So I guess I'm kinda good at writing gay romance novels. Who knew?

This is a gay romance I wrote about my stations engineer and our weatherman. I changed the relative names and locations to protect the identities of those involved.

Weathering Heights
A Tale Of Stormy Passion
By Chet Huntly

I will always remember the day Steve came into my life. It was late October. The leaves on the trees had already turned to beautifully rich shades of red, orange and yellow. The cool autumn morning made me grateful for the fact that I was wearing my zip-up fleece and corduroy pants. I had just gotten home from KTVM where I had read the weather for the day. Miranda was still at the station and would be for some time. I like to take this time to by myself and reflect how truly happy I am with Miranda. That was of course until I met Steve. While I was sitting alone in my living room quietly crying to myself; suddenly there was a knock on the door. I took a moment to compose myself then answered the door.

Standing in the doorway was the cool drink of water I would come to know a Hurricane Steve. Steve had been in Townsville to work with KTVM’s engineer. A recent rain shower had knocked out our digital transmitters and people couldn’t get their weather updates on the fives. But there was no need for updates for there would be only one 7 day forecast; “Hot and Lusty with a 100% Chance Of Passion.”

Steve played it cool and casual like a Saturday afternoon in April. He told me his truck had broken down right in front of my house. He asked if he could come in a call for a tow. I could see the cell phone in the pouch he had clipped to his belt. He didn’t need to use the phone. I knew exactly what he was after. Just before I closed the door I looked up in the sky, where just minute ago it had been partly cloudy with a twenty percent chance of rain, now the sky was full of cumulonimbus clouds that’s threatened stormy skies ahead. Today would not be a Goldie Locks day, no. There was fire in the skies above us, and the only thing that would quell it would be our unbridled passion.
I walked into the kitchen where Steve was on the telephone, he was having trouble finding a tow truck. I stood next to the cabinet where Miranda allows me to keep my all of my tears. She can always find the traces of my sadness and when she does I must spend at least two hours in the quiet closet while Miranda decides how she will punish me. So we came to the agreement that I could cry as long as I didn’t make a mess.

Steve turned and saw me standing there. He looked me up and down then said, “I can’t get anyone on the phone. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” I told him, “Well we can worry about what you’re gonna do later. Right now we need to get your truck off the road and under some cover. There’s a storm coming and I’d hate to see any harm come to your truck… or you.”
We raced outside to the truck and like the Olympians before us we pushed the truck up into the drive way. In this moment I was Zeus and Steve my Hercules. With every inch we moved the lumbering beast forward our muscles burned, every tissue like a forest fire given to utter desolation. Beads of sweat raced down our backs as we continued onward; just as we approached the driveway; winds came blowing in from the south, south east at 45mph and in a flash, sheets of rain poured down on us soaking us to the core. Lighting shattered all around us. We had no choice but to abandon the truck and look to our own safety.

Back inside the house Steve and I stood in foyer. Our clothes were sopping wet and with the sudden drop in temperature outside we needed to heat things up inside. We stood silently waiting for the other to make the first move. Our barometric pressure was rising, there was a storm brewing in this house as well. Then before we both knew what had happened we were locked in embrace. The eruption of our desires came bursting forth like the peak Mount St. Helens. I tore open Steve’s short sleeve plaid button up shirt. His chest hair was thick and rich like the North Dakota prairie which I have visited many times on my Hippy Dippy Day Trips (Books & DVD available at your local News Station). I ran my fingers through like a combine during the harvest, but I would not, could not deface this Adonis standing before me.

