This morning I woke up hearing the Italian delivery boys talking to the hotel owner on the street below. We had slept with the window open. Warm night in Venice. What great sounds. Beyond the street I could hear the grand canal.

I nestled into Joe wondering if he would have to go to Iraq and if I would be able to bear coming back to Venice again any time soon if he had to go. Let Bush go to Iraq and fight his own war.

I fell back asleep and the next thing I heard was the shower. I went in and got in it with Joe. Then we went down and had some turbo coffee. I love Italy. We ordered omlettes so we had an excuse to drink more coffee.

We'll drive back today, over Brenner pass, down into Innsbruck and then on to Munich. Germany always seems a bit of a let down after Italy but the scenery is so beautiful on the way back. The alps are still snowy this time of year and the flowers are starting on the lower slopes. Joe likes to drive so I'll relax and watch the scenery and take a turn if he gets tired. He won't get tired.

Luke and Natasha are in France. They called on the cell phone to tell us to forget about using condoms because now they cause cancer. I'll take my chances with cancer before I'll take my chances with aids. Besides, I don't think condoms really cause cancer.

I assume from the tenor of Luke's call that Natasha is on the pill. Not an issue for us.

Work tomorrow. Ugh. Not so bad though because I have another break coming up in three weeks. We'll head for France.

Joe and I decided that if I get my recall notice I will officially come out to the military. I won't be recalled. Period. Coming out will likely cost me my civil service job too, since I work for the army. Let the chips fall where they may.

By week's end we hadn't heard any more about his situation. We're holding our breaths and trying to pretend like it's no big deal. I can't believe we are so at the mercy of unknown forces. We could have our entire lives blown apart by these bastards and we have nothing to say about it.

I hope Kerry gets elected. I wonder though, if it will make a difference?

Joe and I are enjoying Italy. We started with a day in Vernoa. One of the things I like best about Verona is that it is not on the main drag for tourism. I don't mind tourism or tourists but it's fun to hang in a city that's a little more laid back. The roman ruins are as spectacular as ever and so are the roman men. Plenty of FINE looking men in this country. Joe and I attract our share of attention too.

Now we're in Venice and we've met a nice couple. Angelo and Mike. Angelo is a gondolier and Mike is an ex fullback from Texas A&M. They met in Milano and fell in love (a year ago). Mike hasn't found his way back to Texas yet.

We are meeting them for dinner later. I love the late Italian dinners, especially this time of year when it is so warm and beautiful and clear in Venice. Mike and Angelo live near our hotel. We're going to meet at Trattoria Al Cugnai for crabs, something with nero sauce and probably some beautifully done sole. We'll wash it down with a good Veneto white. Hopefully a soave. Then we'll go for a ride in Angelo's gondola. It doesn't get any better than that.

The buildings are so beautiful from the water. These last two days have been romantic and fun.

Luke is on the road too. He and the fish king's ex wife are headed for the south of France for a week. 'Tis the week for love in the latin places, I guess.

France is in a couple weeks for us. We're headed to a big jazz festival at Samois sur Seine and then on to Paris before we go home.

Joe's getting out of the shower so I'm going to shut off the computer and go do something better before dinner.

Luke is a good cook. Today he cooked swami food at the office. It was yellow and probably didn't have any meat in it. Joe would have hated it. He'd rather eat a plate of cat.

Sinead is invisible today. I guess I won't see her until next week since I'm taking tomorrow off and Joe and I are heading to Italy for the next four days. It's going to be nice.

American money should have the face of the current president and vice president as well as other cabinet officers on it. People would scrutinze their job performance more closely if they had to look at these people every time they pulled some moolah out of their wallet.

Of course it wouldn't help the international monetary excange rates to our favor. The dollar is weak enough already! Putting the current american president on, say, a 20 dollar bill and the veep on a sawbuck wouldn't necessarily do much to help the French or the Germans cozy up to us. The Saudis would probably be okay with it though.

Luke thinks my idea is stupid. I thought of it while we were getting a mid-morning breakfast at the coffee shop across the river. Rodrigo pulled one of the new 20 dollar bills out of his wallet. Luke said "now I know where Michael Jackson got the picture he showed his plastic surgeon!" Wait. Rodrigo said that.

