Archive for January, 2009

From Facebook: 25 Things About Me
January 27, 2009

So, I got tagged on Facebook by two different friends with a note/challenge/dare/whatever to share twenty-five random things about me.   I tried, twice, to complete this, however both time something happened and I lost it.  The blogging (notes) part of Facebook leaves much to be desired, so I decided to do it here…

1.  I was born in the Benton, AR hospital (Saline Memorial Hospital) when it had only one floor.
2.  Thanks to grandparents on west coast and an uncle stationed in the navy on the east coast, I had swam in both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans before I was five years old.
3.  I was raised a Jehovah’s Witness and became an ordained minister in 1986.  I haven’t attended services since 1995.
4.  I was co-valedictorian of my graduating class.  Both of us graduated with a perfect 4.0 GPA.
5.  I was awarded the WalMart Foundation Scholarship from the Sheridan WalMart.
6.  I attended two years of college at Henderson State University, then transfered to Southeast Missouri State University.
7.  After college I moved to Amarillo, TX so that I could work in Hastings Entertainment’s Advertising Department.
8.  I coordinated two different events with Jimmy Carter, both required me to be cleared by the Secret Service.
9.  I met my husband in Amarillo’s most popular lesbian bar.
10.  I admitted to myself that I was gay in 1986.
11.  I came out to my friends in 1996.
12.  I came out to my family in 1998.
13.  I know that the fear of the number thirteen is called triskaidekaphobia.  (Go ahead, look it up at if you don’t believe me.)  
14.  I am my parents’ first born, but middle raised child.  My parents raised my cousin, John, until he was 14 years old.  So, for all practical purposes, John is like my big brother.
15.  John is seven years older than I am.  I am seven years older than my little sister.
16.  I have four nephews:  Daniel, 18; Reven, 13; Steven, 11; Skylar, 10 months.
17.  I have two nieces:  Kelby, 7 and Amberly, 4.
18.  I share my birthday, June 8, with Daniel and Kelby.
19.  My favorite movies are “Latter Days,” “Titanic,” and “The Princess Bride.”
20.  I can’t leave the house in the morning at twenty past the hour.  If it happens to be that time when I ready to go, I’ll wait until twenty-one past.
21.  My minor in college was creative writing.  My last class for this was Magazine Writing.
22.  While I’m a gay man, I am can not cook.  I can’t decorate.  I don’t enjoy shopping.   BUT, I do enjoy musicals.
23.  My current musical obsession is Wicked.  I will be going to Memphis in July to see it at the Orpheum Theatre.
24.  I can’t sign my name in red ink.
25.  Some of the best friends that I’ve ever had, I met online first.

Here’s hoping I didn’t bore you too much!

Prayers for Bobby, Thanks from LaMar
January 26, 2009

So, last night I taped “Prayers for Bobby” on Lifetime.  I just finished watching it and felt compelled to enter quick blog.

I expected it to be emotional.  It was. 
I expected it to “hit close to home.”  It did.
I expected that I would probably cry.  I did, the entire last hour.

Watching Bobby’s story made me reflect upon my own.

I admitted to myself that I was gay at age 14 in 1986.   As a good Christian boy, I did everything that I could to change.  I prayed three and four times every single day for God to take away my “sickness.”   My church didn’t necessarily teach that being gay was a sin; however they believed that acting on my natural gay-tinted instincts was.   I never understood why God would give me these feelings, but condemn me for acting on them.  It never made sense to me, but I didn’t feel like I had any grounds to question Him.

I knew in my heart that if my parents ever found out about me,  I would cause them a world of hurt.  I thought that they would be better off with a dead son, than a gay son.  So, I attempted to take my life.  Thankfully, I was not successful.   After I graduated from high school, I moved away from Prattsville in hopes of being “myself” without letting my family know.

In 1996, I came out to my new friends.   My old, church friends no longer spoke to me.  These were my new friends at college in Missouri.  For some, it was  no big deal.   For others, it wasn’t as easy, but they were still supportive.  

After college, I moved to Amarillo and started living my life as an openly gay man.  This is where I met the love of my life.  Once I knew that Wayne was going to be a permanent part of my life, I felt that I had to let my parents not only know that I was so very happy, but why I was so happy.  I came out to my family in October, 1998.  (Actually, I came out to my sister and she outed me to my family, but that’s neither here nor there.)

It was not easy for my parents in the beginning, but over the past decade, they have not only come to terms with having a gay son, they have accepted me for who I am; they have accepted Wayne into our family; they have accepted other gay and lesbian members of my family.   These are all accomplishments that I would have never thought would have ever happened.

