New Mutant

My most recent incarnation is OutSource. He is a member of "Tech Support" which is shaping up to promote Feedback among the fan community. We still don't know if he is going to win this television show, but we've all come to find Matt Atherton as a hero-worthy guy from his website and his interaction with us, and so we'd like to help him make the idea of superheroism a reality.

A question was posed to "Tech Support" and it pops up every now and again as new subscribers answer it; "Why do YOU support Feedback?" In the thousands of words that I've written since I started watching the show, I think I may have answered that, but I've been thinking on it some more. At times I have thought I was obsessing too much, and then I learned to accept it for what it was. But now I think I know WHY I do it.

In the early days of Spring Valley when my mother moved me in with her, I was lonely and looking for friends. Eventually I found some, but I was damaged goods already and I was pretty confused through much of my childhood.

One day, I was at my mother's job. It was a psychiatric hospital and she worked as a psych aide, an attendant on the units. She had no degree or even a high school diploma, so to my knowledge she only served to give pills and baths and help maintain the units. Of all the memories I have of her, good and bad, the best were the way she handled her patients. She worked back in the bad ol' days of psychiatric care, which was generally to smack patients around until they stopped screaming. But my mother was not one of these. She would collect their money throughout a week by 'charging' them for coffee, then take them to the commissary to buy themselves stuff with the money she'd saved for them. The first time I ever saw my mother cry was when a patient of hers who she called "Morgenstern" had died.

When visiting her once (while I had no school I would sometimes have to go to her job. She couldn't afford a babysitter) I went to that commissary and found an X-Men comic book. I was hooked. It was either my first or second comicbook that I ever bought (it's a race between that one or FF #175. My research shows me they both came out in the same month in 1976. I was eleven or twelve).
I was already having friendship issues, life issues, parent issues. And here in this comicbook was the story of people who were different from birth, trying to fit in.

From that moment, I digested comicbooks like food. I learned how to read voraciously. This even added to my strangeness because I started using big words when I spoke (and still do so to this day, much to the chagrin of The Grim Jester). My mother may have been working all day, 5 days a week, and my father may have been in Manhattan, unresponsive, insincere, and ineffectual--but I had Professor X to look to as he guided his students through a dangerous world. I had Reed Richards to look to who loved and cared for his wife and child through the dangers of the Negative Zone and giant world-eaters.

Once, I went to a sleepaway camp with my city cousin. We were socked away with kids for whom violence was a way of life. I found instant kinship with two or three nerds who read the Uncanny X-Men like I did. They let me be Colossus when we played. On the last day of camp the bullies came after us. In every other instance, back home, I'd just fold and cry--this time I stood up to the attackers--why? Because I was Colossus!! At other times I was Wolverine, when it was necessary to be feral. Other times, I was Cyclops when I needed to be strong and silent. Other times I was Storm, revelling in my uniqueness.

It was the X-Men that taught me how to even HAVE a hero, and that was due to Stan Lee . He provided not only superheroes that I could access, but superheroes that MANY brainy inner-city kids had latched onto and dreamed their ways above their circumstances. A few of these types of kids saved me at that sleepaway camp.

When I graduated highschool in 1982, I attended The Kubert School to follow my dreams of being a comic artist. That happened to be the year that The New Mutants came out. Those were magical days for me; first time away from home, first time facing the future with an eye toward being an adult. First time I presented myself to the world as my own person for better or for worse. Just like the New Mutants themselves.
I miss those days severely. They were the crossroads of my life and I fear I chose unwisely when I left that path and went for another goal. It didn't work out. Almost twenty-five years later, I'm rebuilding again. (In the year 2000, I coined the name 'New Mutant' when I needed a screen name to follow fan news about the developing X-Men movie. The moment I did that, it was as if I rediscovered those Joe Kubert days.) Now I'm recovering from my mistakes. All my previous blog entries attest to that. I'm trying to restock my hope. Meanwhile, I go to the City of Heroes and live out my heroic dreams in virtua. And I wait for life to start again. And I wait. And I wait some more.

