in Trips

5 Comments »

Welcome to Jestertunes! If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Feel free to leave a comment, read through the archives, and enjoy yourself. See you again real soon!

Kudos to Bianca for guessing correctly that I’m hanging out in Florida.

Key West and Miami Beach to be exact.

I’ll have lots of stories to tell when I get home tomorrow night, but right now there is a white sand beach with turquoise blue water waiting for me right outside my window. UMB didn’t wait for me, he’s already there.

In the meantime enjoy these pictures taken out in the Everglades.

in FYI

4 Comments »

UMB and I took a spontaneous 12-hours-in-advance notice trip. We found an incredible fare and met up with my parents.

Here’s a geography quiz for everyone… well everyone but Jerry, Toby and Dan who know already… Where are we?

The last photo should be a big hint…

in American Idol, Music, Rant, TV

1 Comment »

I will be the first to admit, I have never watched a single episode of your show before. I know, I know… that seems a bit strange, being that I have a deep connection to the country music industry, and I’m completely addicted to American Idol.

However, for some reason, I’ve never made it a point to watch before, but you caught me in the mood with a recast of this week’s episode at 1am.

I don’t mean to be rude, but are these contestants the best you could find? Seriously?

You may find it hard to believe, but I don’t really have that big of an ego. I feel I must tell you that I can sing circles around these people that you have assaulting my ears on national television. There were at least two moments tonight where I made a face that can usually only be accomplished by squeezing unripe lemon juice directly into my mouth.*

First, Joshua Stevens completely murdered one of my favorite songs of all time, “I Still Believe in You” by Vince Gill. He lowered the key from Eb to D and still couldn’t reach the high notes, instead he made a sound very similar to the bleating of one of those famous fainting goats. I was wishing for momentary unconsciousness myself.

Oh, but you saved the worst for last. Oh, Whitney. I don’t care if you had to switch your song choice at the last minute due to clearance rights. The fact that you didn’t get to rehearse your selection as much as you would have liked does not change the fact that you started out singing “The First Cut is the Deepest” under the pitch, and remained flat for the first verse. Nor does it excuse your remaining in the original key for the duration of the song despite the modulation that the band and back up singers nailed. By the end of the song you were still flat and in the completely wrong key, and YOU HAD NO IDEA!

Lord help me, the only performances that didn’t make me want to ram an icepick through my eardrums were by Zac and David, and they were nothing to write home about. I certainly won’t be running out to buy an album by either of them at this point.

In conclusion, please let me know the next time you are holding auditions, because I have no doubt that the Warner Brother’s record contract you’re waving about will be mine. All mine.

Sincerely,

Jester

* I didn’t know it wasn’t quite ripe at the time.

in Flaming Fuck You, Gay Stuff, Rant

12 Comments »

Dear Mr Cooper,

Please stop sending me articles about “God’s Plan for Sex,” or “Medical Consequences of What Homosexuals Do.”

I appreciate your concern, truly I do. However, you have already proven to me on multiple occasions that your sum computational power if harnessed couldn’t brown dinner rolls.

I must admit that the article you sent entitled, “What Are The Dangers of Anal Sex?” made me laugh out loud. I especially appreciate the charming illustrations like this one:

It has been over a month since I awarded you the Flaming Fuck You Award. Apparently you have spent that time glued to your computer conducting “research.”

Here’s my guess at what I might find in your browser history trail or Google Search cookies*:

• Anal Sex
• Butt Pirates
• Inserting Penis Buttholes
• Toys For My Tushy
• Illustrations Gay Sex**
• Homosexual Lifestyles
• Civil War Re-enactments***
• Coming Out to My Church
• Depression
• What is Down Low?
• Wayne Cooper****
• Nearby Gay Bars

Now if you don’t mind, my boyfriend of nearly five years just stripped off his pajamas and asked me to come to bed. We’re gonna go open a “superhighway” and do what you have been spending so long fantasizing about. Sucks to be you.

* A quick shout out and welcome to all the porn-seekers who have found this blog based on this list.

** Might I suggest Tom of Finland?

*** I don’ t know why, but you seem like the kind of guy that is into boring ass Civil War Re-Enactments, and vacations in Colonial Williamsburg.

