why i should not leave the house

"why is this water green?" i asked myself tonight at my friend joey's house. i had just used his toilet, and after i was done, i looked down and noticed the water was a bright green color. what the hell? i thought back about everything i had eaten today, and not one thing i ate would turn my urine green.

oatmeal? nah. a taco salad? nope. i didn't even have any guacamole. didn't take a vitamin this morning, forgot. i hadn't eaten dinner yet, so i was baffled.

then i thought, "wait a minute," and flushed. the water that flowed down from the tank was bright blue.

"yellow and blue make green."

i can be so dumb sometimes.



what are neighbors for, anyway?


someone was knocking on my apartment door at 11:30 PM, and my buzzer hadn't even sounded. i got up to investigate, looked through the peephole, and saw my 6'6" tall 17 year-old neighbor from across the hall standing outside my door. opening it, i said, "hey. what's up?"

"um, i'm really kind of embarassed here, and this is a little awkward, but i need to ask you something," he stammered.

"okay, go ahead," i replied, not quite sure what to expect. now, he may be 6'6" tall, but he probably weighs all of 150 pounds, and his face still looks so young he could pass for 14 except for his height. his long, shaggy hair was in a disarray, there were beads of sweat on his forehead, and he kept hitching up his baggy jeans that hung off his bony hips. he was also barefoot.

"um, do you have a condom?" he finally blurted out.

smiling, i replied, "of course i do. i'm glad you asked me. be right back." i went to my little box of unmentionables to see what i had. i initially grabbed some kimonos i grabbed out of a fishbowl at some bar, then thought about who i was giving them to and opted instead for some magnums.

yeah, yeah, i know. but i at least wanted him to be comfortable. that's why i also included a little pillow pack of ID lube with the 6 condoms i gave him.

"here you go, man," i said, handing them to him. "any time you need a condom but don't have one, don't hesitate to knock on my door. i don't care what time it is. but you should always have a box handy, though."

"yeah, i know, but i forgot to get some. plus i didn't know she'd be coming over."

"i figured that, so have fun."

"thanks, man," he grinned, darting across the hallway and disappearing behind his door.

i went back to bed, happy knowing he was getting some and hopefully preventing a pregnancy. not to mention the clap.




you may have noticed the little map i added a few days ago. i was just curious as to where people who read this blog are from. well, i had no idea that many people read this thing. so i'd just like to say hi to everyone who is represented by a red dot on the map.

for you folks in perth, adelaide, sydney, and a bunch of you in alice springs...hello! i want so badly to come visit australia...i want to rent a holden or one of those hot falcons and explore the entire continent. you guys have the coolest cars, btw.

got hits from singapore and manila...don't think for a second i missed you. ;-)

a few of you in amsterdam...you have no idea now much i want to visit. no idea.

a hit from brussels...another place i really would love to visit.

also a few of you in the greater bucharest area...yet another corner of the world i haven't seen but of course dream of visiting. tu trebiue say hallo la spre eu uneori. trec de la will tu asemănător la spre visit eu şi a lua off al tău îmbrăcare?

another surprise...a hit from montevideo. como são? obrigado para visitar.

finally, all you folks in the united states. looking at the map, it seems i've given the entire country measles. but to everyone on the west coast, san diego to los angeles to santa barbara to the san francisco bay area, up to portland and seattle, to an incredible amount of hits in washington dc, to boston, to new york, down to atlanta and over to dallas and oklahoma city, (keep in mind i'm just eyeballing the map and hoping i'm getting all these cities right) and points in between scattered everywhere...how you all durrin!

and finally...a hit from halifax...a salty hello to you. :-) i can't wait to go back to canada...and explore the maritime provinces in particular.

anyway...i just wanted to say hello to everyone. don't be afraid to say hi, you know?



a thought.

starbucks is based in seattle. so why is it they sell the new york times instead of the seattle post intelligencer?

fucking poseurs. no wonder i like tully's better.

hey, it's my blog. i'll post a self-absorbed thought if i want to.




kevin is the one on the right. to the left, juanita more.

kevin: how are you?
chad: not bad, gonna head out to the endup in a little while. what are you doing tonight?
kevin: i'm laying naked in bed. was cold, now just lazy. was thinking about going out, then said, what's the point--i never get laid anyway, so i can save my money for a house in the castro and a saab to double park in front of self-loathing peet's
chad: yeah, so you can sit in there and look gaunt, irritated and nervous as you thumb through an utne reader.
kevin: and pretend like every unhappy faggot in there is my friend.
chad: check my blog. i just posted something.
kevin: wow, i'm famous. tell juanita i would have gone out but was suffering from obesity and low self esteem. but then maybe i will show up, cause maybe the endup is the place to work out those issues. i'll just eat a bag of cookies with two litres of diet coke first.

kevin kills me.



the opening act

i called my friend brady today and asked him what he was doing tonight. it'd been a while since i had seen him, and he's struggling to recover from crystal meth addiction. in fact, i'm helping him create his documentary of his struggle with crystal meth, called "welcome to my path" (hopefully will be shown at the castro theater eventually).

here's a picture of brady:

brady the big 'ol lady.