Then here comes this man in a superhero costume, looking all handsome and fierce, with ideals that inspire my adult life and re-inspire the New Mutant in me--the real-life me.

That's why I support Feedback. He is me.

On A Lighter Note...

I just discovered a new thing.
This;


And This;


Were both done by the same artist!

So now there is one less reason to believe that Fat Momma won the contest already.

Okay. Reality Check, Courtesy of The Grim Jester

He challenged me, which I told you all he tends to do.

I'm rather happy with my response. So first, let me show you something I. ADORE!!

This is Chris Watters a few months before he became "Major Victory" on "Who Wants..." Why this man is not on the newest and best upcoming sitcom is way beyond me. I think he's a comedic genius.
Then I sent this and the link to Majory Victory's self-posted five other videos on YouTube. And I told my friends that while I loved Chris Watters, I didn't think he should be the winner because it seems that "Major Victory" is just a stepping stone for Chris Watters to be a successful actor. Of which I have no problem. I hope his performances so far launches him into fame and success. I would greatly enjoy him in a good comedic vehicle.

Well then me and my friends went round and round about who's better, Major Vic or Feeds. Then The Grim Jester said ... well ... see for yourself;

I started with;

Alright, see, now you done called me out my name...

--- C***** D****** <*****@******.net> wrote:

> It's time to ground you before you float off to
> HappyFunSpaceLand, Alan.
> (It's too late, isn't it? You've already bought the
> tickets, right?)

When this so-called 'Real World' gets any better, I
might, just MIGHT consider coming back.

> Although you might find a genuine hero once in a
> while in our mundane lives,
> you will never see a superhero because they are
> fictional.

If you're really concerned about my mental health then
have no fear. (But wasn't it you who told me it was
alright, as long as it doesn't take away my shelter,
money out of my pocket, or take food out of my mouth?)


But I guess have more optimistic eyes and I can find a
hero more often than 'once in a while'. What
constitutes a hero to me is obviously different than
what you might call a hero. And I have a list of such
individuals. Some of which you guys know personally.

The term 'superhero', by necessity, is attached to the
comicbook genre. If this show was just, "Who Wants To
Be A HERO..?" it wouldn't have the same appeal to me
because 1) I wouldn't be interested in anyone
conceited enough to have tried out for the show and 2)
This show wouldn't have had anyone wearing the shiny
pants! The costumes drew me to the show--I ...LOVE...
superhero costumes! (See; Of Heroes, City) But then
suddenly here was all this 'test of character' hooey,
and that got me hooked. Because along with the
costumes we were going to get to see some people who
wanted to excel in character.

So first, Feedback got the best costume after the
makeover (which after seeing all over the place, drew
me in). So I was like, "Yay! That's fun to look at!"
And then I go behind the scenes to the websites (FOR
WHICH YOU CAN BLAME YOURSELF D*******, *YOU* SENT US
ALL THAT LINK OUTING MONKEY WOMAN BEFORE I EVEN SAW
THE SHOW) and discovered more about "Matt Atherton,
the person".

And I LIKE the guy. He's a good egg. And he is
striving to be a better type of human being than the
average muck that washes up against our shoes on the
daily. Is that so friggin' bad? Does the world
really need yet another pushy, arrogant,
self-centered, selfish @$$hole? Putting himself out
there, being vulnerable, showing emotion, being true
to his dreams, trying to be an inspiration to other
people, trying to lift humanity by example instead of
stepping on someone to get ahead--can you honestly say
that's not something worth admiring?

And then, throw in the cool uniform, Stan Lee, and a
code name, and you have the only equivalent to
"SUPERHERO" that this mundane world is ever going to
see.

I repeat, it's STAN. LEE. His seal clinches the
deal.

