Happy Holidays!

Well, I guess this will be the last chance I get to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.

This afternoon we will start the mad dash to visit both mine and The Boyf's families. Who live in opposite directions from each other. So it's south first, then back past London and up north. Hopefully we'll be back sometime Christmas Eve and will finally be able to relax.

So Happy Holidays Dear Readers. I hope Santa brings you everything you want. I am assuming that you've all been well-behaved of course. I know I have...

Shhh! Let's Pretend It's Tuesday

Can we just pretend it's still Tuesday? That way I can tell you about my weekend without going "weird" on you because I'm a day late.

So yeah, lovely Tuesday isn't it? I've just made a record-breaking run to Oxford Street and back in my lunch hour to get The Boyf's main present. So that's pretty much all my shopping done. I just need to stop somewhere and buy him a pineapple and I'm finished. What, sorry? Oh, the pineapple. Long story and not very interesting. Perhaps some other time, eh.

So, about last weekend. Hmmm, well XXL was good fun. Loads of lovely men there for me to dribble all over but I restrained myself and didn't paw anyone for a change. Shame really. Apart from that everything was pretty quiet to be honest. We're trying to savour every quiet moment we get, as from now on in we're out every night until Christmas Day. Still, the actual day is going to be lovely. For the first time ever I won't be spending it with my family. Instead we're off round OBM#1 and #2's house for two days where we can all sit around and eat and not care about having to be on our best behaviour. I hope they realise that means I'll be laying about in just a pair of pants. Utter bliss and I can't wait.

The Monday Morning BlogBite - Now Fashionably Late

Frost!

Yes, Frost!

This morning!

Frost, I tells ya!

In London!


For the first time this winter (is it winter yet or still autumn?) we had to scrape frost off the car this morning.

Hurrah!

Question Number 2

Why do bike couriers always have odd facial hair?

The Office Christmas, er, "Party"

Last night's Office Christmas Party reminded me exactly why after last year's party I said I wouldn't go to another one. Unfortunately in the intervening 12 months I softened and allowed myself to be talked into going. That won't be happening again.

The reasons:

1. Drunk 20-year old straight guys talking about "flange" did not help me eat my starter, which was paté, which I abhor. Now, I'm no prude, but not in a posh restaurant over dinner guys, please!

2. A girl shouting "Oi! Garcon! Over here, NOW!" I consider to be rude behaviour, especially as she's one of the team leaders where we work. You know what they say about people who are rude to waiters. People who are rude to waiters who haven't done anything wrong deserve utmost contempt in my book.

3. A guy repeatedly standing up and shouting "I want my fucking dessert, and I'd better get it fucking soon you c**ts!" (I kid you not. In a very well-to-do restaurant!). Again, I don't count this as particularly decent behaviour. I think we'd all agree on that.

4. The girl sitting next to me - who just has a new boss; me! - vomited everywhere because she'd managed to drink, in the space of under 2 hours, at least 2 bottles of red wine (because it was free). This didn't make my dessert any more appetising.

5. The girl behind me really needed to keep her voice down when she was talking about which married man's cock she'd managed to fiddle with recently in the office.

These are all people who work within 20 feet of my desk and who I deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Maybe I'm getting old, but it wasn't my idea of a good night out. I don't understand people who feel the need to be abusive, and I don't understand people who feel the need to drink as much as possible in the shortest possible time, just because the booze is free. Don't get me wrong, I'm not getting all high-and-mighty, and I like to get squiffy as much as the next guy, but there are times and places for such behaviour.

So anyway, I left straight after the dessert course, jumped on the tube, and went home to The Boyf, where we cuddled up on the sofa and watched TV together. All's well that ends well.

Please remind me in 12 months not to go to next year's "do".

The Dash and The Rash

It's that time of the week where I tell you all about what a fab weekend I hadn't, isn't it? Also known as "Tuesday". Never let it be said that, as a high-functioning Asperger's Syndrome gay male, I don't like to form a habit and then go strangely quiet and sit in my room staring at the wall when that habit is broken somehow. That would just be weird.

(starts to frown)

So, my weekend then.

(smile reappears)

Well, we didn't get to see my Mum. We also didn't get to see Gary Numan in concert, or go to XXL on Saturday night, all of which were planned. We did however get to see my repeated dashes to the toilet for the duration of Saturday afternoon and much of the evening. Yes, Dear Readers, I had a stomach upset. And very upset it was too. I couldn't console it no matter how hard I tried.

I woke up Sunday morning to find everything had, well, dried up, which was a result. So The Boyf and I went to get this year's Christmas Tree and spent the afternoon decorating it, accompanied with a Doris Day Christmas CD and copious glasses of sherry. We like to let our hair down. In a gay way.

