Robert
Mueller’s death and no Republicans are condemning him. Both sides are not the same. |
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Brady Nitz is a 21-year-old content creator and model known for lip syncs, dances, and memes, and has amassed more than 70,000 followers on TikTok account so Would You Hit It?  |
