I Got Your Gobble Right Here !

Play special Thanksgiving message from Ken !

I just fuckin' overdosed on turkey. I'll bet if I cut one right now it would smell like gravy...



Miranda, moma & me. Notice the pumpkins pies on the counters .


We decided to walk our turkey dinner off by going for a hike through the woods to an old abandoned mill by the South Fork River.



Miranda & moma posing by the stinky, brown river.




The falls below my house.





Me, chilling on a big rock. Yes, I know I got some white-as-hell legs.

A cool rock formation I came across in the forest.

Another waterfall in the forest by my house.

Me, crossing the stream at the tops of the falls.

Miranda & moma resting a spell at the mill.

The old, abandoned mill. No, I didn't go inside (this time).

The locks and dam that powered the mill many years ago.

Water streaming through one of the broken locks.




Well folks, that was my Thanksgiving. What did ya'll do ? So often I just bitch and complain on this blog but I'm actually very lucky to have the family and great circle of friends that I do. I'm loved and I'm thankful for that. Now, back to those deviled eggs...

He's Just Not That Into You, Miss Thang

I need to learn to take my own advice. I’m constantly preachin’ to my friends about taking everything with a grain of salt when it comes to meeting a guy online. So, why am I not heeding my own advice and getting so frustrated and upset with the whole goddamn thing?

I like to fancy myself very discerning when it comes to knowing which guys are worth all the time and effort and all phone calls, emails, text-messages that it takes to get to know them before you actually meet in the flesh. Well folks, I’m here to tell you that I’m not so smart after all.

Two recent scenarios:

#1: A really nice, midwestern guy that just moved to North Carolina started emailing me several months ago. On paper this guy appears to be everything I could ever want in a man. He’s the right age, he’s intelligent, he’s very masculine, he’s cute as hell, he’s an animal lover, he’s a top and he’s also HIV positive (though, that’s not a “must-have” for me. If you’re poz, it’s just easier if the other person is too). We talk on the phone for hours and we both like what we hear. After two weeks he invited me to spend the weekend with him. I feel really good about this, so I ask off from work and book myself a motel room in his town (3 hours away on the eastern side of the state, I’m on the western side in Hickory). A motel room? Yes, you don’t think I’d actually agree to spend a weekend in a person’s house that I’d never met? I mean, I might get there and everything is so great and wonderful that I’d just say, “Fuck, this motel. Let me pack my lime green thong and grab my industrial-size bottle of WET. I’m coming to your place right now, stud!” But ya never know, ya know.

Anyway, back to the story… He drops off the face of the earth a week before this meeting is to take place. Doesn’t answer emails, phone number doesn’t work anymore and won’t talk to me on Yahoo Messenger (though I plainly see that he’s online and changing his status daily). So, I just sort of shrug my shoulder and go “Oh well” and forget his trifling ass. Last week he suddenly decided he was going to talk to me again and started sending me messages on Yahoo. He tells me this story about how the reason I had not heard from him is that he had been laying back and waiting for me to make the first move. WTF!!!! What did he think I was doing, playing tiddlywinks? And oh yeah, he gave me new phone number. God I’m stupid, I so believed in this guy… he suckered me into agreeing to ask off for another weekend so we could meet. I did just that and thank God my boss said no (I could have hugged him). The guy has dropped off the face of the earth again except for the occasional gooey text-message.

to sum it up… extremely fickle, probably playing the field and had scheduling conflicts, full of shit, insincere

#2: Frank was a customer of mine that I had waited on some 6 months earlier. I remember the night he came in the store, I guess because he kept rubbing his crotch suggestively the whole time we were talking (what can I say, I’m a nasty bitch sometimes) and he was cute too plus we both have a common interest in classic cars. He had a ’40 LaSalle and was looking for a book on early Cadillacs. We exchanged phone numbers and I never heard from him again until last month. He started calling (I didn’t question where he’d been) and we quickly grew to like one another. He was very Southern and had this cute, slow southern drawl like something you’d hear in a movie. We made a date to go out to dinner one night after I got off work, he was to swing by and pick me up. It got later and later and still no Frank. Finally I received a voice message on my cell that he had to work late and that he’d come by the next night after work and take me out to dinner and movie. Ya’ll, he didn’t show up again and didn’t even call this time. When I got home, he was already on Manhunt trolling for butt. He sent me this weird message about how he was intimidated by my “looks” and was too scared to go out with me for fear I’d reject him and he just couldn’t handle that right now. Now folks, what kind of bullshit is that? I mean, come da fuck on. What a mess this man is!