Now The Boyf tends to go a bit quiet and stare at a wall if his plans go wrong. That would be Asperger's Syndrome again then. So, because he'd not been out on Saturday by Sunday evening he was starting to go stir-crazy, hence we headed out to the RVT to meet some friends, including The Drag Queen (who's part of the furniture in that establishment). We had a dance and a beer, and then moved to BarCode to finish the night off. Unfortunately I kept getting in the way of the mirrors in the bar, which stopped a short well-built guy constantly checking himself out. (For the record anyone under my height, 5ft 8, is classed as short). Such was his annoyance that he actually came over and pushed a gap between The Boyf and I, looked himself up and down in the mirror, did a "Hmmm, you look good" face (a kind of pout accompanied with a nodding head), gave me the evils, and wandered back to where his friends were standing, hoping of course that the gap would remain for him keep checking himself out. So we left the gap just long enough until, mid-conversation with his friends, he actually turned slightly to check out his bum, at which point The Boyf and I quickly moved back together, eliciting a scowl from the pint-sized narcissist. How we laughed. Ah, good times!

At 2am I finally managed to drag The Boyf and The Drag Queen out of the bar and home (The DQ was sleeping on our couch), where The Drag Queen started demanding that we cook her something to eat. Oh, and examine a rash that she'd gained on her bum, which she then decided was a stab wound. Not that she revels in the drama or anything. Nothing like a rash and a bacon sandwich at 3am on a Monday morning knowing that you've got to be up for work at 7. The festive silly season begins!

The Monday Morning(ish) BlogBite - Santa's Here

I have just been chosen to be this year's Santa at the office Christmas lunch, this Friday. Which means that it's my job to have each member of staff on my knee so that I can give them a present. My mind is racing with the possibilities. In fact, I've already had to splash myself with cold water to calm myself down. One thing's for certain - I'll be popping a Viagra that morning.

Ho - Ho - Hehehehehehehehehehehe

(cue manic dirty laugh)

Just So You Know

The rather delicious Spanish tourist that ended up in my bed last night did indeed snore.

Hurrah!

Why My Friends Think I'm Weird: Pt.3

I have a funny fixation with vacuum cleaners. Now, before you jump to conclusions, only once did I ever try to see what would happen if I put my, er.... well, you know the rest. Oh, come on, we've all tried it. Haven't we? Oh. Anyway, my fixation is slightly different. I'll explain...

When I was a wee ickle OMO I always fell asleep on the stairs when my Mum was hoovering the house. For some reason the sound of a hoover relaxed me, ultimately sending me to sleep. And it still does, as does anything that makes a loud whirring sound (i.e. hair-dryers).

When I split up with my last boyfriend (we'd been together nearly 7 years), I couldn't sleep properly. I missed the sound of his snoring, his breathing. That was pretty much the only thing I did miss. I tried everything to help me, but in the end only one thing would do. So, Dear Reader, believe it or not I took to balancing a hair-dryer in a boot on my bedside table, turning it on, and falling asleep each night. At some point in the night I'd wake up enough to turn it off and drop straight back off to sleep.

I'll just let you think about that for a moment...



Now, purely from a electricity bill point of view, and the heat build up in the summer, this action seems a little, well, stupid. However, I then woke up one night to the smell of burning plastic and black smoke and realised that I was just about to have a very nasty accident.

So, instead of the hair-dryer I took to turning on the hoover every night.

Hmmmm.

And then finally I found another boyfriend. Who snores and, er, breathes. Personally I always prefer boyfriends who are actually alive. They're better at cooking, although I don't always get to watch the TV I want, so it's all swings and round-a-bouts.

So nowadays having the hoover on is strictly limited to when I'm doing the housework (although I struggle to stay awake whilst doing it), or when The Boyf is away for the night. Yup, when he's not there I still turn the thing on! For fuck's sake don't tell him; I've been blaming the high electricity bill on his internet porn habit.

I've also found that if I'm getting a bit stressed at work the hand-dryers in the toilet calm me down.

So there you go. Should you ever find yourself unlucky enough to be invited back to sleep with me make sure you snore. Or bring a hoover.

Saunas And Sore Knees

So, how was your weekend then? No, it's ok, you don't really have to tell me. I was just trying to be polite.

Let me tell you about mine.

The Boyf's Mum is currently ill and pretty much bed-ridden, so on Friday evening we battled the traffic - quite literally; I used a long broom to poke cars out of our way - and drove up to the Midlands to visit her.