A brief moment of tenderness came as Steve gently blew in my ear. The cool air from his lips was just like an Alberta clipper that brought a shiver to my spine. As Steve began to gently lay me down on the bear skin rug that I like to bring out for such occasions; there came a crash of thunder. The house went dark, but neither Steve nor I noticed. There were no lights but we didn’t need any to know what to do. Our bodies were like extensions of each other’s forming to make one perfect being, not unlike dual F2 tornados combining to create a larger destructive force. A destructive force was what our lust was and after a whole 7 ½ minutes of love making (Personal best, thank you) I looked around only to find that the entire interior of my house had been destroyed. When I realized what I had done and there was no way of ever explaining this to Miranda, I curled into a ball and went to my sad place. I cried out, “What am I going to do when Miranda gets home? She’s going to kill me.” It was at this moment both Steve and I heard the cracking, then with a thunderous force the sycamore tree that had added a lovely decorative touch to the back yard came crashing into the living room. The house was destroyed but the evidence of my tryst with Steve was now lost amongst the wreckage.

Steve collected himself and left. Not with words but with a look that said more than words ever could; the shared joy of our moment together and the sadness at the realization that that it was never to be repeated. I watched from the doorway as Steve walked to his pickup. He climbed in and with the turn of a key, what was once a cold dead homunculus roared back to life; full of youth and vitality. As Steve drove away I noticed a single tear run down my cheek. It would be all I would weep for my Hercules.

Harper Collins, the ball is in your court now.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

Shakespeare with cusses

HBO's Deadwood was an amazing show. I can't come up with a single flaw. It redefined the western genre in my opinion. It showed the American frontier as an even harsher wasteland than the Leone's, Peckinpah's, Ford's, & even the Eastwood's ever did. The town of Deadwood as shown in the TV series was uncompromising in it's brutality. The land was cold and harsh, rich with gold but hell to get it out. The people of the town would rather shoot ya than look at ya. The worst of what America had to offer had settled there. Deadwood was a pot ready to boil over.

A lot of westerns showed the west as cruel and unforgiving especially those of Peckinpah and Leone, but what they never did was use language like this show did. It's use of some of the most eloquent prose of the past century mixed with the most vile disgusting language to spew out of anybodies mouth made the shown truly unique. It made the west even more real, even though I've heard a lot of complaints from history snobs saying people back then didn't really use words like fuck and cunt. I don't care, it makes for good television.

One of the stand out scenes of the series was from season one. It's shows the show's main antagonist Al Swearengen explaining how he came to bea nd reveals his childhood all while getting a blowjob. Ian McShane is so briliant here. It takes something that would become the focus in most other situation, the blowjob, and makes it almost incedental. As a viewer you forget there's fellatio happening because your so caught up in the performance, but what make it great is the moment in the scene where you realize he's been delivering this amazing speech all while getting a blowjob. At the end of the episode you have to take a moment to realize what you just watched and great it truly was.

Deadwood was and is amazing.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

P.S. The one thing that does suck about Deadwood and its not the show's fault is that the DVD's are so expensive. $80 a pop. I got the entire series in one go thanks to a great deal on amazon. It came out to about half price for each season. Well worth it in my opinion. Thank you amazon.com.

Duality

Duality-the state or quality of being two or in two parts; dichotomy

Yin & Yang, Heads & Tails, Balance & Movement these are examples of duality. Although I believe there to be a better representation of duality and it lies within the muscle pain reliever IcyHot. Not only are we dealing with opposite ends of the temperature spectrum, Hot & Cold, like the slogan says, "Icy to dull the pain, and hot to relax it away." But there is more going on with IcyHot than simply its use of hot and cold. For you see IcyHot is not merely a pain reliever but also a pain inducer.

For years I have enjoyed IcyHot as an effective cure for muscle pain but recently I discovered that there is too much power contained within its tube to be used simply for good. IcyHot in the wrong hand or in my case sleepy inattentive can be used for evil and the cause of great pain. What follows is one man's harrowing story in the face of a disaster disguised in an over the counter cure.

