Those earplugs must work wonders, 'cause i have to tell you that i didn't even realize the storm was all that bad. Then again, maybe it happened while i was at work. At any rate, we had some stormy weather, and it was just too much for the drains to handle. Duke calls me right before he leaves for work: "We have an emergency here."

We live in a basement apartment (people in Chicago try to call them "gardens" but there ain't no flowers growing in there), and water and/or black gunk was oozing out of every orifice. I left work early, and by the time i got home (OK, OK, i stopped off at a Mexican joint below my office and had nachos and a beer with a coworker first),  the water had all receded.

Still, i spent the afternoon mopping up water on the bathroom tile. But the grodiest part was cleaning the drains by the laundry and the water heater. Those two closets had a film of black muck. Luckily, it didn't smell like sewage, just earthy, like rotting leaves. And really, i don't mind sticking my hands into filth like that. I'll gladly reach into the shower drain and gleefully pull out a clump of hair and god knows what else. Maybe it's a holdover from my childhood, playing in mud and all that.

So it wasn't too bad a chore, but when the skies opened up with another monsoon, i was worried that i'd have to start all over again. Luckily, the crazy downpour lasted all of five minutes, and nothing oozed out of the drains this time.

Duke was working late, so i watched a film noir on Netflix on my laptop and curled up in bed.

The next morning, i went to the coffeeshop, and Jeff told me to look down Winthrop on my way home. A 130-year-old tree had been hit by lightning. Jeff says that the sap heats up so quickly, it explodes. I had my camera with me, so i snapped some pics. It's truly sad -- this beauty was about four times as large as most of the other trees on the block. A huge pile of branches lay on both sides of the street. And this poor car, along with the one in front of it, were totaled.

It was Pugsley's birthday recently, and i've been on a card kick, so i sent him one c/o Greg, his manservant.

This was delivered into my and Duke's Facebook inboxes this fine morning:

I wrote back via his manservant:

To which Greg replied:

i don't know what you're talking about--unless pugsley hacked into my facebook account again and was sending out messages. i told him to just get his own account--i mean, c'mon, they're free--but he is very anti online social-networking...except, of course, when it benefits him. at any rate, here is a picture of said dog. it's not exactly "new" but i think he would approve of it being posted to the internet. he's quite sensitive about these things since his sex tape was leaked.

"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends."Once in a blue moon, an email forward is actually worth its merit.

I particularly appreciated this one from Mumsy.

ARTISTRY  OF INSULTS - When Insults Had Class  (no 4-letter words!!)
 
These glorious insults are from an era  when cleverness with words was still valued, before a great portion of the English  language got boiled down to 4-letter words,not to mention waving middle  fingers.

 
The exchange between Churchill & Lady Astor:  She said, "If you were my husband I'd give you poison," and he said, "If you were my wife, I'd  drink it."
 
A Member of Parliament to Disraeli: "Sir, you  will either die on the gallows or of some unspeakable disease." "That depends, Sir," said  Disraeli, "whether I embrace your policies or your  mistress."
 
"He had delusions of adequacy." - Walter  Kerr
 
"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the  vices I admire." - Winston  Churchill
 
"A  modest little person, with much to be modest about." - Winston  Churchill
 
"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." Clarence Darrow
 
"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the  dictionary."  William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway).
"Poor Faulkner.  Does he really think big emotions come from big words?"  Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
 
"Thank you for  sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it." -  Moses Hadas
 
"He can compress the most words into the  smallest idea of any man I know." - Abraham Lincoln
 
"I  didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." - Mark Twain
 
"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends." - Oscar Wilde
 
"I am  enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a  friend.... if you have one."-  George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill
"Cannot possibly  attend first night, will attend second... if there is one." -  Winston Churchill, in response.
 
"I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here." - Stephen  Bishop
 
"He is a self-made man and worships his creator." -  John Bright
 
"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial." - Irvin S. Cobb
 
"He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others." - Samuel  Johnson
 
"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run  up." - Paul Keating
 
"There's nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won't cure." Jack E. Leonard
 
"They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human  knowledge." -  Thomas Brackett Reed
 
"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily." - Charles, Count Talleyrand
 
"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him." - Forrest Tucker
 
"Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?" - Mark Twain
 
"His  mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork." - Mae  West
 
"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go." - Oscar Wilde
 
"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts... for support rather than illumination."-  Andrew Lang (1844-1912)
 
"He has Van Gogh's ear for music."  - Billy Wilder
 
"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it." - Groucho  Marx

 

"Excuse me...Is this the Midsommarfest? Why are there so many drunk gay men? Where are all the lesbians?"