> The best you can hope for are the people who can
> create an interesting or
> charismatic superhero. Just because the guy who
> plays Feedback is 3% more
> likely to slit his wrists if he doesn't win, it
> doesn't make him a better
> choice.

No. The other info makes him a better choice.
There's more on display there than what you interpret
as weakness and desperation. Get in touch, dude.
There's a whole emotional world out there that is as
valid and as substantial as any ability to kick, box,
or flip an opponent to the ground.

>
> "Wanting it badly," is not a guaranteed win for
> anything. That's why all of
> the 5'9" 20 year old ball players in the Bronx
> aren't in the NBA.

They may not be in the NBA, but they aren't any less
heroic for trying. ESPECIALLY the ones who try so
hard that they avoid drugs, avoid gang violence, go to
college, and JUST. TRY. And if they wore a cool
costume while trying to do so, and Stan Lee sponsored
them, then they'd be a "superhero". :p

> Take A***, for instance. He wanted to make games
> badly. So, do a lot of
> people. The difference between Andy and most pimple
> faced teens is that he
> actually has the skillz to back it up.

That doesn't mean that someone with lesser skills is
not heroic for TRYING. Nor does it mean that A*** is
not heroic for SUCCEEDING. If you think I'm going to
buy in to the "Whoever Dies With The Most Toys Wins"
theory, or the "The One With The Most Skills Is A
Better Person" theory then you deny who I am. To me
heroism comes from an individual's ability to rise
above their own demons, not someone else's, and in the
course of doing so, make an impression in the world
for the better.

So. I guess this is about how I see it. If no one
else can agree there, well okay. Let's just move on
to another topic. If you want to argue about it just
for the sake of arguing, please don't. There are few
things left in the world about which I'm passionate,
and human character remains one of them. That's why I
went for the ministry and why I'm working in mental
health.

I WANT US TO BE BETTER THAN WE USUALLY ARE. (Damn!)

But for now, superheroes have come along to the
fullest extent that they can exist in the real world
and I'm having a ball with it. These last three are
all superheroic, but two of them are more genuine, and
one of them is more qualified. You have your opinion
on who that one person is, and I have mine.

*hugs and kisses*

FROM SOMEONE ELSE
:P

-Alan

And there is why I've poured out so much energy in these last two weeks than ConEdison did for Queens.

To this opinion I solemnly swear.

Superhero Joyride

Well I finally saw Episode 4 of "Who Wants To Be A..." and I'm glad I had plenty of forewarning. I knew My Hero was going to have an emotional time of it, and I'd read the advance reviews by fans on how he was going to be genuine with a prisoner and get his mission accomplished. He's not My Hero fer nuthin'.

I think if I would have seen the episode with no advance information, I'd probably had lost all self-control and been thrown back into the confusion of gender identity. I've heard the term 'mancrush' used by blatantly hetereosexual guys and admired the freeness with which they use it. I've even recently asked a FanBoard full of married geekdom (the place where I'd heard this term used so bravely) to consider if they'd ever make good on their claims. Because when I get a mancrush, that's when I get nervous about who or what I am. That's why I'm glad for the blog--I think I worked it out. I idolize men for that ideal of masculinity. Idolization is the process of trying to fill up the Dad-sized hole in my life. (Which is another immense identification I have with Matt, and one that is bringing a lot of us together through him) but crossing the line into sexuality skeeves me out. And that's just that. I'm comfortable with that boundary. Relieved by it, even. I can now enjoy my mancrushes, and still hope to someday get busy with a LadyNewMutant.

Okay, now, having said and referenced and whatnot, here's the fear I'm facing NOW...

I think it's possible that Feedback might get eliminated next episode.
Now mark my words, there is absolutely NOTHING that Feedback did wrong on this last show. He excelled in every category of heroism and was a QUALITY hero. Genuine and real and vulnerable and mancrush mancrush mancrush.

But I have a few clues that scare me to death.

1) is this;
Every hero has a comicbook cover representing them already from Dark Horse, but Fat Momma has an extra something on her website. Why? Is the artist already drawing her comic because she has won?