A few weeks ago I went out to the movies with some friends. I had been walking with a limp because I had injured myself bowling the night before at a friend's bachelor party. When I arrived at the theater I discovered that my movie was being shown in the upstairs theater. Steps in the past few hours had become a real pain, since I was not sure how to properly favor the other leg. I made it up with no problems, just the sight of me awkwardly limping. After the movie was done I had a slight moment of panic when I remembered how much it hurt to walk down the stairs of my apartment. I figured that I would be fine and the way to deal most muscle pain is to simply walk it off. I was wrong because the first step I took down the stair, my leg buckled and slipped out from underneath me. I landed hard, right on my tailbone. It didn't help that I slid all the way down the steps. There was a mother of two with us, her first reaction was one of shock and concern, but true to male fashion I jump right up with an "I'm alright." I was not alright. I turned down a ride home, the ride offered was not because of my now broken butt, but simply because these friends had drove. I declined saying I live to close to the theater to justify a ride. This was a mistake I soon realized. Walking on a bum led and a broken ass made the four and a half block walk seem like Lawrence of Arabia. I got home hoping to find relief by lying down. No every position I found myself in was one of excruciating agony. For about a week the pain continued making work very difficult seeing as how I could only manage to sit for about thirty minutes at a time.

Then one day a friend offered me a tube of IcyHot. Later that night I applied the rub to my tender tailbone. The sensation was normal cool and minty at first then hot yet soothing. I continued to apply the cream about every couple of days until one fateful application. I usually use the IcyHot right before I go to be that way people don't have to deal with me smelling like an old man all day. So I'm in just my underpants (this is important trust me, also sorry for the visual for those that know what I look like.) and I put the IcyHot on my tailbone being careful not to hit the crack of my ass. Then without thinking, probably because I was tired, I went to adjust my balls. Panic hit me like a ton of bricks with the realization of what I had just done. I stood silence hoping that maybe I had gotten all traces of the IcyHot off of my hand. I hadn't. It started with a tingle, a mild discomfort to the sensitive area of my person. I resigned myself to my fate and waited for the burn. It came on hard and fast. The my rad chilies were on fire. The stinging heat felt as though I voluntarily dipped my balls in acid. I cursed God, then myself for being so stupid. I writhed in pain for the next hour as the heat rub ran its course. I tried to focus my mind elsewhere but the pain was too intense. I wished I could rust rip my dick and balls off but my desire to have sex again kept my head cool. Eventually the sensation wore off and I was able to fall asleep. But I will be forever scarred with the memory off my burning balls.

Duality- the state of or quality of being two or in two parts; dichotomy.

I can't win

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

I am going to die alone.

Prove me wrong ladies.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

P.S. When I wrote the title I was set to write a long, depressing diatribe about my sad pathetic life and my failures with women, but I realized I just wasn't ready to kill this blog. You're welcome.

This has been bothering me for quite some time.

The fact that the word palindrome is not a palindrome.

I know I'm not alone on this...

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

Life is often what you make of it.

Whenever I hear the term "Beer Gardens" I immediately go back to what I thought when I was a child. A Beer Garden was a magical place where children weren't allowed. I imagined a beautiful tropical place where moms and dads sat in luxury and comfort and drank this magical other-worldly elixir. It seemed like this little secret tucked away where only those who have survived enough winters knew about. Where did they go? Having walked the grounds of the state fair I never saw this imagined eden. I always dreamt of the day that I would be old enough and one of my elders would usher me into their fraternity. Then sometime after my 22nd birthday I had my world shattered. It turns out the "Beer Garden" is just a place where assholes go to drink tall boys and listen to shitty music. Man childhood in no way prepared me for the challenges of adult life.

Lesson: Be honest with your kids, within reason.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

We make a lot of mistakes, the important thing is to admit when we're wrong

Remember Snapple, I do. Snapple used to be one of the biggest things in the mid-nineties or at least that's how I remember it. Snapple was one of those amazing products that mainlined itself right into the heart of America's consumer pop-conscious. It seemed to be everywhere, but now it's faded into the forgettable. What caused this to happen? Why do certain things just seem to slip away? Is it because consumer's continue to have a much larger choice when choosing beverages? Are we merely ment to keep up with the newest and and most poular trend? Could it be that Snapple was never that good to begin with or that it couldn't live up to the hype it created for it self?

