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April 2011


my (our) books

Fool for Love When You Don't See Me

Someone Like You I'm Your Man

He's The One It Had To Be You

The Mammoth Book of New Gay Erotica Best Gay Erotica 2007

Best Gay Love Stories: New York City Best Gay Love Stories 2005

Three Fortunes In One Cookie The Deal


If you have any of the above books and would like them signed, mail them to:

P.O. Box 131845, Houston, TX., 77219.

Please include three dollars for return postage.

Send email to timothyjlambert@gmail.com

Warning: This blog may contain homosexuals which in the states of California and Maine have been alleged to destroy the sanctity of marriage. Read at your own risk.


recommended courses of action

Scout's Honor Rescue is an all-breed, no-kill, Not-For-Profit 501(c)(3) animal rescue organization committed to bringing courage, character and compassion to Houston's homeless pet population and making a positive difference in the lives of these stray and abandoned animals and the Houston community as a whole. 100% of every dollar donated goes directly to saving the life of a homeless animal.

Scouts Honor Rescue Inc.

locally known


maine AIDS alliance

global AIDS alliance


AIDS foundation houston

bering omega community services

frannie peabody center

Timothy's hair by Larry Henderson Hair Design.

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I was scrubbing the baseboards in L____'s kitchen earlier and heard the dogs complaining about something outside. It was louder than their usual cry of The neighbors let their dogs out! There are dogs that aren't us on the other side of that fence!, so I went outside to see what was the matter. All of the dogs were straining against the back gate, obviously wanting something in the yard. It was a fairly comical scene, because the pack of five range in size from a shoe box to a Sherman tank, and they were huddled together like beasts at a watering hole. Luckily the tank didn't sit on the shoe box.

There was a kid sitting on his bike staring at the dogs from the road.

"Shut up!" I roared, adding as much growl to the command as I could. All of the dogs fell silent, surprisingly, and I was sort of impressed with myself. Siege, a slightly dopey Doberman, sat down. Luckily, he didn't sit on Minute, the shoe box. I called to the kid, "Hi there."

"I was just looking at your dogs," the kid said.

"Did it sound like they want to be looked at?" I asked. Sam, the Sherman tank, a dog who weighs more than I do, looked up at me with a long string of drool hanging from his massive jowls.

"I don't know," he said.

"I guess you'll know for sure when they figure a way to get through that gate and kill you. Good luck with that," I said before going back inside.

A minute later, before I crouched to the floor to finish the baseboards, I saw the kid peddling away at lightning speed. Smart lad.