Drivers Ed, (F)reddy Style

When I was a wee lad we had this class available to us in school. It was, of course, an elective class, not a requirement. But most of us took it as a way to kill our summer months between the 9th and 10th grades. It was called “Driver’s Ed”, “Ed” being short for EDUCATION for those of you who haven’t had your afternoon Starbuck’s yet.

In this class we learned an amazing skill. It was called DRIVING. And we didn’t have to do it driving around the cars with the pizza deliveryesque billboards on the top of them announcing to everyone (as if nobody could tell) “WARNING: DRIVING STUDENTS ON BOARD!!!” No shit. That person going 15 in a 65 is a DRIVING STUDENT? I just though he was EIGHTY. Not that I’m saying all older drivers are shitty drivers…no, that must JUST be my dad.

Even if people ARE, in fact, still taking driving classes some 20+ years after I did, it appears that today’s instructors are leaving out some of the basics. Mainly, traffic courtesy and RIGHT OF WAY. It was always my understanding that yielding the right-of-way was not only, let’s say THE LAW, but it was also a common driver courtesy that you would extend to your fellow drivers. Let’s say you’re both on your Sunday afternoon drive to your house of worship with your 2.4 children in the back seat and you approach an intersection at the same time someone on your right approaches. What should you do? Well back in the day you would have wave your WHOLE hand at the person next to you, NOT just a single digit, and you would play, “you go ahead…no, you go ahead…” for about 3 minutes. Not anymore. Apparently there’s a sense of entitlement that every driver shares that is, “It’s my RIGHT, it’s my WAY.” Oh, and here’s your single digit wave.

I hate you all.

As I was riding in the passenger seat on the way home from Sonic the other night with my grandmother driving (a/k/a Jed), he approached a four-way stop sign at the same time another driver approached his left. The older gentleman to our left started playing the old familiar game I mentioned above, you know, the “you go ahead…no you go ahead…” with Granny Jed. Jed, of course (since he digs older dudes) plays back. I finally said, “FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST MARMIE! WOULD YOU FUCKING GO ALREADY.” Then I turned around and explained to the boys that these were a “daddy word” before resuming my “conversation” with Jed. He said that he was just being polite, and I told him that he was just being annoying. That it was, in fact, HIS TURN to go through the intersection because he had been on his future tricks RIGHT HAND SIDE. I said, “WHY DO YOU THINK THEY CALL IT ‘RIGHT-OF-WAY’?” And he said, as he always does when he hates that I’m right, “Oh!” Apparently this WASN’T something they taught in driver’s ed in Texas. And before all you asshats start leaving kudos and words of encouragement for Jed being all “saintly” and all for putting up with my shit, we both already know how lucky I am that he sticks with me, so just stick to the point.

So for those of you who don’t understand the simple principles of driving, I give you…driving lessons.

First, the basics:

• When you hear the sirens of an emergency vehicle, you pull over to the side of the fucking road. You don’t keep going, and you certainly don’t immediately switch lanes because the other lane miraculously cleared out for you. And you also are not an extension of that emergency vehicle. Therefore when it passes you, you don’t TAILGATE it trying to bypass all the lights yourself. If you do, you deserve to be INSIDE the ambulance, not behind it.
• When somebody does you a solid, ACKNOWLEDGE IT. Even the slightest of movements from your wrist to your fingertips (ALL OF YOUR FINGER TIPS) will be appreciated by there person who let you in to that last second spot so you could make your immediate turn.
• Rain DOES NOT equal ICE! If it starts sprinkling, it’s no cause for alarm, and no need to drop your speed to 20 miles below the speed limit, especially if the speed limit is only 30 to begin with.
• Stop signs and stop lights apply to you too.
• There is a huge difference between a Stop Sign and a Yield Sign. Not only do they LOOK different, they also mean different things. “Yield”, for example, means YIELD THE RIGHT-OF-WAY.
• SIGNAL YOUR INTENTIONS. If you want in my lane, please let me know by using that stick on your steering wheel that magically makes one of your taillights flash. Likewise, if you’re going to make a turn (suddenly or planned) use the same blinking mechanism.
• FIGURE OUT WHERE YOU NEED TO BE/GO BEFORE YOU START YOUR CAR.
• If turns make you nervous, take the fucking bus.
• If you see a hot shirtless man on the side of the road changing a tire, ALWAYS stop to offer assistance. Even if he’s not “that hot”, you should maybe stop anyway…he may be on his way to extend his gym membership.

Now please forgive my rudimentary diagrams. I’m not as proficient with “Paint” as I am with “Explorer”:



Now in Figure A we have 2 cars traveling towards each other and approaching a four-way stop. If both cars were going to continue in their same direction of travel (IE: Continue going gaily forward), they would both come to a complete stop, and then continue through the intersection. IF, however, car B was going to SIGNAL his intention of turning right; after coming to a complete stop, car B would wait until car A cleared his way through the intersection before proceeding with his turn. I know folks. It’s confusing. But you can do it, I PROMISE.



In figure B I’ve pictured a scenario that I mentioned above…flashback to Jed driving? Okay. Cars A & B approach the same four-way stop intersection at the same time. Car A is continuing forward, as is Car B. However, since Car B is on Car A’s immediate right, Car B gets to get about his day first. Then Car A can rush to happy hour. Doesn’t matter if Car A is trying to turn into Car B’s line of traffic or not, Car B STILL gets to go first. Don’t forget that friendly 5 fingered wave.

Figure C got eaten by my dog. Curses dog.