I vaugely remember the first time I tried Snapple. I had their apple juice. To this day I love apple juice. I chose Snapple because of the advertising, the commercials they ran were people trying Snapple for the first time and being blown away by what an amazing drink it was. It seemed as though this drink could change the way I looked at the world, like somehow after I drank it I would be that much closer to becoming an adult. I would see the world on the same level as my parents did. But this did not happen. I drank the sugar water and my life went on, with no significant change. I was still me yet I felt a sense of loss.

As I look back on my childhood I feel as though this happened quite a lot. I can't quite describe what it really is other than the feeling that the world has just gotten a bit smaller, because of some tiny event that holds no significance yet leaves the you much wiser than you ought to be.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

P.S. I swear when I started writing this I was determined to make if funny. Sorry if this was a bummer.

Wow... Just Wow!

So apparently I was really pissed of with God last week. Well that'll happen when you live like I'm forced to live. I promise the next five post will be somewhat humorous.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

It's A Sign

(Before I start I just want to say I am not an athiest. I'm not one of those smug angry know-it-all anti-christians. I was rasied catholic but now I'd say I'm somewhere in the middle. Open to spirituality but in no way religious. A lot of people might say I'm agnostic but to be honest I'm not a fan of the term I'm not sure of anything and I'm comfortable with that. Everyday I'm figuring it out. It's like a test and I don't have to put my pencil down till I'm dead. This little thing here is just kind of a venting for me that comes from living in a extremely religious christian dominant community and a lot of the things people say around here really scare me. I'm not trying to piss people off here but if your sensitive about your beliefs and don't like to be questioned don't read this and go fuck yourself.)

Have you ever noticed that most christians seem to think something is a sign form God when its for something good. You always hear about things like, when someone survives a horrible accident with only minor injuries, "God must have saved them." Or someone is late for a meeting but something delayed the meeting so now they're on time. It couldn't possibly be that it was luck or coincidence. Christians don't see the negative in god when oh lets say... there's a severe thunderstorm at an outdoor cancer benefit. Cause when you think about it seems like God is saying, "No! I will stop you because I made cancer in my own image." So it seems really what's happening is God is trying to aid cancer in its attempt to kill all it sees. Am I wrong? If God is in control of everything, if our fate is in It's hands, then why is God not attributed to all things that happen. It's like people don't want to admit how fragile their beliefs really are. If they did that their faith would become all the more beautiful. Because the smaller and more fragile & delicate something gets the more treasured it becomes.

The only time you hear God's name thrown around when something bad happens is when a baby or very young child dies. Although rarely do you hear people cursing God, no. what most people tend to say is "God in all "his" infinite wisdom must have had a reason for this child." What if the reason was god is a cave troll and like to feast on the bones of little children. There's no wisdom in a cave troll God. If anything that God is evil and we'll need some gallant knight to slay it. The problem there is most knights were servants of God. So what does that accomplish. Or the more likely scenario God like It's priests, is a pedophile.

Either way I don't want to get fucked or eaten.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

P.S. Why the hell do we call God "Him"? Is God A man? It thought God was God.

Are you there God, It's me Dan?

An open letter to God

Dear God,

WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING!?... WELL... C'MON YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I'M READY, WHAT DO YOU GOT? DO YOUR WORST. I'M NOT SCARED CAUSE I'M RUTHLESS & ROOFLESS. I AIN'T NEVA GONNA BACK DOWN. I'M HARDCORE! I'M STREET! BOOM! YUMMY! STEP OFF HOLMS. WHA'CHEW GOT? HUH?

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

What the hell is wrong with people?

It really irks me that the Saw film franchise is so successful.

That's all I've got at the moment.

I can't win.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

I'm totally getting paid to write this shit.

