***REMINDER: Once more Lola has “graciously” agreed to participate in another DEAR LOLA effort. The theme is gay relationship issues and the twist this time is that Lola will be joined by blogger extraordinaire, Elle a.k.a. The Pirate. That’s right — twice the advice for half the price! Are you a flaming ‘mo in need of oral technique tips? A flannel clad lesbian with a closet full of Birkenstocks but no rug to munch? Wondering just how to tell your parents you play for the home team? Well, fret no more — these ladies have graciously agreed to don their thinking caps and share their most thoughtful thoughts in an effort to help the LGBT community get their shit together. Send your problems to dirk.mancuso@gmail.com and be sure to include DEAR LOLA in the subject line. The deadline for questions has been extended until October 5th, 2009 with the post (or posts depending on the volume of mail) running in October as part of my celebration of Gay History Month!

Thank you.

Please scroll down for today’s post…

***REMINDER: Once more Lola has “graciously” agreed to participate in another DEAR LOLA effort. The theme is gay relationship issues and the twist this time is that Lola will be joined by blogger extraordinaire, Elle a.k.a. The Pirate. That’s right — twice the advice for half the price! Are you a flaming ‘mo with domestic partner issues? A rug munching lesbian who needs advice in the bedroom? Are you contemplating making your twosome a threesome but not sure what to do when you’re nude, lubed, and ready to screw? Well, fret no more — these ladies have graciously agreed to don their thinking caps and share their most thoughtful thoughts in an effort to help the LGBT community get their shit together. Send your problems to dirk.mancuso@gmail.com and be sure to include DEAR LOLA in the subject line. The deadline for questions has been extended until October 5th, 2009 with the post (or posts depending on the volume of mail) running in October as part of my celebration of Gay History Month!

Thank you.

Please scroll down for today’s post…

A brief recap of my weekend:

~ Tristan woke me up at 4:45am Saturday to catch our train.

~ Tristan woke me again at 4:50am.

~ And at 4:55am.

~ 5am. 5:05am. 

~ I got up at 5:15am.

~ We took a cab to our hotel.

~ We checked in and I discovered my cell phone had fallen out of my pocket in the cab that had taken us to our hotel.

~ I used Tristan’s phone to call my phone and the cab driver answered and actually returned the fucking thing.

~ I got Skottie Young to sign my WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ graphic novel adaptation.

~ We went to the Harry Potter Exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry.

~ The train ride home had me having to endure this directly across from me on the train ride home:

~ …while the guy in front of him laying on his back, hacking up his lungs and NOT COVERING HIS FUCKING MOUTH…

~ …which led to me putting my hooded jacket on backwards and looking like this on the way home:

~ Later, after waking up from my “thank God it’s over nap” I had a sore throat and felt like shit, as did Tristan who was pissy and bratty and said he had no interest in watching the adorable Neil Patrick Harris host the Emmys and stomped off to bed so I watched and commented along with Debs over at Her Rabid Glow.

And what did you do this weekend?

In my never ending efforts to pander to my audience, please take a moment to leave a comment and tell me what you like reading about the most/the least and what you’d see more of. (And before you start typing, Catrina, the shit pics aren’t going anywhere.) Feel free to also recommend a good book, too!

Have a lovely day and thank you for shopping Too Disgusting to Contemplate, Too Compelling to Ignore.

If you’re a regular reader around these parts, you know that despite my best efforts to avoid such things, I seem to always find myself in  a swirling shitstorm of often amped up and uber surreal drama.

This week has been no exception.

As a result, I have been writing like a fucking madman to finish some of the dangling plot threads from months past because suddenly it’s become clear to me how nothing is a random occurrence — everything and everyone really is connected in some sort of weird cosmic way.

A Pride 2009 wrap-up, Drunk Eve, a couple of creepy-ass workplace occurrences that I couldn’t make up if I tried, remanded-into-her-own-custody Lola, and a post I think Torn is going to LOVE are just a few of the things coming your way. 

So be here tomorrow as I kick off a series of posts that will be my blogging equivalent of sweeps.

Trust me, it’s about to get trippy around here, folks.

Whilst perusing my stats yesterday — blog stats, Ed! — I noticed in the referrers column I had 8 referrals from twitter.

8.

That’s a lot for something I don’t think of as being a logical link to this site and since I already find it a bit unsettling to have my good name googled (and it is, along with “dirk + mancuso + nude pics,” so don’t try to deny it ’cause search engine terms don’t lie), this twittering thing was just another dollop of paranoia on the crazy cake for me.

In an effort to get the facts,  I  immediately clicked on the link only to be sent to the twitter log-in page. Fuck monkey!

With no payoff to my quest, I was left instead with only a litany of questions: How did this blog wind up on twitter? What was the subject matter that had people twittering? Who are the people twittering me?  What’s going on? Am I being plagarized? Am I being scouted by low budget cable televison magnates and about to be offered my own big gay variety show on LOGO or E!? (hint hint) Can one of you twitter folks tell me what’s up?