Figure D introduces the Yield Sign. Isn’t it pretty? It sort of reminds me of the pink triangle. This is what I see every day that I leave my house. On the end of my street there is a Yield Sign. The cross traffic does not stop. It doesn’t have to. It doesn’t have a stop sign. Nor does it have a stop light. People seem to have the mistaken impression that Yield means you don’t have to stop at all. It’s like a “free pass”. They approach the sign and the turn at 30 mph with no regard or care to the people in the cross traffic. Let me tell you. It’s a fun little intersection. A Yield Sign, if you must know, means slow down and proceed when the traffic is clear. It doesn’t mean barrel out in front of a car that is going 35 right towards your door. It also doesn’t mean you HAVE to come to a complete stop, but it’s okay if you do.



Figure E was hard for me to do. I intended the squiggly line to go back and forth several times, however I had no such luck. Not all areas of the country have this anyway. For those that do, know that it’s not a sobriety checkpoint. No. It’s a signal that you’re entering a School Zone. If you’re going 40, kindly drop your speed down to 20 and proceed with caution. Especially if you’re in MY neighborhood, because in a few years it’ll be my bratty children walking to school while Adrian is screaming at Nathan, “Would you cross the fucking street already?”

If you don’t drive, thank you. If you do drive, practice the rules. If you live by the rules, you rock harder than Amadeus.

Comic Con 2008

We, the fam, just came off the best family vacation in the history of family vacations. I’ll try to keep it short, but I wanted to share my fabulocity with you. Rather than make a long(ish) blog even longer, I’ve uploaded pictures of the trip at my Flickr account…feel free to check ‘em out.

We left Austin for San Diego last Tuesday. I did a fabulous job chosing flights this time, as we were able to take a direct flight and cut our travel time down to only 2.5 hours. A perfect time limit for traveling with toddlers. Now if we could just figure out our packing! Getting through security with 4.5 carry-ons, 2 toddlers, 2 strollers, and 2 carseats is NOT FUN. YES, I realize we can rent car seats when we arrive, but kids travel on planes MUCH better if they’re actually IN their car seat. So we arrived in San Diego around 1030 in the morning; got our car; and navigated ourselves to the house we had rented…which just so happened to be next door to my ex, Steve, and his awesome new husband, Danny. As an added bonus, my good buddy, Shawn (Steve’s sister), drove down from L.A. to surprise us. We stopped to pick up provisions for a picnic later that evening and we all headed out to the most fabulous San Diego Zoo.

The zoo was fantastic. Adrian had set a goal to see all of the animals from “Kung Fu Panda”, and I think we might have accomplished that. There was a creepy guy working in the panda exhibit that was sitting in a chair talking in “sexy voice” about the panda exhibit. When we approached him, we noticed he was sitting with a blanket in his lap with a hand under the blanket. It was 90 degrees folks…it wasn’t like we were in Antartica. It was just plain creepy.

Wednesday morning Jed, the boys, and I drove a little bit north of San Diego to go to Lego Land. It was the most fun ever. Unlike Six Flags, the minimum height requirement for most of the rides was 36-40 inches…so even Nathan got to ride most of the stuff in the park. We ate lots of nasty park food and Adrian got to pick out some new Lego toys for himself.

Thursday morning we left early to head out to Comic Con International. I have never seen so many people in my life! We attended a couple of panel discussions on a variety of topics. A major disappointment for me was the panel on the “re-imaging” of the 70’s classic(s) Escape to Witch Mountain. We got to see the trailer for the movie and it, in a word, SUCKED. The film is going to be a TRAIN WRECK. It was a bit hectic navigating the convention center with the boys in their strollers. The size and scope of the convention was just overwhelming. One of the highlights of my day, however, was getting to meet Steve, one of my GuySpace pals. He was more obsessed with the convention than Jed was, and had already attended Preview Night, as well as getting there hours before we did…so he was able to offer us tons of tips and suggestions of where to start and fun things to do with the kids.

Thursday night Shawn came back down from L.A. and we all had dinner together. After the kids went to bed we drank every last beer in San Diego proper and played some poker. Now there’s a disagreement of who ultimately won it all, but Jed and I ended up taking the pot…the whole pot…all $25 of it! Not bad for my first time playing poker…and I must thank both Steve AND Shawn for replenishing my chips every time I lost ‘em!

Friday Steve and Danny took the day off of work and kept the boys for us so Jed and I could have a full da y of Comic Con without lugging the kids around. We met up with some of Jed’s comic nerd herd and hung out with Comic Steve some more. It was a completely different experience not having to fight the crowds with the strollers. We had a blast. Friday evening Danny’s parents came over to babysit the kids so the four of us could go out and have adult night. We started off with dinner and some “kick ass Margaritas”. And yes, they were…both of them. We strolled around the Gayborhood afterwards and played pool at one bar (more drinks) and went to another bar (more drinks) where I got to meet one of my podcasting friends, Wes Stone, from Live It Up!

Saturday morning, following breakfast with Steve n’ Danny, Jed and I headed out to the beach with the boys. We went to Hodad’s, a place I had heard about on the Food Network’s “Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives” for burgers and to meet Wes Stone and Nessa from “We’re Mean Because You’re Stupid”, another one of my favie podcasts. If you’re not listening to either of these shows, you should be! Nessa and Wes were just as charming as could be. Afterwards we all went down to the beach and drooled over hot lifeguard boys and chatted for a bit. We said our farewells and headed back to the house for a quick nap before hoping on the trolly and going back downtown to meet up again with Steve and his super adorable husbear, Dennis. They’re the kind of couple that make you wish lived in your city so you can hang out with them EVERY day. After dinner we headed back to the casa, put the kids to bed, then spent the rest of the evening packing for the return trip home.

