How's it hangin' y'all?

     Howdy y’all. 

     It sure has been an odd week. I’ve been hosting a fifteen year old boy this week. I’d forgotten what it was like to have an eating machine in the house. I feel like I'm sometimes working to keep an all you can eat buffett going!

     Okay, now I feel a rant coming on. I just can’t help it. I’ve got to get this off my chest... or leg. Ladies, this is pretty much guy thing, so if you don’t want to hear this, go off and do something girly. I won’t be offended. 

     Here goes: About the only thing I don’t like about summer is… Well… I absolutely hate it when my balls stick to my legs. I know you guys know exactly what I mean. You’re standing there, shaking your leg trying to get your nut to let loose. It doesn’t work, so then you try the other leg. Nope, still stuck. Then you go and do the pelvic thrust, like you’re some kind of moron imitating something out of Rocky Horror Picture Show.

     Of course you look up just in time to see a woman, or worse, a group of women looking at you like you’ve just arrived from Mars. Hey, at least you hadn’t gotten to the point where you just reach in and readjust all your junk, an audible POP resounds around you as that sucker finally lets loose! And guys, just admit it. Once you’ve done that, you want to smell your fingers. Go on. We’re all men here. We all do it. However, when you’ve been busted, you feel like the perviest of pervs. Well… most of you do. Me? I really don’t give a shit. I’m a guy. I’m not ashamed of it. We’re just pigs at heart. Once you’ve realized this, your life will be so much easier. Trust me on this one.

Perv!

     I think the worst thing is, when it is so warm, your balls hang so low you end up sitting on them. Fuck that hurts. There’s nothing like sitting down on a hard chair and busting your own balls. And if you’re in public, you try not to scream or let your eyes roll back in your head. But damn, that shit hurts! 

     This happened to me recently. I was going out to have lunch with a friend of mine and I did just that. She asked me what was wrong and when I told her, she almost was hysterical with laughter. Then everyone was looking and I still had that pained look on my face. I noticed one guy looking at me with total understanding written all over his face. He tipped his head and I nodded with that unspoken bond of brotherhood. Yep, we’ve all done it. 

     So guys, I’ve been thinking on this the last couple of days. As much as I hate being all bound up, my stuff all squeezed together, I may have come up with a solution for those low-hanging, heat-tortured nuts. I’ve got an old jock with the cup-sock. You know the type, the ones that most football players wear with the little pocket built in for that hard as steel cup that protects the important stuff. Instead of the cup I’m going to get some of those flexible cold packs that you put in your lunch boxes or coolers. Slide that bad boy right on in there and let it cool the boys down. I don’t know about you, but I have a feeling that putting your balls on ice when it is ninety-plus degrees outside sounds like a pretty good idea to me! I mean, think about it: you’re outside mowing, the sweat dripping down your face, your back, your chest, but Mr. Happy and friends are all nice and cool! Great idea, right? I am soooo going to try this. I’ll let you know how it goes. 


     Alright, ladies… it is now safe to reenter the room. 

     Now I’m going to give y’all a little update. Since I’ve been home I have been busting my ass getting things back together. For those of you who know me, or have been following along on Facebook, you’ll know I had been working very hard on this yard. When I left, it was really looking good. I got back…and it had gone to hell in a hand basket. 

     While I was gone the rainy season had started here in Florida. No surprise there. I knew it was coming. I thought I was prepared for it. Or so I thought. My house-sitter was supposed to be mowing. Well that didn’t happen. At any rate, I’ve been playing catchup ever since. It has been a lot of hard work. I was disappointed, hurt and mad all at the same time. Oh well, it is what it is so moving on. I’ve gotten it back under control and looking good once again. 

     Yeah, I know, a lot of you think I’m nuts for spending so much time outside sweating my butt off in the Florida heat mowing, weeding, watering, feeding, clipping, edging and such. Yeah, I’ve heard it before. What I try to get people to understand is, I love it! I truly love working in my yard. I get instant gratification as well as having patience and the anticipation waiting for things to grown and then bloom. I just get off on it. It is like entertainment to me. It is my joy. 

Aren't they cool?

     I once had a friend actually fuss at me when I told him I couldn’t go somewhere because I didn’t have the money for it. “You’ve sure got enough money to spend on these plants!” I had just gotten some really nice native azaleas. They were gorgeous! They were burnt orange with flutters of bright red. I still remember them. I tried to explain to him that this was my entertainment. Not going off on some river diner cruise. That would last just one night. Those plants would give me years of pleasure. He didn’t get it. Oh well. 