ROFL! i kill myself!

i try to help him choose the right path, and since he has sounded a bit depressed lately, i thought i'd pay him a visit after yoga tonight. here is a picture of him choosing the right path:

however, while i was at yoga, brady suddenly decided to change his path. incidentally, he neglected to call to inform me of this, so when i showed up at the front door, i had no idea what path he was on. brady lives in the castro, which is quite out of my way, and i was wearing the clothes i had on at the gym and i was carrying my yoga mat. i looked kinda grubby. it seems brady had decided to throw an impromtu sex party and there i was at the door, sober as a rock, and brady was in front of me stoned out of his mind. the bottle of ID lube sitting on top of a pizza box in the kitchen tipped me off as to what was going on, but god damn i was hungry and is there pizza on that box? i get really hungry after yoga.

"chad, would you like some pizza?" brady asked.

"sure," i replied, figuring oh what the hell i'd have some pizza first and then bounce out of there. I grabbed a few slices and made my way into the living room, where i saw quite the audio/video setup flickering in the dark. there was a television set on the floor showing one porn, with another one on a table over it showing yet another.

i sat down in a chair facing brady and two other guys who happened to be sitting on his sofa, and said, "hi guys." i bit into a piece of pizza and started chewing. both of the guys had their hands down their pants, and then, reality penetrated my sometimes-thick skull. they thought i was there for the "party" that was unfolding.

oh god. the thought of that is so incredibly unappealing, even though they were both quite hot. they seemed a little quiet, and not totally comfortable with the situation. i mean, soon they'd be getting it on, but in the meantime, they were kind of quiet, sitting on the sofa, and undressing me with their eyes. i took another bite of pizza, and turned to see what was playing on the televisions. hmmm.

naked gay boys fucking each other. how original.

instead of sitting there and chomping my pizza with a hand down my pants, i started running my mouth and cracking on the pornos. one was a particularly dirty one where someone my father's age finds a sleeping 19 year-old on a sofa. he then starts sticking his hand down the kid's pants, and eventually they...well, use your imagination. let's just say i've seen it before.


one of them asked me where i lived. "north beach," i told them.

"where's that?" one of them asked.

"next to the financial district."


"you know, downtown. where all those big tall buildings are," i explained. "i live by the transamerica pyramid."

"which one is that?"

like we have more than one pyramid-shaped skyscraper.

"the big pointy one. it's more of a skypoker than a skyscraper."

"heh-heh. it looks like a cock."

"indeed." i took a swig of gatorade after that one. funny, i always thought it looked like a modern concrete interpretation of the eiffel tower, and definitely not anything phallic.

"are you, like, the only gay guy there?" the other one asked.

"kinda. i mean, they're AROUND but you'll never see them in the castro."

"we never see you in the castro."

"that's because i live in north beach."

"guess so." the hand went back down the pants to retrieve something, and the other guy followed suit.

i decided it was time to make my exit. "brady, thanks dude for the pizza, you fucking rock," i said, getting up to leave. "i'm glad you're feeling better. i'm gonna bounce, dude."

"okay, meet me in the kitchen!" brady exclaimed. curious, i followed him to the kitchen. "dude," he finally said (keep in mind brady's from santa cruz) "you totally made them relax and just chill. this is gonna be fun! you're fucking awesome."

"i guess i was your opening act tonight," i grinned. "have fun."

"here, take this." brady pressed into my hand a pipe completely packed with fresh weed, and a miniature cigarette lighter. "smoke some before you get on muni!" he giggled. brady insists it's better to ride public transportation in san francisco completely stoned. i can't say i disagree.