Bobby was successful in taking his life.  If I had succeeded, I would never have met the love of my life.  I would never have known that there is such a thing as unconditional love.  I would never have known know just how truly special my parents are.  I would never have been sure that there is a God and that (S)He loves me.

Here’s hoping that no other gay or lesbian teenager will ever have to go through what Bobby did.  And if they do, here’s hoping that they will reach out for help from organizations such as The Trevor Project (

Sick & Tired
January 24, 2009

I’m sick and tired.

I’ve been sick and tired…

of being well, sick…  and tired.
of 4:45am wake up calls.
of waking at 4:45 when I need not.
of being forced to be the bad guy.
of people mistaking my kindness for weakness.
of being judged by people who only look at who I love.
of not being able to take a legal vow to the man of my dreams.
of being treated as a second-class citizen in a country that boasts freedom, opportunity.
of being judged by people who’s morality is more questionable than mine.
of being forced to spend my hard earned wage at giant, soul-less stores.
of never being worried about having too much money.
of not owning my own home and making a rich man richer.
of hearing the whispers of those discussing my sickness as if it were fatal.
of having the same whispers link my coughs to my sexuality.
of not being a skinny-butt, white boy and having to exercise.
of having a 30″ inseam, but only being able to buy certain paints with a 34″ inseam.
of giving others the priviledge of dictating my reactions.

of only having inspiration to write when I am unable…

My Final Destination?
January 12, 2009

So, often while driving on the interstate, I have what I call “Final Destination Moments.”

For those of you who are familiar with the Final Destination trilogy, this will probably make perfect sense.  For those of you that are not familiar the movie, let me summarize:   Teenager Devon Sawa is on a plane headed for France.   Prior to take-off, he has a vision that the plane will explode.  This rattles him so much that he and a few of his friends exit the plane.   Upon the plane’s actual take-off, it explodes and he and his friends “cheat” death.  Not being one that likes to be cheated, death hunts them all down… one by one.  They all die in very strange and gruesome deaths.   In the second movie, a character dies as a log comes off of a truck and goes right through his windshield.

Not pretty.  Not pretty at all.

Yet, everytime I’m behind a truck hauling tree, pipes, lumber… pretty much anything… this is what goes through my mind.

Then today, on the way home from work, Wayne and I are behind a truck with a load of pipes.  I was totally experiencing one of my “Final Destination Moments” when the truck runs over a plastic bag, probably from WalMart.   The bag flew into the air right in front of the car.  Of course, since we’re traveling at 60+ miles per hour, it appeared as if it were coming right at my windshield.  

The next thing I new, I ducked!  Wayne just giggled the rest of the way home.

Here’s hoping that my final destination won’t be for another hundred years or so.

Past, Present and Future
January 11, 2009

So, I’m a goober.  I fully admit it.  I tend to live in the past.  

When I was in college (at Henderson State), I kept thinking about how great my life was in high school. 
When I transferred to Southeast Missouri State, I kept thinking about Henderson State.
When I graduated from college and moved to Texas, I kept thinking about Southeast Missouri State.
When I moved back home to Arkansas, I kept thinking about Texas.

So, a couple of years ago, I resolved that I would no longer live in the past. I would only live in the present.  When you’re only living in the present, you’re focused solely on the moment at hand.  Then, something dangerous happens, you tend to stop living for the future.  This leads to some very stupid decisions being made.  

The key is to find balance between living in the past, in the present and for the future.   And that’s what I’ve been attempting to do for the past year or so.  I am always trying appreciate the who and what I have in this world.

Last year for my birthday, I made all my friends eat Pizza and then go to the Little Rock Zoo.  I hadn’t been to the zoo in about 30 years at that point.  Since my birthday is in June, it was a bit warm, so as we walked all over the zoo campus we all worked up a pretty good sweat.  So, here we are, a troop of six gay guys walking all over the zoo.  (Insert your own joke here.)   We got sweaty; we got bitchy; we got catty.  It was one of the best birthday’s I’ve had in a long time.