2) At the ComicCon in SanDiego last month, Stan Lee, Fat Momma, Ty'Veculus, Major Victory and Cell Phone Girl was on a panel. Something was asked and Stan said to the crowd "You don't have to worry about Fat Momma...I mean, I wouldn't give anything away...but I think she'll go far with a gold album just based on her theme song." I think he was letting the cat out of the bag. He's an 83 year old man. He could have slipped.

3) Matthew himself has posted in a few places "I really enjoyed my time on the show and learned a lot." That could be from having won it, but it very much looks like it means, "I didn't win it."

4) Feedback had a very emotional scene with Stan, in which Stan ended the night by calling Feedback 'son'. (What? Did I cry? I told you, it was a good thing I had advance information). In the next episode we are told an elimination is going to bring Stan to tears. Only one person can be eliminated in the next episode because there has to be two heroes left standing for Episode 6, the last episode. having made that emotional connection, who else's elimination would bring Stan to tears? Feedback's. Although there's a chance sweet and wonderful Fat Momma might do it to ol' Stan, I'm scared it'll be Feedback.

5) My friend The Grim Jester thinks Major Victory is going to get the win because he has the best showmanship and is most viewer-friendly. He's handsome and has a great sense of humor. His appeal might go farther for the longrun and either Stan or the producers (whoever's making the real decisions) would go for him as their flagship hero. THE IDIOTS. Because we know, Feedback is the one who is the REAL superhero. Not just a hero but a superhero. I mean that. I mean his motivations and determination comes from the very genre itself. His lifestyle and personal tastes are buried within this culture. Personally, he IS us. So if anybody DESERVES the win, it's Feedback. But this is the station that cancelled Farscape and created a movie called Mansquito. I. DON'T. TRUST. THEM. It would be JUST like them to eliminate Feedback next week, and unless they actually get Matthew to co-operate behind-the-scenes, and have him stage a psychotic on-air breakdown from being 'too intense' (whatever THAT means, um hello BATMAN, hello WOLVERINE, um hello DEATH OF GWEN STACY)--unless they play it up and give Matt the chance to have a good, dramatic ala "Dark Enforcer" departure, NOTHING will justify the elimination.

So I'm scared as to what will happen to my sense of well-being if they eliminate Feedback. I'm not talking about razorblades, but just that sunken feeling in your chest that you carry around for days like an unuttered weep.

I don't want them to reject my hero.

I don't want them to reject my ... friend.

EDIT (827/06): This just in ...!

TheirSpace

Only because I needed to send a message to My Hero I opened up a MySpace page. He added me to his MySpace page and I was content. But since then I got 3 requests from hot-sounding girls' names for me to add them.

Why should I do this thing? I don't know those girls! I don't even know if they're real?! They saw me on Matt's My Space and suddenly we're supposed to be friends too? Do they think I really look like this?? And even if I did, what are we going to do, have type-sex?

Icky.

Anyway, I'll leave a link here to My MySpace, and if you want to be added, you have to tell me here first because hey, not just any ole body can just up and call themselves my Friend. I don't even call the guy that saved me from homelessness and saved my life my "friend". Not because I'm not thankful, but because I don't LIKE the guy.

Maybe deep down, I'm not nice but I am what I am.

No more apologies.

Anyway, if you want to hear FanBoyRadio Sunday's episode where I choke up and cry about My Hero, go here and download "Episode 324". Hurry before its gone!

Let Me Clear My Throat...

Hehe. I used that title as a precursor to the 'preaching' I'm about to do here, but it seems to be my subconscious' way of saying "Put a link to here." Okay, but come right back kids!

