Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Waiting In The Concourse

The issue with dating again, if there is just one issue, is the complex dance of ritual required. These movements to attract just the right individual; this being a complete painfully long blog post of its own,  just to begin the hallowed and celebrated rites of gay mating.

First off, is the sorting of the guys pinging you on Grindr.  Are they coming in for a hard landing on the trick tarmac, or deplaning into the potential dateable concourse. That was a horrible analogy; let's forget I attempted to compare dating to air travel. But... they both require a whole body scan to look for foreign substances, and there's the joy of having your luggage searched by a stranger wearing rubber gloves. They both have very long lines, sometimes delayed for hours before take off. And, they both have the distinct possibility of falling from the sky in a mangled mass of bloody flesh and twisted steel.

Yet, my argument does hold merit. That a lot of energy is expelled in the messaging back and forth. On the positive side, I can easily sort out the around five-thousand guys who have the "NSA, right now" philosophy.  Not because I object with the philosophy, it's just that Daddy has stuff to do, and my day is too planned out to drop everything and meet up with a blonde with shows me his bunnywabbit pink anus.  As I write this, I have five hundred words due on the Arab-Byzantine wars, I don't have a free moment to bring Nasty home for a holiday. Also, I'm an old fashioned girl.

That being said, the planned outings are very nice. Getting a new shirt, freshening  up the haircut,  putting a new layer of Just For Men in the beard. And.... in case you're listening to other bloggers out of the streets, my beard looks completely natural when it's dyed. I asked my Mother and my Pastor, and out of anyone they wouldn't lie to me. With all that being said, I'm VERY new to the whole dating thing. The last "first date" I had, occurred on the same day that the first iPhone was launched,  June 29, 2007.  I am, and the world, is a different place in the years that have passed, We're on the verge of iPhone 6, and Steve 4S.  It doesn't help that the few guys I've had this strange "first date" experience with were seventeen when the iPhone launched. Yet, it seems they have been out on more dates.

It's a strange gay dating world out there in Denver, Co. Yet, I plan on diving into the dating pool.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Damn Convention

Damn conventionalists. Damn convention. The weather outside seemed a tiny bit different this morning. A change had happened. When approaching my morning routine of walking the dog, there was a difference in the air. It was chilly. Now, it wasn't cold mind you. It was just a couple of degrees towards Autumn and away from summer.

I noticed it right away. This made me squee on the inside. This tiny almost unnoticeable change gave me a reason to pull my Man Uggs from the very back of the closet. I sighed as I slipped the sheepy softness onto my feet.

Now, it wasn't cold enough to put pants on. So tonight for class you'll see Stevieb rocking his Man Uggs and shorts.

Damn the conventionalists. Damn convention.

I guess I'm ready for Autumn. 

Monday Flannel

Sunday, August 24, 2014


So as many of you have noticed and sent in questions to the blog; yes, I am dating. Or, to say I'm on the hunt for a quality boy to date. This doesn't mean that Fuzzy and I have ended our eight year run, in fact just the opposite. We're stronger than ever. 

Our tastes have just evolved. He now has a boyfriend and for all intents and purposes, we are in a triad. This means I get two Christmas presents and two birthday presents. Jim, Fuzzy's boy, came along with us on the big gay cruise, and fits perfectly into our lives. 

This also means that I have been exploring the dating scene. I would call it dating; but, really the act entails hunting down and pouncing on unsuspecting twenty year olds. 

What the future holds is anyone's guess. Fuzzy, Jim, and I have started house shopping, but with the understanding that my inner chicken hawk will eventually bring a boy into the happy home. Or, some other situation will dictate the needs of all. 

Friday, August 22, 2014

Countdown to Folsom

There are 30 days until my trip to San Francisco's Folsom Street Fair. A trip that is required in the gay scriptures as needing to happen at least once in a devoted homos lifetime. This trip to Mecca dictates circling this street fair five times to prove your devotion to all things gay-holy. 

This year is my year to prostrate myself to all thing gay and leathery. I can't say what I'm most excited about. I am jumping out of my skin to see SF again, a city I'd call home in a heart beat. I'm excited to see friends and hang out with and make new friends. I'm like a kid waiting for Christmas to go to Folsom. I am only perplexed with what treads I should wear. As you can imagine Folsom has a strict dress code. No, normal on the street clothes should be worn. Hummmmm... so should I break open my cobweb covered leather closet, wrestling gear, just a jock? I could go native? Where does one put their iPhone when naked on a city street? 

These are important questions one needs to ask. What to wear to the fair? Maybe I'll go dressed as a dog catcher. See if I can net up a rubber puppy. 

Saturday, August 16, 2014

...the Universe and Everything

Ever have one of those "Lone Wolf" weekends? A weekend where it just works out that all the friends are either out of town or attending miscellaneous life events. This weekend is one of those.

