And Now We Are 34, or How It Feels to Be Older Than Jesus

Well, here I am; another year older, just as short, just as fat, just as sassy, just as broke. Actually, I'm broker cuz I don't have a full-time job anymore. But I am insured! "Why Keith, how is this possible, since you are apparently no longer a full-time salaried insured worker?" you ask.

Dom, my Ain True Love, and I have procured health coverage through his work at the University. We had to have a

Notarized Affidavit of Domestic Partnership

for the University. Never mind that this is a state school and that my state does not recognize such things. Never mind that now we are on some List somewhere where the guv'ment can find us if it so desires to, oh I dunno, persecute My People. Or maybe they'll just seek fashion advice. That last part was funny cuz it was a stereotype We don't have here at the "Boy Lair". Between Dom, two castrated pets, and me we couldn't accesorize ourselves out of a paper bag. With directions.

*watches Baby Kitten squirrel away his catalog from LL Bean*

So, I've been made an honest man of sorts. To make it really real, we're gonna have some sort of a Ceremony in October 2008. Could be Protestant, could be Catholic. Maybe Eastern Orthodox just to throw people off. At least we have some actual ceremonies from the EO church for My People. We don't know yet what we're gonna do, or wear, or eat, or what kinda rings to get ("Screw rings, let's get matching tattoos! Or a puppy!"). My nephew will be 3 and a half, and will be the best ring/tattoo/puppy bearer EVER. His brother will be just a lil guy, but I think he'll be a FABULOUS wedding cake topper.

We've considered allowing the Baby Kitten and Zeke Whippet in on the show, but then we realized that the cat would have to be muzzled and restrained, Dr Hannibal Lecter-esque, and brought in on a loading cart by armed guards to ensure that he wouldn't wreak utter havoc.

I can just imagine as the reception winds down and the cat is carted away

Baby Kitten: "Oh, and Daddy Dom: love your shoes."

This is a "cat" (and I use the term loosely) who has unholy sexual relations with a stuffed squid on a unsettlingly frequent basis, who is currently fascinated with Dom's new hobby of acrylic paints and their brushes, and who fetches bouncy balls when we throw them around our home. Maybe he'll catch whatever we throw as a substitute for a bouquet/garter. What does one throw at a same-sex union ceremony? two jockstraps? Boxer briefs? Viewing guide to Lifetime?


In other news, I ate an entire box of Mac n'Cheese tonight. Mostly because I was hungry and had mowed the "lawn". This is the former flora which is mostly dead from drought anyway, so it was more of a Requiem than a Mowing. Still, I got all hot and gross and the cat drank all the beer last night ("Go get me a 40, bitch!") so it was sweet tea, mac, grilled chicken, and corn on the cob for the Boys tonight. Also, the dog has been eating cicadas again. A whole backyard full of McBugs is all they are to him. A veritable buffet of invertebrates. Still, its the little things that make life worth living.


Parting shots: following is a photo from roughly late 1980, featuring my Ain True Love, then one of me from about 1974. It's a minor miracle we survived our infancies and were able to find each other. Please note:the powder blue polyester leisure suit with flyaway collar, bell bottoms, and feathered hair were, I am assured by my older sister, the envy of all the 2-yr olds in my county.






























ttfn,
Keith