I write these at work so when you think about it I am kind of getting paid to write this. I'm currently employed as a TV commercial producer for a small station in North Dakota, the place where everything goes to die. I wouldn't consider myself a bad employee but a lazy one, yes. I like to think of fucking off at work to be a kind of an art form. How do I make it look as though I'm so busy I couldn't possibly help with any other project that is going on. Well if you'd like to be like me here's some tips to help you get away with murder at work.

1. Office setup is key

If you work in a cubical I'm not sure if I can help you. Cubicles seem to be designed so your boss can look over you shoulder sometimes with you knowing. On the other hand if you're an office dweller I believe I can help. The key is to set up your office so no one can see what you're doing. Arrange your desk so when you sit at it you face the door. That way anyone that walks to talk to you will see you looking at the computer and assume you're working. If they want to walk around to see what you're working on make sure to follow this next step.

2. Tabbed browsing is a slacker's best friend

I could kiss the genius that invented tabbed browsing. Thanks to this little gem I'm just seconds away from making it look as though I'm "just checking my email" when in reality I was probably reading achewood or a Wikipedia article about Riot Grrl. 

3. Always be kind of working

If you've got a project to work on, keep going back to it about every ten minutes; that way if some one catches you off guard you can always say you were actually working. Remember the key to the slacking off at work is to do enough work to look like you're actually doing your job.

4. Be aware of your surroundings

When I'm at work I have ears like a safe cracker. The office building I work in is fairly small so I can here when someone is walking out of their office towards mine. These few seconds are all I need to get myself in motion where it looks as though I'm shuffling between things in my office. This also helps me when I stand around talking with our secretary. Anytime the door opens I make the quick slide so it looks like I'm just walking into somewhere from somewhere important. Being aware of you surrounding also means knowing who else is in the office with you. Keep in mind while you're having a bitch session about the boss, the person three doors down may not share your opinion and may feel like sharing it with the boss. 

5. Look like shit

Not shaving has lightened my work load more than once. A somewhat disheveled look can suggest to your coworkers that maybe you're a bit over worked at the moment.

Please don't hire me. I'll only make more work for you when you have to fire me.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

The Random Questions On This Site Are BULLSHIT!

Not the questions themselves but the fact that there is a character limit. A character limit is like a literary straitjacket and to quote Freddy Mercury "I want to break free."

I tried to answer this question but Blogger.com would not except it.

Q: Why is raspberry flavor blue when raspberries are red?

A: Well back 1856 Ol' John Raspberry, inventor of the automated chimney sweep, was listening to his brand new phonograph when a time traveling Charles Lindbergh crashed his propeller glider machine into John's living room. John Raspberry offered the confused Lindbergh an warm glass of vinegar and flax seed oil, a popular evening spirit at the time. Lindbergh exclaimed he was from the future and had to leave. Raspberry pleaded with Lindbergh to help repair his broken domicile. Lindbergh being a know lout, scoundrel, flim-flamster, jumped in his whirlybird and took off to safer skies. Raspberry's home would now be in a permanent state of distress because he was honor bound to convince the intruder to repay his debt by repairing the damage done. Having failed to do so Raspberry's house was to remain in shambles for the rest of his family's days. This caused Raspberry to become depressed or as the term was eventually coined-BLUE. Raspberry is Blue.

I can't win.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

The Mind is a Mysterious & Powerful Thing

Do you ever feel like your brain is purposefully trying to trip you up. I feel like that all the time. The worst time for me is when when I'm having a conversation with a woman and I'm completely engaged in what she is saying the out of nowhere my eyes shift to her breasts. Then I think "Oh god I don't want this girl thinking I'm a creep that can't have a conversation without ogling her." Then because I thought that, I can't stop trying not to look like I'm looking at her breasts. So I do all the dumb things like avoid eye contact or try to look at nothing but the eyes. I'm pretty sure that the woman I'm speaking with knows what's going on and It's just as awkward for her as it is for me. 