Sunday was another flawless travel day. Made it through airport security in no time flat. Kids were in a decent mood the entire time we waited to get on the plane. The SECOND the plane took off, Nathan fell asleep in his carseat and slept for the entire trip…while Adrian watched movies on my computra. It was another direct flight, so only 2.5 hours of travel time. It couldn’t have been a more perfect ending for a more perfect trip.

I can’t thank Steve and Danny enough for all they did in helping put this trip together. They really went above and beyond. I also can’t say how much I enjoyed hanging out with all the new people we met on this trip. You each made this a trip I’ll never forget. I’m truly blessed to know so many wonderful people, and look forward to meeting more of you in the future. FYI: Jed and I will be in NYC coming up at the end of August…sanz kids…so if any of you want to meet up…or meet up again TRALFIE…let me know!

On English Composition, I

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't strugglin' with the balancing act of work/life/school/family right now. Honestly, this is much harder than I was anticipating. In fact, until last night, I was wondering if I was doing the right thing...if it was even necessary, at my age, to do this school thing. I realize it has been a mere three weeks since my decision to go back to school, but in those three weeks I've seen the house become neglected; the yard become overgrown and inhabited by fleas and mosquitoes due to the neglect; the children forgetting who I am and becoming more indignant towards my presence and sassy towards Jed; and I even am beginning to feel a little isolated and disconnected from my boo kat, and hell, I'll say it, "lonely".

When I signed up for classes, I had fully intended to register for the short 5.5 week semester of Algebra. I'm smart enough to know my weaknesses, which is why I thought it would be best for me to actually sit in a math class 4 consecutive nights a week to re-learn a skill that I hadn't utilized for some 20+ years. People laugh when I say this, however it's completely true. My friend, Heather, would say, "You balance your damn checkbook, don't you?" And I would reply, "No. Microsoft Money balances my checkbook." She would say, "You have to use math to figure out how long it's going to get some place on vacation, don't you?" And I would reply, "No. My Tom Tom does that for me in about 13 seconds." She would finally give in and say, "You're right, you don't use math...ever."

I also signed up for a "long semester", or 11-week, English Comp I "distance learning" class. I figured since I write every day for my job and seemingly do it well that it would be something that I could focus a little less time on during the first five-and-a-half weeks and then use the remaining five-and-a-half weeks to focus on the EC1. The day classes started I got an email from the EC1 distance learning professor detailing how the class would work, the importance "frequent communication", and the extreme importance of not lagging behind, or procrastinating, as to not fail his course. He also gave the first of 6 essays that needed to be completed by that Friday. It wasn't until this email that I realized I had accidentally "clicked" on the wrong class and had actually signed up for the short semester for this particular class as well.

The essay was an easy one for me. I was to write a 500 word essay on a significant event in my life and it had to be "emotive". I quite literally cut n' pasted my blog about the adoption of my first son into a new document, removed all the "Freddyisms", edited out some other portions and emailed it in. It was returned to me with a note that said A) It was HELLA way too long and B) it was a great story, but didn't really show how I felt! I guess I felt the inferences and comparisons of a gay man trying to adopt a child with his gay partner and the difficulties they had to go through that STRAIGHT people don't was enough feeling, but I respect that he clearly disagreed. So I re-wrote it and sent it back in.

The way the EC1 class works is this: We are assigned 6 essays over a variety of pre-chosen topics and a writing style they must be written in. We can send in one essay at a time. As one essay is accepted, we can then submit the next essay. You cannot submit another essay until the previous one is accepted. If 4 essays are accepted, you get a "C". If 5 essays and a test are completed, you get a "B". If the 6th, and final, essay is accepted, you get an "A".

So my first essay was kicked back to me, edited and sent back in. It was accepted on the rewrite. I sent my second essay in last Tuesday. Now, I realize I'm not the ONLY student this professor has. I realize the class I'm in is not the ONLY distance learning class that he's teaching the semester. However, given the context of his very first email regarding the need for "frequent communication"...yadda, yadda, yadda, I found myself getting frustrated and irritated the whole of last week. As I said, I sent in my second essay on Tuesday. And then...I heard...NOTHING. I began to wonder if the essay sucked so bad that he couldn't even force himself to comment on it. I wondered if maybe the email I sent didn't have the essay attached to it at all. I wondered if I had even SENT the email (a quick check of my "sent" items revealed that I had). I even wondered if he had died, or had admitted himself to a short stay in an alcohol rehab program due to the stress of having to grade so many poorly written papers.

And then, finally, last night, I got a return email from him that said, "This is an excellent example of paper #2. The description is vivid and specific. It is organized according to space and not the passage of time. The style is also very informative. Excellent work. Accepted."

And for some stupid reason my eyes began to leak a little. I felt like a hormonal woman who had just been presented a large chocolate browning with vanilla ice cream on top. The house, yard, kids, and boo kat are all still neglected, but at least now I'm feeling like there is a reason and a purpose for the neglect. I even feel like I may be able to do this...finally.

Now, I realize this little bloggy bloggy journal entry has gotten a little long winded...but if you're interested in the essay written in referential and descriptive style...

There are more than 900 stone rings, or “henges”, not only in Britain, but outside of the commonwealth as well. Undoubtedly the most popular and most visited of the henges is Stonehenge.

Getting to Stonehenge beings outside Britain’s Bath Spa with a drive along the rolling green pastures of the A303. There is a benefit to hiring a driver, someone familiar with the country-side and the lore surrounding the mystery of the henge. It’s not until turning off the A303 onto the A344 that one begins to get a feeling deep inside that something magnificent is on the horizon. Five-minutes away from the final destination, it’s difficult not to revert to a long forgotten inner-child about to meet “Santa Claus” for the very first time. It is hard to prepare for what to expect, because the fund of knowledge many have about Stonehenge is limited to what has been learned in history lessons, or pictures seen in various travel magazines.

