Charlie

I did have that specific test at the end of 2020, because I wondered if I had had an asymptomatic infection during the year, but I tested negative for the antibody. However, although I have tested negative several times in the two years since then after symptoms that were suspicious, I wonder if it would be worthwhile having the n-antibody test again.

"Why can't the English teach their children how to speak?" ("Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins, just you wait!") Oh, no!! You ended your sentence with a preposition!!

In the UK they used to call it "grunge play." I knew somehow who liked to put eggs in his pockets and have the other guy smash them. I also had a friend in SF who liked to roll around on the floor in motor oil with a biker.

I can get past nail polish with no problem. Lipstick, eye shadow and false eyelashes are harder.

I hope that image is created mostly with the haircut.

I understand. When I lived in a city, I shopped the same way you do, and I wouldn't be carrying a shopping bag with me wherever I went. Now that I live literally on the edge of the desert (it's on the other side of my back wall), all shopping is purpose-driven and requires motorized transport, because there is no commercial activity nearby.

Some of the photos from the guy in Cathedral City and the guy in Austin are the same.

Well, at least they put a towel on the hood of that Corvette.

I have to drive to anyplace that I shop for anything, so I always keep bags in the car, and almost never forget to take them into the store with me.

That metaphor is confusing. I think you would be taking the plunge up his alley.

I wonder why he labels himself as "Mormon Boy," when there is nothing is his self-description that fits that image (smoking?drinking?drugs?). I did once know a young Mormon on his mission year in an eastern city, who was gay and certainly had sex with other males, but aside from the sexual orientation he fit the picture of the clean-cut traditional young Mormon. If he wants to attract a client who is titillated by the idea of corrupting a wholesome youth, it looks like it is too late for that.

I hardly ever shop anywhere without taking my own bags.

I suspected that you knew the lyrics.

Probably the most unusual RM ad I've ever seen.

He certainly gets around: he says he's located in Frankfurt, one of his hashtags is #Brazilian, he speaks French, and one of his photos is taken in front of Gayfield Square in Edinburgh.

Once a week seems excessive to me. I think it's enough to do it when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars.

Lucky has asked me to ask here if anyone has ideas about what is going on with his computer. He says that the screen keeps "bouncing to the top" (his words). He said that when he tried to type, the sentences came out as "gibberish." [However, his email to me about this was pretty clear.] Any ideas?

Good guess--but in fact it was a museum official.

If they're still alive, those butts must be sagging now.

Unlike most popular team sports (football, basketball, hockey, etc.), baseball is unusual in that each player stands alone in his own spot on the field most of the time, and the pitcher in particular feels like he is on stage, because much of the focus of the other players and the audience is on him. Burke and Bean were both outfielders, where it was easier to avoid the spotlight and blend into the background. It's also worth noting that Burke was involuntarily outed, and it destroyed his career.

It was cold (low 50sF) and rained all day yesterday in Palm Springs, and today looks like it could be more of the same. I'm glad I bought those flannel pajamas.

The photos are familiar but the name is not. He may have advertised sometime in the (distant) past with a different name.

Miscellaneous bit of irrelevant info: I used to know a guy in NYC who was named Gaylord, and who was gay. When he introduced himself as, "Hi, I'm Gay," people were sometimes startled.

?? The ad says 5'8" which is not very short unless you are very tall.

I was also there in that summer heat wave of '77, when the parks were full of pasty white people sunbathing.