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art, atlanta, Basquiat, boston terrier, buy John's book, Cricket the French Bulldog, culture, dogs, french bulldog, funny, gay, humor, LGBT, Life, love, modern art, pets, pop art, pop culture, St. Petersburg, Tampa Bay, Warhol
@thejohnjernigan, buy John's book, depression, fairy tale, funny, gay, gay stereotypes, humor, LGBT, lifestyle, loneliness, love story, perspective, point of view, queer, raccoons, ratchet, St. Petersburg, Tampa Bay, the Normal Heart, turnt up
One upon a time there were two raccoons who lived in Florida, in the woods near the beach. Neither raccoon was young, though they tried. For example, Rascal still wore silver gauges in his ears and used Just for Coon on his eyebrows, while Ren had little silver barbells in six of his nipples, and described his fur as being decidedly darker than it actually was in his online dating profiles.
Rascal and Ren were both clever, as most raccoons are, each in their own way. Rascal loved to read, and had a vivid imagination, and was something of a dreamer, while Ren was more grounded, more practical, and had extremely dexterous fingers. Ren could program computers and put together IKEA furniture and change a tire, all things that Rascal was hopelessly incapable of. Ren’s fingers were also magical in the bedroom, but this is a fairy tale for the cubs, so we will explore his legendary sexual prowess another time. Rascal and Ren were also lucky and grateful to be healthy, as they both have had friends, lovers and even litter-mates die from the scourge of the gay raccoon community, Rabies.
What brought these two clever fellows together was their loneliness. As you may have gleaned, both Rascal and Ren are known to be homosexuals, which is not as rare in the animal kingdom as you might think. Being cute and clever and vaguely masculine, Rascal and Ren never had any problems having the gay sex, in fact they were very popular in that regard, but something was always missing. I can’t speak for Ren, but for Rascal, all of the old coons trying to get into his fur had lost it’s luster, after a couple of decades anyway. He knew he was different, special, not a stereotype, he just desperately wanted someone to see him and understand him and all of his eccentricities.
Rascal was extremely excited and turnt up to meet Ren, because seemingly Ren was the not-same as him….in fact, Ren’s online profile stated: NOT A STEREOTYPE, so it must be true.
Over the next week Rascal’s need to be loved and his vivid imagination went kind of wild over Ren. He would sit and chitter softly to himself while washing his food for hours, thinking about Ren. He had both happy thoughts about finding a husband and naughty thoughts about Ren’s well-preserved body (Rascal was a little conflicted, because Ren had sent him a pic wearing only a tiny little speedo, both titillating but also troubling because the pic was taken out in the woods with other raccoons around).
Rascal possibly imagined Ren to be more than he is, but maybe not, maybe Ren is kind and smart and thoughtful and loving and patient (and Rascal realizes how important patience would be in his potential partner, remember he’s special). Rascal dreams about Ren most nights, and has happy endings…wet dream happy endings. Guess we’re not going to market this as a child’s fairy tale. To explain, Ren is so much on Rascal’s brain that he is dreaming about him at night, and in his dreams Ren is even more awesome (Rascal dreams big, both awake and asleep, and often climaxes). Ren has rescued Rascal and his mice (Stinky and Nugget) from Hurricane Katrina, wading out with a mouse under each arm. Ren has been Richard Gere as the knight in shining armor, rescuing Julia Roberts (Rascal) from her dingy apartment and riding err driving off into the sunset. Most recently, most vividly and most troubling, last night Ren gallantly gave Rascal something medically, a little fuzzy but Rascal remembers it being a bone marrow transplant or possibly a kidney…regardless, awesome sauce you is Ren!
Here is where our lovely fairy tale takes a turn that could devolve into a tragedy with no happy ending. Remember Ren is smart and clever and a little sneaky, so he got great news that he had been accepted into law school, yeah! Law school not in their shared woods, but over the river and through the woods and up the interstate to a more provincial wooded campus. Ren messages Rascal with his great news, but then his awesomeness kind of dissipates, as he explains that although he knows Rascal will be disappointed, he is sorry but school starts in August and he has to find a place to live and pack up and will be busy and his future plans no longer include Rascal. Rascal is confused, and sad, and angry.
Ren has been reckless with Rascal’s heart, and his goddamn imagination, and his Freudian wet dreams of rescue. Rascal is still imagining living happily ever after, of cubs, of Ren’s magical fingers, of love. Rascal watches the Normal Heart (mistake) and cries, either about the rabies epidemic or over Ren. Rascal talks himself through Ren’s position: Rascal has a nice almost new BMW, so making the drive to see his love would be no problem. There is cub abuse everywhere, and Rascal has a couple of degrees, so he knows he can be gainfully employed over there. Rascal is pretty sure that Ren doesn’t want to keep his options open for the chance at one of those country frat coons, after all he is at least thirty (30) years older than they are. Rascal doesn’t really have any family, and nothing to keep him in these woods. Rascal has imagined Ren to be all of these beautiful things, and thought/still thinks Ren is that person, complicated and discerning and layered…and that Ren has the same capacity to love and care about him that he has for Ren. Rascal wants the fairy tale, the happily ever after, the opportunity to get to know the real Ren, and love him forever…and they lived happily ever after?