     Any who… This is just part of who I am. Now understand that while I’m out there, sweat running down my ass crack, I’m also plotting and getting ideas for stories. So, you see, I’m actually doing double duty. In a roundabout way I’m working on my yard and gardens and working on stories too! Doesn’t that count as multi-tasking? Yay me! 

No, they are not mine.

     Time to wrap this up…my fingers are getting itchy wanting to pull my balls off my chair and get some actual work done, i.e., go outside and play in the dirt and think how I’m going to tie this next chapter up and put a bow on it.


     Now as always… please take the time to do something nice for someone else which in turn is actually doing something for yourself. 

     Have a great week, y’all! 

      Max

Yeah, I can still do it becuse I want to. Ha!

     I've been trying all week to try and figure out what to blog about. I had nothing. Then a friend, Gladys Morreno, posted something on FB that really made me pause. 

     It was a music video that blew my socks off. What really intrigued me was that it made me flash back to my recent travels. The video was nothing like anything I saw while in England or France, but it did make me focus on what it was that I really liked. 

     Yes, seeing the Eiffel Tower was cool. Doing the bus tour of London was great, but that wasn't what really pushed my buttons. Yes, yes, the urinals were fun and so were the strippers, but that isn't what I’m talking about. Damn it, you pervs. Do you think that is all I think of? 

Okay, maybe sometimes that's all I think of.

     What I’m talking about here are the little things that make a trip so good for me. Walking through the side streets where there are no tourists. Finding those little jewels of cafés, restaurants and taking in the local colours. That is what makes it special for me. 

     So, Glayds’s video was a Latin video, which took me back to my mother talking about when she and my father used to take a cruise over to Cuba and spend long weekends there. Of course, this was before Castro fucked it all up. She would tell me stories of the great night life and fantastic music they experienced. She also liked to sample the local fare, instead of doing the touristy things.

Trinidad Street, Havana

     Years ago, when I was doing a bit more traveling, I would go to a grocery store, or local shop and just look around. Yeah, I’m such the total foodie. One time I got ballsy enough to approach this woman and asked her to take me home with her and let me help her cook dinner for her family. 

     Her name was Pamela. Her father was Hispanic and her mother Italian, so she often did a fusion of old family favorites. The food was amazing. Her family was very cool and they welcomed me into their home, and even asked if I wanted to stay with them while there, instead of the hotel. I didn't do that because I didn't want to impose and I also like my independence. 

     Now I know this is really off the wall and strange to some people, but hey, I usually like people and I love food. So hey, why not? I did the same thing once in New Orleans. 

     This time I found Gloria in a specialty shop, buying sausage. She told me she wasn't cooking that night, but was going to her sisters, and that the sausage was for the following night’s dinner. However, she let me know that if I was interested, I should be there around noon the next day, and gave me her address. 

Royal Street, French Quarter. LOVE this street.

     I didn't know at the time that it was her eldest daughter’s birthday and that her entire family would be there. Once there, I could see why she didn't mind the extra helping hand. Damn, they had as much food cooking as the restaurant I was currently working in. We had a blast and the payoff was some of the best, most original creole cooking I’d ever had. It was then I really knew what it was supposed to look and taste like. 

     Yes, I worked like a dog but it was worth it. Of course, as her family started arriving, they all looked at this white man in their mother’s kitchen and asked what the hell was going on. It was quite different, but they eventually warmed up to me. I ended up passed out on her sofa that night. Let me tell you, those people can party! 

     Another place I did this was in New York City. That is where I learned how to do real Jamaican Meat Patties. I made such a pig out of myself. I got to experience the open market in Brooklyn, which was so amazing. Salt fish, all the open herbs and the different ways they used them blew me away. I am soooo going back there one day. Of course, New York is a foodie’s wet dream! 

Oh, and yeah, there are hot guys there too! :D

     So, let me ask you folks this: How strange would it be for a stranger to walk up to you while shopping and ask to come help you cook. Would you do it? Let me know. Who knows, there could be a book in there somewhere. What’cha think? 

     Where next? I really, really want go to Italy. Pompeii is at the top of my list. Then I want to do Rome, Florence, Naples and then Venice. Yeah, that would be a dream trip for sure. I’ll have to go on a very strict diet before I went. Hell, I gained at least ten pounds just in France. Of course, all those pastries didn't help, I’m sure. 

And they don't put stupid figs leaves over the goodies!

     I've always wanted to go to St. Petersburg, Russia, but that is out now. Make me sad. There is the largest collection of art there from all over the world that I’ll never be able to see. Of course, I’ll miss out on fantastic cuisine as well. Damn, I would love to have smoked sturgeon and vodka there. Oh well. Maybe before I die, but I’m not holding my breath.