That's when I got my idea. If we implemented my plan, we wouldn't have to worry about term limits anymore. And think of the engraving options! Do we put Bush with his bicycle fall induced road rash or with is toothy "mission accomplished" smile? Do we put Cheney on there with his "I don't care if my daughter IS a lesbian" jaw set or his "liberals are evil" grimace? What bill do we put Rumsfeld on? Probably a 5. I hear they use a lot of 5 dollar bills in prisons.

Regardless of Luke's misgivings, it's a good idea.

Last night Earth Mother cooked chinese food while her sassy husband and I watched one of the funniest movies ("the peculiarities of the national hunt") I have seen in a long time. It's a Russian movie from the early '90's. Several misfits with too much vodka on hand end up going on a hunt. One is from Finland. He can not speak Russian and none of the Russians can speak Finnish. He does manage to communicate in halting English (badly overdubbed by a crow-like woman). He also has a bizarre dialogue with one of the Russians in which he speaks Finnish and his counterpart answers in Russian.

There's a cow in the movie. I had never considered the comic quality of a cow but it's plain to me now. Cow's are funny. This particular cow (a black and white model) has several misadventures including a ride in a TU-95 bomber. The determined bossy managed to brace herself when they were trying to drop her out through the bombay doors. In the end she escaped, only to be shot at later. But she wasn't dead. She was only pretending. When one of the hunters went down to "cut a filet off of her." He was rewarded with a hard kick to the solar plexus. Then the cow ran away.

The film had a typical Russian ending. Not much of anything was resolved. It all pretty much stays the same. It's amazing how prodigiously Russians drink Vodka and how they miraculously escape maiming and injury given their advanced drunken states. Vodka flows and bullets fly throughout the entire movie and yet, no one ends up dead or with his ass shot off. Amazing. It's a FUNNY and well made film. Joe stayed in the kitchen flirting with Earth Mother and helping cook. He doesn't understand Russian.

My e-pal Dave in California has forgotten more about movies than I will ever know. He might find the film banal but I though it was GREAT. It beat the hell out of TROY but the men in it were grubby,skinny, and pale as opposed to Troy's bronzed and muscled beauties. Still, it was the better movie.

Rodrigo is after me and not in the good way. He wants me to accompany him on guitar while he blows his tenor saxophone. I stupidly said yes because I thought Luke was also saying yes but Luke has thrown me to the wolves and then made fun of me for it. Unlike the fish king, I am not bent on revenge. Karma will take care of Luke, it's not a job for me. That leaves me the luxury of still being a gracious friend. Luke was gracious too though. He said I could use his guitar so I don't have to go home and get mine. All the same, I'd rather be home doing laundry.

I had lunch with Rodrigo, the Martin-maton and Sinead yesterday. It was SUPPOSED to be lunch with Sinead but we attract people because we are fun. Sinead is sassy and political but in a good way.

Work is a complete hassle today but I'm doing my part to help the machine grind on.

First I got my bad letter. A bunch of my pals who retired when I did are being recalled to active duty. My letter was a "heads up" notice that I am "re-callable". They need people in the dessert and they need 'em now. Still reeling from "the letter," I found out yesterday that Joe got "the call."

Joe's detailer (that's military talk for the centralized personnel guy that makes assignments) called. He's in a combat arms specialty and is sitting in an academic job. His detailer told him that they need "boots on the ground" in Iraq and Afghanistan and not to get too comfortable.

I wonder if my new theme song will be "When your lover has gone?"

Joe and I went to see the new movie "Troy" and it was a hunkfest. It made me yearn for the days when kings took to the battlefield. I wonder what it would be like if Bush and Rumsfeld actually had to FIGHT their own wars? One can only wonder.

I liked the movie. It was visually stunning, moved along at a good clip, not hard to look at and full of testosterone. That's always good.

Today I am going to visit my favorite Turk and get my favorite haircut. I'm sure we'll talk politics. He's a lot of fun in a politics conversation. He knows his stuff. I always feel smarter after one of his excellent haircuts.