Rascal’s online profiles always say he is “versatile” but we know what time it is, buddy.
Ren was somewhat embarrassingly an amateur porn star in the late 80’s, including some inter-species videos 😦
Rascal has had a long, sad, troubling relationship history with old white men, who plied him with liquor and crawfish and weed and stuff
Rascal is an Adoptions worker, and here is the little nugget he and Ren adopted together, named Gator
Andy Warhol, Basquiat, buy John's book, eye stye, Florence & the Machine, funny, gay, gay dating, Gypsy, humor, Lemongrass St. Petersburg, LGBT, modern art, Nitally's St. Petersburg, perspective, point of view, queer, Romany, St. Petersburg, tampa, Tampa Bay, the Dali Museum, the dog days are over, the Warhol Exhibit, Thinner Stephen King
On days like these I have to question if I have a gypsy curse , voodoo or worse hoodoo, did somebody put roots on me?! My story begins last week, when I met this lovely man on the interwebs. He is cute, smart, former military, and is clever in his texting and emails. We made a date to have lunch at Lemongrass on today (Saturday) and then we were going to the Warhol Exhibit at the Dali. I have been preparing all week for this day, getting an expensive haircut, buying a new Polo shirt to match my eyes, Just for Men-ing my eyebrows, cleaning the apartment, bathing the gremlins, and finally calling in sick to work and going to the beach (so I will be all tan/red and healthy looking when we have our joyous meet). I am so excited, I am ready, the dog days are over, this is my husband!
During the night, I wake up a couple of times rubbing my eye, which is bothering me for some reason. I finally get up for good around 8 a.m. and have a look in the mirror: it’s bad, real bad. My right eyelid is red and swollen, making my eyes observably different sizes. I panic and google and text my friends and figure out I apparently have a stye. Now this is where I start to question being cursed. I have never had a stye in my life, didn’t even know what it was, but I mysteriously have one on the only, only, only day that I am meeting this beautiful man? FML…
I can’t let my future ex-husband see my like this, and when I explain my situation he (quickly) agrees to push our glorious meeting out a few days, when I am better. He was very agreeable to this, especially after I disclosed it was vaguely contagious 😦 I hope he is the patient and loving and kind man that i have imagined him to be, and will wait for my disease to dissipate. I just can’t let him see his future blushing bride with one big eye and one little eye, it ain’t cute.
These beagles had been “de-barked” so that they did not disturb the people working in the medical lab.
I had tears in my eyes when I read that beagles are chosen for animal testing because they are “so forgiving” and will continue to try and love and bond with humans, even when being tortured and hurt by them.
The Beagle Freedom Project has their own Youtube channel
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When I lived in New Orleans, Bianca hosted Drag Bingo at Oz…that bitch has always been funny, I love her!
Augusten Burroughs, authors, book reviews, books, boston terrier, buy John's book, cute, dating, David Sedaris, dogs, ebook, essays, french bulldog, gay, LGBT, Mateo L'artiste, memoirs, new orleans, pets, queer, relationships, sex, short stories, writers
The Gay Road Less Traveled – John Jernigan
$3.99 on Kindle, the Kindle app is free for any cell phone
Artwork by Mateo L’Artiste, models Possum the Boston Terrier and Cricket the French Bulldog
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This song, used in an Iphone commercial, is playing my head 24-7…the commercial version, a cover, sounds better than the original Pixies’ version.
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@thejohnjernigan, Africa, African folklore, authors, Bingo's Run, book reviews, books, buy John's book, culture, funny, gay, grifters, Gypsy, humor, James A. Levine, Kibera, LGBT, Nairobi Kenya, perspective, point of view, the Blue Notebook, the trickster, writers
I loved this deliciously smart, clever little book, devouring it on one five hour read last night. Bingo is the trickster, a drug runner, thief, scam artist and the hero of our story. This book gave me a glimpse into the slums of Kibera, in Nairobi, Kenya, where smart little Bingo is the “hustler extraordinaire.” He also has a wonderfully wicked sense of humor and perspective for a street kid from the ghetto in one of poorest parts of the world.