Yes, once upon a time Andersonville was the Swedish neighborhood of Chicago. But after that it became really lebeau, with businesses cropping up such as Star Gaze nightclub and Dykes and Tykes (actually Women and Children First bookstore). I think that the lesbian community is what gave Andersonville its activist vibe. There are very few chains on this stretch of Clark Street, and the locals successfully prevented a Starbucks from opening up for about five years. Eventually, the alderman must have caved, but the Starbucks hasn't put the Zen coffeeshop, the Kopi, out of business, even though it's located right across the street.

Midsommarfest is always a fun time. It's way less hectic than Market Days, and it's kid-friendly in the morning. By the afternoon, the gays start taking over -- just as they did the entire neighborhood. There's still a lesbian presence, but us 30- and 40something gay guys have the numbers. By the evening, you're left with a bunch of drunk homos. Good times!

Duke was snapping candids early in the day.

Don't cry, little girl. There's plenty of funnel cake to go around.

This shot should be in the Metromix section of the Red Eye. It encapsulates a Chicagoan street fair quite well.

Miz Fierce!

This little fella likes street festivals. They're very relaxing.

And here's the Starbucks i mentioned.

We started the day with mimosas over at Michael Lex Luthor's house. Here he's gesturing how large he wishes his moobs were.

Duke and Ivan the Terrible. (He's not really terrible. I think there was a Viking called that.)

Despite having Swedish roots, there's a strong contingency of Middle Eastern restaurants in A-Ville. As such, gyros were quite popular as fest fare. In fact, i think B.Hof and Jason had them twice. "Why mess with perfection?" Jason said.

As opposed to this sour-pussed babe, Michael actually seems happy here, doesn't he? It's enough to melt even the Grinch's heart.

You can tell that's me squeezing his widdow cheeks because of my malformed thumb. (It's a pronounced Mount Venus, sheesh!)

Isn't it sooooo hot when guys kiss?

B.Hof, Ivan and Jason.
Where's Catty?, you wonder. Oh, he was just dying of the swine flu is all. He's all better now.

Dunno who she is, but darn if she's not cute.

Ride 'em, cow.......boy?

Me and Ryan -- we hardly ever call him Messy Ryan anymore. Just cuz One Time, Years Ago, he happened to puke all over himself at Alex Ross' party at that coachhouse he lived in in Roscoe Village. Don't you people ever forget?!

Naughty, naughty! I think these were strangers.

Best part of the pic: Look between the women. Surpreeeze! I totes pulled a Ben Carroll.

Not without my daughter.

NOM NOM NOM. GLUG GLUG GLUG. That was my summation of Midsommar. Oh yeah, we watched a chick cover band, Cat Fight, with a bunch of lesbians, too.

But mostly we ate...and drank...and drank some more.

"Who's calling? Oh, it's your cleavage again."

Everyone loves the Puppet Bike!

And what's Hamburger Mary's without some marys?

And what's Midsommarfest without some good friends?

I forgot this row of photos. You probably couldn't tell from the other shots, but Carol's what we call a "little person."

Totes kids! That's just Duke on stilts! I gave em a whirl, and couldn't do it. I blame the sogginess of the environs and not any lack of coordination on my part.

It take a lot to astonish Mar.

Mar doing her best crazy old Greek woman.

At one point, Carol was whipping Swayze with a belt. And i'm not saying he was LOVING it, but, ah hell. That's exactly what i'm saying.

'Member Memorial Day? Oh, come on. It wasn't That long ago. Mar had a BBQ out at her pad in oh, i don't know what neighborhood that is. Lincoln Square, maybe? Anyhoo, Duke and i rode our bikes over and right as we got there it started sprinkling.

But did we let that stop us from having a rollicking good time? If you know me, you know the answer is Hells no!

Besides, look how purty the rain is on fleurs.

Somehow the afternoon devolved into limboing. I didn't even try. I'm an old man now and i just know i'd throw my back out. Of course, back in college i was a bit of a Limbo King. Those days are over, though, sigh.

Twas good hanging with some peeps i hadn't seen in awhile, including Jérémie. Remember when he and Mar had parties like every month, in that apartment that had a porch about to collapse?

And here's his darling sissypoo, Stephanie. Apparently, she doesn't spell her name with accents.

Whenever i take a pic like this, i always wish i could remember what setting i had the camera on, 'cause i think they're pretty rad.

Here comes the rain again!

Carol wore her dad's Army shirt from Vietnam, which i thought was appropriate and really cool.

That crazysexycool chick in the middle in Tabbie. We loved her instantly. She giggles a lot, and someone thought she was a trannie in a bar bathroom. Hop aboard the crazy train!

Richard "Seabreeze" Tumi brought some stylin' coasters for our brewskis.

Showing off his mad corn skillz.

Showing off my mad gimp eye.

