the party has three pinoyboys

One is always a bit dubious when someone writes knowingly of one’s self. There always is some uneasy feeling that the writer has an agenda to paint the most idealistic and positive portrait of his or herself, but that feeling is displaced and a feeling of believability fades in when frank and honest facts are told. Readers, this isn’t one of those times. There is a point where casual conversation is heightened an becomes deliberately theatrical in nature, usually when alcohol is involved. As a foppish sot, I can handle myself in a situation. I don’t tempt fate and I do watch what I say… to a point.

An evening of genteel tippling, starts off with what we shall call Professore! Pinoyboy [Level 1], who speaks about world events or when he has well informed opinions. Professore! holds court with a stem, tumbler, or low-ball in his lap and is attentive to the countenance of his audience. Ales of all sorts, sparkling wines from outside of the French region of Champagne, and bourbon straight from Kentucky eases Professore! into a lubriciously into a smoking jacket of coruscating wit and esprit.

Punctilio Pinoyboy [Level 2], still follows the rules of good grace and deportment, but with a sneer. Holding the libation close and at a slight angle way from his face, he readies himself to pounce upon those who sought to challenge Professore!. This level of intoxication affords Punctilio to make passes at women with the utmost grace and charm, easing them into friendship before he starts in on their husbands or boyfriends. His secret smile says to ladies, “you can trust me, I’m harmless” and his posture says that he is still sober enough to be genuine, but by that point his prey is already too drunk to be dubious of anything.

The Pernicious Pinoyboy (PP) [Level 3], changes tact and goes for a more divide and conquer method. The crowd that was once assembled and civil has now fragmented into discrete vignettes. New couples stand close to each other insecurely; these people get the cool blue aloof Pernicious Pinoyboy. Conversations with these folk tend to be superficial, only if they are particularly fetching, PP will engage in more forceful tactics but for the most part he leaves well enough alone. The comfortable couples are comprised of two people who feel at ease when the other wanders off to do their own thing. Pernicious Pinoyboy gains macho points by the men in choosing (and consuming more) stiff drinks on the rocks rather than insipid bottles of bulk beer. Their wives or girlfriends, who were delighted by Punctilio PB don’t mind when he makes an off colored or salacious joke. More often than not, the people in this group become the ‘drunk couple’.

Those who are just drunk enough and decide to separate from their partners are subject to the highest form of Pernicious PB. There’s nothing too salacious or taboo for this crowd because he can do no wrong. Wives and girlfriends can be groped, husbands and boyfriends can be hit upon, and confessions of the inadequacies or competence in the bedroom are divulged. What does the Pernicious PB do with these experiences and information? Erotica? Penthouse forums? Greek drama? Secret tea party where the characters judge each other? One may never find out.

geezy rider

Today in the smoking shack, I sat in on a conversation about motorcycles.  As per usual, I sat intently clicking away at on my SideKick.  An older gentleman, for the sake of argument I’ll peg as 63, was holding court over a few other men on the subject of motorcycling.  I learned about classes one can take to be certified motorist in the State of Michigan.  I tuned in and out of an anecdote about an “old guy” that was in a Harley Davidson class.  I thought to myself, if the man sitting in front of me is referring to an “old guy”, there must be 70+ year old men out there just learning to ride a motorcycle.

I want a motorcycle, I don’t plan on hitting the open road with it, and I don’t plan on making it a primary vehicle.  Hindered by my loved ones, I don’t foresee myself getting a motorcycle because of their safety concerns.  Looking at the men in the smoking shack, I was mortified to think that I’ll have to be 55+ before I can get a motorcycle.  At this rate, I think I may never feel a hog between my legs.. (heeey)

confidence is sexy…

Today’s morning smoke break was an exercise in striking the balance of judiciousness and decency.  A noticeably handsome man of a distinguished age was standing in the shelter having a conversation with his co-worker (female) about hospital stays and medical problems. Thinking nothing of it, I sat down and tinkered away at my SideKick.

Readers, I think confidence is sexy.   I enjoy frank talk from people who are passionate about the subject matter.  Stitches this, scar tissue that, adhesions, blah, blah, blah.  I wasn’t in tune to the conversation, until I saw the older gentleman gesture to his crotch.  My eyes wandered away from my SideKick and up to the chatting couple who didn’t notice me intent on the conversation.

I learned that the man had a botched hernia operation a while back.  For the last ten years he’s been trudging along with a mass of scar tissue which impended his urinary tract and libido.  He went on further to say that he had recently sought a second opinion which lead to another surgery to remove the scar tissue and rebuild some fascia that had fallen.  He noted that the surgery had been a success and proclaimed that the first time he had used the toilet he said aloud “This is the best piss I’ve had in ten years.”  I thought… is this confidence?… is this sexy?

Not being privy to the genesis of this conversation or the nature of the couples’ professional relationship, I sat there stunned. How long do you have to work with someone before you share a conversation like that?  If one eventually does reach that level of joviality in their workplace, when is it appropriate to talk about your prostate functions?  Kudos to you, confident older gentleman – because I sure don’t have the balls to do what you did.

so we drank the kool-aid…

Call it an addiction, call it an obsession, call it the blue oyster cult. I love Animal Crossing, both on the Nintendo GameCube and Nintendo DS. Ostensibly just a game, it is a virtual life inside a small bucolic town inhabited by anthropomorphic animals.

As fun as this game can be on the surface; earning money, buying goods to decorate your home, or catching bugs and fish — there is something magical that happens deep inside the game. Like many other role-playing games, Animal Crossing takes these fun little tasks and rewards you with little bonuses. Eventually, there is something satisfying that clicks in your brain when the tasks are completed that makes you coming back for more.

Despite your reservations, robogomo… bite it… bite it hard…

JOIN US…

 

macboyx and pinoyboy at play

 

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