to sum it up: low self-esteem, insecure, just plain rude (for making dates he didn’t keep), immature, full of shit and riddled with relationship “issues”


Guys, I’ll say it again. If a guy is truly into you:

*he’ll call when he’s suppose to without any arm twisting on your part

*he’ll show up for your dates on time or even early

*he’ll answer your emails or text-messages in a timely manner

*he’ll do some of the “work”. Your days of making all the phone calls, sending all the email/texts and planning all the dates are over.


Read Greg Behrendt’s essential book to understanding guys and the world of dating:

He’s Just Not that Into You


Ain’t that the truth, honey... Ya’ll be good and call when you say you gonna call and when you make a date, keep it, ok. Don’t make me cut you.

Don't be A Bitch, Bitch!

Do you ever get the feeling that you’re not the nicest person in the world? The other day at work, the ladies volleyball team from the college across the street was in the store having coffees and looking at sports magazines. I found myself thinking evil thoughts about their matching Nike tracksuits, their extremely butch demeanors and their sweaty, messy Pebble Flintstones hairdos. Now, before I start getting hate mail from lesbians, let me just say that I LOVE ME SUM LESBIANS. Read back through my blog and you’ll see that my best friends are a lesbian couple, Lindsay & Kate. I’m just an evil bitch sometimes and that’s how I roll, ya’ll. I would have had evil thoughts about a table of 22-year-old, flaming twinks that act like they invented GAY as well, so don’t feel bad. Anyway, I had a moment of clarity during this and immediately became very ashamed of myself. I didn’t know these girls, why was I thinking bad things about them? This group of girls was my sisters and they were just being themselves, I should salute that. It struck me that the gay community is often it’s own worse enemy. We don’t stick together and we don’t take up for our own. It’s like when I became HIV positive, as a gay man that had been around HIV for a long time, I had always thought in the back of my mind that if I ever tested positive (God-willing, I had hoped that I never would), the gay community would be there for me and embrace me. Let me just say here and now, that’s not what happened at all. I was shunned, vilified, pushed away and expected to stay home and count my pills until I died. I wasn't supposed to be poz and OUT about it. I was treated better by heterosexuals and isn’t that a shame, that we don’t take care of our own? So often we throw people under the bus if they don’t match our exact ideal of FABULOUS. Aren't we forgetting something here ? Remember that rainbow and it's many colors we so proudly claim as our own ?

Diversity, folks, diversity.

Ya’ll be good and the next time you find yourself fixin' to say something evil about one of your brothers or sisters, buy them a drink instead, ok.

Love With A Capital L

Today without planning to, I found myself watching the old version of Wuthering Heights again for the umpteenth time on TCM. No, not one of those endless BBC remakes, I’m talking about the 1939 film starring Merle Oberon & Sir Laurence Olivier. I couldn’t help myself; this film is so mesmerizing and romantic. I’d forgotten that people could love like that. God, it’s been so long since I was the young idyllic gay boy that believed and expected an all-consuming love like that to be “just around the corner”. I cried at the ending as I always do. The part where Cathy dies in Heathcliff’s arms always starts the waterworks and then when they find him dead out in the snowy moors because he was chasing after Cathy’s ghost, well folks…I cry like a gay boy that's just found out that Clinque has discontinued their travel size non-streak bronzer. If you’ve never seen this film, do. It just might kindle and awaken things you thought you’d forgotten.

Play As You Read

The Games That Men Play

Yesterday was a very frustrating day to say the least and also I found out that my heart isn’t as hard as I thought.