This houses some of the best art in the world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaerapRPS64

     Another place I would love to visit is Cuba, but our stupid government keeps us away. I don’t agree with the politics there, but there is so much to see and experience. Just makes me mad sometimes. If you've never seen or heard of the Buena Vista Social Club, check them out. They are amazing and another reason why I would love to go to Cuba. I've had Cuban cuisine from low to high end and let me tell you, those people can really cook! Don’t forget, that is also where Desi Arnaz was from, as well as some other great artists. 

Okay, yeah, Cuban men.... just yeah.

     Yes, now I have to say I do want to go down under. (Minds, people, outta the gutter, if you please.) Yes, Australia and New Zealand. The vineyards of Australia have got to be amazing. One of my favorite vineyards is there, and I would love to visit. Don’t know that much about the food, but I am sure that I would find some amazing talents there as well. 

     New Zealand just looks beautiful. Not so sure I want to go during their winter, however. Of course, those accents make me week in the knees, so there is always that! That’s just a bonus I’m sure. LOL Oh, and they also play rugby...naked! Now who wouldn't want to see that?

Naked Haka anyone?

     So, for those of you who might be in a city where I may be visiting, don’t be afraid. Take a chance on the guy carrying big knives.

     As always, let me remind you that doing something for others makes you feel better and makes you a better person. Doesn't have to cost anything, or very little. Just do it!

    Till next week...

     Max ;-)

Because I can! :D

Home, but with memories that will last a life time!

Sorry this is a week late, but hey, shit happens. 

     I’m going to start here by saying thank you to everyone who has sent me messages of support after the chaos when the person house sitting for me abandoned my poor dogs. It means lot to me. It was a nightmare I never want to go through again. But it is all over and done with now. So moving on…

     Now…onto the fun stuff! My traveling around the UK and Paris!

     Bugger. Bollocks. What the hell is wrong with you English? You use these words so offhandedly and in such a derogatory fashion. 

     Bollocks. Now for my uninformed American friends, that means balls. Bollocks! Yay for balls, I say. I love balls. Balls are fun. Balls are juicy, in more ways than one. Balls are great to play with. Of course my personal preference is nice furry balls, but all balls are nice. So why in the world would you people disparage such lovely creations? Okay, I actually like the word bollocks, but when I say it, it will be with admiration!

Oh yeah!

     Bugger. Another word that I wonder why you English throw around in such a belittling way? Bugger off! Oh bugger. Of course the source is slang for gay fucking, which is to be taken as an insult. Bah! You have it all wrong. Buggering is wonderful. We love to bugger, or fuck as we on the other side of the pond would say. So lay off, would ya? 

     May I suggest you just say fuck and be done with it. It is much more versatile anyway. It is a verb, noun, pronoun if you choose or an adjective. So much more useful if you ask me and it doesn't single out gay men. Remember now, I don’t really give a rat’s ass what some of you English think of me, but then I really don’t care much of what anyone thinks as a general rule. I’m old enough, and my ass has been around the track enough times to slough it all off without much thought. But again, that’s just me. But come on… find another word please. 

     Poof. Well now, that is just downright rude. Where did poof come from? Hmmm. Let me see. The only thing I found is that it comes from the word puff, as in powder puff. Used to be used to describe an effeminate male who wore face powder. Basically it is just another word for fag. “There were a couple of poofters here.” Translation… “There were a couple of fags here.” 

     Yeah, whatever. Bite me. The last time I had a powder puff touch me was when my mother changed my diaper, so you can just kiss my powdered ass. So bugger off! He he he 

     The way you English phrase things is just bizarre. When are you going to learn to speak proper English? Eh? There are times I have to turn to the lovely Ms. Wells and ask for a translation! So much for speaking the same language. Of course, I had no better luck in France, since I don’t speak French. Hey, at least they looked good while talking. Oh, not to say there weren't some very handsome men in England, quite the contrary. 

     I have to say, I've never seen so many dark-haired men with blue eyes in my life, one of my favorite combinations by the way. They were everywhere! I swear there were times I thought my head was going to rotate right off my shoulders. 

     As I write this, I’m sitting and listening to the waves roll in. Sharing Ms. Wells’ writing spot in Steephill, Isle of Wight is a joy and a privilege. (Yes, Will, it is Steephill NOT Sheephill, as much as you’d like it to be.) Lovely. It’s quite lovely. Lovely, lovely. Simply lovely. Would you like to know how many times I've heard that one single word in the last hour and a half? Let me put it to you this way…there has not been one person, out of many, that has NOT said it. Arrrrrgggghhhh! 

