Bathtime Entertainment

I headed to the Sydney Opera House on Saturday night for a late evening performance of ' La Soirée '.

Spectacular.

I was yawning before the performances commenced, a result of sleep deficit, but was truly woken from the very beginning of the show. A collection of very capable and engaging artists. Oh and did I say hot? Extremely. Sexy, capable and funny too. A perfect combination. And toward the end when you're getting hot under the collar and think you might need a wash, David O'Mer (pictured) comes in and does a bathing routine like no other. Professional adult entertainment from the beginning to the end and I'd happily go back. We left fighting over which act was the best. It seems they have extended the show again too! Popular demand obviously... It would be well worth your money to head in and experience it. Any ticket is a good ticket in the quite intimate space.

They say the show isn't over until the fat lady sings. Well, they do a whole new interpretation of that one.

5 superchilled stars.

for info and tickets: sydneyoperahouse.com

until March 11, 2012

Surfing White Butts

We've all seen guys with shorts hanging half way down their arses. Some of us have even been those guys I'm sure. But I've seen a whole new trend, one I'm hoping will catch on through the southern summer. Swimming in the surf I noticed a white flash surfing the wave next to me. I thought I was mistaken but a tanned blonde surfer was catching a wave with his board shorts exposing the entirety of his extremely white hot butt. He was laughing all the way, and paddling back out into the surf with the same white beacon beckoning. Again and again. He was trying to get a little attention from some people on the beach and achieved success beyond his expectations.

The water was crystal clear, the waves divine and I'm going back for more. Regularly.

(photo sourced from L'HOMME EST UN CONCEpt)

Do you recognise this image?

Do you know where this image is from?

As soon as I stumbled upon it searching for a different image entirely it is very clear to me where it comes from.

I'm hoping most of you also know - so post a comment and tell me where you think it is from.

Happy New Year, oh but wait it's already February.

I've been absent both here and from home for a few weeks now. Nothing like a trip around the world to start the year. But a sure fire way to make January fly by. Literally.

During that time away I learnt a number of ways to BEHAVE BADLY as a TRAVELLER.

1. If you are from Russia,
Take your newly found 'lady of the night' to one of the classiest restaurants in town. Be loud to ensure everyone notices you and pop your 2 large bags of McDonald's take-out right in the middle of the table. Keep it there right through the sensational dinner. Better still, get your mate to do the same with you. All class. Departing early, leaving the girls to enjoy the rest of their meals in relative silence is your only saving grace.
CHI CHA restaurant, Cusco, Peru

2.
From Germany
When your tour guide, who has literally just finished a 4 day mountainous trek (which you missed because you didn't turn up on day 1) is going to the first proper bathroom he's seen in days, demand that you really need to get going for the next leg that you're catching up with, and that he's wasting your time. Sensitive.
Machu Picchu, Peru

3. From Israel

If it's a popular national park hike in serene surrounds, be sure to have a loud and animated conversation that drowns out the sounds of wildlife and running streams for the entire duration of the walk. Ensure than EVERYONE on the track hears you and only you, even though nobody else seems to need this volume to be heard by their fellow walkers.

El Chalten, Argentina

4. From everywhere English speaking: when a local doesn't understand what you're saying, turn the volume up! Surely if you speak louder everyone will understand. Intelligent.

5. I'm not sure where from but smoking cigars relentlessly in a large hotel lobby/restaurant open space to the point that everyone reeks of smoke is the definition of wanker.

El Calafate, Argentina.

Perhaps I'm just over sensitive.

Oh and Happy New Year.

J'ai SUPERFROID

Right now I'm wearing this t-shirt. It translates "I'm super chilled" though I guess it could also be read "I'm super cold", and I guess different people may have different takes on that. I bought it when I was in fact quite chilled in the French Alps a day or two ago, though I'm about to be wearing it in Rio. Does that make it a whole different class of chilled? I don't care. On the flight here I finished the first book I've read in years, "exit through the wound" by North Morgan, who I know as London Preppy. In the back of the book the publisher, Glasshouse Books, states "Glasshouse books has a simple mission statement. To publish books for people who don't read."

I tick that box.