A qualified tour guide will use that last five minutes of the drive to fill his passengers in on the history and the folklore behind the henge. He may opine that Stonehenge was once used by astronomers; or that it was used in “cultish-type sacrifices”; he may relate that the grounds were used for other types of religious activities; or possibly, that it was “built by aliens”. He may even mention that Stonehenge, based on the definition of a henge, is not even a true henge at all.

There are certain internal and external characteristics each henge shares. For example, each henge has timber or stone circles inside the henge and a ditch along the inner-circumference. There is also a built up mound, or bank around the outer circumference of the henge. This is why it is felt Stonehenge isn’t truly a henge, because while there is a small bank built up within its perimeter, it also includes a ditch which runs along the outer perimeter of this bank.

A classic first impression of Stonehenge is the prehistoric site appears to be something the people behind the “magic” of Disney have created, rather than something that was erected nearly 5000 years ago. Pulling into the parking lot the monument can be found by looking across the motorway to the north. From this vantage point the stones appear nowhere near as impressive as they do in any of the photos seen on film and television. The circle, which looks enormous from an aerial view, looks no bigger in diameter than a standard sized spare tire.

Access to the monument is through the modern building on site. Walking through the commercialized showroom, there is more a feeling of enter a plastic play-scape rather than a feeling of antiquity. It doesn’t help matters, when paying the admission fees, that the showroom is filled with kitchen hot pads with the infamous monument embroidered on them. Nor does it help to see “Monopoly: Stonehenge” games sitting on the shelves next to the Stonehenge coffee cups. It feels as if the only thing missing is the familiar yellow arches with the word, “McStonehenge” on the menu of tour choices giving patrons the opportunity to “super-size” their Stonehenge experience.

From the payment kiosk, there is a tunnel which runs under the A344. Each of the landmarks estimated 869,000 annual visitors must walk through this tunnel to tour the sacred grounds of Stonehenge. Inside the tunnel there are concrete castings of artifacts and fossils that were found when excavating around Stonehenge. The cast reproductions soon give way to sunlight across the worn, huge stones. Stepping out onto the Salisbury plains with Stonehenge stretched out across the horizon, the modernization of everything south, across the motorway, somehow magically disappears. Visitors become completely oblivious to the building they have just walked through; completely unaware of the motorway driven in on behind the concrete wall. There is a strange feeling of calm brought on by the magnificent structures displayed, some 5000 years of wonder and amazement.

Stonehenge is comprised of a series of 5 rings. There is an outer ditch that encloses each of the four inner rings which has an entrance at its northern most point, and southern most point. The next circumference is made up of a mound of silt. Inside this ring are the tall, familiar, vertical stones, known as “bluestones”. There are 43 of these bluestones making up this third ring. Each of the stones are approximately 6.6 feet in height; 4.9 feet wide; and 3 feet thick. Several of these erect stones have large flat stones set horizontally atop them, known as “sarsen stones”, giving a “roof-like” appearance to this third ring. The next inner circumference is comprised of another 53 vertical bluestones the same size as the previous ring. Finally, the center ring is made up of a series of smaller stones, known as “trilithons” which are positioned in a horse-shoe shape. There are many other stones within each of the diameters of all rings, each having served a specific purpose throughout the estimated 1000 years it took to construct Stonehenge.

There is a realization Stonehenge is the more popular henge for a reason. A lazy stroll through the monuments, can take 3 or more hours. With an estimated 869,000 annual visitors, at the end of the tour there is a sense of community and commonality that brings people together with everyone who has walked the same path in the decades and centuries before them.

Remember when: The Toaster Edition

I remember when I was younger we had a toaster that did an AMAZING thing…it TOASTED YOUR BREAD when you put it in the two slots and pushed down the lever. Not only did it toast your bread, it did it in about 30 seconds, and the toast was always the appropriate level of nice golden brown. Granted, sometimes this little aluminum box would occasionally melt the cord that was plugged into the wall, but GOD DAMMIT, it TOASTED YOUR BREAD (and/or muffins, bagels, pop-tarts, or whatever else you put in it.) And good god, when ya pulled your toast out of your toaster, your butter ACTUALLY MELTED on the toast!



Now with all these friggin’ “safety features”, even with my (work) toaster set on its longest setting, these new fangled toasters barley dry out your bread, let alone “toast” it. And, it does so over a period of 15-20 minutes. I vaguely remember when the switch to safety began, somewhere in the early 80’s, and toasters stopped functioning as a toasting mechanism and morphed into a safety appliance. It was just about the time that they introduced a larger toasters marketed for larger families, and went from the ever popular two slice toaster to the much needed FOUR SLICE toaster.



The four-slice toaster was ESSENTIAL for larger families, or any non-single-person household. I always hated Saturday/Sunday morning brunch, because as the youngest person in my family, I always got stuck with waiting to be last for my toast. I would get my toast some thirty minutes after the first person finished eating their hot breakfast. Even with the advent of the four-slicer, I always dreamed of having one of these industrial toasters in our house…



My uncle used to own a few franchise locations of a restaurant called George Webb’s in the Milwaukee area. I remember as a pre-teenager being fascinated with his industrial toaster in the restaurant, because it could put out toast faster than I could eat it…and BOY HOWDY, could I eat toast. To this day, my favorite meals is two eggs over medium on top of hashbrowns with bacon and toast. I love love love to sop up my egg yolks with my buttered toast, cuz my arteries just ain’t clogged enough yet!

So what happened? Why did our toaster become nothing more than warming trays? I have a few, ummm, thoughts on the matter.