I met a guy at the Eagle last Friday night. I was sort of surprised when he came over to me and introduced himself. Jack is one of those uber-macho gay guys that yes, actually watches sports on TV (instead of Project Runway), works out at the gym daily and has a manual labor job that leaves him with grease permanently embedded under his fingernails. Jack’s type isn’t usually interested in me, they tend to only be interested in other uber-butch dudes, not that I’m a big, flaming queen or anything, but uber-butch, I ain’t. We stood in a corner and talked all night long until last call. We had so much in common it seemed:

We both were raised on cattle farms, him in upstate South Carolina and me in Gaston County, NC

We both were really in our health

We both didn’t drink except for the occasional glass of wine

We both didn’t smoke

We both were more or less in a caretaker role for our aging mother’s

We both were into nature

He was all top, I’m all bottom

Over the next week, we talked on the phone several times a day and when we weren’t doing that we were emailing or texting. We met yesterday for coffee around lunchtime the Caribou’s on East Blvd. He was all smiling and just about to burst out of his skin because he said he had a surprise for me. Finally he blurted it out, he had gotten us a motel room cause he just couldn’t wait to have me naked and in his arms.

Wait for it… Wait for it…

“Oh by the way, I’m neg, what’s your HIV status?” He asked.

“I’m poz.” I think it came out sounding more like a question when I answered: “I’m poz?”

I thought back to all the conversations we’d had and yes, the several instances when I’d alluded to my “meds” or my “cocktail” or said the name of my doctor who is a very well-known HIV specialist in this area and wondered how he didn’t pick up on these finer nuances. It was my fault, I realized, I had not said the actual word, HIV in our conversations. Guys, some people don’t pick up on things, you have to literally have to clobber them over the head for them to figure out what the deal is. This is why so many single poz guys don't go out to bars anymore. Do we need to wear a scarlet HIV emblem on our chests, Hester Prynne style ?

Jack nearly jumped out of his seat. I saw him look around real fast to makes sure no one had overheard the conversation. With a curt sputtered, “Take care, man.” he was outta there. And there I sat feeling like the biggest fool on Earth and trying not to cry.

It hurt. God, it hurt. Life isn’t fair sometimes, ya’ll. I was glad for the hurt though because I thought I’d hardened my heart to such a degree that people like Jack couldn’t get to me anymore. I'm not the ice-princess I thought I was.

Jack was fairly frothing at the mouth to be with me until he found out I was poz and then, poof…nothing. My value went from 100 down to a 3.2 in a millisecond with just the utterance of two words, “I’m Poz.” I can understand why a negative guy might have reservations about being with a poz guy, they’re scared and we remind them of something they rather pretend doesn’t exist. But if you've taken so much time to get to know a guy and you like him, wouldn't he at least deserve your friendship even though you might be too afraid to sleep with him?

What makes a gay man valuable? Be honest:

HIV negative

Top

Big dick

Hot/sexy/handsome

Money

Material things

Connections


Okay, guys. Be good and hug a poz buddy today. Cya.

Sky Watch

A warm night, balmy even. A dry wind blows the trees gently back and forth as they wave to the heavens. This night is alien. It’s early November and I’m sitting on the back stoop in only cargo shorts. This is a night worth celebrating, truly. The only sound is the autumn wind and the contended purr of Gray Girl in my lap. The rustling of the leaves are pages being turned in my book of life. Gray Girl stops her cleaning ritual suddenly and looks up as if she's heard something only cats can hear. She stands and bumps her head up under my chin affectionately.

The night sits over the land like a celestial drape. A watched sky reveals something sooner or later. A star falls from the heavens, burning itself out before it finishes the journey. The old ones tremble at this. It’s a sign of death coming. I just smiled and finished my wine. It’s all about the journey, ya’ll.

The Dregs Of Halloween

Halloween aka the gay Christmas, I worked first shift and then stayed in for the night and watched monster movies on TCM. My ex (Rob) was having a huge party but since I don’t really drink anymore and I had to get up at the crack of dawn for work the next day, I didn’t really see any point in going to the party. Plus, I get tired of ducking the seemingly innocent, catty remarks his partner (Wayne) drops when my ex leaves the room:

Wayne: “So Ken, how’s work going these days?”

Me: “Things are good. Business has really picked up.”

Wayne: “How long have you worked there, Ken?”

Me: “Five years. Remember, I started working for Barnes & Noble when I lived in DC.”

Wayne: “Wow, that's a real record for you. I mean, working for the same company for 5 whole years!”

Bitch! See what I have to put up with, ladies? When Wayne comes back into the room he’s all sweetness & light. I really don’t know why he treats me like that. I’ve never done anything to him but be nice to him and I house-sit for these guys at a moment’s notice so they can go on gay cruises and vacation at clothing optional, gay campgrounds. And do they ever invite me along? Hell fuckin' no (and I'd look a damn sight better tromping around naked in the kudzu than them, to tell you the fuckin' truth).