"brady, you so stay crunchy in milk."

after slipping the pipe in my pocket, grabbing some more pizza and the bottle of gatorade, i stepped out into the cruisy, moonlit castro night. this was the beginning of another arduous, yet adventurous journey back to north beach.

it got even better after this. wait 'till i tell you about the muni ride home.


a dilemma!

i just got this message in my gmail inbox re: my free oatmeal offer on craigslist:


My name is Haley Devener and I am VERY interested in your offer on craigslist.org! Your post caught my eye and I've been waiting for my screen to load ever since I finished the last sentence. Although I'm not an avid oatmeal consumer, I hope you will choose me to be the proud owner of these delicious packets. I have been eating cereal for 14 years and like it with milk (fat free). Two years ago I lost my gloves in my car and have been suffering from cold hands in the morning. I have been searching for a product to alleviate my distress and it sounds as though you may have my miracle. I'm shy and unfortunately can not journey to the supermarket and your product sounds fabulous. I graduated high school a year ago and will be attending college in the spring. I will do my best to take care of your products. Please choose me.

how can i break this to poor haley...the oatmeal has been spoken for. someone is coming by in the morning to pick it up.

for real...i'm totally not kidding.

anyway now, since dear haley will be attending college in the spring, it's imperative...no, critical she start every morning with a complete breakfast. and we all know quaker instant oatmeal is a nutritious part of a complete breakfast.

maybe i'll give her some of the apples & cinnamon flavored ones.

oh, what to do? a young woman's education and future is hanging by a thread!



all good things...

How could the clouds tease us into thinking it might rain?
How could the need deceive us into thinking things might change?
I had a mean, mean sleep over you...
And it hurts, hurts coming back to life.

- cree summer


hanging around with some old friends.

my head hurts.

it's not because i drank too much last night and not the result of a drunk drama session on the corner of polk and hemlock with chris last night, oh no. not that. although it was nice to feel, oh, 19 again. how embarassing. at least we weren't conspicuous...the cracked-out trannies vying for attention pretty much made us a non-spectacle, i hope. nor does my head hurt because after said drama session, i went home, smoked a bowl, and did yoga in my living room for 2 hours, listening to the smiths. ever get stoned and do yoga to the smiths?

it's weird. i started talking to my arms after a while, giving them encouragement while holding myself up in the air. it actually worked.

they say hi, by the way.

anyway, the reason why my head hurts is right now, i am not wearing my contact lenses. rather, i have on an old pair of BCG's. what are bcg's, you aks? well, there are an old pair of glasses issued to me when i was in the air force. BCG is short for Birth Control Glasses...because you're so ugly in them, there's no chance in hell you're getting laid. it's a real term...click the first link if you don't believe me. if you're really curious as to what they look like, click here. i'm not gonna post that picture, it's way too scary.

anyway, these glasses are so huge, and so heavy, and so not fitted for my face, they keep sliding down my nose and crashing on the keyboard. so i have to keep my ears pulled back taut, which causes my nostrils to flare, forehead to wrinkle, and eyebrows to raise. after doing this for several hours, my head is starting to hurt, and i'm looking more and more like a muppet. coupled with the fact that the prescription is from 1993 and i can barely see the screen, i'm probably not doing myself any good. but i'm trying to give my eyes a break from my contacts for a bit.

now the reason why i have these glasses is because yesterday i paid my storage unit a little visit hoping to retrieve my blender. i've been making my protein shakes with my cuisinart, and let me tell you...that's not what a cuisinart is made for. it creates a huge mess. so i unlocked the gate, pulled it up, and dove into my past.

my storage unit is more of less a time capsule, filled with smaller time capsules...boxes of stuff i don't need anymore but haven't gotten around to throwing away. some of them were packed in the mid-90's, and i haven't opened them since. so there i was, opening up boxes, stuff crashing down on my head as i dug into them, finding little things i completely forgot about in the meantime.

like my camcorder, for instance. i brought it back, i can't wait to see what's on it. i think the last time i used it was...oh...1999 i think.

however, i did crack into a box and found some old friends of mine. a bunch of CD's i haven't listened to in years, and as i pulled them out, i actually got excited to take them home and listen to them. in no particular order: pixies - surfer rosa, pixies - doolittle, circle jerks - group sex, suicidal tendencies, patsy cline, a bachelor in paris (cocktail music compilation), enoch light - persuasive percussion, reservoir dogs soundtrack, meat beat manifesto - dog star man (extremely rare, actually), david bowie - changesbowie, billboard top hits of 1969, army of lovers - massive luxury overdose, folk implosion - natural one, rage against the machine, adam ant - antics in the forbidden zone, gotta have house (a 1988 house music compliation...it's funky), the smiths, fishbone - truth and soul (fuck yeah!), siouxsie and the banshees - rapture, peter murphy - deep, ween - pure guava (i missed that one!), 200% energy (cheezy techno compilation from 1995, toadies - rubberneck, tool - undertow, and finally...the moonstruck soundtrack.