Anyway, I feel good. I don't know exactly why. My mystery 3 lbs. are back again. My Benefactor's son is spending time over here again, and bringing home the skraggliest, most suburban killer klan I've ever seen into this house while he lay in his drug coma upstairs. They run the air conditioner all night, forcing me to keep my windows open or else I'm up at 4 AM with teeth chattering. My open windows lure the cats from upstairs down into my room because they want to escape, but they hate my cat, who sleeps faithfully by my side all night--so at anytime, unless I close my door, I could be awakened by a catfight the magnitude of which you wouldn't wish on a dog.

But I feel good. And lo, the power of The Hero.

Sunday night, I called up FanBoy Radio and went totally FanBoi in defense of the television show with which I've been smitten. I did so because I was the one that provided the information that soured them on the show in the first place. So I felt I had to correct it, or at least give equal time for free thought. The scorn factor was too strong, though, and this guy ridiculed me mercilessly. Now, this guy is married, successful, and happy. And the host of FanBoy Radio is doing what he loves, is married and I'm also going to assume happy (since his wife is the producer of the show and works with him in most things Geek). So although I got my point across, I hung up feeling like a sad, fat, living-in-someone's-basement Loserrrrrr. Because why, oh why was I defending some stranger with whom I only had a mere dalliance with, who is portraying an imaginary character on a possibly staged faux-reality television show?

I called The Grim Jester later on that night, fully expecting him to verbally beat me down for something which I hadn't realized yet, which is something he does at the weirdest times.

But he didn't.

He defended the Joy of Being Geek. He said as long as I'm not hurting anybody and it's not robbing me of my necessities (food, clothing, shelter), I have nothing of which to be ashamed. He said that if baseball fanatics can devote money and time to a sport they will never actively influence (who gets traded, who plays in what innings, etc), then I can defend a 'reality-TV superhero'.

And really, what was I doing?

I was defending what I believed to be a nice sincere guy, doing something I would have done in a heartbeat. I was defending my new faith in the way a man represented himself. I was defending the whole ideal of heroism, and what it would be like if there were such things anymore, as opposed to pursuit of material wealth just for avarice sake--just to be the kid with the most toys in the schoolyard. I was defending what I believed to be a man's dream.

A dream I share.

And this is what I did as a result of the shared dream. I arranged for FanBoy Radio to interview Feedback.

And just now, in fetching these links, I found this. Matthew did that himself, says my SiteMeter.

So, yeh, I feel good. I love what I love. I do what I do. I am what I am.

No more apologizing.

"Game ON."
-Feedback

Guess Who I Had A Chat With?

Yay! Just call me Jimmy Olsen!

Actually, I'm quite happy with Matthew Atherton and wish him all the best. Everything else I've already said, except I hope we can continue to chat! I'm convinced he's a good egg, and I'll be continuing to watch!

You Wanna Know How I Can Tell My Gym Missed Me This Week?

I CAN'T!

Not when I stepped on the scale today and saw that I weigh 195 lbs.

You read right. Since the bloatation, I've lost three pounds. So following the exultation in being 196 lbs, then the desperation of becoming 198 lbs, what should I do/feel/decide now?

I'm eating some sugar-free candies lately, missing one of the three meals per day lately, stopped taking meals and protein shakes at the gym lately, taking those ephedra-free death-pills for a week then forgetting to lately, and worrying about various craps as these webpages clearly attest to lately.

Too much data!! How do I just lose the rest of this friggin' weight?

Dunno. I'll keep you posted though--there's another resource I've been resisting, but it costs money and I'm facing another week of money-run-out-itis (paying phone and internet bills plus repay of the car repair).

All in all, I think I should feel happy. I've lost 17 lbs since March. 20 more to go!

Here's My Feedback Tribute

Since I'm a regular citizen of Paragon City (see left), I created a CoH persona for Feedback. Someone else somewhere snatched up the exact name "Feedback" so I had to use l33tspeak. I don't know if I'll play with him more often, but he's on Guardian server and he's called "F33db4ck"
Curiously enough, Feedb4ck's first mission was to meet a contact named Sarah, which is the 'real' Feedback's wife's name.
I reworked his costume and sent him out on his way to fight crime!