Could it have been the introduction of the combination toaster/egg poacher?



REALLY? Have we become that lazy that it’s easier to pop two eggs in a toaster than it is to quickly heat up a small skillet on the stove top and fry them yourself? Did the “toasting” process slow down to a crawl to give the poaching compartment enough time to thoroughly cook your eggs? Or are your eggs as uncooked as your bread when the little “ding” finally goes off and you have to run it through the cycle three or four more times to get your eggs did right?

Or perhaps it was because of the HOT DOG/Bun toaster?



Uh…is it really that smart to have all that hot dog grease to be splattering inside a TOASTER? Or is that why they turned the heat down on these things? To prevent grease fires? And really…how many hot dogs do you need to eat to justify buying one of these things?

How many times have you been in your office and thought to yourself, “Huh, I REALLY wish I had some toast right now”???



Ohhhhh, goodie. Now I can plug my fucking toaster INTO MY COMPUTER? REALLY? How stupid is this??? I don’t know about your home, but in mine, wherever my computer is plugged in, there’s usually AN EXTRA FUCKING ELECTRICAL OUTLET where I can plug MY TOASTER INTO. Yeah, no wonder you can’t have a high heat source on your toaster when it’s PLUGGED INTO YOUR COMPUTER.

Tight on space in your house? No place to have a television and/or radio in your home?



No problem…just put a radio IN YOUR TOASTER??? COME ON! Yeah, again, cut the heat so you don’t melt your radio transistors? JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING THAT WILL BROWN MY BREAD! I’ve got an Ipod; a car stereo; a home stereo. I don’t need to listen to NPR on A FUCKING TOASTER.

I get so frustrated at home sometimes that I usually just leave my toaster in the cabinet and bust out my toaster oven.



Yeah, it takes up a little more space on my precious counter top space, but can quickly toast lots of bread for my starch lovin’ family. Come on toaster industry. We don’t need all these quirky little toasters. All we need is something that did things the way they used to…make hot, delicious toast that butter melts on. That’s all I’m asking.

Remember when? THE TELEPHONE EDITON

Perhaps it’s the rainy weather. Perhaps it’s watching Adrian teaching Jed how to use the new remote control to operate ALL of the electronic “stuff” in our living room. Perhaps it’s the acceptance that I’m going to be Kay’s age in T-2 years, 184 days, 17 hours, and 27 minutes. Who knows. Regardless, I’m turning in to my parents…and I find myself saying, “Yo, y’all. Y’all remember when…?”

Like, remember when you could pick up your phone hanging on the wall in your kitchen and just dial it and reach a person? You could walk around your kitchen stretching out the cord to see how far you could get. Sometimes you could make it to your refrigerator and grab something out of it if your REALLY stretched the cord?



About 3 years ago I bought my first “Smartphone”, which is an oxymoron and, perhaps, one of the stupidest things I ever did. At the time it sounded like a really good idea. I mean, I was carrying around a PDA, a cell phone, an MP3 player, and, at times, a big bulky computer so that I could keep all the data files on each of the devices all synched. When I saw the Smartphone, I got a little twitch in my groin, because here was ONE device that could do EVERYTHING all my individual devices could do. It was a no-brainer, right?



Wrong. The problem with the Smartphone was you had to be a genius to figure out how to use the god damn thing. Back in the day, when Ma Bell would bring you your new rotary phone, you took it out of the box, plugged it into the jack on the wall, and made sure the two holes on the back matched up with the tiny plugs on the faceplate. You lifted up the receiver and stuck your finger in the appropriate number hole and spin to the right. IF you were HIGH BROW, you could just push the button and have the same effect. There were no directions. You didn’t need them. You needed to be dead to NOT be able to figure it out.

It literally took me about 3 months before I felt comfortable enough with my Smartphone to make a call while I was driving, or that I could find applications quickly. When I first got it, for example, it would take me 15 minutes to figure out where the “notes” button was so I could “quickly” jot down someone’s phone number. FORGET trying to just add a new contact to the damn thing…that was just nonsense.

For the first year or so, I spent a lot of time getting familiar with my MDA. There were nights that Jed would accuse me of spending more time with my MDA than I did with him. And, in hindsight, he may have been right. I used just about every application on the phone on a daily basis. MS Money, check. Windows Media Player, check. MS Word, check. Actual phone features, ??? Yeah, I’m not that popular.

After the first year, the applications on the phone became a novelty, and I just didn’t use them that often. The sound quality on the MP3 functions of the phone weren’t that great, so I went back to a regular MP3 player. It was easier to enter my receipts into a standard computer than it was to “hunt n’ peck” on the miniature keyboard of the MDA. I started developing arthritis in my index finger joints from holding onto the tiny stylus while playing solitaire. The internet functions, at the time, were slower than Jed in the fast lane on the highway. And I found myself wondering, Are all these features on a PHONE really necessary?

Last November I was trying to figure out where I could cut back so I wouldn’t have to take out a second mortgage on the house to buy Christmas prezzies for the boys. I thought, “Huh, I could start by dropping the $20/mo. data plan on my telephone that I don’t use that often. Oh, and I could also drop the $10/mo. insurance that I’ve paid every month for the last 24 months (which…in doing the math, had I not paid that $10/mo. for 24 months I could have paid cash for another phone in case something had happened to my MDA!). These were two great places to start, and this is exactly what I did.