The next morning when I got to work, I noticed that one of my usually jovial coworkers was very quiet and moody (very much unlike him). Carlson is an older gay man of about sixty but with a killer body from working out at the gym constantly. He sort of has the Mr. Clean thing going on and don't you know all the little bottoms in the area cream when he walks into the room (probably because he’s fucked them all. He’s what you’d call "sexually generous". He and his partner have an understanding, ya know ?). Carlson and his lover of 25 years share an old restored Victorian in downtown on one of older streets and are very much beloved in their little neighborhood because they entertain so often and throw an open house at least every other month. That morning he had awakened to a huge sandwich board style sign in his yard saying :

TWO FUCKING FAGS LIVE IN THIS HOUSE. WE KNOW YOU GOT AIDS TOO. YOU CAN LEAVE FOR VACATION CAUSE YOUR FUDGE HAS BEEN PACKED.

He was shaken and felt betrayed, beaten even. One of his so-called neighbors that he invited to his house regularly for parties and dinners surely must have done this. Only the people on his street knew him to be gay. After I questioned him about it for a while, he admitted that there was a new couple that had only been to his house for dinner once and they had never spoken to him again. Seems they were “religious” and we all know what that means here in the south, they don’t want to be hangin’ around no fags, not unless it involved saving their poor wretched souls (and even then they’d put on rubber groves first so they don't catch the AIDS. You know they think all gay people have AIDS). Carlson added that they also have a 15-year-old son that was always getting into trouble with the law as well. Bingo! The boy must have heard dear old mom and dad bad-mouthing the two fags that lived down the street, so him and some of his buddies thought this sign would be a hoot. They crept into Carlson's yard on Halloween night, set the sign up on the front lawn facing the street and then went to bed laughing and joking about putting a scare into the old queens at the end of the block. Now folks, I can't swear that this is exactly what happened, but I'm pretty good at figuring this kind of shit out (I had afterall, read all 64 Nancy Drew books by the time I was 12. I hated the Hardy Boys, btw). I felt so bad for Carlson, that he should live so long to build up this life, reputation and circle of friends only to have some assholes try to publicly shame him for being himself - an out and proud gay man that is loved by so many. I have to say that Carlson has alway been my role model for older gay men, that they don't have to be bitter old queens. His life and example show me know that they can still be vibrant, sexy (and extremely sexual in his case), active and respected. I was especially dismayed to see him degraded and shamed by these young, ignorant rednecks. We laughed about the bad grammar on the sign and the feeble attempt at being witty with the “packed fudge” reference the rest of the morning until the store became too to busy to think (thankfully) about personal issues.

I wonder sometimes if we’ll ever be treated decently but a guy can dream, can't he ?

Anyway, that was my Halloween. Ya'll be good and don't be eating too much of that nasty old candy corn (yuck)!

I Think Too Much

I've been in an odd mood lately and I think too much. I sort of miss the old days when I silenced my churning mind with booze. To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure why I do this blog at times, but hell, it's cheaper than therapy, ya know. I guess I mainly do it to reach out and let people know that they are not the only one that's ever thought that thought or had that particular feeling. You know, you are not alone and all that bull shit...

Who The Fuck Am I?