**** No doubt searching for the number of references to you by name that also contains the word gay because you like the way it sounds. I hope my site comes up number one.

in Relationships, Thoughts

17 Comments »

I have another side to my personality that most of you have not yet seen. It doesn’t come to light very often, because I am an extremely patient man. Most of the time.*

But when my patience has been abused, the circumstances become dire enough, or I feel egregiously wronged, I have the ability to become an evil bastard.

I’m going to tell you a story that as far as I know, only 5 or 6 people have heard.

I’ll leave out some of the gory back story details and boil them down to the following points about my ex-best friend Michele:

• we met and even dated in high school much to the dismay of her conservative Christian family.
• we lived together several times, in Missouri, Nashville, and out here in California.
• we were almost polar opposites in every single way, except our sense of humor which was always eerily similar.
• on many many many many many occasions she has insulted or pissed me off to the point of near-homicidal rage.
• she met an extremely homophobic paralegal, Chris, who at last count has unsuccessfully taken the Bar exam 6 times. He hates me and they call me “Wham!” behind my back because I’m so flamboyantly gay.**
• the last Christmas that we were speaking to each other, I spent over $100 on a nice set of bakeware for her Martha Stewart-obsessed pantry… she gave me a large bag of chocolates, knowing full well that I am one of those apparently bizarre people who hate chocolate.
• Chris, the boyfriend, has a habit of meeting girls who leave him for other girls.
• Michele was at one time in a three-year long relationship with a psycho named Kristen.
• She burned her bridges with me in a big way.

Last year, after we stopped speaking to each other, I stumbled across her blog. It was a lot of the same alternating cheesy romantic hooey and woe-is-me self pity that made up her journals. However, the blog announced her engagement to the Rhodes Scholar and detailed the wedding planning process.

One post (I can’t link to them because the blog is now M.I.A.) talked about the mailing of the invitations and how people on the guest list would know if they were on the first cut or not based on the type of stamp that was on the envelope. Classy. I left the following comment on that post:

Guess you decided that since you live three blocks from me that you would just hand deliver my invitation. I look forward to attending.

At the same time, a mutual friend, Leayn, was making plans to make the trip out here for the wedding. She’s a music teacher in Kansas City and like most teachers is on a very limited budget. She called me and asked if she could stay with me while she was here. She knew that it might seem a bit awkward given the circumstances, but also knew that I could be adult enough to not let it bother me. I told her that I would love to see her, and of course she was welcome to stay with me.

Michele was not pleased with the arrangement at all. She threw a living hissy fit on the phone with Leayn. She was upset that I knew about the wedding. She was upset that I might know where or when it was happening, and she was pissed with Leayn for telling me, apparently she had forgotten that I had already left a comment on her blog.

Leayn decided that she no longer cared to attend the wedding. She wasn’t exactly supportive of the marriage in the first place, being that Chris is a moron who doesn’t want kids, is homophobic, and is about as interesting as flies fucking on a freshly painted wall.

I had decided by this point that I had had quite enough of the whole mess. So I devised a plan.***

Step One: Set up an anonymous email account. Yahoo is great for that.

Step Two: Call on the power of that almighty force that is Craigslist. Place the following ad:

Gay Nudist Hiking Group Event Next Weekend

Hey all!

I’m putting together a group of about 15 friends who want to go on an au naturel picnic and hike in the Redwoods next Saturday. We’re all gay guys ranging in age from 25 to 40, but all like-minded folks are welcome.

We’d especially like to see some of our lesbian sisters come along (we need help making the fire! Ha! Ha!).

Email me for details on the meeting place and time.

Step Three: Direct all of the respondents to the exact location in the Redwood Forest National Park where Michele will be exchanging vows with Captain Fantastic.

I got over 300 emails, including a couple from local nudist hiking groups who decided to forward the event to their membership lists. I answered every one.

I didn’t attend the wedding. It actually took every ounce of my willpower to not drive the three hours or so to watch the festivities from a distance.

I hear that the hiking event was a major success. In fact, a couple of the groups that met that day decided to merge ranks.