(And before anyone asks — no, I’m not going to join twitter. I can barely get this daily shit-fest up from a regular computer.)

In my continuing efforts to pander to my audience, please take a moment to leave a comment and tell me your age, gender, and geoographic location as well as anything else you feel like sharing.

Thank you and have a lovely weekend.

Hi everybody.

For those of you that stop by every day, please allow me to extend my deepest apologies for wasting your time. The posts — and I use that term VERY liberally — over the last few weeks haven’t been worth a shit.

Let’s just say life has been happening and I’ve barely had the energy to get through a fucking day without comtemplating the use of black tar heroin or stepping in front of a speeding semi, much less sit in front of my awesome i-Mac and composing something of any worth.

Cue end of excuses.

Join me next week as I put forth an all out effort to bring the blogging back to this blog.  (And yes that means a shitload of Lola with a dash of Tristan.)

Have a safe and happy holiday weekend, everybody!

I was working on a post about  my fucked up great aunt Carrie, but due to several mitigating factors that shit just ain’t gonna happen today.

I hear some of you asking why.

Where to begin?

Well, for one thing there’s a shitload of drama in the workplace today. Lola’s health has taken another turn for the worse along with her gay son directed rage. And then there’s the thing where I told The Fella how I felt and what I wanted and he responded with total silence, a blank expression…and a rather lengthy e-mail.

So until I can get a rein on some of this shit, great aunt Carrie is gonna have to go on the back burner.

Before I go, I’d like to leave you with words to remember courtesy of my pick to win this week’s AMAZING RACE finale, Luke:

Have a great weekend, everybody.

Per usual, any time I write something from the heart regarding The Fella and our relationship I get e-mail. E-mail berating me. E-mail supporting me. E-mail telling me what a dysfunctional fuck I am. E-mail telling me I just don’t give enough info to make an informed decision.  Since the latter is the only one of those I can do anything about…

~ First and foremost, I am not breaking things off with The Fella at any time in the foreseeable future. I tend to forget that even though I view this as a place to express my feelings and try to work through them, many of you tend to see posts like yesterday’s as the “gospel” and think I immediately act on what I am thinking. I don’t. Contrary to the general perception, I am a fairly sensible guy. I almost pulled yesterday’s post after I went back and reread it because I knew that I would be ripped a new one for expressing how I was feeling at that particular moment. I know I have a lot of issues, but I think it’s better I “verbalize” things here and work through them rather than just shoot my big fat trap off and create more problems.

~ Seriously — not one person got the “not looking like a couple” thing? It’s like when you try on a shirt and you totally love it and want to buy it but it’s just not you. You could wear it, but people are always going to be like “that’s a great shirt…on someone else” and no matter how hard you try to work it, the two of you are never going to truly fit. No one gets that? Jesus.

~ And yeah, it still kind of bugs me that we don’t look like a couple. Maybe a bro-mance, but not a couple.

~ The job thing is kind of weird in that I don’t talk to him about my job much because (1) he seems very uninterested in what I do and (2) he’s usually complaining about his job…which makes me wonder why he would think I’d want to work there.

~ In regards to the not being introduced thing, a reader wrote in to ask if my boxers are in a bunch every time he runs into a guy he knows. No. We run into people all the time and one us will exchange a “hey, how’s it going?” and then move on, filling the other in later that that was so-and-so from such-and-such. What makes me feel stupid and confused is when he runs into a guy and will proceed to talk to them for 15 or 20 minutes while I stand there like a fucking idiot (if we’re lucky enough to be in a store, I just wander off and amuse myself but often this will happen on the street and I end up looking like a fucking serial eavesdropper with the other guy periodically looking at me like “who IS this guy?”).

~ To Chrissy, I don’t just carry around baggage — I gots the whole fuckin’ Louis Vitton collection, babydoll. I know this and believe it or not, I’m actually a shitload better than I was 5 years ago. In fact, The Fella freely acknowledges said baggage, and has commented on the ways I’ve improved in the last year.

~ “These things are bugging me– and making me feel …”? Oh, cb —  I couldn’t say that and keep a straight face — it’s all so Dr Phil.

~ My feelings for The Fella haven’t changed. I still love him. I just feel like putting the brakes on a little wouldn’t hurt until I’m sure of where his mind is at in regards to things.

~ And perhaps the most shocking omission (which I think was in the initial draft and then wound up on the editing floor because it was sandwiched between two rambling paragraphs that went absolutely nowhere)…I’m going to ask The Fella where he sees this relationship going while we’re away this weekend. Do I want to? No — because there’s a good chance I won’t like the answer. Am I going to do anyway? Yes.

Either way, I’ll have an answer next week and so will you.

Everybody happy now?

Hugs,

- Dirk