my old friends!

i spent a good part of the afternoon dancing around my living room when i should have been working...but i hadn't partied with my buds for a while. i gave the chinese woman across the alleyway quite a spectacle when i started thrashing around to "beat my guest" by adam ant and tore off my shirt in the process.

that's just how you dance to that song. black and blue, baby...i love you.

when i played "poop ship destroyer" and "reggaejunkiejew" by ween she just closed all her windows.

sorry, babe.

and right now, i'm playing one of my favorites of all time...key lime pie by camper van beethoven. the case is gone, but i found the cd rolling around. normally, i don't say what i'm listening to when i'm blogging...it's self-absorbed and boring. but you know what? this album fucking rocks. i miss it. it reminds me of being 19 and living in cleveland and hanging out with my friend ron kretsch.

and i think i'm done typing for now. my head is pounding and the glasses just fell off my face again.

you know what? now that i think about it, i really miss ron. a large part of who i am today can be credited to that guy.



the best response

when you have no fucking idea what someone is talking about:



why i love craigslist.

i have some packets of instant oatmeal i don't want, so why not try giving them away on craigslist? i grabbed my camera, took some pictures, uploaded them, and there you are.

we'll see if it works. i once gave away huge shards of broken mirror on craigslist...so why not packets of oatmeal?

here is a serving suggestion:


craigslisters have been e-mailing me regarding my oatmeal! now, not one of them has offered to come get them, but at least they're getting responses.

debbie mogg, presumably from san francisco, writes: "If you don’t find a taker for your regular flavored oatmeal, try adding a touch of maple syrup and a pinch of brown sugar to it and it will be just like the maple syrup favored ones."

thanks, debbie. i just might try that.

maizie2 wrote: "Very funny! You know you could add some raisins and cinnamon yourself.

I like to add small chopped bits of apple and then cook it remove it frmo the microwave and then add some banana slices and milk."

thanks maizie! that sounds good, actually. perhaps i should rethink giving these oatmeal packets away.

joegar74 also contacted me, but kept it short and sweet: "you are a very cute person...hahaa...giving out oatmeal for free."

thanks, joegar74. i appreciate that.




thanks for the encouraging ray of sunshine that cut through the crusty fog.

you rock.

and i'm sending one right back atcha. keep your window open.



i got cruised.

my friend michael and i were walking down columbus avenue this afternoon on our way back to the laundromat. as i stood there waiting for the light to change so i could cross, two guys walked past us...one tall with dark hair, the other with lighter hair and a baseball cap. i didn't really look at them, but apparently, one of them looked at me.

michael turned to me and said, "dan savage just cruised you."

"that was dan savage?" i replied.



"i just saw them in the castro. i can't believe i'm wearing the same outfit i had on the last time he saw me," said michael.

oh, michael.

he looks a lot better on the cover of his book than he does in person. but he's not bad-looking, though. almost kinda cute, but not my type, even if i do enjoy reading what he writes.


the loogie.

Okay, I'm going to rewrite this post...this is the one I created Tuesday night that ended in disaster.

But that's okay...we pick up the shattered remains of our lives and move on.

The scene: Tuesday morning, around 11:30 am. I had just finished doing some work, and my friend Chris A. called me and asked if I’d like to join him for lunch. He picked me up around quarter to noon in his boyfriend's Mercedes, and he suggested Fuzio. I agreed; I love their minestrone soup, followed by firecracker corkscrew pasta with a braised ginger pulled pork. Mmm.

The day was bright, the sun was shining, the breeze was warm, the conversation between us light and carefree. Usually we discuss politics at lunch, brows furrowed, tones direct and pointed, gesticulating wildly with our hands, counterpointing each other, but not yet. We were enjoying the drive through north beach on our way to the Castro. I think we were talking about something completely inane, like why do most people in San Francisco drive like their heads are up their asses and oh my god speaking of asses look at the one on that bike messenger!

Stupid gayboy stuff.

I was thinking how gorgeous it was, and how much I wanted to tear into that plate of corkscrew pasta, when suddenly, a bike messenger appeared out of nowhere. Chris gasped and slammed on the brakes as the messenger darted in front of us. He kind of looked like Ali G. except a lot more attractive, with grapefruit-sized calves. I let out a mock shriek, and as he darted past my open window with my arm dangling out of it, I heard a splat, and something hit my hand. I pulled it inside the car, and then...I saw it.