I couldn't help noticing that Luke is looking stunning today in his retro "do", euro glasses and oh so impeccable three button suit.

If the fish king were to rub him out today he wouldn't even have to be dressed for a funeral depending upon the method chosen. I hope Luke lasts a long time though. He's one of the good ones.

The phone rang at six o'clock this morning. Saturday morning. Ugh. Joe handed it to me and I "hulloed." It was the Military Police. Joe said "who is it, babe?" and the Military Police guy on the other end said "who was that?" "Nobody," I answered.

The call scared me. The nature of it was administrative, no big deal, something someone at work hadn't done and now I have to finish. The part that scared me was the "who was that?" question by the military cop.

Laying in bed at six in the morning with your boyfriend's head resting on your chest while you are talking on the phone is not necesarrily a scene the military police would cozy up to. It conjured up all kind's of bad images, especially in today's world of homeland security. Homeland INsecurity.

It's pathetic to have to go through life scared of a trained monkey military cop on the other end of the phone who invades your privacy with a trivial, non-related question. I'm going to talk to Joe. I got out of the military so I didn't have to live like this but now I'm right back in the middle of it by being a civil servant and dating a military guy.

We'll see. In the meantime, I'll head over to the MP station, drop off the requested documents, stop by the bakery on the way home for pastries, make coffee, slip back into bed and probably re-start my morning the proper way.

Maybe if these conservatives would get laid once in awhile they'd feel better about life.

Happy Saturday.

Bavaria is amazing in the spring time. The ALPS are still covered in snow, the wildflowers are blooming and the sky is so blue it hurts your eyes. Never mind the cars on the autobahn that pass you going 200 miles an hour. It's all over so fast you never really know they were ever there.

We're going to hike tomorrow. Last time I hiked I wore the wrong shoes and screwed up my foot but this time I'm prepared.

Today is not a good day to hike because it's a German Holiday. It's the day Jesus drove to heaven. A country so in love with it's cars and autobahn WOULD have a driving Jesus. Jesus didn't float, walk, or ride a wave. In Bavaria he DROVE to heaven. himmelFAHRT. It's just like AUSFAHRT or GUTEFAHRT. Jesus doesn't mess around in the land of the BMW.

Work is quiet. It's Thursday. Most of the Military guys have disappeared from our office today and tomorrow for a four day weekend. I'm going to disappear tomorrow. My plan is to just not come back after lunch. Joe's already off and we'll go hiking then. Maybe after that we'll go to Munich. The Lowen Club is having a prowl and we want to see what the really severe queers do for fun. Joe says it'll be "educational". I have my doubts.

Our company from home made all this noise about making trips while they were here but mostly they have laid around the house drinking all our wine and eating us out of house and home. They iron though, and do laundry and vacumn. That's not all bad. Saturday night we'll have dinner with them and Sinead and Mick at the General Patton and on Sunday Joe and I are going to leave them to their own devices and go somewhere alone. They leave Monday. Whew.

I like them but I'll be glad to have our place back. Next company comes in less than a month and will stay for a month. She's cool though - favorite aunt. (check with me when she's been there three weeks to see how cool she is)

Big fat bees are coming in my open windows at work today. They're hanging around up on the flourescent light fixtures. It's more like summer than spring. I hope it lasts.

The first words I heard this morning were "you're late." I opened my eyes to see Joe standing there, already dressed for work with a cup of coffee. I looked at the clock and groaned.

Unbelieveable. I never oversleep. It was already after seven. I sat up and got a kiss and my coffee (in that order)and thought about what to do. Deciding to follow the omens I chose khakis and a long sleeve pullover shirt and casual shoes. I didn't shave either. It seemed more important to me to have coffee with Joe than to present myself at work in my usual establishment rags. People haven't seemed to notice much. Maybe they are just too polite to say anything. Likely the former.