“Meet Bingo, the greatest drug runner in the slums of Kibera, Nairobi, and maybe the world. A teenage grifter, often mistaken for a younger boy, he faithfully serves Wolf, the drug lord of Kibera. Bingo spends his days throwing rocks at Krazi Hari, the prophet of Kibera’s garbage mound, “lipping” safari tourists of their cash, and hanging out with his best friend, Slo-George, a taciturn fellow whose girth is a mystery to Bingo in a place where there is never enough food. Bingo earns his keep by running “white” to a host of clients, including Thomas Hunsa, a reclusive artist whose paintings, rooted in African tradition, move him. But when Bingo witnesses a drug-related murder and Wolf sends him to an orphanage for “protection,” Bingo’s life changes and he learns that life itself is the “run.”
A modern trickster tale that draws on African folklore, Bingo’s Run is a wildly original, often very funny, and always moving story of a boy alone in a corrupt and dangerous world who must depend on his wits and inner resources to survive.”
Bi-Polar disorder, Black Box ABC, buy John's book, CBT therapy, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, dating, depression, Ditch Davey, DSM diagnosis, gay, gay dating, House, Hugh Laurie, Jesse Spencer, Kelly Reilly, LGBT, love, Manic Depressive disorder, mental health, Olivia Wilde, perspective, point of view, relationships, sex, Siobhan Williams, tv drama, Vanessa Redgrave
For a few hours yesterday I was flying blissfully high, getting a compliment in court from Judge Moore, smiling and speaking to everyone, confident and optimistic about life. In bed this morning, after calling in sick, my high peak is now a low valley. FML, what if this is as good as it gets? why can’t I find somebody to love me? what’s wrong with me…Last night I watched Black Box, and loved it, identifying with the main character and even seeing some of my Cognitive Behavioral Training in use. Black Box is from the House creative team of writers and producers.
@thejohnjernigan, animals, Anne Rice, boston terrier, buy John's book, Confederacy of Dunces, country, culture, dogs, flea market, french bulldog, funny, gay, hobbies, humor, Jim Butcher, Laurell K. Hamilton, LGBT, pets, Pinellas Park, rednecks, second hand, shopping, St. Petersburg, sweet home Alabama, tampa, Tampa Bay, Thrift Store
Nothing reminds me more of my Alabama roots than a good ole flea market.
My purchases this day:
A Boston Terrier painting for my kitchen, and a print of 2 bugs? that looks all modern and whatnot: $5 and $3
A camouflage dog bed: $4 This was a suspiciously low price, as the bed is almost new. I quickly discovered why, as it became evident that the last dog had peed all up on the bed. Now my car smells like pee, and I am going to have to wash it several times to get all traces of urine smell out, as Cricket will mark (pee) on it to show her dominance if she smells urine. She’s such a boss, when Squeak pees Cricket goes and pees on top of Squeak’s pee, to remind her what time it is in the hood.
Books check ’em out: A nice, new Confederacy of Dunces, Laurell K. Hamilton, Jim Butcher and Anne Rice: $8.75
not shown: cinnamon sugar donuts and caramel kettle corn and nachos…and a large DIET coke
@thejohnjernigan, boston terrier, buy John's book, culture, dating, dog beach, dogs, florida, french bulldog, gay, gay dating, LGBT, lifestyle, love, perspective, point of view, queer, relationships, sex, St. Pete Beach, St. Petersburg
@thejohnjernigan, amy sedaris, authors, book reviews, books, buy John's book, dating, David Sedaris, essays, funny, gay, gay dating, humor, Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls, LGBT, Me Talk Pretty One Day, pop culture, queer, relationships, sex, writers
David is my mentor, my muse, my lover, my best friend…I wish. He is my favorite author, and I aspire/try/think that I have a writing style similar to his. Go buy my book on Amazon for $3.99 and see for yourself. David is quirky, nerdy, smart, sarcastic…just my type. I Love You, Man! John Jernigan-Sedaris
80's hip hop, Alabama, Alpine, atlanta, Birmingham, buy John's book, Childersburg, dating, Dead or Alive, Erasure, gay, Goin' Back to CaliLL Cool J, Harpersville, hip hop, LGBT, Munford, Mustang GT, My Posse's on Broadway, Pell City, queer, rap, relationships, Rockford Fosgate, Sir Mix a Lot, Sycamore, Sylacauga, Talladega, Talladega County, the 80's, throwback thursday, throwbackthursday, Vincent, Winterboro
My first 2 cars were a Mustang GT and a Chevy Blazer…and there was a time that I had that bass, ya heard? I had them Alpine 12’s and them Rockford Fosgate 15’s, booming all over Talladega County…bumpin’ Sir Mix a Lot in Childersburg, Sylacauga, Alpine, Winterboro, Harpersville, Talladega, Munford, Pell City, Vincent and Sycamore. When I started having “adventures” in Birmingham and Atlanta, 80’s hip hop was replaced by Dead or Alive and Erasure.