THREE DAYS LATER I had misplaced the “phone condom” that I stored my phone in to protect the face of the phone. It was a “casual day” Friday at the office and I was wearing my Lee press-on jeans. I had squeezed the MDA in my front pocket and forgot about it. When I got home, I pulled the phone out of my pocket so I could relieve the pressure on the button of the pants and take them off. I was completely saddened to see my house keys had fractured the “touch-sensitive” screen on my dear sweet MDA…rendering it completely useless. With the screen cracked, I could see things ON the screen, but I couldn’t dial numbers, I couldn’t answer calls, I couldn’t use any of the features on the phone. And I was fine with this, as it meant I could go back to a real phone, or a Razr.



The Razr, while compact and convenient, just meant that I had to read another manual and learn all new functions on a new phone. And while it had SIMILAR features to the MDA, none of the actual functions were identical. For example, it had a calendar function, but you couldn’t sync the calendar with your computer and everything had to be entered manually if you wanted reminders. Uh, no thanks. It didn’t have a “standard” keyboard, so I had to get used to the predictive text nonsense on a keypad. It did what I wanted to, however, it dialed calls and received them.

But a mere three days later, I found myself, again, traveling to the office with a cell phone, an MP3 player, my computer, my GPS, my GBA, my camera, and a whole host of charging cables/sync. And I started, again, having shoulder pain from carrying all this stuff. I also REALLY missed having my calendar items right there on my phone. I mean, REALLY missed it. And perhaps the biggest loss of all was having ALL of my contacts and contact information GONE from my finger tips. That was a HUGE convenience having the MDA, being able to sync my contacts with my phone…I didn’t have to sit there and enter each friggin’ person individually. When I lost my MDA, while the contact information was still on my computer, it was gone from my phone…and so I didn’t call people all that often, because lord knows it’s impossible to remember a 7 digit number these days now that they’re stored in your phone.

And so I cried myself to sleep every night for a few months. I couldn’t justify going and buying a new phone. Jed is always so good about using his technology devices until they die. Unlike me, who sees the flashy lights and cool functions as an opportunity to throw even more money away on things I “need”. And then, it happened in January…Jed’s cell phone finally died.



We went up to T-Mobile to find him another phone. And he says, with the straightest of faces, “I think I want a Smartphone.”

Now, let me just take a second to say something about my kitten. I love my boo-kat, I really do. And I know this won’t be a surprise to him that I feel this way, and I hope he forgives me for sharing this with the world, but my boo-kat is a technology reject. He’s lucky if he’s able to figure out how to turn on a new lamp. Now, in my boo’s defense, he comes by it naturally. His entire family missed out in the “lamp” department. His aunt gets a new camera, she sends it to (F)reddy to figure out how to use it and give her verbal instructions. His mom gets a new TV and we have to go to Galveston to show her how to use it. His whole family just ain’t “manual readers”. And “manual reading” just so happens to be something I enjoy!

So while we’re in T-Mobile, I say, “Are you sure?” And he says, “Yeah, I think I want a phone I can check my email from.” Remember when you could EMAIL FROM YOUR COMPUTER?

So I seize this opportunity and say, “Well, if you’re going to get a Smartphone, and you’re going to expect me to show you how to use it, I should probably get a new one too so that I can familiarize myself with it and be able to show you.”…

And he bought it…hook, line, and sinker.

So I’ve got ANOTHER new “Smart”phone, and it has been taking me quite some time to figure out a lot of the functions. The hardest part has been getting used to the “QWERTY” keyboard…I’ve JUST about mastered that. I was thrilled to be able to sync all my contacts again, and I have vowed to use all the functions of the phone to their fullest potential. Jed…has figured out how to answer his phone and make the occasional call. He STILL struggles with that little “beeping noise” while he’s in a call and, often, can’t figure out how to answer the second incoming call!



While I dig my new phone, I surely do miss the “good old days” when I had my phone that plugged into the wall and sat on my bedside table. It did what it was supposed to, when it was supposed to. It wasn’t dependent on location, it worked every time you picked it up. People from the office couldn’t reach you “off-hours” because you didn’t have a phone attached at the hip. Dating was fun because you had a red-blinking light to look forward to with anticipation when you got home (or not!). Email was read on your own time, as it was intended, in front of the computer. Pictures were taken with a camera. Music was listened to on a good-old fashioned Walkman tape player (or vinyl if you’re even older than me!). And my memory was amazing, having memorized EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY FRIENDS 10-digit phone numbers. Everything was beautiful…back in the day.

Ramblin' with a red head while pluggin' Eric Himan

I realize this is like, OH MY GOD, so 2005, but I wanted to share something with you that I’ve recently discovered…I figure I’m not the only dinosaur out there that was discovering “new” technology. And no, I’m not talking about my new bag-phone.

Some of you may remember my blog about my new mistress, my Ipod that I posted last year? If not, here’s the link if you’d like to see me making sweet love to my Ipod. And I casually mentioned how I had gotten turned on to “podcasts”. I thought now would be a good time to explain that for the people who live in Arkansas, or are over 20, or both.

When I first got my Ipod and installed that cursed ITunes on my computer, I actually took the time to look through the entire ITunes catalogue. I noticed this link for Podcast, and clicky clicky’d on it. I about shit myself when I learned I could have ALL of my beloved NPR shows downloaded directly to my IPod when a new episode came out. For some of the episodes, this was daily, for others it was weekly. I nearly double-shat myself when I found out I could download Ira Glass’s “This American Life.” I nearly always missed it when it aired on the “real radio”, but now I was able to capture it every week and listen to it at my leisure. How very cool was that?

In the beginning, I stuck to the NPR programming that I loved. But then I was running out of stuff to listen to, so I started clicky clickying around the ITunes again to see what was out there. What I found was a wealth of wonderful independent media out there. I found there were many people out there with just a microphone and a recording device that were putting out some, often, entertaining shows. Some of the shows were solo persons yacking on about random shit; some of the shows were “gang-bangs” of various people all talking about a variety of topics (current, and not); some of the shows were scripted; some of the shows were interviews. The one common theme of these shows were they were all independent “artists” (cuz folks, some of these people really ARE artists!) that were able to have their voices heard on a global scale that they otherwise wouldn’t have the opportunity with via traditional media.