Hey! You Almost Missed It!

All day I was bent out of shape and for the last five hours have been posting, reposting, and surfing about my latest favorite show. You see, Monkey Woman was eliminated because she revealed that she was an actress. My frien the Grim Jester sent me a tongue-in-cheek e-mail denouncing her as a fake, and included her website adverting her actressness. Well I got curious and found out that Major Victory, Creature, Lemuria, and... and ... Feedback (!!!) all have acting careers as well, and imdb profiles.

Well I went to the dark side. I gave those links to my friends and denounced the show horribly. Deceived!!!! I was so hurt.

But then, I did some more digging to find that Fat Momma and Ty'Veculus are real people. And that actors or no, they all honestly submitted characters they invented.

Long story short, I'm still a little stung that 5 of the 11 that they picked were actors. Stan didn't seem to know that because after they kicked Monkey Woman, the others stayed. And those others didn't reveal themselves either. Pfft! Some "heroes".

But now my last surf of the night shows that my favorite, Feedback, is more geek than actor. That is a bit of a comfort, because picking actors as your 'reality star' heroes is just like picking the football jocks and cheerleaders when the true superheroic hearts beat within the shrimpy acne'd kid and the girl with the coke-bottle glasses and braces.

Just Because...

Reading The Past Is FUN!

Looky here;

That was on my 41st brithday. I had totally forgotten about the call from my former therapy client until I read that. That was actually very incredible. When my life was imploding, I was reminded that I had vastly helped someone else--that I wasn't a complete pig of a person.

I noticed that what I did not mention in that post was that on my 40th birthday, I spent the day in the welfare office, trying to save myself from financial woes. That same week, I had gotten my NYC Starbucks job (details and similiar fun to be found here. Start at the bottom).

Well, in a handful of weeks, here will come ol' lucky #42, the answer to Life, The Universe, and Everything. I'm planning a vacation for it.

Superheroes, Take Two!

I saw the first episode ala here, and I'm glad I did!! I fell for it hook line and sinker! It was charming and very tenderhearted! Stan Lee throwing them challenges out there, and the heroes dashing through trying to win him over, while we the audience are let into a critical part of the challenge. Then we sit back and watch if the heroes will suceed in the critical part, or will they miss it.

I'm also glad to know that the above link is a week behind the broadcast, and the site already tells us who was eliminated before the episode plays in the viewer--because THAT IS THE ONE AND ONLY REASON I AM NOT WATCHING ALL THE OTHER REALITY CONTESTS. American Idol, Dancing With The Stars, Last Comic Standing...I can NOT take the suspense. Call me what you will, but I don't watch sports for the same reason. I'm not all about the beatdown, the kiss-off, the humiliation, the failures. And while knowing ahead of time prepared me, it was still crushing to watch people's hearts break and their dreams shatter.




Still, the heroes we see on the site have better tailored costumes than they have in the show--including the ones who were eliminated already. How is that? At some time during the marketing of the show, they tailored better duds for the losers and took their pictures? Because if they give them better costumes in the course of the show, then when do they do it actually, because two guys where already eliminated while wearing their homemade duds--and in fact, had to turn them in!

That said, today I went to the gym TWICE. This morning I was up early and I went, and then afterwork, I still had the "I Wanna", so I did. After thinking about it, I'm pretty sure I know why I did it.

This morning, two specific gymrats were there who always get my attention.

One is a guy my height, who strikes me as European--possibly Irish. Once he spoke to me about a piece of equipment, and I thought I definitely heard an accent. He's very pale but his hair is dark. He has a bit of a double chin, but everything else appears very tight. Wide shoulders, sharp pecs, flat stomach even though his waist is not narrow. He never seems to speak to anyone and he always seems to be racing himself through his workout. He also makes strange faces when he works out and while his eyebrows are always at a "Who's There?" or "Why Me?" angle, he never seems able to keep eye contact with anyone. It makes him look shy and private, as though he's socially awkward but determined to make something of himself. He also seems to walk as though his spine is curved. He gets my seal of approval for whatever its worth. I admire his determination and his body--whatever odds he's fighting against (if any) he's beat the crap out of them.