When I started the book I was unimpressed. Not only was the main character straight rather than gay, yet the same character from london preppy's blog. Some of the work was pure cut and paste from the blog, and there was so much drug use I felt I was at work. But it grew on me. Certain bits have been updated for current consumption, which disappoints, but despite this I enjoyed it and in the end I was just burning through the pages under a narrow beam from my reading light as everyone else on my flight slept.

And on this Iberia flight from Madrid to Rio there are pieces of tape holding together the mirror and ventilation filter in the one toilet I've visited. I hope the engines and fuselage are more convincingly held together, but then this is a Spanish plane and we are deep in GFC2.

The reason I referred to the book is that it reinforces an opinion I've developed recently that I need to stop caring what people think. I have no reason to be self conscious and if people don't understand me they can ask. I don't need or want to explain myself. I'm calling it self respect. And I'm going to be more demanding with it in future.

Which brings me to an issue I've been grappling with for a few years now. A good friend disowned me for personal reasons, his not mine, some time back. A friendship I enjoyed greatly and have missed, and the demise of which I do not and will probably not ever truly understand, though I am certain there is miscommunication, misunderstanding and a deal of emotional content that's difficult to decipher. My mistake then was to allow it to happen and not enforce a face to face discussion, even if the end result were to be the same.

But now I'm giving transparency the flick. If you want to know what I'm thinking, deserve to know it first, then ask. I'm taking no prisoners, jumping into 2012 and running with it, not waiting for anyone to catch up. Keep up or make your own way. Be sure to have fun though. I certainly will.

Gazing into the www sky

I remember as a kid our long summer holidays to the Myall Lakes where we would camp at the edge of the lake, our own sandy beach, our own space. Days were spent in or by the water, swimming, skiing, sailing, windsurfing or just mucking around. In the evenings as the sun set slowly over the lake I'd stare at the stars emerging in the deepening blue sky. I was at the edge of the earth with the vastness of space just an arms-length away. So insignificant and yet so connected at the same time. The potential possibilities of what I could achieve felt infinite.

There was no internet back then. There was no verb 'to google'. Billions of stars then and now but now there is a whole new world that you and I both can explore through the screens we are focussed on right now.

While I may have felt the possibilities were endless then, right now they are ever so much more real. If I want to contact someone - I can. There was a movie that moved me, so I emailed the director and had a conversation. There was something that irked me on a TV show & newspaper article, so I tweeted in response and had myself heard. When I'm not happy with something politically, I can move and shake and do something about it. Easily. And then there's this blog, while a little less fashionable these days, it is my own little publication that is read regularly throughout the world (by some very special people). A very small sandy beach in the huge ocean that is the world wide web.

And while I love watching the sunset and gazing at the stars, for me it is all about the connection. The people who come into my world and share experiences, reflect on them and gain from them, returning to the world a little better for it. Hopefully.

And right now I'm physically exhausted from the people who have come into my world of late. And I love it.

It's Time - Get Up video

I love this. It's beautiful and powerful.

Click here to support the cause.

Noosa Triathlon Chaos

Me - far left - at the bike-run transition.

Last weekend was the focus of my training for much of the year. The Noosa Triathlon.

And what a weekend it was to become!

The first thing one notices when you arrive in Noosa on this particular weekend of the year is the mass of bicycles EVERYWHERE. And they're not just standard bikes. They're the carbon fibre / time trial / über expensive variety in all manner of shapes, colours and weights.

While they may be the first thing you notice they are by far not the predominant feature. The hot, fit men that abound is enough eye candy to create visual diabetes. And while I'm tempted to say I'd be happy to made ill from the abundance, that's a little too close to the bone for me for this particular weekend.

Pre-race preparation is all consuming - a combination of physical preparation / equipment organisation / hydration and rest. I find myself phasing out of conversations as I focus on my race plans and preparation in my head.

But this year things, all kinds of things, go horribly wrong, from way in advance right through the weekend. We'll start with my brother having to withdraw as result of his bike-car crash earlier in the year. A fews days before the weekend I develop a sore throat and cough, this was not in my pre-race plan. As the weekend arrives we discover that my partner and his team are in fact not registered for their team event. A technical glitch that wasn't a fun discovery for the team especially for the cyclist who had her own newly purchased über bike all prepped up with no place to ride. On Saturday Qantas grounds its entire fleet and our exit from Noosa becomes uncertain. Not that I'm too worried as staying in Noosa longer is never really a problem.