I'm the guy you pass in the ethnic food section at the grocery store, I'm the guy skating on the boardwalk, I'm a guy that doesn't mind subtitles, I'm the guy that swore he'd never smoke generic cigarettes, I'm the cute guy at the bar that would really appreciate being rescued from the troll that has him trapped in a corner, I'm the guy reading the Anne Rice novel at the laundromat, I'm the flip-flop wearing surfer dude at Magic Mountain, I'm the thin guy wearing the vintage pea coat in Central Park, I'm a guy that laughs through porno films, I’m the guy nervously tapping his foot in the doctor's waiting room, I'm a guy that special-ordered a Sarah Vaughan CD on his lunch break, I'm a guy that really hates bathhouses, I'm a guy that wants to get his eyes "done", I’m the guy being pulled down the street by a very unruly brown dog, I'm the guy that always averts his eyes first if you stare at him too long, I'm the guy at the beach picking up shells, I'm the blonde guy buying incense at the new-age bookstore, I'm the guy you see helping a lady friend pick out a dress for a Christmas party, I'm a guy with an accent you just can't quite put your finger on, I'm a guy that hates Ensure, I'm the guy that goes to P-Town during the winter, I'm the guy that looked a little sick on the ferry ride over to the island, I'm the guy that once found a pornographic letter his father had written to his mother, I'm a guy that prefers night swimming, I'm the guy pressing a cool cloth to your forehead after you hurl, I’m a guy that's likely to give you the silent treatment if he's pissed-off, I'm a guy that everyone swears is a top, I'm the extremely nervous guy sitting beside you on the plane, I'm the slim guy photographing the White House with a 40 year old Russian camera, I'm a guy that enjoys taking baths with his lover, I'm a guy that drinks too much coffee, I'm the guy that doesn't send out nude photos of himself on the internet, I'm the guy that used to date girls, I'm a guy with an old soul, I'm a guy that often forgets to eat if he's busy or stressed out, I'm a guy with a green thumb, I'm the guy at the classic car show getting Miss November's autograph, I'm the guy that gets invited to orgies but never shows up, I'm a guy that once owned a Barbie doll, I’m a guy that takes matters of the heart very seriously, I'm a guy that may not answer e-mail for several days, I'm a guy that has a fantasy about having sex in the forest, I'm a guy that can't seem to buy into this modern notion that it's unrealistic to strive for monogamy within the confines of a relationship, I'm a guy that belongs to a Doris Day fan club, I'm a guy that gets so tired of taking his meds, I'm a guy that's secretly in love with JLO(shhhh!), I'm the guy that would refuse to take the Insta-Straight Pill (should it ever be invented), I'm a guy that would really like to have a VW Beatle, I'm the funny Meals On Wheels guy that stays until you finish everything on your tray (even those nasty Lima beans), I'm a guy that hates to have his balls squeezed, I'm a guy that looks better with a little weight on him, I'm the guy eating the stinky lox bagel beside on the train, I'm the skinny guy struggling with the weights at the gym, I'm a guy that melts when a handsome guy winks at him, I'm the guy that cried all through What Dreams May Come and The English Patient, I’m a guy that really wants to visit the UK and Greece, I'm a guy that likes to be needed, I'm a guy that used to worship Martha Stewart and Paula Deen, I'm a guy that once had a close call with an alligator on a golf course, I'm a guy that doesn't allow himself to be photographed unless he's happy, I'm a guy that would love to walk on the beach everyday, I'm a guy that loves a nice glass of wine @ sunset, I'm the guy buying the stack of old books at the antique mall, I'm a guy that's kind of grouchy in the morning, I'm a guy that likes other guys with hairy legs, I'm a guy that loves all animals, I'm a guy who's very first CD was Judy Garland-Live At Carnegie Hall, I'm a guy that likes to have sex at least once a day when he's in a relationship, I'm a guy that hates e-mails from other guys that include the line: “Too bad you live so far away from me!”, I'm a guy that would marry George Michael in a heartbeat, I'm the guy that always orders a beer even in the most exotic of settings, I'm a guy that's been in too many car accidents, I'm a guy that only wears underwear when he thinks he's going to get lucky (packages are fun to unwrap), I'm a guy that doesn't like crabby lesbians, I'm the guy that mails you cards (even for St. Patrick's Day), I'm a guy that tans slowly, I'm a guy that's been burned on E-bay, I'm a somewhat down-to-earth guy that happens to love expensive shoes, I’m a guy that believes in magic, I'm the guy at the tattoo parlor trying not to cry, I'm a guy that owns every episode of Beavis & Butthead on DVD, I'm the fevered AIDS patient in room 106, I'm a guy that would love to visit Roswell New Mexico and laugh at all the wackos, I'm a guy that wonders why hairy-backed troglodytes always go out in public shirtless, I'm a guy that's only done drag once, I'm a guy that once saw a ghost, I'm a guy that smoked his first joint at age 11, I'm a guy that's terrified of tornados, I'm a guy that wonders why guys with big dicks have attitudes, I'm the guy Grace Jones dry-humped during a concert, I'm the guy that shows up at your potluck with a smoked salmon terrine, I'm a guy that "got" religion for a couple of years, I'm a guy that loves to watch snow fall at night, I'm the oldest guy on the local soccer team, I'm a guy that used to listen to Mahalia Jackson albums over and over, I'm a guy that can be extremely emotional at times and lastly, I'm a guy that doesn't want die alone.