Now, on each “shows” ITunes page, there are links that say, “People who enjoyed this podcast also listen to these podcasts”. This was a dangerous thing for me to find. I went from listening to my 8 NPR shows per week, to subscribing to nearly 28 shows a day! I’ve since found a 12-step program and have cut back to a manageable level! So I wanted to take a few minutes out of your day to turn you on to some of the shows that I’ve really come to enjoy…in no particular order!

Ramble Redhead is an interview show. Tom, the ramblin’ redhead, is “The gay Barbara Walters”. He interviews a variety of people within the GLBTQQ community: STOP!

Patience queer people…I gotta ‘splain to the straighties…

GLBTQQ=Gay, Lesbian, Confused, Transgendered, Queer Questioning (seriously??? ANYONE ELSE WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE ROSTER???)

Okay, back to Tom. So he interviews a bunch of folks from the GLBTQQ community. I’ve actually gone back through his archives to catch up with some of his older shows. He’s interviewed some really fascinating people. I’ve also been chattin’ with Tom via GChat lately. Tonight he gave me the surprise of my life. He sent me a chat message shortly after 8 and mentioned he was getting ready to interview “Eric” and asked if I wanted to sit in on his show. I thought he was talking about another “Eric”, so I hesitated. Then he mentioned that it was Eric Himan, one of my favoritest Indy artists, and I nearly shit myself. I seriously got a little light headed. For reals. I said, “YES!” So Tom conference called me with ERIC (hehehehehe) and I got all fan-girlie. And it seriously made my night. Hell, it seriously made my week! So if you wanna hear the voice to put with the (F)reddy name, AND hear a great interview with an AWESOME singer/song-writer, check out Ramble’s link above (or subscribe to him on ITunes!).

I’ve also become a huge fan of We're Mean Because You're Stupid. Hell, the title alone is worth listening to! WMBYS follows Walt, Nessa, and Holly. They’re basically 3 “super-fans” that get together twice a week and talk about random things; guess what various celebrities smell like; and laugh hysterically. You just can’t help but laugh along with them. I fell in love listening to them, because listening to their conversations feels like being in a conversation with my own IRL friends.

Archerr Radio is another one of my favorites right now. Everyday is a new topic for Archerr. I have no idea how he puts out so much media in a week, and still keeps it fresh and entertaining. You can hear him discuss everything from politics to wine to his boyfriend’s weiner. If you’re really lucky, he’ll hit all three topics on the same show!

Big Fatty is not for the faint of heart, nor is he appropriate for the office environment, but he is one sick and twisted mother effer. He will keep you in stitches for exactly 20 minutes most days.

Dial H for Homo is a new podcast that has been put out by a few of the various podcasters that I listen to that is geared specifically for the gay comicbook nerd crowd. I started downloading it for Jed, but have enjoyed listening to it myself too. I know there are a couple of you nerds out there that would appreciate hearing 5 gay guys talking about their gay perspective on comics. Check ‘em out!

Live it up! Is a podcast put out by a little boy in San Diego. His is a relatively new podcast too. His shows are getting stronger, and it’s been interesting to see his progression from virgin to slut…in the podcasting realm, that is. I’m sure he’s very wholesome!

There are others that I listen to, but these are just a couple of my favorites right now. Take some time to check some of these out if you’ve never heard them. You may just find yourself hooked. Oh, and definitely check out Ramble Redhead’s interview with Eric Himan if you want to hear (F)reddy swoon over his idol!

Goin’ back to colli’ to colli’ to colli’…goin’ back to colli’, uh, no I don’t think so?

(F)reddy’s world is, once again, in a transition. I ain’t crying, nor am I looking for “ohhhhs” and “ahhhhs”. To steal from a well known parable, “It’s in my nature.” I’ve always been in a world of transition. I think transition is where I feel the most comfortable.

Now some of you know about my past work lives, some of you don’t. I have to say, for never having had gone to college in the past (GASP!), I’ve done very well for myself. I’ve been, in a word, lucky. I went to nursing school in Oklahoma right out of high school to get my nursing license. The good thing, for me at the time, was it was a means to finish something quickly and gave me the opportunity to make bank quickly. The bad news was, in Oklahoma, the nursing program wasn’t “college level course-work”.

19 was a weird time for me. I had graduated the nursing program, had a great job making very good money for “kids” my age. I was handing out narcotics to patients before I was even able to drink…legally. I was fortunate in my networking to have become friends of the director of a nursing home that I had done an internship in, and he gave me my first big break immediately after graduating from nursing school.

A year and a half later I decided I couldn’t “LIVE” in Oklahoma anymore. I was watching an episode of Oprah (BEFORE she “discovered her spirit) in which she referred to Austin as “The San Francisco of the southwest” because of it’s very large, open gay community. I decided to leave my friends and family behind and move to Austin. I knew one person, Kay, that lived here, so the thought of coming to a new place with no friends, no family, and no support wasn’t all that scary to me. Kay left Austin 3 months after I arrived, and wouldn’t return for another 5 years. By that time, however, I had already fallen in love with my new home.

Not knowing anything about the city when I moved here; where the ‘good’ places to work were; where the ‘good’ places to live were, I decided to A) get an apartment, as opposed to buying a house, and B) get a job with a temp nursing agency, as opposed to getting a full-time job and hating it later. One of the places I worked with most frequently was a spinal cord injury/closed head injury rehab at one of the local hospitals here. The director of the unit, Pam, liked my work style so much that she eventually offered me a full-time gig, and I continued working there for the next 8 years. Pam, as Kay did, left the hospital 3 months after I started.