     I’m glad that she can write so much here. I on the other hand had way too many distractions, half naked men being one of them. That’s what happens when you sit on the beach I guess. Well, that and the crying babies. I’d never get as much work done as she does. Amazing. 

A very wet K.C. Wells with a blue cock!

     A few days later we found ourselves in London. During Gay Pride in London it poured the rain. Of course that was the ONLY day it really rained the entire time I was there. Oh bugger. (Crap, now I’m stuck with that one too! HELP ME!) It really did kind of ruin it for me. I didn't think my ass was ever going to dry out. Anyway, we decided to go have a bite to eat and take a nap. The nap didn't happen. 

NOTE: I no sooner got back to the hotel when I got a phone call informing me that my house sitter had abandoned ship. Totally fucked up the rest of my stay, but enough of that. 
 
Later that night, the lovely Ms. K.C. Wells and I went in search of entertainment. When we got to Soho, the gay section of London, it looked like Mardi Gras. I found myself encased in throngs of vibrating men in the middle of the street. Wow. I was like, OMG. Actually, I think I did a post to that effect. There were these two very hot men, snogging their faces off, right in the middle of the street. Oh, snogging is the Brits way of saying kissing and making out. So sad they can’t just speak simple English. 

     After we got through the thickest part of it, stopping for a quick beer first, we came to a clearing, and low and behold… a urinal! YAY! Not just any old urinal mind you, but one of those that are just open to the world. I really think they are amazing. What a great idea! Of course, I’m just pervy enough to appreciate it for other reasons. Of course I had to get a few pictures! 

     I think it is hysterical that guys will simply whip it out, take a whiz and then forget where they are and turn around to zip up. “Oh look! Penis!” BWHAHAHAHA! I love it. Of course, I had such a good time we went back the following night, when it wasn't quite so crazy, with the charming Ms. Petronella Ford. That is when I got the really good pictures! We sooo need some of these in the States.

     Now leave it to me to find a bar with either strippers or go-go boys. Yep, I found one. And yes, we certainly went. The Village in Soho is a great little pub/bar. Nice men dancing around in next to nothing. Unfortunately, the Brits are a bit on the prudish side, so no full out stripping. Oh well, one must make do with what one has. *sigh* 

     Now then, earlier I said something about the British currency in another post. Remember the whole thing about no one pound notes, only coins? I proved my theory that night. Those poor dancers didn't get tipped once. Not one solitary sole gave those lads any cash. I felt so sorry for them. There they were, shaking all their goodies for all they were worth, and they got no appreciation for it in the way of monetary payment. Wise up England, you NEED one pound notes. Your go-go boys (and girls I’d assume) are going broke! They need help! Get a pound note, support your strippers! Sheesh. 

     The next day I took a bus tour of London on one of the open air double-decker red buses. Quite the experience, I must say. The history there just amazes me. Interesting to see how closely the States and England are tied. (So why the fuck can’t they speak English!?) Again… prudes. There was this amazing statue that was erected in the 1800’s I believe, of a nude man. A lovely statue it is. (crap…am I ever going to get that out of my head?) Of course they went and covered up his junk with a fig leaf. I could only shake my head in dismay. So sad… 

     The rest of my trip was mostly spent in pubs. (I was a bit stressed.) The highlight of the pub crawl was ending up in a Bear Bar/pub for karaoke night, where the lovely Ms. K.C. Wells sang! I kid you not. The only female to do so. Girl’s got some balls, I’ll give her that. She did quite well by the way. (Of course that song has been stuck in my head ever since. Grrrr.)

     I got a little drunk, slept well and got up, washed London off and caught my plane back to the States. Hard to believe that I was there twenty-six days. It was the trip of a lifetime. 

     I’d like to thank the lovely Ms. Wells and her equally lovely hubby, my buddy, for hosting me and showing me such a great time. (And yes, he says lovely just as much.) I’d also like to thank all those at the UK Meet who made it such a memorable experience. Rumor is that next year it may be in Edinburgh. IF it is, you can count on me to be there! 

     It is great to be home, sleeping in my own bed, with my pups around though. There is no place like home. 

Ms. Scarlet

     Now, I have to wonder what happened to that homeless young man, Alexandre, from Paris. I wish I knew. It wasn't much, but I hope what little we did give him had a positive impact on his life. So, remember everyone…it doesn't have to be a lot. It doesn't have to be anything big, but you can make a huge difference in someone else’s life. Take the time to do something nice for someone else. Trust me; it will make you feel fantastic and a much better person. Pay it forward or back, whatever the case may be. Just do it! 

     Have a grrreat week, y’all! 

     Max

p.s. I'll soon be doing a special blog post on the food! Stay tuned.

Because I can!