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Greatest Hits Tour.

It’s been a slow night for internet porn. Just when I get feeling all healthy again (after riding my bike back and forth to work, plus enjoying some swimming afterwards) and looking particularly “buff”, no one wants to play on the webcams with me.

I’m kidding, people, settle down. We have a house rule. Internet porn after midnight and only after midnight.

No, actually I’ve been doing what I do best. Amusing myself.

I didn’t say “pleasuring myself”, I’ve been “amusing myself”. We’re out of the gutter mode now, o.k.?

I’ve been amusing myself by reading old blog entries. Not any of my blogging-friends’ blog entries. No, no, I’m way too vain for that. I’ve been reading _my_ blog entries. I figure someone’s got to read them sometime, so I go ahead and look at my little witty stories from time to time. Sort of like a “greatest hits review” if you will.

My initial impression is “My God – I’m a complete and utter mess of wild emotion.” Readers must think that I’m an absolute freak. Between pleading (like a five year old) with my lover for an iMac, exploding on innocent co-workers and falling into emotional heaps because of snow, I’m surprised no one has thrown me into the local institution and hidden the key until the daily Arts and Crafts hour.

My second realization, and the stronger of the two, is that I am a really lucky guy. Earl puts up with my crap. I put up with his. We’re in love. We’re two very lucky men (yes, Bush Lite, two men, in love, that wear wedding rings and believe in God. Figure that one out) to have found each other. Many don’t have the opportunity to experience true love. I’m fortunate enough to be able to savor the feeling.

I enjoy reading bits and bytes of my witty dialog to Earl as he surfs the web on his shiny iMac. He doesn’t appreciate that at all. “You told me about it before.” “I was there, remember?” “You really crack yourself up, don’t you”. I don’t think he appreciates the male-Rosie O’Donnell in me.

I think Wil Wheaton has the right idea. Find some of your greatest blog entries and put them into a book and publish it. Erma Bombeck essentially did the same thing, she took her best newspaper columns and tied them into a neat little package and called them “The Grass Is Always Greener Over The Septic Tank”. Hell, it was even made into a movie. Maybe my life should be made into a movie. I’ve been told that I resemble the younger guy on The Myth Busters. Which is a problem, because I find the older guy to be hotter. I wonder if they’re a couple. Probably not, they probably don’t date co-workers.

But I digress.

I see no reason why a movie of my life wouldn’t be wildly successful, like that movie on the independent circuit, “Super Size Me”. Lord knows I’ve crowed about the virtues of Sonic and Chick-Fil-A enough to get a fast food endorsement. Maybe that weird chick from Jerry Springer could duct tape on a few slabs of meat and moan a bit. That certainly would get attention as a sponsor.

We all know what’s going to happen. I’m going to just stay true to my inner geek and keep on blogging. Why bother to get it published when I live my life as an open book.

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