Sinead and I had a superficial discussion about men this morning. It was the social equivalent of two monkeys grooming each other but we weren't up to heady topics. We both agree that Tom Cruise is yucky but I do like him better with his hair buzzed than when it's long. Colin Farrell gets a big thumbs up from both of us and Keanu Reeves is more interesting to me than to her. I feigned indifference about Gregory Peck. It got the desired reaction. Sinead LOVES Gregory Peck. And intellectuals.

I finally caved and went to lunch with LUKE. It is his birthday, after all. The Martin-maton was pricelss. Rodrigo didn't disappoint either. The Martin-maton's apfelsaftschorle wasn't bubbly enough so he sent it back. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Knowing that we could all agree on "a plate of cat" we chose the chinese restaurant across the street. Our diminutive hostess (by now well familiar to us) was smiling as broadly as ever but today she had ice water in her veins. She tolerated no deviation from the "lunch menu" and wouldn't even consider mini spring rolls instead of the usual "pillow-o-grease." Vegitarian spring roll my ass! While the three of them had their burrito-esque "spring rolls" I had the hot and sour soup.

Martin kept lifting up his glass and sniffing it and then making a face. Finally, when our hostess came out, he said "This apfelsaftschorle doesn't have enough bubbles" and handed it to her. He made the sniffing face again for her. She took the thing, sniffed it and unceremoniously dumped it into the nearest plant before huffing away.

I started laughing so hard at the whole scene that I couldn't talk. Luke, laughing as hard as I was, looked over toward the plant just as a dwarf was coming around the corner. Timing is everything. At that moment, Rodrigo (who couldn't see the dwarf yet) started laughing. The Martin-maton sat there the whole time displaying his normal rictus.

Luke looked the other way so fast he probably got whiplash for a birthday present and the dwarf looked at us with malice. He likely thought we were laughing at him. We weren't. Everyone knows dwarves are no laughing matter. This one in particular. He was tattooed and pierced and had a ferocity that belied his stature. Fortunately he went inside. Had a fight broken out, I'm not sure how I would have explained to the Colonel that I was in a fight with a dwarf over a glass of juice that the chinese hostess had thrown in the juniper bush.

Sinead picked a hell of a day to go to the dentist.

Joe was snoring so loudly last night that I couldn't sleep. He doesn't do it often but it's allergy season and there are pollens in the air. I wasn't cranky about it but I'm tired today.

I love watching him sleep. We're both at that age where we are starting to look more mature. Dancing around the "40" number brings it out, I guess. When I was in my early thirties, no one ever guessed my age but now people in shops are starting to call me "sir." There's a wake up call for you. It all still looks good though and Joe looks great. He's getting grey though (even as closely cropped as he keeps his hair, it shows, but it's sexy as hell). I probably wouldn't have thought that five years ago but I do now.

His jaw line is still as firm as ever and he's a maniac about working out. He's a grown up man though, and looks the part. Nothing boy-ish about Joe. Except his sense of fun and good attitude. I have that too.

We're happy together but we face a hard future if it "goes the distance." He's a career Marine and I'm a civil servant, having left my uniform behind. If it's going to work it's going to work because I give up my job and follow him around.

The last time I checked, the Marine Corps didn't pay for gay husbands or spousal partners or whatever the hell we are supposed to call ourselves. And some of the places he could get stationed! Jesus. What if he gets sent to 29 palms? What the hell would I do for work and how the hell would we live with any quality of life there? They might even try to make him live in the BOQ somewhere. After all, he is "single." Ugh.

We have it rough when it comes to the basics. To make it really work, I guess he'd have to get out and we'd both have to land jobs where we both like living and then see. Even then, there are stresses for gay couples that will never exist for straight couples.

I was thinking about all that stuff and more as I was watching Joe sleep. It was depressing but then I remembered about living in the moment and things felt better. For now, things are good. When the challenges come, we'll deal with it. For now though, things are good.

I thought that guys who live in the same city and meet and couple up have it all over on us but they seem to face the same challenges and difficulties the rest of us do. Maybe, as the old saying goes, "fate is not in the stars but in ourselves"?

