Friday, January 5, 2024

In Which We Present This and That

At one point Mr Penney had rather fabulous eyelashes.  Long and thick, when I put on mascara they would look like false eyelashes.  Often in classes when I should be paying attention but was bored, I would play with them.  But that was long ago and these days they are sparse as hens' teeth.

As you approach old age typically men worry about losing the hair on top of their head. No one mentions that both your eyebrows and eyelashes also are going to jump ship.  All your hair assumes the attitude of "It's been real, thanks for all the fish, buh bye." Except of course for your ear and nose hairs which will become more lush by the day.  I could make a toupee out of the bristles sprouting from my nose.

Today's post is going to be sort of random.  Very much a view into mrpeenee's thought process, scattered, haphazard, brief, and ending in naked dudes.


My back continues to be pain-free, thank Lucifer.  I got a trigger point injection a couple of weeks ago and it worked like an absolute charm.  For decades I've wondered what it would feel like for my back to not constantly be telegraphing signals of pain.  "I got the message, you can stop now," I would tell the stupid joint that was all the problem.  It never listened.  But now the injection has shut it up and I could not be more glad.


I live astride the dividing line between the Castro and the Mission neighborhoods and every holiday the Mission lights up with dozens of illegal fireworks all night.  One of the best things about this apartment is the excellent view it provides of that subversive celebration.  Imagine my disappointment then when on this New Year's Eve no sparkling lights and booms blossomed.  Not one.  


When R Man got me my wedding ring, instead of the date inscribed inside, he had them use the Latin phrase "In secula saeculor um" which means forever and ever.  At least I thought that's what it meant, I have been informed by a commenter that the Latin is incorrect.  I don't know what they think I'm going to do about it, get a new ring?  Oddly enough I do not speak Latin so I can't really argue, but I also don't really care.  R Man chose it and that's good enough for me. 


Word reaches us today of the death of David Soul, upon whom I had such a crush back in the day.  He had to share my fantasy with Bobby Sherman, his co-star on Here Comes the Brides.  David defined the concept of blonde hotness, but Bobby was dreamy.  Flights of angels, baby, flights of angels.


Considering how puny my beard is, I suppose it's surprising how strongly I dislike it.  What is the point since there is so very little of it?  It hardly deserves the dignity of calling it a beard, it is nothing more than a collection of patches of very thin, sad bristles.  I'm sure there are geisha ladies who have more robust facial hair.  Also considering I have been shaving for 50 years, it seems like I should be able to do a better job of it than I actually do. All of this is weighing on my mind because of a recent shaving accident which resulted in my upper lip bleeding like a shark attack victim, oops.

And now, for the naked dudes:

The mirror has two dicks.

There is something so thrilling about a big heap o' muscle naked in a hotel room.

Charles Paquette has changed his nom de smut to Brandon Bosse.  Who knows why.

Dean Young demonstrating the classic Landing Pad pose.

Clown tats.  Yuck.

Beefy goodness presented by our old friend Colt Studios.

More Colt, but I forget his name. How many fabulous naked men can I remember?



  1. David Soul; oh my the crush I had.
    On him AND Bobby and Paul Michael Glaser.

    1. And Robert Conrad. And William Smith. And William Shatner. And basically anyone with a penis.

  2. I woke at 12:06 to a surprisingly quiet New Years. I liked it.

    There are tweezers next to my living room chair I use to pluck ear hairs out as I watch TV. I can no longer see them in the bathroom mirror to pluck them. I do it by feel.

  3. Don't be fooled: Your back is still telling you that limbo dancing is a bad idea.

    Anonymous, too

  4. I enjoyed your New Year's walk to Peet's and the salon, and now this stroll through 'mrpeenee's thought process.'

    Never had much hair under my arms, but now there are more hares in the woods than hairs in the pits. I had many 'crushes' when I was a boy, often stirred by lovely (fluttering) lashes.

    Good to read that your back is less troublesome.

    That 'landing pad' looks to have a bit of an appetite.

  5. When I was younger, I longed for lustrous eyelashes, but not even (inexpertly) applied mascara could make it happen. At least you had them, Peenee, and the memories of batting them coquettishly. Or was it in a "come hither" way?

    No NYE fireworks? Consider me shocked. And appalled.

    1. I was very disappointed, both by my eyelashes disappearing and the lack of fireworks.

  6. Suddenly the format is different. It’s very gay.

  7. Number of years ago, Mum told me a story (when doesn't she) about the time she was in a pizzeria in Florida waiting for her ordered pie to be ready. As she waited, she noticed a man also waiting and the more she looked at him the more he became familiar. She finally walked over to him and asked him if she knew him & he told her he was Mr Soul. She said he was completely delightful & filled her in on his current work, real estate.

    I too had eyebrows & lashes once. It's all too revolting.


In Which We Take a Trip

  I was reminded of the following story by this charming illustration I stumbled across on Tumblr.  It is a sheet of blotter acid from back ...