The only good thing about the sinus cold that is ravaging me from the neck up is the fact that it waited until the end of this year’s trip to Ogunquit to strike. Thank you, thank you, thank you for that small favor. (Other years have not turned out as fortuitously.) Unfortunately, that meant going into work with a countenance that was decidedly less than happy. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a wimp when it comes to sickness – after a childhood wracked with asthma and lactose issues, I can take a bit of sickness and discomfort without much complaint. However, when I do get ill, it’s no joke. And yes, I’m a little testy, but never wimpy about things. Needles and blood tests and hospitals never scared me. Hopefully we won’t get to that point. I’ll stick to a steady regime of Zicam and hot green tea made with boiled water infused with fresh ginger coins. Tastes as delightful as it sounds!

In the meantime, I promise to do my best in getting back on track with some updates regarding recent Boston and Maine trips, and some magical Madonna moments as well. The Delusional Grandeur Tour isn’t slated to resume until next week’s ‘Book of Mormon’ performance at Proctor’s, so there’s some time for recuperation. I am determined to let nothing derail this tour! Ok, the second exclamation point in as many paragraphs is a clear indication that I’m not right! Oh God, there’s a third. Heading out to find my mind…

I’ve long maintained that Tuesday mornings are far worse than Monday mornings, and that holds doubly true on the Tuesday after a Monday holiday. I’m not sure why I’ve always thought less of Tuesdays. Maybe it was that damn religious education class that we were forced to take on Tuesday afternoon, the one that extended the school day well beyond that of those fortuitously-non-Catholic heathen classmates. More than that, though, I think it’s because one expects that avalanche of awfulness that is Monday, so when it comes, it’s never as bad as it seems.

Tuesday takes you by difficult surprise, the morning minutes slowing to a snail’s pace, halting and hesitating and making themselves known in a cadence that usually goes unnoticed on a Monday. Of course since today is the first day of a workweek, it may function more like Monday in that respect. So I’m hoping I won’t mind this Tuesday as much. I’ll save the drudgery for Wednesday.

This post has been brought to you by post-weekend/post-vacation laziness.

It seems strange to be celebrating a man who basically ravaged this country’s native people, so this “holiday” will pass without much notice from me, other than a day of thanks for having it off from work. It’s certainly no reason to skip the weekly recap, so here it is, a bit later in the non-work day.

It began in fine Hunky fashion, with the likes of Matthew Manning making his debut as the Hunk of the Day. A day later, Jeff Grant had his Hunk cherry popped in even finer fashion.

Boston will be coming back here in a big way, as I’m about to drop a few Beantown posts that will round up the last couple of tour stops there.

I’m popping bottles that you can’t even afford, I’m throwing parties and you won’t get in the door.

A Hunk by the name of Leo Sabato makes for a sunny Sunday indeed. And Monday. And every day.

Things got very eclectic here, not just once, but twice.

Hotels and Tours go hand in naked hand.

Vagabond Booty.

The Delusional Grandeur Tour continued, as three more installments of the Tour Book hit the blog:

On the Road/Hotel: Part I

On the Road/Hotel: Part II

On the Road/Hotel: Part III

The (male) Flesh & the Fantasy is all coming back to me now.

And more male flesh comes back again.

Continuing with our exploration of the whimsical and strange posts that have appeared on this site, here are a few more out-of-the-ordinary posts. That means entries without Gratuitous Nudity, Naked Male Celebrities, Male Models, Male Nudity or Tom Daley. But there’s still worth looking at, I swear! In fact, I find them much more entertaining than my ass, or anyone else’s ass, and that’s saying something.

Color me nostalgic.

A favorite bathroom floor experience.

Adventures in Babysitting.

Do I make you porny?

The thrill of recognition.

Heart of gold.

Kitchen mayhem (not of my doing!)

A WalMart Midnight.

Speaking of the midnight hour…

McFly, my pretties.

Hot pause.

The Seagull.

Baseball, baby.