Work is quiet today. It's Luke's 35th birthday and he's bumming. First of all, he has to go to lunch with Rodrigo and the Martin-maton (if you've ever watched "sprockets" you'll get it about Martin). They invited me but I ran from it. Luke's on his own with this one.

Tomorrow Sinead and I will take Luke to lunch for his day after the birthday lunch. We'll probably go to the Thai restaurant although it's hard to get Sinead anywhere near cigarette smoking. These germans smoke like fiends. Sinead hates that. I tell her the only reason she hates it so much is because in a past life she was the Marlboro Man. Her common response involves something about being a northeastern liberal and having had several crushes on intellectuals of any stature and how would the Karmic cycle come around to THAT after having been the MARLBORO MAN??? It's all very confusing.

Tonight I am going to be interviewed by a 5th grader. It's for a school project. The questions are going to be things like "Who is the most important person in your life."

I wonder if I answered "The most important person in my life is the person who first helped me fully actualize as a homosexual" if that would be too much for Mrs. Hanson and her brood of 5th graders. John Ashcroft already thinks that we are "after America's children." I may as well not play into his hand. I guess I'll answer "my dad." That would be true anyway. I love my dad and it's great between us. Same with my mom.

Look out Mrs. Hanson, here I come.

What a weekend. Jesus. Two of my mom's friends are visiting from the states. They're cool enough with the gay thing but Joe and I aren't exactly quiet most of the time. And you don't necessarily want to leave the lube laying around in sight of sixty-something women. Especially your mom's friends. They're nice though and no trouble. They've laundered everything that's not nailed down and vacuumed and dusted the rest.

Joe freaked yesterday. We came home and one of them was ironing one of his uniforms. You don't touch Joe's uniforms. It's a Marine thing. He looked at me and looked at her and opened and closed his mouth a couple times but in the end, didn't say anything.

He went over and looked. He watched her iron. He just stood there watching and then got this big grin on his face. "Where the FUCK did you learn to do that?"

As I was wincing over the "fuck" I heard her telling my boyfriend "My husband was a carrer Marine for 30 years." I know more about this than YOU do. Her husband (now dead) retired as a colonel and was on the short list for his star but he wanted to retire more than he wanted to wear a star.

The rest of the afternoon, through cocktails and on into dinner and the evening were spent in Marine bonding. It was amaing to watch. They're best friends now and she's doing his uniforms! Unbelieveable. I still make better Martinis though.

As for Marine bonding. Well, I've bonded plenty so I enjoyed them having their fun.

Marines. They love their secret handshake bullshit more than anything. I wouldn't trade Joe though. He's the deal.

It rained like crazy all weekend but now it's nice. What a tease. Still, a weekend is a good thing in any kind of weather. I miss one thing about my old job though. I could blow off the office on a nice day like today and get out. Now I am chained to the desk(and they ain't bonds of love either.

Luke and I are talking about going on the road for awhile with the music. That could be interesting but it wouldn't do much to contribute to my current domestic bliss.

I wanted to meet Mick and Sinead at the Irish pub in Munich this weekend but Joe and I went to the baths instead. We hooked up with my pal Jens who is into some very adventuresome stuff. We were lounging in the Turkish bath section while he told us stories of his friday night. I don't know where that boy gets his nerve.

Meanwhile, my two lady guests were shopping in the big department stores around Marienplatz. We had made arrangments to meet later and then go to the Armani bar for cocktails before dinner. I was going to call Luke and Natasha to meet us but my phone was in the car. Typical.

We thought about taking them clubbing after but that's not for the faint of heart in Munich. As gay friendly as they are, it would be too much. One does not take one's mother's friends to BAU or the THE STUD. Maybe to NIL but even so, not such a good idea.

Sunday was as cultured as Saturday was hedonistic. Lunch and a concert at Schloss Elmau and a walk and then cocktails and dinner at home. All in all a nice weekend.

Now the grind is on. It's a bit better today though. I've had email from an old e-pal that has reminded me of different times and some valuable things. I like the hell out of this guy and wonder what it would have been like if we'd met...

One never knows.

Brad burst into my office with a "you won't believe this" look on his face and said "Those people over at the gym are offering Brazilian waxing now!"