The worst part is I'm a seasoned breast man. I have a fine appreciation for boobs. For me its not about size but proportion/ shape/ weight. So it's safe to say I send a fair amount of time checking out women's blouses, but not all the time. As a seasoned breast man (23 years for those counting), my feelings about breast go far beyond the breast themselves. I like to consider how the breasts relate to the rest of the person's physical attributes, and beyond that how they relate to the person's personality. For me breast are one of the windows to the soul. So sometimes when I'm talking to a girl and I want to actually get to know them and I notice their boobs, I train wreck. What was moments ago a decent conversation I am now trying to end it as satisfying as possible so the girl doesn't think I'm a creep.

This is just the tip of the iceberg that is my psyche which keeps me from having somewhat normal interactions with people around me. All I can say is thank you to the my friends that put up with me and my shit.

I can't win.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

P.S. "I can't win" feels like it's going to be my mantra on this blog.

ITS A SATCHEL!

When I see how far we've come I have to stop and look at how far we still have to go. Although I thought we had progressed beyond the point of making fun of a man for wearing a satchel. Anytime I wear a satchel I can't go fifteen minutes without someone making a "Heh, nice purse." joke.

Now I would like to say that I am comfortable enough in my masculinity/ sexuality, whatever you wanna call it, to say that I have no problem with the idea of a man wearing a purse. Sometimes I got a lot of crap to carry around and it would be nice to have more than a wallet to put it all in. What I have a problem with is that other people aren't cool with the idea. A satchel is functional people. Of the two I own neither were a fashionable purchases, hell I didn't even purchase them. I stole one from the lost and found from my work a few years ago. In my defense the bag was there for a week and if you don't care enough to claim it after that it never "really" belonged to you. That bag is an unfashionable black and dark green nylon affair. No one in there right mind would even mistake it for a purse, but since its a bag with a shoulder strap people gotta give shit. Even tough it not much to look at its comfortable as hell. The strap was the perfect length when I took it. Its got a ton of pockets to put crap and since I left a unwrapped cigar in one of the pouches it smells like delicious tobacco.

The other satchel I own is used. It was given to me by my brother and is made of really worn nice leather. Its like the kind of satchel the Indiana Jones would have used; Indiana Jones one of the toughest dudes around. When Indy wears a satchel no one gives him shit but when I've got to walk somewhere and I've got some books I need to carry and I use a satchel because a backpack is a little too big, people ask me, "Hey that's a nice purse, does it come in men's styles?"

I can't win.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

P.S. I'm not a dude that knows fashion and what not. In fact I couldn't give less of a shit about what's in style. Its a waste of time and money, and the fashionistas are the some of the most shallow empty people on the planet. My feeling on clothes is as long as there's something is covering my three piece collectors set I'm happy.

The DanCo. Promise

As a young company I have found it is important to let consumers and investors know what we're all about. So I give you the DanCo. Promise of Quality.

I promise DanCo. will:

Smile at you when walking down the street

Consider giving a dollar to a homeless if they are entertaining

Offer only the best imaginary products I can think of

Introduce new words into the lexicon i.e.( Dantastic, Brazanties-the bra & panties, & Dan do-like can do but with a "D")

I promise DanCo. will not:

Have a sex scandal unless the person is unanimously hot

Take naked pictures of you and post them on the internet. I have a dummy corporation for that.

Hit on your mom unless she's hot or its really funny

I promise with these promises this company will become one of the most successful companies ever conceived by me. Thank you.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"

The DanCo. promise is subject to terms and availability and is not valid in the states of Alabama, Utah, Maine & Alaska.

A Common Bond Will Unite Us

As I watch the news and I hear about all the horrible things being fought over and that continue to divide us, I there is something I can take solace in. Some thing that will always unite us as human beings... our hatred of Nazis.

No matter what happens or how we feel about each other we can still come together to despise those genocidal douche bags.

Take courage in the days to come and know that Nazis are and will always be assholes.

Laters,

Dan "The Man"