Rock on, sistas!

Stephanie's beau. I did Not have a crush on him, jeezuschrist.

See? It's Mar i was totes crushing on! Can't you see the passion?

En garde!

There's Seabreeze!

Spout, spout, let it all out.

Thanks, Mar, for a fun time!

A few weeks back, i was lucky enough to be invited to Benjy's parents' cottage in darling Grand Haven, Michigan. I didn't really ask much about the details, as i like to be surprised. Well, this more than exceeded my dreams -- the cottages (there are two) are literally on the beach! Right on Lake Michigan! That's pretty unheard of in this day and age.

I took some shots, but of course i haven't uploaded them yet (along with Memorial Day and my visit to my family on Hilton Head Island and the wedding i just attended in Peoria). So, in the meantime, here are other people's shots.

Purely coincidentally, i'm sure, i noticed that all but one of the pix feature yours truly.

You can see how warm it was.

This was the best costume for the day.

You'll see in later shots how close Crazy Joe got to the edge of the pier. And this was even after i had warned everyone that this was the Pier de Muerte. In the past few years, we've run multiple stories about people getting swept off of the breakwater and drowning. There's even a sign at the start of it warning how dangerous it is and showing pictures of two teenage boys who died out there.

Joe in the  morning.

Why was i the only one who knew this was supposed to be a Glamour Shotz?

It's amazing how even one short weekend away can be so chockful of fun adventures that it seems as if you were gone for at least a week.

Pooter’s always been an interesting one, whether she’s getting run out of Scotland because of false rumors that she was sleeping with a fellow teacher’s hubby, or going off to live in Myanmar (the country formerly known as Burma) in the midst of a political uprising.

So it shouldn’t have shocked me as much as it did when she texted me that she was getting married. To a nice Brit boy named Craig. Who she met while vacationing in England over Yuletide.

We’ve been a bit out of touch, but this still wasn’t the type of message I was expecting. Of course Duke and I join her for the impromptu pseudo-reception in the lounge at Wildfire the day after she and Craig tied the knot at the justice of the peace.

I came straight from the IML Leather Mart, so I had on my sleeveless sweatshirt with SCUM written on it. Luckily, Pooter was tickled with my outfit. Duke was all, “And here I was worried about being under-dressed.”

We hang out with Pooter’s coworkers, including the stunning and superfun Mary Ann and her husband, Linus Roach. Okay, so it’s not really Linus Roach, but damn if he's not a spitting image. I guess Linus is on “Law & Order,” but I don’t watch that, so I told him I only know him from playing a gay priest. He nodded, rolling with the punches.

I regale the table with pix of bondage and other fetishes, while Pooter tells us how they couldn’t decide what porno flick to rent in the hotel room, so she opted for the “megapack,” which gave them access to 30 titles, including one that was GILF-themed (think “granny”).

So we laughed and had a great time, and I wish Miz Lindsey the best (oh wait! she has a new last name now, though I don’t recall what it is) in this, her newest crazy adventure.

NAUGHTY PIX FOLLOW.
You probably won't want to look at these with your boss over your shoulder.

The debauchery continues.........

I went to the IML Leather Mart purely as an observer. It's truly another world -- not one that i want to be a part of....but heck.....i like to watch.

Tie me up! Tie me down! After i took this, someone was all, "No pictures!" I'm like, "Um, there was just a guy filming with a video camera, and that was okay?"

If you read "Savage Love" or watch "CSI," i'm sure you're familiar with the furry phenomenon. But i bet most of you haven't seen one in person. Well, actually if you've been to any theme park you've probably seen a furry. Furries dress up like stuffed animals, and somehow it's erotic for them. I was wondering what type of person would get off on that, and all i can think is that it must be those who are emotionally stunted in childhood. Any theories?

I saw this adorable pecker cap across the aisle, so i snapped a pic. Lucky me -- check out what was in the foreground:

The guy on the left was apparently the "master," and he handed me that permanent marker and said, "You took a picture -- now you have to write or draw something."

And this, my friends, is what we call "karma." You see, i carry around a small notebook, which i call the Drunken Journal, and i inflict it upon friends and strangers alike. So now i know what it's like to be put on the spot like that. And like most people, i froze up, i blanked out. But then i thought, Aw hell. Why not resort to base human nature as most people do? It was especially appropriate in this cesspool of depravity.

And with that bolt of inspiration, I grabbed the pen and drew a penis on the "slave"'s chest, with cum spurting up onto his face. It was quite a charming little depiction actually. I was quite proud of my work. I named it, "Bukkake," though Hippie had to point out that it's not bukkake if only one person does it. Potato, potahto. Artistic license!