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's when they wax everything from your navel to the top of your thighs. Everything. You'd look hot if you had it done before going to the baths. I've seen guys at the baths with it and it looks hot."

"How much?" I asked.

"20 dollars. I think it's a good value."

"You think?"

"Yeah. You couldn't pay a guy to shave you for that and think how clean it is. It's a good value."

"Who does it?"

"Linda."

"LINDA?! Jesus. Can you see running into her at the commisary after she's waxed you?"

"What." Brad said. "It's no different than running into the guy that gives you your enema."

Just then my phone rang. Thank god.

"Jake, you're a mess" were the first words of any significance that I heard Joe say this morning. It's not everyday a guy gets to wake up hearing his partner overstate the obvious.

He's just jealous because I knew who Hartmann Schedel was and he didn't. Like it matters. It all started at the beer hall. We were meeting these two boozy old liberal women for drinks last night. They're more intellectual than we are. i.e. "Hartmann Schedel" vs. "Celtic or Tribal Tattoo?"

Barb said that the difference between devout church people in days of yore (my words not hers) was that they were thoughtful. For example, Hartmann Schedel, a truly orthodox catholic who was, none the less, a humanist.

Joe said "Hartmann WHO?"

"Schedel," Barb said. "Hartmann Schedel."

"Yeah tough guy," I said, "Schedel. Hartmann. Humanist. Historian. Lived in Nuremburg. Studied humanism with Lider at Padua. His main six cycle work was published in Venice. You know, Hartmann Schedel. Medieval cat."

"You are SO full of CRAP." Joe said.

"No I'm not. Google it."

"When did he live and die then?"

"1440 - 1514."

"How could you KNOW that??!" Joe said, exasperated. "Jesus!"

"I read."

"Yeah. Vanity Fair. Gay Times. The Advocate. Spartacus. The Rules at the bathouse. No, wait, you don't read the rules at the bathouse."

"Never mind." I sulked.

The thing about Joe is, he's right. I'm a damned mess. I know stuff like Hartmann Schedel but do nothing with it. It's all about "Hey Joe, let's go out!" or "Leave me alone for awhile, I want to play my guitar." Or "Hey Joe, come to bed!" Or "Hey Joe! Let's take a shower and hit the clubs and then go to the baths!"

I learned all about Hartmann Schedel - and more - but it didn't do me one damned bit of good. I can sure as hell tell you the name, make and model of every dildo in the house though.

Oh well, we can't all be intellectuals.

Catholic School. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! My mom has a note sent home with me when I was in elementary school with the Christian Brothers. My teacher wrote "Jake doesn't do particularly well with English or Math but he takes beatings well." Mom recently sent it to Joe in his birthday card. He thought it was funny as hell.

It's ugly at work today. Administrivia everywhere and the inmates are still running the asylum. I'm expecting the flying monkeys to show up any day now.

Sinead was hilarious at lunch today. That is to say, before we started talking about the sad state of affairs in the american governement just now. That's not hilarious. The hilarious part was this story she told about being in catholic school.

During her elementary days, the nuns had the kids in the adjoining cemetary picking up leaves and trash to get it ready for all saint's day. That, of course means that they were out there on a blustery halloween afternoon. Cleaning the cemetary. Could you GET any more catholic?

Even back then Sinead was a smart and sensitive girl so she discreetly left. As she was walking home she became aware of someone behind her. She looked back to see a nun, black robes billowing, arms outstreched, her mouth contorted in a rictus of anger running after her. What a sight. Sinead ran. She ran fast.

The crow-like nun gave up the chase but Sinead knew she would be waiting to exact her revenge the next day at school.

One time Earth Mother told me a story about her husband's catholic school days. In first grade, on the first day of school, one of the boys had an accident in his pants. The nun in charge made all the boys line up in the front of the room and drop their pants. The offending child was yanked out of the room amidst a barrage of verbs from the nun. I bet he's not a confident grown up.

Catholic School. My friend Joe (not my boyfriend Joe) teaches at a good catholic university. He says now they are proposing that students and faculty sign statements saying they are not gay and that they espouse "catholic values." Sounds sort of like being a republican.