But wait, there's more.

Sunday, Race Day arrives and at 5am I'm awake and in preparation, pre-hydration and setting up gear in the transition zone. My race starts at 6:52. The swim is good, but I'm feeling a little congested with the cold I've developed, so not perfect. The cycle is hard work, more than I remember, but at the same time I'm feeling pretty strong and confident and I push myself hard. My legs don't feel as fast as they have been in the past few weeks though, not the strength I'm used to. Transition to running is easy, but by 2km the run hurts and there's 8 to go. I know I'm in a good position though with one or two ahead of me. But each km feels harder and harder. I'm loving the hose spraying locals who rain on me but the rehydration stations aren't frequent enough. It's getting close to the end, just 3 km to go. I'm feeling a little faster, but it' still hard work and then the next thing I know I'm in an ambulance, sirens and all, what the hell happened?

The ambulance officer comes in and out of blur. He asks me if I can see clearly yet. I wonder if he can read my mind but realise this is not the first time he's done this. He tells me what's been happening, I've collapsed, dehydrated with next to no blood pressure but never unconscious, though I recall nothing. He updates me on what's happening next and I close my eyes because it feels better that way. But that prompts him to ask me if I'm okay , or "keep with me" which he doesn't actually say but I hear it, so I keep my tired eyes open as he buzzes around me keeping going. We shake and shudder and wind our way to the emergency department by which time I've had 2 1/2 litres of fluid and where I then have another 2 more before leaving later that afternoon, somewhat dazed and very tired but still a little bit thirsty.

My support crew doesn't hear about me nor my whereabouts until 2 hours after I was due at the finish line. They're accordingly freaked out, but happy to discover I'm alive and deliver loads of big hugs when I get back to Noosa. It's big Pizza dinner, a lot of fluids and early to bed. How we get home is something for tomorrow.

reunited

I did it.

I made it to the school reunion.

I had extremely low expectations, but they were blown right away. I had a ball, in fact I was with the last few people to leave. The fellow colleague I'd had huge issues with some 15 years ago came directly up to me and apologised for her behaviour back then. I wasn't sure how things would go there, so it was extremely refreshing and quite fun. There were some really interesting people with whom I could have chatted individually for a whole evening, and some amazing life stories. Of course not everyone was completely engaging, but people were generally a whole lot more mature and more outwardly focussed. It was of course punctuated by me coming out multiple times, which some people had to take a little moment to compute. I got more attention from the girls than I ever did, which was fun, as with their compliments. I left with a sense of warmth from people who actually gave a damn.

I'm very glad I went. I'd sworn never to go to another school reunion.

Changing one's mind isn't always a bad thing.

It's My High School Reunion

The last high school reunion I attended was hideous. I couldn't get away fast enough, literally. I wanted to leave but was driving my good friend who, very unusually, got drunk, was less inclined to leave and blah blah I got home later and more infuriated than ever. The people there reverted to their high school personas and maturity and one previously good friend treated me as if I was not even in the room. Flabbergastingly childish. We've not spoken since, her choice. There were, I recall, two women with whom I chatted who were standouts from that crowd. They had both married early, had kids, worked and studied all at the same time, and were switched on and real. They were the only saving grace. The bimbo women who battered their eyelashes and giggled about how much work it must have been for me to study medicine et al, bored me to tears, as did the men's bravado about who achieved what materially in their lives.

"Never again", I said.

I lied.

I have accepted the invitation to the follow up reunion some 15 years later. This time I'm hopeful some of those missing from the earlier reunion will enlighten my opinions, and perhaps a good dose of maturity might enter the room this time. Though I'm setting my expectations to basement on this one. The chosen restaurant is not bad, so at worst it's an ok meal with bad company, many of whom have no name embedded in my memory. I'm curious if the woman who has chosen not to speak to me for over 15 years will be there and if so will she make eye contact? My good friend who got drunken and disorderly last time has his act in gear and will be a fun sparring partner I expect this time. I'm not taking The Frenchman, as I love him to much to force this upon him. It would be quite the coming out event though if he did accompany me though as most won't know I'm gay (I assume). So I'll be flying under the radar, and that can be fun. I really don't care what people think any more. I'm more interested in finding out out the paths people have taken in lives less ordinary, and I believe there might be a few of those, though if truly wise they probably won't be there.

