I keep having this dream where I'm dreaming that I have insomnia and can't get to sleep and then I wake up and realize I was just dreaming the insomnia. Lately, it's taken on a new twist, where I wake up in the dream thinking I've woken up from the insomnia dream, but in reality I'm still dreaming. This happens like eight or nine times in a row before I really wake up.
Once I'm actually awake I realize that all the waking ups were part of the dream because usually in the dream I have insomnia in an apartment I used to live in, not this one. But for some reason while I'm dreaming that doesn't register.
It's worse when I'm dreaming that I have insomnia in this apartment because it makes me unsure if I'm awake or still dreaming that I have insomnia.
This makes me hope I can read this entry in the morning and am not dreaming this bout of insomnia as well.
I'm writing Gay Houston this afternoon and Gay Austin tomorrow morning so if any of you guys want to plug a gay bar, restaurant, cruising park or whatever, now is the time to let me know.
What an odd combination of both jumping the shark and becoming more interesting at the same time.
The shark jumping part, obviously, is that like, in general, we've seen the dude bust out of a prison before, so there's no real tension in all that. And the evil prison dudes thing has been done better in other movies and television shows. Beyond that having all these same guys in the same prison is beyond ridiculous. And, lest they head into Lost territory they better tell us something about The Company fairly fucking soon.
And yet... the scene with The Girl In The Bar is excellent. As are the last two minutes of the show. T-Bag becoming even more evil is also fun.
So... my verdict is the show could implode into awfulness very soon if they are not careful, but it has also demonstrated that it can return to greatness.
It's still up in the air.
People can surprise you.
I assumed Britney would redeem herself last week and I was clearly wrong.
I also assumed the Olsen Twins were talentless twats.
But, whichever one of them (they are twins and the download I had cut off the credits so how the fuck am I supposed to know which one) was on the new episode of Weeds did an amazing job as the pot smoking jesus freak. Like, seriously amazing.
Wonders never cease.
Q. I have a swim-cap fetish. I don't know why; it's not like I saw my grandmother bathing with a shower cap on or anything like that. My GGG girlfriend is willing to wear a swim cap during sex, and I think that's wonderful, but it goes beyond that. I go to the pool several times a week on the way home from work—not because I like swimming or need the exercise, but because I want to see women in swim caps. My girlfriend doesn't know about this; she thinks I am just working late. I feel bad about lying, but I can't bring myself to tell her. Is this cheating?
—SWIM CAPS ARE REALLY EROTIC
A. You're not cheating, SCARE, but you're acting like you are—and that has to be the dumbest fucking thing you could possibly do. If you lie and sneak around and hide the fact that you've been swimming—swimming—then your girlfriend is going to react like you've been cheating on her when she discovers that you've been swimming—swimming—behind her back. Any girlfriend GGG enough to wear a swim cap during sex is going to be GGG enough to let her boyfriend check out other girls in swim caps at the pool. She may laugh and roll her eyes—with affection, hopefully—when you ask for her permission, but a little good-natured ribbing from an indulgent partner is a small price to pay.
Q. I've been happily married for eight years. My wife and I have sex once or twice a week. But I have a serious problem: I'm addicted to pornography. I keep a stash of porn in a drawer at work. Three times a week, my lunch hour is spent jerking off in the handicapped stall of a public restroom. And that's only the beginning. I have a fetish for shit. An ideal experience for me is to save up my bowel movement until my lunch hour, go to my favorite restroom, and time it just right so that I empty my bowels right before the moment of ejaculation. An extra bonus is if someone arrives at one of the other stalls and takes a shit. The sound and smell of it excites me even more (I am definitely not gay). And once the person leaves, I finish with a head-shattering orgasm. After a really good one, I sometimes smear my shit on the walls of the stall. I feel very disgusted afterward. I'm not hurting anyone, but this seems wrong. Should I talk to someone?
—ADDICTED IN LOS ANGELES
A. Yeah, AILA, you should definitely talk to someone: the janitors who have to clean up after you. You owe them an apology and tens of thousands of dollars worth of restitution. Eesh. I'm trying to decide what's more hilarious about your letter—that you think a "porn addiction" is your problem or that you felt obligated to include "definitely not gay" in a parenthetical. Uh, AILA? There are lots of straight guys out there with porn stashes and thrice-weekly-or-more masturbation routines who somehow resist the urge to smear shit all over bathroom stalls. But hey, on behalf of gay men everywhere, I want to thank you for identifying as straight. And we encourage you to be particularly insistent on that point when you finally get arrested. We don't need any more toilet-related bad press just now, thanks.