Apparently, this was an actual "toy" conceived, manufactured, and marketed in 1962. The ad touted the product with the claim that The Rock and Roll Toy..."builds strong bodies and develops co-ordination"...that's fine...but did it teach youngsters the intestinal fortitude it takes to clean up your own projectile vomit if you jumped on this demonic contraption right after your mom made Rice-A-Roni and meatloaf?

Rice-A-Roni...the San Francisco treat.

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See...that's a lot better than the other post I was going to do today.

The post I was going to do today; if I had actually posted it, would have been titled...

"Create a free (passive aggresive) blog in less than 5 (passive aggresive) minutes...
even post (passive aggresive) images in your free (passive aggresive) blog gallery!"

I got sent to the principal's office in the 5th grade for bringing my cassette recorder to school and for playing this song in the middle of art class. Miss Akins was the epitome of late 1960's hotness. She looked just like Anne Margret. All the boys in my class tried to get this teacher's attention, mostly by acting out.

I doubt anyone will remember this song, but it was a huge hit during 3rd period art class at Woodmore Elementary in 1970. I can remember that afternoon like it was yesterday. I yelled at Marty Kaufman for drawing a ballerina with her hair down...ballerinas ALWAYS had their hair up. Then I played "Amos Moses" on my cassette recorder and got sent to the principal's office.

I wonder about some of my old teachers and what they are doing now...I wonder how many of them are still even alive, actually. I would imagine that my 5th grade art teacher Miss Akins eventually married Burt Reynolds and moved to Acapulco, but I can't be sure of this.

I saw recently on my old high school's website that there are four teachers still there from the time I was a student. That was a looooooong time ago. Is that really possible? I suspect that they were stuffed when they died and are animated now like the figures that pop up in the "It's A Small World After All" ride at Disneyland, or the singing bears at Chucky Cheese.

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So anyways....that's not what I wanted to post about at all.

I wanted to post about the cute shirt I bought off the sale rack at Banana Republic.

Blue and white checkedy, ginghamy. Two pockets in the front and yokes seamed on the shoulders. Slim fitted... (read..."gay boy tight")... and when I tried it on in the store in their mirrors, it was cool. I was wearing my tight brokeback jeans and I was lookin' good.

I thought I had nailed that "sexy-tight-cowboy/work-shirt-tight-jeans-sexy 1970s throw back" look that all the hot gay boys are workin' nowadays.

So I wore it today and looked in the mirror at work.

Then THIS is what I realized that I actually look like in it.....

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In the April edition......!

I feel I need to clarify something. My current celebrity wet dream is Bea Arthur, granted. But not the "Golden Girls" era Bea Arthur. Oh please. I'm talkin' the "Maude" era Bea Arthur, baby. Awww yeah...I recall one episode where she turned abruptly and her caftan shifted just enough to expose a thigh. mmmm mmmm mmmm That's what I'm talkin' about.



Maude: God's gonna getcha for that, Biggie.

Biggie: Damn.... girl, I loooove it when you talk dirty to me.

I've decided to boycot emoticons.

I mean really...how lame and cliche are they when you think about it? If you are trying to say something funny, shouldn't you just at least attempt to write with enough finesse and wit without having to stick a big ol' queer , , or after it?

If you like me, if you really really like me... I'll detect how genuine you really are by the way you express yourself...not from the amount of s, s, or s that you punctuate a message with.

If you are angry, why not take some time, own it, feel it and express it in a few well thought out eloquent words, instead of or ?

Ohhh...I know I know...I've always used the hell out of emoticons...but no more. I see them now for what they are, as far as my own writing is concerned....a cyber-literary crutch for lazy, second rate, psuedo writing. If you ever see me use them again, spank me. Then spank me again.

Then...uh...spank me again.

Ok...then spank me just one more time for good measure.