A fucking loogie.

It wasn't spit, oh no. This was a bona-fide, slippery, slimy, yellowish-green, gotta hock this up loogie. On my fucking finger.

"Chris, I think I just got loogied."

"You just got what?"


"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Look." I showed him my finger.

"OH GOOD GOD!" He exclaimed, and while careening through the Broadway tunnel, reached around to the backseat to grab his backpack. I frantically dug through my murse looking for a tissue or SOMETHING to wipe this foul, vile sputum from my right index finger. All I could find was a napkin from subway that I had previously blown my nose in, so that would have to do.

It was nasty. There were even flecks of blood in it. The loogie, that is. Not the napkin.

Chris, in his homosexualness, magically produced a small bottle of Purell, which I grabbed and slathered liberally upon my befouled stinkfinger. "What the fuck?!?" I yelled.

"You weren't even doing anything! You were just sitting there!"

"I know! This isn't supposed to happen! This is a MERCEDES FUCKING BENZ!" I whined.

"How dare him! If we weren't in the tunnel I would have turned around and gone after him!"

"If we weren't in the tunnel I’d have jumped out of the car, chased him down, pulled him off his bike, and put the loogie back in his fucking mouth, that's what would have done!"

"I would have run him over!"

"I would have bitchslapped him!"

"I would have shaken my finger at him and scolded him!"

"I would have smeared shit all over his face and kicked his teeth out, then barfed all over him, then pissed all over him, then ripped his clothes off and rammed a traffic cone up his ass, and then made him lick a sidewalk in Chinatown!"

"Chad, that's fucked up."

Yeah, so was hocking a loogie on my finger.




it's sacred.

don't betray it.

Main Entry: 1trust

Pronunciation: 'tr&st

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English, probably of Scandinavian origin; akin to Old Norse traust trust; akin to Old English trEowe faithful

1 a : assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something b : one in which confidence is placed



the transformation continues.

today i saw my friend james, the boyfriend of my friend chris (the attorney) at chris's house. he stepped back, looked me up and down, and said, "chad, take your shirt off."


"take it off."


hey, i'm easy. i stripped it off, and he looked me up and down. he's a massage therapist, and the last time he gave me any sort of a massage was about 4 months ago, before i hit the gym and definitely before yoga.

"i totally see and feel a difference," he finally concluded after rubbing his hands on my back, chest, and arms.


"yeah, your triceps are huge, your shoulders are bigger, and your back is much more muscular. your posture is different, and i can definitely feel a difference in your chest, delts, and lats."

"fuck yeah!" i grinned.

and i've been grinning ever since...it's amazing how far positive feedback goes with me. with that encouragement freshly bouncing around inside my head, i'm heading to the gym today with a renewed sense of accomplishment and progress.

incidentally, if you go to the photos section of james's site, please note all color photos were taken by me. just a little plug for myself.

anyway...i have to go make my protein shake in my cuisinart (can't remember where i put my blender) before i go...it makes me gassy as hell but that's a small price to pay for feeling better about myself.

although there's nothing more awkward than being in a downward dog and suddenly feeling the urge to fart.

really, it sucks. especially because i would probably start laughing hysterically and break everyone's concentration.

i'd better pop a phazyme just in case.



goddammit goddammit goddammit!!!!!!!

i just composed a REALLY FUCKING GOOD blog and my fucking COMPUTER JUST CRASHED!!!


and to top it all off, i slammed my fists down on my keyboard when it happened and half the keys flew off of it and the little things underneath that hold it up at an angle actually broke in half. so now it's propped up with a stack of pg&e bills, and they keep sliding around. now this keyboard is at a wierd angle and it makes me wrists feel out of whack. to top it all off, i yelled "FUCK" so loud my neighbor yanked back his blinds to see what the hell was going on.

sorry 'bout that, kyle. pull the blind back again. i wanna see what underwear you have on.

god fucking dammit. that'll teach me not to be so hotheaded when this piece of shit computer i have crashes on me. that's it...i'm leaving right now for trannyshack. i wasn't going to leave for another half hour but fuck it.

"i need a drink, roz! i'm going down to charlie's to get drunk!"

"atta girl."

i'll rewrite the blog tomorrow. i don't fucking feel like doing it now.




it's been ten years.

you're doing good, kid.

you just might make it after all.

© 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008 by Chad Fox. All rights reserved.