Last month, for my pal Chris’ birthday, he decided that we would go eat Pizza, then go to the Weekend Theatre and watch a play.  Now, the play was okay.  I pretty much enjoy any performance art.  We were all excited to get seats on the front row.  So, there we were, this time EIGHT gay men and a “Princess Among Queens” (faghag) settling in to our WONDERFUL seats.  Then, as the play progressed, we realized, this might not be such a good thing.   We could see everything… good, bad and scary.   We also were within striking distance of the spittle.  You see, when actors speak on stage, they tend to be sure to pronounce, usually over pronounce, the words to the point that they spit.  We were dodging saliva bombs all night long.   I was sitting next to my buddy Mark and couldn’t look up for fear of causing both of us to give in to the fits of laughter that we were barely containing.   I’m told that my friend Dug was doing Neo style Matrix movies to avoid the spittle coming at him.  And, if you really want to know, contact me and I’ll tell you all about the package. 

After the play was over, the comment was made, “LaMar, you’re birthday is no longer the worst.”  But, you see, I don’t consider either birthday celebration to be bad.  Did they kinda suck at the time?  Well, yeah.  But, I had fun then; and, to be honest, in the times that we’ve been able to get together since then, I’ve had a lot of fun retelling the stories and reliving the adventure.

From each of my friends, I have learned something.   The toughest lesson that I have learned is that I won’t always have them around me.  So, as part of the balance that I’ve been striving for, I’m taking experiences, like these, that I have shared with my friends and keeping them with me so that I can use them in the future.

Here’s hoping you’ve come to an appreciation of your friends, just as I have mine. 
I love you all.

January 11, 2009

My regular readers wouldn’t appreciate this blog, Dear Older and Semi-Faithful-But-Rationalized-Into-Calling-Yourself-Faithful Reader. Therefore, I’ve been given the keys to So, here’s hoping, as sort of a vacation home, if you will.  If one would consider a seldom-used blog originating out of Benton, Arkansas,  a prime spot for a vacation home.  More like it’s a post-apocalyptic barren wasteland with tumbleweeds and Norman from Discovery rolling by (because, Honey, even after the end of times, ol’ Norma will still be around). I shall make the best of things and behave as a real lady would.

My regular readers, that is, my new regular readers, over at Shake expect onomatopoeia and alliteration, sincerity and poetic fire, perfect rhyme in perfect meter, memories and regrets, and of course love in haiku form. My old regular reader(s) expect wit and humor, with a pinch, or, more likely, a double-fistful of Gay, with lots of Crisco. Bitch slaps with imperfect grammar and Bitch Pleases with snaps and neck movements in clearly inappropriate places.  Then there are my irregular readers, and for them, I suggest removing the large buttplug from their rectums.

I didn’t say this would be pretty.

I thought about what to write about here for my big return to blogging. I thought about composing a parody of my friends with a little ditty called The G Word, starring LaDon (D) and Rayne, Darwin and Clark (of DarwinandClark), Tug and Clark (of TugandClark) and Krysof and the Fabulous Ryan, and of course their hag Whoria.  Now, Dear Reader, this would be an interesting project, but it would be destined to fail.

You’d have LaDon (D), the workaholic who secretly longs to perform drag as Reba, who would be the center of the piece.  Writing his part would be easy because I could just copy and paste the same dialogue over and over and over again, but I’m afraid the audience wouldn’t be there long because he’d fire them.   Or at least orchestrate their dismissal through creative if not entirely legal ways. Perhaps through an ill-timed drug test?  But regardless, yes, writing his part would be a breeze.

Not as easy as writing the part of Rayne Fuggles, though, who would never have any dialogue.  Darwin and Clark would hardly appear, choosing instead to socialize with heterosexual people in the boring knock off, The B Word (duh, Breeders!).  Tug’s head would explode when several of his never-before-seen children return home (many of them with children and pets of their own, some in the form of furry coats, all of them strangely linked to pizza) and his showplace is turned into a common dorm room. Clark of TugAndClark wouldn’t survive long because he’d be robbed and killed walking between he and Tug’s house in the ghettos of Ryant.  He’d cry for help but no one would hear him because his cries would be so delicate.  And then Whoria would have her own spin off which would get canceled after three installments and end abruptly with the poor dear becoming involved with a suitor whose sexual fantasies center around reenacting the first three minutes of every single episode of Six Feet Under with Whoria herself as the star.  She’d survive the first couple of rolls in the hay, but not the one involving a giant mixing vat. Her suitor would, however, keep putting her back together again.  The only characters that would really draw the audience in would be that of Krystof and Ryan, the adorable couple destined for greatness. But they are so fabulous, really, they might just make the audience hate themselves because they could never live up to the standards set by such handsome, talented, lovely individuals.

So no G Word for now.  For now, all you get is a taste.   Because, when you think about it, is the world really ready for Rayne Fuggles?

Bryan’s status is Done.