All Tied Up

I was chatting with a good friend the other day how I never wear ties any more. I have a boat load of them from the days when I did, but they slowly phased out of my day to day wardrobe. Sometimes I miss them.

We threw about a few ideas as to why they were invented in the first place, none of which turn out to be correct. My friend suggested I post about the history of the tie. So Martin, here is your post. I'll keep it brief, though that could itself be a whole other post...

It seems Ancient Egypt had the first known neck tie - a rectangular piece of regular cloth wrapped around the neck and draped over the shoulder a bit like a shawl. It represented social status. China had a form as well, noted from around 220BC. But the modern tie stems more from a fashion statement by the military in Croatia in the 17th century which was noted by the French and copied. They must have found the Croatians sexy.

The ties were worn in a lot of different shapes and styles with loads of different ways to tie them.

Up until the 19th century, the styles mostly included country symbols and were tied in ways that represented the social status of the wearer. I wonder if a certain knot indicated sexual persuasion...

The modern necktie developed its shape in 1924 when New Yorker Jessie Langsdorf patented a style of cloth and cut, made in 3 parts which were sewn together to form the now worldwide fashion item.

And maybe, having researched some of the uses of it (ie the photos for this post) I might have developed a new interest in Ties, and the men who wear them.

It's not about the clothes

There's no wonder designers hire sexy models like Mr Zagorski here, to wear their wares. Sometime the clothes are so good they need nothing to sell them, but more often than not they need to borrow a little sex appeal. Take these particular board shorts he's wearing - put them on anyone else and you'd not look twice. Young Maxwell wears them and suddenly they're more appealing and you're thinking "I could wear those", and the advertising ticks the box, and hopefully your wallet.

I recall going to an event as a teenager with my brother who was competing nationally windsurfing. Lots of the guys were wearing these cool new surf clothes, they were mostly elite windsurfers and accordingly fit & tanned. I was much less fit & fantastic, but I liked the gear they were wearing (really the guys themselves too if I'm honest). The next day I decided to track down where I could get some. When I got to the store the staff told me of the event they had loaned out much of their stock for the night before... So all these guys were effectively models for the clothes for the night. I kind of felt like I'd been tricked and lost interest in buying anything.

Product placement does work, I just try to take less notice of the product and more the placement these days...

The Art of Unproductivity

I'm an on-the-go kinda guy, a day isn't complete unless a thousand things have been accomplished and I've arrived in bed late more because of the time rather than me actually wanting to stop. Thursdays are not quite that kind of day. This is the day I look after my now 2 1/4 year old daughter. Getting a handful of things done, outside of looking after the young one, becomes a major feat. Forget hundreds or thousands. From the outside, having the day off work to look after a kid seems bliss, and sometimes it quite frankly is, but it is also a challenge in the mastery of multitasking. I met a friend for lunch at a cafe with my daughter this Thursday. She had woken (and hence so had I) early and was a little more tired than planned by lunch time. ie Slightly grumpy & not so sociable. Not the best start. Tiredness brings on a little bit of food aversion, or at least a bigger tendency to play with it, and make noises when things aren't going precisely her way. Conversation was a little stuttered with my very forgiving friend. Through my mind is going a constant checklist - is she eating enough, am I going to need to use the bathroom, is there a change table there, are we disturbing the other cafe patrons, what did my friend just say, do I need to get toys out or will she cope without, is letting her watch Dora the Explorer on the iPad a bad parenting decision. Oh and there's more but after we get home, having sun all the way there in the car to keep her awake, and she decides she isn't going to sleep her usually early afternoon nap, I go into a meltdown. It's the time I was counting on to get stuff done.

One has to cut ones expectations and learn to enjoy being just a dad, playing silly games, drawing and building with blocks, running around in circles, dancing and singing like you've never done before. And it is a lot of fun.

When you let go of everything else.

Pitbull / Marc Anthony - So Eurovision, So Gay?

