Some things never change

I write this edition of the blog while recovering from the summer flu virus, which has delayed my trip to Balchik at least a day or two. Since I am sick and slept all day, now I am not tired, so I plan to write the blog until it is finished. I don't trust myself driving the Sofia-Varna road feeling like garbage, and I need my A game to drive that road. Enjoy the D-list and farm animal updates, and my next issue will be about Copenhagen, Sweden, Seattle/Vancouver.

Sofia D-list, DC and Vancouver B-list, and Buffalo A-list:
A few months ago, I mentioned how I was on the gay D-list in Sofia, for many reasons. Well, I am still on the D-list here, and still trying to figure out a way to move up to at least the C-list. Here is how D-list I am. A guy, let's call him Bob, who I thought I was going to be friends with erased my number from his phone after being gone six weeks. Bob completely forgot who I was, even though we did coffee and hung out a few times.

So yes, I am still the shy American in Sofia who the gays don't want to talk to because they don't understand why this dumbass American chooses to willingly live in Sofia, when many of them are trying to leave Bulgaria. Sometimes, I feel sorry for Rado and Alex, as they are the only gays willing to regularly hang out with me. Their stock goes down by hanging out with me, hahahahahaha.


In the States and Canada, I got a lot more attention than I ever do in Sofia. In DC, I did have a few people check me out at the one bar I was hanging out in with friends. In Vancouver, the gay scene is the polar opposite of Sofia. Many guys are very masculine, some have beards and chest hair, and they like nature and the outdoors. It was a nice change of pace from Sofia, and I met a few cool people there. But, the Vancouver scene would send most gays in Sofia running for their lives. Almost all men in Bulgaria, gay or straight, shave their body hair away from their bodies, or get it waxed off. I am the weird one for having chest hair and deciding to keep it.

The funniest gay attention came in Clarence/Amherst. When I go home, I spend about 99.99% of the time at home with my family, and I can count on my fingers how many times I have been to the gay bars in Buffalo. Yet, I am definitely A-list there, even though I don't live there and almost never go out. There is always someone wanting to know me better, and wishes that I lived in Buffalo instead of Bulgaria or DC.
After arriving in Buffalo from a red eye flight from Seattle, I wanted breakfast, so my mom and I decide to go to Perkins. Now, I hadn't taken a shower, hadn't brushed my teeth because I forgot to put my tootbrush in my backpack, hadn't put on deodorant, had two hours of sleep, it was 1pm, and I smelled pretty bad after sweating on two planes. It was also 95 degrees in Buffalo, and my mom's car has no air conditioning.


Well, our waiter was in love with me despite all of this. He would not leave my mom and me alone the entire brunch, and always found a way to enter the conversation, even when we were talking about something in Bulgaria he had no knowledge about. The lunch shift was slowing down, and he thought there was a hunk of a guy he was serving. We were there for about an hour, and he came over at least 5 times and spent over 30 minutes talking with us, ok mostly me and my mom just happened to be there. He thought living in Buffalo was tough after DC, and I told him he had nothing to complain about gay life in Buffalo because I would kill for a sports team to play with, even badmitton. Despite all his flirting, he never got my number, and my mom and I made sure to escape without seeing him as we left and paid our bill.
So, the next time I go out to the ID club in Sofia, I am thinking about not taking a shower for two days, not use deoderant, and see what happens. Will I be irresistible, as I was to the waiter at Perkins? Or, will I move to the F-list? My guess is I will still be D-list, because no one is going to smell me with all the cigarrette smoke from the chain smoking gays.

