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Thursday, August 26, 2010

Denver En Route to Seattle.

Location: Somewhere in the Middle of Wyoming on I-25, Between Casper and Cheyenne, I-25
(“Gay Cowboy fantasy Land”)
Well, I’m traveling from Denver to Vancouver. For those of you who have never been to Wyoming, it’s as desolate as a forgotten arctic tundra. Giant planes of nothingness are cut up by small hills of nothingness with the occasional windmill power farm. It’s a lonely and desolate place. But the people here have a sort of toughness that’s tough to describe. I guess it’s the same spirit that keeps Joan Rivers on QVC or spandex on really fat women. Sometimes you just have to make it through the circumstances life deals you, not matter how tough it gets, or, in the case of the spandex, how big of an ass life can be when it sits on you.
I find it hard to visit this place without the feeling that I’m a total pussy. People here endure years with no job, work 18 hours a day mending fences in cold, ice, wind, dirt and rain. I get mad that I have to go to a warm gym filled with attractive, sweaty and muscular men for an hour a day six times a week. Despite this obvious injustice, I have to deal with an ankle injury. So, I’m free to go to the gym and not even work out, I can just stare at the men as long as I want. I find the gaul to even bitch about that too. I don’t have to work, I don’t have to do any kind of hard living. I eat at fine restaurants practically every meal. My biggest complaint is that I’m fat with fairly sizeable man breasts.
So, lesson learned: I need to man up, be ready to embrace this blessing and try a few new things along the way.  But these new things probably won’t be in Wyoming. All 5 of the state residents seemed really nice, and very, very bored.

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