I do enjoy the freedom to do whatever and do it whenever I choose. Go see a biopic on Yves Saint Laurent? I certainly don't have to share my popcorn. VooDoo doughnut run at 4am? Sure. No line. Last night I ended up at Denver's cleanest gay bath house. The Denver Swim Club. Now, I know what you are thinking, "Is Steve really blogging about going to a bath house?"  Well, yes. But, not because of what you are assuming. This gentleman's establishment (if you have never been) happens to have an outdoor pool with water the temperature of bath water. I have been obsessed with this pool all summer long. Not during the day when other naked gays are around, no. When the pitter-patter of naked tax attorneys, semi-erect semi-retired car sales men, and struggling college students can no longer be heard pool-side. In the middle of the night. When it's just me, naked under the stars.

It is commonly believed that the expanding universe has no edge. That the universe is continually  expanding into endless nothingness. Isaac Newton argued that the universe was infinite in size. Yet, as there was no way for humans to imagine its dimension, Newton wasn't really content with this idea. I however, am content to float naked in a bathhouse's out door pool watching it speed past. I stay still as possible letting the ripples of pool water slowly subside. My eyes slowly adjust to the dark sky as the non-stop thump-thump of the gay disco fades away in my mind. This is when the stars and galaxies begin to introduce themselves to me. Shy and timid at first, then like a vale being pulled away.

Eventually something pulls me out of this state. Most of the time it's an insurance broker with a Viagra induced stiffy that seems to think I need his brand of nasty, hopping into the pool.  Some times  it's a bus on the other side of the fence that noisily rattles along the street. Sometimes, even with the whole universe churning and whirling in front of me, just for me,  I get lonely and go inside. 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Steve Seeks His Soul Mate

I have lived, pretty much, in the same gay coffee house since it opened in the early nineties.  Other than a multi-year life in Dallas in which I spent all my free time drinking coffee at Crossroads, a real gay coffee shop and homo-themed book shop; The gay coffee shop on 9th and Downing on Denver's Capitol Hill was my second home. Every paper for school had been plagerized written within its walls.  First dates met and judged. Friends spending hours in quality dishing and chattering time.

Now it seems that time has moved on and this second home is gone. I mean, the business is still there, but its soul is gone. Sold to the highest bidder. This leaves me to find a new home. A new place to spend my time,  attending college, arranging first dates, and hanging out with friends.  So coffee house courtship begins. God, I hate dating. I mean when it doesn't matter, like guys, it's easy, but this hunt for a coffee shop is important.  I am seeking the type of soul mate that matches on the level of a coffee shop. It's important stuff here.

So here's my list: It must be hip/gay...ish, have munchies along with coffee, close to the gay area of town, have a decent area (with power outlets) to chill out and write, and have a continual flow of good-looking guys. And most importantly, not try to kick me out after six hours of writing. You would be amazed how hard it is to find a place like this.

I have begun my search today by writing this entry at a new place on 13th and Downing called Capitol Hill Roastery with the hip vibe of a bigger city, it held promise. The cute and bearded barista was adorable.  However; the power outlets were pretty much nonexistent.  So I fear I have not found my soul-coffeeshop.

I have this fear that I'm just a dinosaur. A gay that's left over from an earlier age when hanging out in coffee shops was cool. Now, maybe there is no need. I don't want to think I live in the wrong city. That I have a mindset of writing in a coffee shop like a New Yorker, or a bearded gay in Seattle. Denver, please prove me wrong on both counts. All I want was is a coffee shop somewhere; with a comfy chair... next to a power outlet.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Steve in The Box

I have been attempting to eat in a healthier manner. This is a far cry from the back-lash of my stuff-everything-into-my-face-hole policy I employed after the Speedo clad cruise in February. There has been an increase of dinning on the Caesar salad at restaurants, and finding myself heading to vegetarian / Vegan place to dine. On my own. And enjoying it.

This is of course not calculating my dark, deep secret. My addiction.

I have been hiding this addiction from my friends and family. My complete chemical addiction to Jack in The Box. An addiction that I am powerless to conquer. As an example, I'll will give you last Friday: For lunch I ate my healthy prepared salad to get me through evening. I then left work after ten p.m. and made a straight path for Jack in The Box for a teriyaki bowl and three egg rolls. Which, I ate sitting in my Jeep in the parking lot of my gym.  After happy egg roll time, I did go have a massively great work out, so there is that. After the gym I headed to the bar which I then closed. As I'm friends with the entire staff, I hung out after closing to watch a series of strange events, including a round of  "foreskin shots. " Better if you don't ask. I was neither the shot glass, nor the drinker.  But, I finally, in my life, feel cheated in that I don't have a built in shot glass.

Around four a.m. I headed towards the ranch. On my way I stopped off at... you guested it, Jack inThe Box. Consuming a front seat full of horrible, tasty items like a bear eating a small goat. If the bear drove a well-apointed, yet dented Jeep.

So my secret is out. I require my friends to help me kick this self-destructive habit. A habit I'm powerless to stop.  Jack. I'm braking up with you.  I know you bring me instant happiness. I know how much you love me, yet it's a calorie filled empty love. You're just no good for me. 