“I’m callin’ up the posse, it’s time to get rippin’
The freaks need a sunroof, to keep you sucka’s trippin’
Everybody’s lookin’, if your jealous turn around-
The AMG kick keeps us closer to the ground
we’re gettin’ good grip from the 50 series tires
the Alpine’s bumpin’, but I need the volume higher”
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I was intrigued, and since I am such a foodie and have real refined taste and whatnot, I had two breakfast offerings from Taco Bell this a.m…not sure why I thought their breakfast items would be of higher quality than their regular fare. I am leery of sausage of any kind, subconsciously aware that all the other piggy parts (tails, snouts, feet) are probably ground up to make them. I shudder to think what quality sausage Taco Bell (who boils their meat in bags) was using. Instead I chose a bacon and cheese waffle and a bacon and egg taco, thinking I couldn’t go wrong with bacon: wrong! Taco Bell’s bacon is like bacon bits bacon, little shrivel scrapes of fat and processed meat. The waffle was meh, bacon artificial, and my raggedy little taco didn’t even have cheese…I think you’re safe for now, McDonald’s…actually Hardee’s breakfast is the bestest.
TIhis isn’t mine, just an article I found that moved me…
One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class walking home from school. His name was Kyle. It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, “Why would anyone bring home all his books on Friday? He must really be a nerd.”
I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on. As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt. His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him. He looked up, and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.
My heart went out to him. So I jogged over to him, and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, “those guys are jerks. They really should get lives.” He looked at me and said, “Hey thanks!” There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.
I helped him pick up his books and asked him where he lived. As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him before. He said he had gone to private school before now. I would have never hung out with a private school kid before, but we talked all the way home, and I carried his books.
He turned out to be a pretty cool kid. I asked him if he wanted to play football on Saturday with me and my friends. He said yes.
We hung out all weekend, and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him. And my friends thought the same of him. Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again. I stopped him and said, “Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books every day!” He just laughed and handed me half the books.
Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends. When we were seniors, we began to think about college. Kyle decided on Georgetown, and I was going to Duke. I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never be a problem. He was going to be a doctor, and I was going for business on a football scholarship.
Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation. I was so glad it wasn’t me having to get up there and speak.
On graduation day, I saw Kyle. He looked great. He was one of those guys that really found himself during high school. He filled out and actually looked good in glasses. He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him! Boy, sometimes I was jealous. Today was one of those days. I could see that he was nervous about his speech, so I smacked him on the back and said, “Hey, big guy, you’ll be great!” He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smile. “Thanks,” he said.
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began. “Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, you teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach—but most your friends. I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.” I just looked at my friend in disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met He had planned to kill himself over the weekend. He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn’t have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home. He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile. “Thankfully, I was saved. My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable.”
I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and Dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile. Not until that moment did I realize its depth.
Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture, you can change a person’s life.
I took Playbuzz’s “Which Hollywood Bombshell Are You?”
You love the 1940s and film noir. You’re partial to an older beau, but you are smart and in control. You are beautiful, but wouldn’t describe yourself as a pin-up girl. You’re the wonderful Lauren Bacall!
I’m going on a blind date to see Inside Llewyn Davis and eat at IL Forno this afternoon, in Lakeland, FL, because everybody knows Polk County is THE romantic getaway for lovers. Polk County is described as “The county of oranges, phosphate mountains and trailer parks, where they spread hepatitis through meth use, once elected a white supremacist sheriff, and often find themselves in perp walks on Orlando or Tampa Bay TV.”
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I saw Pompeii last night, not even having Jon Snow could save it, but Keifer was so so cute as the bad guy.
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Kentucky Republican Senate candidate Matt Bevin is running against Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell.
WASHINGTON — A Republican U.S. Senate candidate in Kentucky said that same-sex marriage could lead to a parent claiming marriage to his or her child to gain tax benefits and other privileges.
Louisville businessman Matt Bevin is challenging five-term Sen. Mitch McConnell in the May 20 GOP primary. Bevin said Wednesday that marriage should retain its traditional definition as being between a man and a woman.
Bevin told a Christian radio program hosted by Janet Mefferd: “If it’s all right to have same-sex marriages, why not define a marriage – because at the end of the day, a lot of this ends up being taxes and who can visit who in the hospital, and there’s other repercussions and things that come with this -so a person may want to define themselves as being married to one of their children so that they could then in fact pass on certain things to that child financially and otherwise.”
“Where do you draw the line?” he said. “And if, in fact, a person can arbitrarily draw it here, why not could someone else draw it arbitrarily draw it somewhere else?”
Cricket is having nightmares, running and yelping and growling at something…she has a little wolf in her, maybe she’s hunting a deer