Lest you think this is the most childish, vengeful, awful thing in the world I could have done, imagine for a moment what might have happened had I attached a photo of Chris Brightbulb, the groom, as the event organizer.

The thought crossed my mind.

Don’t fuck with me.

* As long are you aren’t in front of me on the highway. Or in a grocery store. Or at the bank.

** This is actually pretty funny, as I’m not really flamboyant at all. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

***I realize that my revealing this plan is likely to really upset my readers of the female persuasion. I know exactly how important your wedding day is… how long you dream of it, imagine it, plan it, re-plan it, and stress about it. But before you call for my beheading, just imagine how mad I must have been to hatch this plan.

in Flaming Fuck You, Relationships, Thoughts

3 Comments »

No, I’m not talking about all those little two-pronged wall warts that suck electricity and money from your pockets at an alarming rate.

I’m talking about those people in your life who suck every last ounce of patience, energy, love, and support and rarely, if ever, return the favor. People who consider you their ‘best friend’ because you listen and offer advice and help as much as possible, whenever possible, but are the last ones you can call on when in need…

People like her.

She’s going through a divorce, maybe, if she can ever get her shit together to actually file. In the meantime she’s fucking anything that will have her, though admittedly, she’s been fucking the same guy almost exclusively for the past year. He won’t call her his girlfriend though.

She needed a place to live. I found her a room with my aunt, for an incredibly cheap rent.

She works as a substitute teacher, but not full time. I knew she needed help with money so I hired her to clean for us. It was supposed to be $10/hour for four hours every week. That soon became the same $40 every week for less than 2 hours of ‘cleaning’ that usually consisted of her peppering me with stories about her boyfriend who is apparently way too attached to his mother while wandering about the house with a sponge.

On our recent trip to the Midwest, I asked her to house/dog sit. This should have been a blessing for her as she really wanted to get away from her roommates for a few days. Three days into the trip, she called me and said she couldn’t deal with my dogs. Apparently they are used to having some attention and she just could not be called upon for that. I didn’t mention the several times that I house sat for her, including the times when I had to chase down her nearly blind decrepit old cat that needed medication three times a day, or caring for the dog that was recuperating from being run over by her husband. I didn’t mention the week that I spent watching her daughters, driving them to and from summer camp, soccer, cooking and cleaning up after them so she and her husband could ‘work on their marriage’ in Vegas. No, instead I called my aunt and asked her to uproot herself and her dog to come stay at my house.

And then when all hell broke loose at my aunt’s house with another roommate, she chose sides. She began making life miserable for my aunt.

She would do all these little things, like turning down the thermostat to freeze the house when she left, turn the refrigerator up to where the food was barely cold and the ice would melt. Things started escalating to where she would scream “bitch” at my aunt whenever they were in the same room. She went to the post office and put all the mail in the house on vacation hold. God knows how much mail she destroyed.

I tried to stay out of things for the most part. When I helped my aunt get rid of the roommate who was instigating all the animosity things just got worse. I told Vampira that I hoped she would decide that my friendship was more important than the petty bullshit and she could be an adult and act like one.

Apparently she couldn’t.

She accused me of hacking her email, changing her passwords on myspace and her credit cards… None of which I did.

She eventually threatened my aunt and her dog. My aunt took it seriously.

I wrote the eviction letter, filled out the temporary restraining order on my aunt’s behalf, and served it on her myself.

There is a smear campaign going on over at Myspace that has even gotten her 13 year old daughter involved. I haven’t responded to it outside of this post.

You see, though I know all of her secrets… and believe me, there are some doozies that I’m sure the School Board, her soon-to-be-ex-husband, her kids, and her current fuck buddy would love to know about, I’m an adult.

More of an adult than this 43 year old woman who I have supported for the past nine years.*

So here’s a Flaming Fuck You award for being such a selfish, egotistical, hypocritical, two-faced, petty, herpes-infested (oops, did I say that outloud?) douche bag. Good riddance. And may I never be subjected to any more stories about your girl’s cheer leading competitions, and no, I don’t wish to see the video.

* Maybe just barely, but the distinction is there.