Farm update: The farm has become more of a geriatric ward of animals to be honest. My aunt has a lot less animals, even though she would have about 2,000 if all of us weren't telling her no more animals. Bonnie, the donkey, is still kicking and is at least 36-38 years old, because she was 12-14 when I moved to the farm in 1987. Bonnie and I go way back, and I will cry like a baby when she finally does kick the bucket. On farm tours, I was always in charge of fat Bonnie. I taught lots of kids how to brush using Bonita, and gave donkey rides with Bonita. I trained her to go by herself out to pasture with Mama, and figured out a way to have her saddle fit when she kept getting fatter and the girth was not fitting. Bonnie never liked doing much of anything for many people, but she would do lots of things for me. Probably because I said she was just husky, instead calling her fat.
Of the four dogs, I could take all of them home with me, but I know they would not like city living, except for the Dozer, the dumb and lovable golden retriever who just hopes you have food for him. Dozer is the youngest at eight, and Hoppy, the three legged boxer, has now been there almost 4 years, after being told he would only live a few months on three legs. Sullivan, who is my dog from Teresa's sister, is now 10. My cousin and uncle were asking about why Sully had a small with his hips and walking, and everyone was surprised when I mentioned Sully is now 10 and has been on the farm for four years. They forgot he had been on the farm that long. All his nervous behavior is gone, and he is just one of the dogs. Zeus passed away in July because his hips were giving out on him, but he lived to be 12 which is amazing for a dog that size. Rest in peace big Zeus(see left), you were an amazing dog.

Yes, all the dogs pictured are super fat. All the dogs were skinny and in great shape when they first arrived on the farm. How did they get to be so overweight? Crazy Aunt Patty and Crazy Aunt Camille showed their love for them by making sure they were happily fed and taken care of. But, they would never admit they overfed the dogs, and blame each other for making them fat. The end result is my mom refuses to feed the dogs, and the dogs are still fat with my aunt feeding them everyday. My mom says this proves my aunt is to blame for the fat dogs, but I know they were both guilty. They love their dogs, and the dogs love them for feeding them and taking care of them.

Patrick: Hi, I'm Patrick. For those of you who don't know me, I was the friendly, fat, lovable gray tiger cat. I dealt with my brother Troy for all those years, and Joseph never believed that Troy was crazy. I have been vindicated after moving to the farm, and now everyone knows he is completely batsh#$ crazy. Please note I still love my brother, but he's gone crazy with power.

The past three years have been great for me. I have made lots of new friends, and even made friends with the dogs. I am the lovable cat everyone loves, even two guys who HATE cats like me and have told people, "I hate cats, but Patrick is a great cat." Joe's aunt told his mom that if she ever moves, Patrick must remain on the farm. The farm has made me lose weight, I've gone into my Oprah skinny phase, and no one can ever call me Fatrick again.

I miss Joe a lot, and I wish he would have taken him with me to Bulgaria. He told me that he would have taken me three years ago, but that I had to stay with Troy and take care of him. Damn it, he was right, because Troy was a crazy fool and got his butt kicked until he became king of the cats. Now Troy has other friends and I could go to Bulgaria, but I am too old to fly across the ocean. Joe wants to take me with him, but he told me he was really afraid I could not handle the flight on three planes by myself. While that makes me sad, I take solace in that I have too many people to take care of. I need to make sure Joe's mom, aunt, and Robert get greeted with a warm hello each day, and cheer them up no matter how they are feeling.

Troy: For those of you who don't know me, I am the shy, crazy black cat who ate all the hair off his back and dreamed of being Mr. Bigglesworth after Joseph went into the Peace Corps. Being on the farm has made me stop chewing hair, except when Joe comes home because I chew off my hair to make him realize he made a mistake by not taking me three years ago (sidenote: Troy, the Bulgarians would have freaked out seeing a bald, crazy black cat and not let you into the EU and killed you in 2008).

I love the crazy lady who feeds me(Joe's mom) and Robert and Camille are cool, but I have become crazier than ever. With seven cats, I have left Patrick's company and decided to become King of the Cats. My rule as king is more like the mad dragon king Targaryen, from the Game of Thrones series. My favorite things to torture the cats includes sitting in the cat box for 5 hours at a time growling at other cats, so they cannot go to the bathroom. I also like hiding in the cellar to pounce on unsuspecting cats who dare to enter downstairs.

Closing:

I hope you have enjoyed this edition, and tales from the animals at the farm. If you have any ideas on how I can get off the gay D-list, I am open to suggestions. Really, I am almost willing to try anything at this point.