Working for Rumsfeld is kind of like being chased down the street by a nun. You might not get caught that day but the day of reckoning is "out there." You never know exactly what form it's going to take but one of these days this crowd will get us. One way or another.

Luke and Sinead and I and Rodrigo had lunch at Marcus' restaurant today but it was a mixed bag. Rodrigo was pissy from the start because he has a bad attitude about Markus and Doris was ineffectual at keeping orders straight and getting stuff out on time. It was long. The food was good though. Real good. Except I ate half of Luke's soup because Doris gave it to me but then I gave it to him. We're both guitar players. We can share soup.

Rodrigo was like a pissy old librarian, making faces and looking at his watch and shifting in his seat as if he had sand in his panties. It was damn funny. His wife keeps him on a short leash. He'll catch hell tonight for not going home at lunch. He wanted to have enough time to swing by the house, say hi and make it look like he was busy at work but now he's going to be caught at having been out to lunch and it will be bad for him.

Sinead said that her Irish language lessons are coming along just fine. She's learning a song.

We talked about america's recent human rights abuses in the Iraqi prison and what is to be done. The answer is clear but not simple. It's nice to know we are all equally disgusted. It's good to know thinking people.

Joe is furious. We're all furious. I would like to think this could cost the Bush bunch their administration but I'm a homo and thus used to disappointments and not being naive.

We'll see what happens next. In the meantime, I have the best friends ever and Joe! Well, Joe is just the best.

Today a whole lot of people in the news are calling for Rumsfeld to resign. Bush is defending him though. Loyalty. The problem with a possible Rumsfeld resignation is that whoever we get might be worse. I can't fathom Defense Secretary Wolfowitz. It's all bad but some of it is way bad.

The idiot Delay was defending Rumsfeld on T.V. this morning. Among his comments, he stated that calling for the man's resignation before he got a fair chance to tell his side of the story was "not the American way."

I suppose abusing prisoners and being so proud of it you want photographs and covering it up since January or longer IS the American way? What are these people thinking? Apparently their arrogance knows no boundries.

I didn't sleep again last night because of all of this. Joe's mad too. Any decent person who serves and wears a uniform past or present should be outraged. I hope this costs the current crowd and costs them big. We need to get out of Iraq all together and pay attention to the real war on terror. Problem is, now we've created a whole new one. We'll be reaping a bitter harvest for years to come. Thank you Mr. Bush and company.

My old boss (a retired three star) just came out in the American media with a statement that we should pull out of Iraq. If I were Bush, I'd listen to him. He's smart as hell. You don't have to be smart though, to know the obvious.

I'm going to a dinner party tonight. We all made a pact in advance to not talk politics. It's going to be tough to do but we're going to stick it out. We're all liberals but optimistic ones. Maybe things will continue to unravel and old "W" will see a popularity plummet like his father saw. Then we can have a second one term Bush and get on with things.

Michael Moore is at it again. It will be interesting to see where it goes. I hope that (due to his stridence) he hasn't compromised his effectiveness.

I have to take a nap this afternoon. I'll take the afternoon off from work and do laundry and nap. It's raining and work is a drag. Good afternoon to burn some time. Then the dinner party. Maybe before dinner I'll see if Luke wants to meet for cocktails at the Armani bar.

Beats working. Maybe I'll even iron Joe's shirts. He'd like that.

"The other girls are looking at shoes." That's what Elizabeth said when I asked her where everyone went. We were at a wine tasting that was being held in an upscale shopping area in Munich. We came for wine. They came for shoes. They said wine but they meant shoes.

It all started earlier this morning. I was out on the balcony off our bedroom. Joe was still snoozing. Somehow I managed to get out of his arms and out of bed without waking him up. I even had time to make the coffee while he snoozed (a rarity).

There's this great balcony that faces west off the upstairs bedroom that is our own. Downstairs there's an even bigger, wrap around balcony that faces three directions. Great for cocktail parties with the big glass doors open. Upstairs is the private balcony though.

