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NOH8

April 2011

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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

contact

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.



Jon%20DeMichaelQuantcast


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

join(RED)

maine AIDS alliance

global AIDS alliance

UNAids

AIDS foundation houston

bering omega community services

frannie peabody center


Timothy's hair by Larry Henderson Hair Design.


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it's oh so quiet. NOT


Don't you hate it when it's almost 5 AM and your houseguest (who is not Kato) went to bed around 4:20 AM, so you creep softly into your apartment because you know he's asleep, and you close the front door very quietly behind you and even make sure to take off your dog's collar, so the jingle jangling of the dog tags won't disturb the quiet, not to mention your houseguest (again, not Kato). Then, once you've brushed your teeth and peed, and brushed your dog's teeth (he peed before y'all went inside, of course), you turn out the downstairs light and then say, "Let's go to bed," which of course is the phrase you always use so your dog knows that's his cue to go upstairs—you know, where the bed is—confident he knows his way in the dark by now, since he's lived with you for five months. Halfway up the stairs you hear a loud KATHUNK behind you, where the dog is, and you wince, hoping the ruckus hasn't disturbed your houseguest (still not Kato), not to mention your cat, who is known to start howling to be fed every time your feet hit the stairs. After a pregnant pause (it's a clumsy boy dog!), the gentle deep breathing of your houseguest (never was Kato, never will be) and the howling cat-free zone upstairs assures you that it's safe to proceed. However, once at the top of the stairs, the dog is no longer behind you. He is now kathunking the rest of the way down the staircase. Damn it. You carefully dash across the room on demi-pointe like a retarded ballet dancer in the dark to turn on the light farthest away from where your houseguest (Kato would just use up all your hair products anyway) is ramarkably still sleeping, and then dash back down the stairs to find your clumsy dog staring at you, as if to say How the hell could you let me fall down the stairs like that? I'm calling Child Protective Services on your ass, mister. After a lengthy apology and bolstering your goofy yellow dog's confidence with kisses on the nose and a promise that he'll make it and—oh, look, the light is on upstairs so you have a focal point now with which to aim your clumsy ass this time, you watch as your dog hops, skips and surprisingly quietly jumps up the stairs and right into the path of your cat, who promptly begins to scream, WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN ALL NIGHT YOU RAT BASTARD AND WHY HAVEN'T YOU FED ME YET I WANT MY FOOD NOW NOW NOW HAVE I MENTIONED I WANT MY FOOD NOW YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A BIPED I DON'T KNOW WHY I BOTHER TO LET YOU LIVE HERE ANYWAY I SHOULD'VE LEFT YOUR SORRY ASS BACK IN NEW YORK CITY AND AM I TALKING TO MYSLEF HERE MISTER MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT HEFT THAT FOOD INTO MY BOWL DAMN IT! Finally the beast from hell is fed, the dog hasn't peed on the carpet while your back is turned and—miracle upon miracles—your houseguest (Kato wouldn't come anyway, not after the last time) is still sleeping. But now, of course, you're too keyed up to sleep and "Seasons in the Sun" is stuck in your head.

Don't you hate it when that happens?

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