I did. Ended up carrying him while he held Frankie's leash, because the storm was coming pretty quickly. He scampered around the back, so I didn't actually get to see him go inside, but it seemed like his house.

Aw, Tep. Dude. Um, there is A LOT that Tim's family doesn't seem to know about him, huh?

I think he told his parents a little tiny bit a long time ago, which they promptly willfully repressed. He's out to one brother, though it's not something they ever talk about; he just knows the whole kaboodle.

I'm out to my bro, and that's all. My family doesn't need to know about my sex life. They would probably be okay with it, but even if all I ever had was married monogamous in-the-dark man-on-top once-a-week PiV sex in a bed, they still don't need to know.

I vote you smile sweetly whenever Pop starts and plan an elaborate two gown wedding in your head the whole time he is talking.

I am not a good enough girlfriend to be okay with a two-gown wedding. I wish I were, but I want to wear the drop-dead gorgeous dress. He wears them the rest of the damn time, damn his tiny butt.

I mean, it's not an issue because (1) marriage is not in the forseeable future, no matter what his dad says, and (2) he's not out enough to crossdress at any wedding we may or may not have.

But I *still* wanna be the one in the pretty pretty dress.

There is a weird dilemma sometimes with a genderqueer partner. I love having a boyfriend who is also literally my girlfriend. But sometimes I want just the boyfriend. (And sometimes I want just the girlfriend.) And most times it doesn't matter, because he just fills the slot in my life labeled "Partner in Crime, Gender Irrelevant."

But sometimes I do want just the boyfriend, and getting married would be one of those times, hello to the hetero- and cis-normativity. Some ally I am.

Then look at your watch, whip out a compass, grab the welcome mat, and drop for prayers. Five times a day. For the rest of the vacation.

I would so do this if I weren't so fucking unreliable when it comes to keeping a schedule.

ION, we went on a dinner cruise tonight. I woke up fighting a sore throat (possibly a cold, but possibly just irritated from the forest fire smoke). I asked the bartender what would stop a sore throat. He asked, "Do you want it to taste good, or do you want it strong?"

"I want it to WORK," I said.

He poured me -- hand to god -- 8 ounces of Crown Royal over ice and then sloshed about 1 ounce of ginger ale on top. After drinking it, my throat was still sore, but I did not care.

Hmm, maybe you can wear the gown, and he can wear the negligee later?

I would so do this if I weren't so fucking unreliable when it comes to keeping a schedule.

[link] Simply Islam is THERE for you!

I understand you can buy them with an attached compass as well. I think the combo even exists in wrist-watch form.

Hmm, maybe you can wear the gown, and he can wear the negligee later?

That's our daily life, modified. I wear dresses to work and t-shirts to bed; he wears work shirts and steel-toe boots to work and fancy nighties to bed. (I actually like this vacation because he's wearing my Spider-Man pajama bottoms to bed, and he just looks so hot in pj bottoms and no shirt.

"Do you want it to taste good, or do you want it strong?"

A member of my tribe.

After drinking it, my throat was still sore, but I did not care.

Ahahaha. I love a good hot toddy, but it's a bit warm for that.

JULIANA!!! ::tacklehugs::

"Do you want it to taste good, or do you want it strong?"

A member of my tribe.

I tipped him very well.

But sentences directed to me about "Your friend Obama, the Muslim," kind of make me have rage blackouts.

I think I just had a rage black-out right now!

Good luck, Teppy. Calming thoughts and less-stress~ma. I'm glad for my immediate, mostly moderate family. Besides the wackaloons in the extended, most of mine are pragmatic and reasonable when it comes to politics. Or they know well enough to leave me to my own opinions.