The view is good in the morning because of its west exposure. As the sun comes up over the Alps, the light hits the mountains. They illuminate from the top down as the sun rises. I never get tired of watching it.

That's where I was, having my first cup of coffee, when I heard soft steps. I looked up just in time to get a scratchy kiss on the neck. Joe looks so good in the morning in his rumpled t-shirts and boxers. I love it when he doesn't shave for awhile but it never lasts long. Marines.

"What are you thinking about?"
"About all that crap going on with those prisons in Iraq. And all the rest of it."
"That's too much first thing in the morning."

Neither of us has ever seen anything like this. We've been avoiding the topic. It's hard enough to be a military professional and a homosexual and a liberal these days. Put on top of that all of this and it becomes unbearable. A guy could loose his bearings if he weren't careful.

So many of my gay friends say "Why would you work in such a place? Why would you support such things?" But that's just it. We don't support such things. We're both dedicated to service careers for all the altruistic reasons. Liberals should be able to serve too, right? Even homosexuals have public service careers.

Joe said "Let's get dressed, let's go get haircuts and then let's go to that wine tasting with Elizabeth and her friends. After that we can go to the Irish pub and see if Sinead and Mick are there and call Luke and Natasha. Luke needs new places to go so the fish king won't find him."

I agreed. "Let's invite Brad too." Joe agreed. We like Brad.

The barbershop was as fun as ever, all turks and patrons and when we left we decided to walk so we could see if the grape leaves on the arbor at the french restaurant were out and if the vines on Sendlinger Tor were blooming yet.

Halfway there, we met Elizabeth and her three girl friends so we went the rest of the way together. They were having a good time. They had probably already been wine tasting but you never know in the case of Elizabeth because that girl can hold her liquor. If Joe had been able to hold his liquor that well I would have likely never gotten to first base but the rest is (as they say) history.

Somehow, well into the wine tasting, we realized the girls were gone. "Looking at shoes" Elizabeth said. "And Brad?" I asked. "With the girls" Joe said. "Of course" I said.

Luke and Natasha showed up but didn't want wine so we went to the Irish pub in search of Mick and Sinead. When we got there, Mick was sitting in all his brittanic glory reading the London Times and Sinead was nowhere to be found. Mick was happy to see us though.

"Where's the wild Irish rose?" Joe asked. "Nice haircuts" Mick answered.

We all ordered Guiness except Natasha who wanted a slow gin fizz. Jesus. Russians. We talked her into a mineral water. She's so skinny that her diet must be two leaves of spinach and fortytwo cigarettes a day.

Sinead was at her class. She's studying the Irish language. We all agreed that it was better to drink our Irish Guiness rather than study the Irish language. When we all go to the emerald isle, Sinead will be our front man.

We made a pact not to talk politics but to elect a president with a good Irish name because the last one with an Irish name did pretty well. We finished the afternoon up at the pub and then went our separate ways.

Joe and I went to the sauna and then clubbing before we got home. After we went to bed and after, well, after; I turned on the T.V. while Joe was in the shower. They were still talking about Iraq and prisons and Falluja and all the rest of it. Perfect. "Hurry up in there Joey" I hollered.

When he came to bed I said "hold me."

Mike and I had lunch today. I ate three hotdogs and he had tofu. I'm the gay one. He's the straight one. Go figure.

At lunch he said "Where's that hot girl you eat with?"
"What?" I said.

"You know. Hot girl. The pretty one with the tight little body and that killer ass and the long black hair and the million dollar smile."

"Oh!" I said. "Sinead!" I laughed. "You can't go near that, Mike. She's married. Married married. And it's a good one."

"Who's she married to?"

"To a Brit."

"A BRIT?! What a waste. Brits don't know what to do with women."

"Neither do I Mike but between me and her husband I'll bet we have lunch with her more often that YOU ever will."

"No man, I'm SERIOUS. Introduce me. A Brit?"

"I'm not going to introduce you, Mike. Besides she's not a brit, just her husband. She's American."

"She looks Irish."

"She is Irish Mike, but American. You know, like the Kennedys."

"She's hot man."

That was my lunch with Mike.