Herewith, "Bukkake":

This booth made us feel as if we were at the Ren Faire, which is another trip to an alternate world -- only that's one in which i could happily live out the rest of my days.

The twink booth seemed a bit out of place at IML, but takes all kinds, takes all kinds.

I love this shot. It's another classic IML scenario.

Here's a dominatrix and her whipping boy. Yes, that's actually a boy she's spanking.

After we leave the market, we wander into the lobby and then up some stairs into one of the ballrooms. What to our wondering eyes should appear, but a slave auction!

It was pretty sad, really. This dude claimed to be an "exhibitionist," but wouldn't take his shirt off when the bawker asked him to. (Is "bawker" the right word?) We watched three guys get auctioned off, and most made about $100 for charity -- the last one was actually quite a cutie, and had a bidding war going on. I think he got up to $160 before this scary, long-goateed guy got him.

Jon popped a squat and texted a girl he knows. "I'm telling her that i'm in the room where she had her wedding reception...only now there's a slave auction going on."

"Make sure you put that in context," i tell him.

It was a strange dichotomy -- assless chaps and older guys in leather, one dude in a little schoolboy uniform, bidding for the right to pee on some guy, all under elaborate chandeliers.

The bitches of "Dynasty": Alexis, Sammy Jo and Krystle.

And, as a special treat: SHACKLES!

This crazyass dude is at every gay event in the city of Chicago, shuffling along. Sometimes he wears a diaper -- though our group was really taken with him denim bikini -- and he's always wearing chains. You can hear him coming a mile away. Someone told me he's some bigshot lawyer. Whatever he does, he's a big shot with the 'mos! It's honestly not Pride, IML or Market Daze without a Shackles sighting!

For those of you not familiar with IML, you're lucky.

No, i jest. It's utterly charming. It's a very special time in Chicago. When lower Michigan Avenue gets taken over by half-naked gay men, usually hairy, often tubby, almost always stinky, wearing harnesses and assless chaps. For some, it's their favorite holiday, a kinky Christmas.

IML stands for International Mr. Leather, and there's an actual beauty contest of sorts, though i've never attended. One lucky hotel hosts the festivities, scaring away all the families for one weekend every year, so as to not subject them to the dirty deeds that inevitably ensue.

About all that i can stomach is the Leather Mart, a maze of vendors peddling porn, sex toys, leather goods, ball gags, slings and the like. Needless to say, these pictures do contain some naughty bits.

And really, if there's one photo to sum it all up, it's this one:

I put on my usual IML outfit, a sleeveless hoodie with SCUM on the front, and leather pants that look like jeans. I made plans with Hippie to meet up at the Hilton, but Hippie was riding his bike downtown, as hippies are wont to do. So, when i got there, I met up with Alex out front, and he took me up to his room (yes, the dude actually got a room for the weekend, now that she's a single girl again) and he told me about his threesome last night and he let me make a vodka Gatorade, which i brought back down to the lobby. Alex was in the midst of exploring the Leather Market, so he went back in, while i decided what to do.

As i'm standing there, i see Ivan the Terrible and Lex Luthor and the rest of that gang, so i happily join them and we wind through the line to pay our donation to the "Leather Archives," which Jeff insists is actually a real place (and a surprisingly nice one at that), even though i still think it's a mythical moneymaker for Chuck Renfrow, and this line is like a friggin' Disneyland ride, and when we finally get to the ticket booth, i see that Teacher Dan's working. He's a total sweetie we met at the Big Gay Cocktail Club. Alex told me he's a 'golden boy,' if you know what i mean, wink wink, nudge nudge.

So we wander around, and things have gotten a bit more tame -- maybe it has just gone more mainstream. That being said, there were still some visual treats -- and by "treats" i do mean, "things to turn the stomach."

Check out that mug on the dame to the right. She looks how i imagine Catty's coworker Patrick's mom might look.

Look! It's a Dick in a Box!

And no, i didn't see what was in there.

The following was one of more grody things we saw (well, if you don't count the bestiality or violent fisting videos). This guy has a chastity belt on, smooshing his junk into a literal mangina.

I know, right?

Lex Luthor was all about this rubber bondage suit. He thought it was "beautiful."

I do love how it recalls those old-fashioning diving suits.

Such lovely carpeting. (It matched the drapes.)

Probably porn stars.

The filming of "Twink's First Sling Set."

We passed by and i snapped a shot of these fellas, but the tubby guy was in the midst of yelling at some passersby for taking candy from him but not his promotional material. As i walked on up the aisle, i felt something hit me on my hip. Looking down, i saw a Starburst. The fat fuck had actually thrown candy at me. "You take a picture of me and then don't stop to talk?! RUDE!"

I obviously didn't want to deal with that, so we scurried away....

(sadly, to be continued)