It was a whim. Still in recovery from last week's medical thing (that landed me in the hospital and will be written about once the neurologist has a diagnosis), there was a recognition that going to meet "the guys" at Truck Stop or the Eagle Beer Blast or Metropolitan's Sunday barbecue was maybe a bad idea. Escape was needed though as cabin fever was achingly abundant. I walked myself to the subway station entrance and sat on a bench debating going for "just a couple of beers". Then came the call from a best friend in Atlanta on business that brought the scold of "having no business carousing in your condition".
The subway station is two blocks from the multiplexorama, so a quick check to the Flixster iPhone app brought the antidote to my situation: The Final Destination, 3-D.
The ($15.00!!!) ticket was purchased with a medium Coke Zero and peanut M&M's. (How can you they be out of Twizzlers? How is that even possible? Also? Were it not a whim, outside purchases would have been made.) A near perfect seat was chosen. Then the horror began.
First the Father arrived, securing three other seats. Then came the Mother. And the four-year-old Son (two seats from me). And the tween Daughter (next to me). A quick glance confirmed that any available remaining seats were inferior. "Tough it out" demanded the inner bad-ass. Then the lights went down and the surprises began.
Would you listen to it? Or would you prefer it was embedded?
Then comes a compendium dedicated to giving me that nagging sense of "other". It was that same sensation that for years kept me in the closet (until I was 26!) as every gay I saw in the media was so far removed from my sense of self that there was no possible way I could be, well, "that".
Since then, my mind is more open, and, well, I sort of love "my peoples". Even my asymmetric flashy peoples. But while I embrace them, I can also lovingly point out and say, "Really, gurl? Damn!"
(Via Duane's Facebook)
Every weekend Duane (whom everybody knows, including, sort of, me) posts a flawless list for what to do during said weekend. After trying to get him to write for MO (for free (ha! rewd)), I now accept that he's too smart of a cookie for that type of flimflammery. (Speaking of cookies? That's what your author is preparing tonight, for a brunch and other events this weekend. I mean, why bring booze when you hardly drink? Bring cookies! Blueberry almond lemon cookies! And make them "special"!)
Oh, anyway,this was about going "out". If that's what you would like to do, then here's where you should go about doing that.
It was a common rookie's error. Wanting to see who was around for a little sumpin-sumpin, one would type in "manhunt.com" and instead of seeing men available for sexxing arranged by geographic proximity, one would receive the latest news of a southern gospel group (pictured via the Internet wayback machine). The group held the domain name for years, forcing the sexual hookup version to stay in the realm of ".net" sites.
Sometime recently this status changed, and Manhunt was finally able to make an offer that the gospel group didn't refuse. A quick email to their publicist confirms that sometime in July Manhunt.com was procured by Online Buddies, Inc. (8/17/09: SEE CORRECTION IN COMMENTS - BIGGEST ERROR EVER?) What the publicist didn't answer was how much the gospel group was paid for the rights to the ".com" domain name. As they had held out for years on apparently moral grounds, it can be guessed that the Great Recession might have opened their eyes to conceding some morality for some cold hard cash.
Cash is something Manhunt apparently continues to have in abundance. In addition to a site overhaul, and adding new products (a webcam site and amateur porn site), they're hiring!