The other is a tanned little guy who's hair is always buzzed close to a his perfect-shaped head, and has pale blue eyes that look luminous in his perpetually dark face. I see him in there ALL THE TIME--I can almost not NOT SEE HIM no matter if I go day, afternoon, or night. He's kind of shifty so he comes across to me as one of those "Yeah boss" mob guys who get whacked early in the movie when the rival gang or police does a drive-by. And he's usually bending someone's ear off. Blabbermouth. The few times I tried to listen, because, hey, I'm nosy, it sounded like he was complaining about something. Many expletives deleted which flags for me a woodenheaded poverty of content. A lot of the muscleheads speak that language. BUT I have to hand to him the one major quality he does possess--he never looks anything but fit. There are other times when I see him actually working out that his muscles show, and they are pretty intense. He's my height, if not shorter, and he's 2/3's my size. But this morning when I went into the locker room to weigh myself, there he was with his shirt off. And a few seconds later, the Maybe-Irish guy came in too. I'd seen the Maybe-Irish once before in his boxers, from the back, and he was still pretty pale, and not a whole lot of definition, but he had a good shape in and out of his clothes.

But the tan one?

It was like, "GHhhOD"! "Tanny" simply has to be a professional bodybuilder. Cut? Muscular?? Incredible??? Umm, yeah. And my heart fell. There he was, looking no bigger than a minute until he takes his shirt off and then he makes the ladies faint. And I can't remember a day in my life when I did not want to look like that--and have that effect. And I also can't remember a day in my life when I ever did look like that OR had that effect. And here I was probably older than both of them. And unfortunately, I DID have my shirt off and I wanted to curl up somewhere and die because I knew the both of them put me to shame.

I have stated this before elsewhere--in the men's locker room at the gym, we check each other out, but we do it on the extreme sly. We have a deadly fear of being interpreted as a 'homo'. And yet, I think more that half of us are drawn by that very thing, whether we want to be 'homos' or not. So we look and get whatever jolly that comes to us, and then we go about our business. For me, dropping the BVDs is the dealbreaker. To me, naked men are incredibly yucky. Loose genitals that are flopping around or those that are puckered and stubby are just gross. The rest of the region there doesn't support the gentials either. Wrinkled, or pudgy, or even tapered, but with that inhumanly carved girdle-muscle? That does nothing for me--THANK GOD. But a good physique in speedos, any pair of briefs really--and there's my hero.

Well, this morning, Tanny was in a pair of chino shorts, so all I saw was his bare torso, and I didn't stay long enough for Maybe-Irish to strip--I just wanted to get out of there because I was such a frog compared to these princes.

And then during the course of my day, I got those pills I told you about in My Latest Will and Testament. And I took the first dose as soon as I got in the car. And I felt like I wanted to go to the gym again. And the feeling stayed with me. And after work I came home, checked email, listened to Wendy Williams, made a character for Living Greyhawk (because my namby-pamby roleplaying group doesn't meet often enough for me, because they have 'lives', and I'm going to try to add another group to my pitiful existence), then I took my second dose of the pills for the day and changed back into my gymmies, then booked down there again. And yup, I saw Tanny AGAIN, with his perfect hidden little bodybuilder body.

But I'm tired of hating myself. This is just ridiculous. I'm not trying to hear anything about genetics. I don't care. I can do this and I'm going to do this--if I need the help of pills then I'm going to take the pills. I can't afford liposuction so I'll have to use the tools I can afford, even if it KILLS me. Because I'd rather be dead than to keep living this life always regretting the buildup of Job-like CRAP. If I can affect this ONE. IMPORTANT. PART OF MY LIFE. then I'm going to DO it.


Major Victory's not going to hog up all the glory.