I heard this track on the radio a week or so ago and felt like I'd heard it before. It sounded like a Eurovision song but I couldn't quite pick which one it was. I Shazamed it to find out and "Pitbull featuring Marc Anthony" was the answer. Now I've just looked at the video, and the the chorus is just so camp and so Eurovision, I'm wondering what it all means. Of course I'm not spending any real time thinking about it, but it's funny, it's not the image these guys usually project as far as I am aware.

August: The End is Near

August is the month that defines my year. It's not that anything special happens in August, it's just that when it comes around it's the sign that the year really is closer to the end than the beginning. People start talking about Christmas even Christmas parties. August is the last month of our winter and the time we start to look forward to a nearing spring and the summer it in turn heralds. And before you know it by the time you've thought about August it feels like the end of the year is here. But wait, there's so much to be done before summer comes along. And I still have that 6 pack to procure before it's warm enough to be meandering shirtless. Maybe it will happen this year. But it's August, have I left my run too late? I'm telling myself it's just another day in another year, which only has boundaries because we have constructed them. But it doesn't work, it's the end, the year is officially not new, not young, and there's so much to be done.

Populate or perish?

Imagine you're in an empty warehouse. Immense open space, and you.

Sitting on a chair.

If we add a little magic, you can populate the environment around you in any way you choose. You may make it into a neat forest, with you resting on a day bed in the middle, or reclining in a hammock. It could be the ultimate dance party with a selection of people - will they be men or women? a mix, hot & sexy or guy/girl next door types, maybe a very specific kind of party goer? Perhaps just one person dancing only with you.

It might become a theatre, a cinema, a Googleplex. Perhaps an oasis like resort with waterfalls and plunge pools. It might be a mammoth sauna / bath house or a vast dark space with just a string quartet playing under a spotlight . The ultimate warehouse residence with mezzanines, grand staircases, designer art, a butler and a resident chef catering for your impromptu dinner parties. Maybe it's a library with walls of books.

You're going to create something entirely different from me or anyone else and this would be different now from if I asked you 1 hour ago.

People often think they know what you are thinking. Chances are there are a thousand other things happening in your head one of which might be close, but the reasoning behind it might not connect at all with what they are thinking. Just as you really have no idea of their thoughts or the reasons behind them.

It easy to stereotype or assume thought patterns, but if one keeps an open mind, you can travel to whole new worlds through the people around you. You just need to ask loads more questions, assume nothing and not build walls where there aren't any.

What kind of worlds will you find?

I'll have what He's having

I reader has kindly recommended this video, and I can't think of any reason not to agree. A little bit of hotness for the start of the weekend.

Is there a point? I don't know. And tonight I really don't care. Click below and watch a little pretty.

Just because it's sexy

47 seconds

Training Partner?

I've lost my training partners.

I've lost my coaches.

Some have moved out of the area, some are temporarily in the Northern Hemisphere, some just don't train any more. And too many have been hit by cars. On bikes. Bloody Drivers.

My brother is still out of action in a training sense from his accident, and my swim coach is in hospital in a coma.

I've always been an independently motivated guy and so I go on and push myself to go better, harder, faster on my own. But I like people and I like working as a team, or even just working independently but connecting with someone along the way. I miss them all. The people who would just be there and do stuff, and push hard, and sometimes not but still have fun along the way.

And so I'm looking out for new people to fill the void. They may or may not look like the guy in the picture, but so long as they challenge me in some way I really don't mind. I just have no idea where I'm gonna find them.

June 2011

Wandering around Paris it really seems the city of love is more a city of unhappiness. Almost all the faces one encounters looks like it's just been told bad news, or is pissed off with everyone around it. Maybe the high temperatures in recent days have been a catalyst for discontent, but I have never really sensed a great 'love' any time I've been in Paris. I know scores of people who rave about how they want to return here, and dream of living in Paris, but I really don't get that feeling. Don't get me wrong, I thinks it's a great city with a lot of positives, great food, loads of things happening (often closed the day or time I turn up, we'll call it bad planning) , but the sense I get is that the people who actually do live here are dreaming of being somewhere else too. Oh and the traffic is awful, (but the trains are great).

There are a host of hot men, but I don't get a sense of there being much of a sporting environment here. Which is something I would need to work on.