Saturday was actually spent in a, ahem, Gentleman's Health Club, trying not to look like I'd fallen completely in love with a big hairy bodybuilder that - surprise! - I found myself next to in the jacuzzi. Apparently he was in the minority and had actually gone to the sauna to relax and not just have mindless sex, as he spurned the furtive glances I gave him from behind my fan, and "accidental" touching of his very thick hairy leg. At least, that's what I've told myself.

Late Saturday afternoon was spent in the company of The Boyf's Mother, who I must admit did seem to be really ill, rather than just being dramatic, and genuinely pleased to see us. As long as we didn't show any affection towards each other of course. Saturday evening meant a trip to a pub in Birmingham, and that's about all I can say about that really. Oh, some guy came over and asked if we were "stuck up Londoners", so with annoyance we said "Yes" and turned our backs on him.

On Sunday we got up early and drove back to London, and what followed was a whirlwind of drink, drugs, dancing and sex. BarCodeV gave way to the RVT, which in turn gave way to The Hoist. The final thing to give way were my knees at around 2 in the morning. However, I have to say that I was thwarted in every attempt to blag the men I really liked. It was just one of those evenings where everyone I wanted was unavailable in some way. Not that I was flirting of course. Oh no, I was far more brazen than that. Oh well, it seemed I sent two men home with smiles on their faces, and that meant a weekend well spent in my book, if you'll pardon the pun.

The Monday Morning BlogBite - It's Me!

Ta-dah! Yes, it's a photo of your very own OMO. Ok, I know it's not very clear but then I do write this anonymously, for reasons I'm actually not too sure about. I have a funny feeling that as time goes by my anonymity may well slip, but for the time being this is all you're getting.

Did Anyone Notice...

... whether the sun actually rose today? We seem to have been plunged into perpetual darkness, Finland-style. Makes me want to hibernate.

The Characters

I've only just realised that I've neglected to give you any real background information on the people who regularly pop up in my blog. Naughty OMO! So I thought I'd give you a little resume on each of the main characters...

OMO
Oh Mike Odd, it's me of course. I'm a 36 year old, baldy, beardy, hairy, horny gay man living in London with my partner, The Boyf. I don't need to tell you anymore - if you read this blog you'll find out far more about me than is good for you, frankly.

Interesting Fact: Dale Winton once asked me out on a date. I said no.
Most Likely To Say: "Good Lord, look at the size of that!"

The Boyf
Yes, it's my boyfriend. He's 39, 5ft 10, dark hair and beard and is the Assistant Head Teacher of a school here in London. A confirmed sexual predator who loves Dr Who and Twiglets. (Those three things aren't related)

Interesting Fact: once played a doctor in Emmerdale.
Most Likely To Say: "Can't we just go to one more club?"

The Drag Queen
Actually a girl, she's permanently covered in glitter, and is The Boyf's best friend (and backbone) over the last few years. She's VERY well known on the bear scene in London and manages to blag her way into every gay club imaginable. Also known as HMP (High maintenance Princess), she's known to be rather demanding, however she has a heart of gold and will go miles out of her way for anyone she feels is worth it.

Interesting Fact: once lent her car to a friend who used it to ram-raid an off-license, and then let her have the Champagne he stole.
Most Likely To Say: "I want/need..."

OBM#1
Our Big Mate #1 is a big, hairy, baseball cap wearing 39 year old Glaswegian now living in London with his boyfriend, OBM#2. He's a 6 ft tall, tattooed bodybuilder, and a "big soft bag of shite", in his own words. Unused to the London gay scene he constantly wanders around with a perplexed look on his face.

Interesting Fact: He used to be the lead singer and songwriter of a successful group back in the early 90's.
Most Likely To Say: "Have I told you about..?" to which we always say yes.

OBM#2
Our other Big Mate, and boyfriend of the above. He's another 6 foot bodybuilder with a lovely grey beard, cropped hair, and the most beautiful blue eyes. At 43 years old he's still a big kid, loves to crack up with the giggles, and we love him for it.

Interesting Fact: once appeared in a well known magazine looking big and butch, apart from the tiara on his head.
Most Likely To Say: "Oh, you LOVE it!"

Daddy
One of our newer friends, we've seen him around and said "Hi" to him over the last year or so but have only recently become firm friends. He's 40 years old, 6 ft tall, hairy, very very built and seemingly permanently covered in leather. Very aggressive to look at he's actually another big softie, and a complete gentleman.

Interesting Fact: He's a dentist, which makes him even more frightening.
Most Likely To Say: "Thank you for a lovely evening" (he's incredibly polite and always calls the next day to thank us for hanging out with him and having fun. Bless him)


So, these are the people that seem to regularly pop up in my blog. If anyone else seems to be making a regular appearance I'll update this accordingly.

Have a good weekend, Dear Readers.