That's who I am, ya'll.

Luv ya, be good.

Problem

Remember me telling you guys about a date I had with this deaf guy that lived near me about a month ago? Oh boy, have things got out of hand. Let me start at the beginning…

While looking through one of the personals sites, I saw the ad of a very cute little guy living in a town near me and get this, he was HIV positive just like me. Now you guys are probably thinking, big fat fuckin’ deal, so what. You have to remember where I live, western North Carolina (the hills, my dear), gay people can’t be openly gay, let alone openly gay and HIV positive. So, I was very excited indeed to have found this guy online. I dashed off a quick email and waited for him to reply. He emailed me back later that night and we became really good email & phone buddies right away. During this time I learned that we was deaf, so we could only exchange text messages on the phone. Deaf? No biggie and not a problem, if I like someone, I like him no matter what, ya know. Yeah, perhaps I do suffer a bit from the rose-tinted glasses syndrome but that's just me.

So, finally we decided to meet up and go out to dinner. We met at a little Mexican restaurant in his town and talked (well, wrote notes back and forth on a legal pad since I don’t know any ASL) all evening and a good time was had by all. At the end of the evening, I kissed him on the cheek and went my way. I thought he was really nice and cute but we both needed more time to get to know each other if anything further was going to happen.

We continued to talk online and by text message for the next several weeks and things were good but I began to notice a bad trait of his. He’s was one of those guys that:

*Has you buddy listed and knows every second you’re online

*He pounces of you the minute you sign in and wants to talk for hours by instant-messenger

*He totally freaks if you don’t answer his IM’s or emails and starts feeling sorry for himself because he’s deaf and HIV positive and nobody loves him, etc…

It became a battle between us to see if I could click the “away from computer” message button before he started the flow of IM’s (usually I lost). So, this guy went from being a cute, sweet guy that I could have fallen in love with into a total needy pain-in-the-ass. Girls, let me tell you, I don’t do “needy” and I don’t stand for no smothering, either. It tends to make me loose interest real quick!

Well, it should have been no surprise that one day he sends me this email about the fact that since he’s all alone and no one really cares if he lives or dies, he seldom if never takes his HIV meds. Well, ladies this hits close to home, so I had a decision to make. Do I act all Dr. Phil and take his hand and go:

“Uh huh, uh huh, tell me about it, girl. What we have here is a lack of…” (Actually, I’d have to write it down on a legal pad or put it in an email, ya know)

Should I be tough and take his hand and yank him out of that little pity party he’s throwing himself? Ya'll know how I roll, so I chose the latter. I went to his house and read him the riot act about not loving himself and about how he has to live for himself and not others and told him in great detail about all the dangers of having untreated HIV/AIDS (Lord, knows what t-cell count was). This seemed to work but it matters worse between us. I suppose he thought that since I was so “real” with him, it meant we were boyfriends or something. Hmm, we went out once and I kissed him on the cheek, so now we should be registering household items at the Target?

He began to full-fledge cyber stalk me now. Even if I put my “away from computer” message on, he’d still IM me non-stop and send pleading, whiny emails about 1 every minute. I finally had to have a little talk with myself:

Q-Does this man add anything positive to your life?

A-Hell, no

Q-How does this man make you feel?

A-Hounded, annoyed, paranoid

Q-Can you help this man any further?

A-I truly feel that I’ve done what I could but he needs more help than I can possibly deliver.

So, I’ve blocked him from my email, instant-messenger and sending text messages to my phone. It’s been mercifully quiet here and I fuckin’ love it. I feel horrible about it but I just can’t have that in my life. THANK GOD, he doesn't know where I live or work !

Anyhow, that’s been my week. Ya’ll be good and watch who you IM, okay.

ID,Please

Gay men are such vain bitches. Last night the cashier at the BI-LO asked for ID when she saw that I was purchasing a bottle of wine. She took one look at my ID, gasped and said, “No-way. You can’t be this old! You look so young.”

Well, girls, don’t you just know that made my fuckin’ day cause I had been feeling kinda old and past it, ya know. If you want to get on a middle-aged queen’s good side, just her she’s looking young, works every time!

Btw... I don't really drink Mad Dog.