After 8 years of working with my beloved spinal cord/head injury patients, I decided it was time for me to move on. On a whim, I woke up on a random Sunday morning and read the newspaper, which I NEVER did. I flipped to the classifieds to check out the nursing opportunities. The third ad I read, I’ll never forget, said, “Tired of working weekends, nights, and holidays?” Yes, yes, and YES! “RN with spinal cord injury/closed head injury experience” HOLY SHIT, FOR REALS? “needed for busy downtown law firm. Interested candidates should forward their resumes to Pam ____.” WHO GETS A WANT AD LIKE THIS? The ad was fully intended JUST for me. I was tired of working weekends, nights, and holidays. I had 8 years of spinal cord injury and closed head injury experience. And, the kicker, PAM was the same Pam that loved my work the full eight years prior and offered me a full-time position at the hospital.

I picked up my little phone and called Pam up at home. We had managed to stay in contact over those 8 long years. I said, “Hey Pam. I couldn’t help but notice an ad in the paper. However, I also noticed that it said “RN”, but as you know I’m just an LVN. Does this person need to be an RN?” And she said, “It would depend on the LVN. Do you happen to know someone who might be interested?” And I said, “I DO!”

Now, I wasn’t GIVEN the job. However, I was GIVEN an opportunity to come in and interview for the job because of Pam’s recommendation. I STILL had to meet with the attorneys, I STILL had to impress. Pam had told me that the firm was a very conservative environment, and she mentioned that one of the things that I would have to do if I was serious about the job was cut my hair…which I hadn’t done since I left Oklahoma City. As you might imagine, after 8 years of no haircuts, I was GOREGOUS. I went out THAT DAY, and got my first haircut in 8 years. Surprise, I was STILL gorgeous!

The interview, while lasting 3 hours, wasn’t the most fantastic interview I had ever been on. In case you don’t know any attorneys, they’re not big on time or conversation. Pam assured me I did well, and told me to keep my chin up.

A week went by, I touched base with Pam and she informed me they were still interviewing. I thanked her for the opportunity, and told her to keep in touch. A month went by, no phone call. Nearly two more months went by when I got a call from Pam and she let me know that I had “nailed it”. She then said, “Now about the salary. I don’t know how much you’ll be needing, but unfortunately all they’re willing to offer you is x”. I shit my pants. Literally. No, seriously shit my pants. “X”, was exactly double what I had been making at the hospital. And I said, “Well, if that’s all they’ll offer, I guess I’ll have to deal with it.” Two weeks later I started with the firm as a nurse/paralegal.

It’s now been some 10 years later, and I’ve really had a great time at the firm. I’ve made some really good friends here. There’s a nature of a firm wherein the work ebbs and flows. I’m not nearly as nervous about it today as I was 4 or 5 years ago when the work slowed down. However, since January the work has slowed down so much that I can’t help but feeling nervous. It’s my opinion that firms of this size aren’t in the business to hemorrhage money! The problem with finding a job for me now is I couldn’t possibly go back to the hospital setting and lose half the money. I can’t get a job as a “paralegal”, cuz I never went to “college”, thus I don’t have the degree they’re looking for. (SERIOUSLY FOLKS, doesn’t work experience count for sumpthin’?)

(F)reddy realizes he’s no longer a spring-chicken. 9 times out of 10 I’m in bed by 915 in the evenings. But it’s time to do something. So last week I went up to my local community college and cold-called their entrance exam. I was actually quite proud of myself. For having been out of school for some 20 years now, I did okay. If I’m being honest, I really wish I had paid more attention to that new-fangled math that I swore I’d never need.

For the first time in 20 years, well, really, ever, (F)reddy is going to college. I’ve gotten myself enrolled for summer classes starting later this month, and I’m a bit nervous. I spent, literally, 4 and a half hours yesterday registering for 2 classes. Here’s how my morning panned out:

0700: Log on to college website and enter my eID, no record of such student.
0705: After repeated attempts in various styles of upper/lower case letters, I call the help desk.
0758: A LIVE body finally answers. I explain my situation, they say, “Oh, I see whomever entered you forgot to refresh you. I’ve refreshed you, please wait 10 minutes and try again.”
0808: Try again, no mas. STILL no record of me.
0809-1015: Rinse, reuse, repeat.
1017: “WELCOME TO ACC REGISTRATION HOME PAGE”!!! Yippee, free at las, free at las, thank god almighty, I’m free at las.”

I pick the two classes the student advisor recommended for a “person of (my) advanced age.” I click “submit”, and it says, “Academic classes do not match enrolled academic level.” WHAT?

So I go back through the entire process again, same message. I then go through the entire process again, but this time, rather than pick the “academic” plan, I pick the “continuing education” plan. The message I get this time is, “these courses not available for continuing education plan.” WHAT THE EVER-LOVING-HELL? There are only two options for enrolling…Academic Plan, and Continuing education plan.

So at 1045 I send an email to the student advisor I met with and said, very simply, “Could you please let me know what kind of student I am. I’ve tried to enroll for the two classes you advised me on and for both type plans it tells me I’m ineligible for those classes.” She shoots me off an email some 30 minutes later and tells me that she’s, “maintenanced (me), and that I should be good to go now.”

So now being “refreshed” and “maintenanced”, I try one more time. And a mere 10 minutes later I am officially enrolled…with serious doubts about whether or not I’m going to be able to pull this off at my “advanced age.” I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up, but keep me in your thoughts, regardless.