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Summer Squeeze

The problem with summer, if there are any real problems other than the fear of not fitting into your Speedo that you rocked after weeks of crash dieting for a cruise, is that you attempt to cram all the gusto of enjoyment for the season into a short amount of time.

I have, for the most, pushed the limits of sane and sensible fun-ness that one gay man should partake in summertide. There has also been some bumps. Literally. As you know, due to my ad nauseam Instagram photo stream (instagram.com/nice2cstevieb) I bought a Jeep in June. A Jeep that was then quickly christened by a retired pharmacist whilst running a red light. My own personal Andrea Doria. No vehicles were lost, yet my heart sank. This will lead to two weeks in August of Stevie in a rental car while the Steve-Jeep gets “work done”. Now, how am I going to impress the Bro’s in a rental car??  Seriously cramping my style.  Cruising the gym parking lot in a Camry.

Still, I can continue to squeeze summer out of summer in a rental car…

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Under My Skin

This weekend found me yearning to get out of town. That's probably why Friday evening you would of spotted my Jeep speeding through Boulder, Colorado on an escape to the Rocky Mountains.  My first road trip in the new monster Jeep, and I have to say it was amazing. Switch backs and two lane roads as mountain passes came and went. Finally.

As I grow older I am finding that I  can only really think when I'm on an open highway. Cranking up the new sound system and digging obscure tracks off the bottom of my iPod. An adventure was had, just me and my trusty Jeep, a new steed.

It was this freedom that opened up my head to mull over tiny specs of brain lint. Like... should I move to the Pacific North-West. Or, since I'm over 40 is it time to stop seeking out every trendy haircut. Can a guy my age really pull off sporting untied high tops? I did; however, come to terms with finally settling on a tattoo. Yes I still plan on getting a Latin phrase inked vertically upon my
side. Now, most dude these days have something in either Latin, Italian or "old"English tattooed upon their sides. they choose this or the logo for Cadillac. Typically the phrase is a motto the dude lives by, like "know thy self" or "Only god can judge." I was seeking a motto that defined me. But, who was I? Upon this road trip, through the high cliffs of the Rocky Mountains I found my life's motto. An epigram for my purpose in life. That short shibboleth sentence that would define me. My version of Holden's Red Hunting Hat. Right upon a hair-pin turn that I took too fast it hit me; my slogan to permanently ink into my skin....

lectisternia angustum est vita vilis

Monday, July 14, 2014

Road Trip

It is amazing to me to wake up and realize that I only have one month left of summer. Well, until school starts again, anyway. This fall semester I am getting my feet wet by taking an on-line course.  I am unsure how I'll respond to self directed learning, with my ADD. But really, the massive amounts of time spent at the coffee shop on the corner of 9th and Downing won't change any. I will just be reading about the Migration Period, you know, the period of intensified human migration in Europe from 376 to 800 AD during the transition from Late Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages. Read and studied as I undress every 20 year old that walks into the coffee shop. I will just be focused on the Early Middle Ages, instead of my usual time killing wanderings on line.

I am; However, blown away that class starts in mid August. I can report that I am checking things off my "Summer Stuff To Do" check list. I have eaten as many meals as I can in the park, bicycled around the city, read some good books, hung out naked in a pool, and explored Denver's summer culture. I have not as of yet, gone for a road trip, or gone camping. The latter may not happen as I don't have a good camping crew motivated. But, the road trip NEEDS to happen. Especially in the new Jeep.

So, here is my one month challenge. Steve needs a road trip...  

Thursday, July 3, 2014

The Day Off

I have found that the easiest way to wash my bike after a day out, is to leave it strapped to the back of my Jeep and simply drive it through the car wash. This; however, does not stand well with the managers of said car wash.  They tend to stand just outside the wash and wait for the water jets to rip the bike from its mooring.  Which has never happened. Yet.  I speed away before I get lectured.

This was Tuesday. I had taken the day off to complete some well overdue chores. The first on my long list was a dentist appointment. I recorded the time wrong and showed up an hour late. I rescheduled for early August. The next was heading to Costco to look for whole bean hazelnut coffee.   In the recent past, I have tossed out my pod brewer coffee machine and switched back to a regular coffee maker. I never really adapted to the lack of taste in the pod brewers. Since then, I have been looking for a whole bean coffee, preferably in hazelnut. What I'm finding is that there is a scary lack of whole bean coffees for sale in my town. Guess I'll resort to buying it on line.

After the errands were.... well... not completed,  I zipped home to meet the DirectTV guy. I have broken off my parasitic relationship with cable and rushed back into the arms of DirectTV.  It was a surprisingly easy installation.  Not once did the HOA version of the SS Gestapo come running to check my documents. I'm now the proud owner of a DVR that can record eight shows at once and play them in any room in the house. Epic.

This easy installation gave me just enough time to take the bike out and find some mud puddles. And after the bike's bath, I was able to enjoy the amazing summer evening on the patio of my local Leather Bar.

I do love a day off. 

Thursday, June 26, 2014

The March

It was an amazing feeling. Standing in the middle of a civic park on Pride Weekend.  I have always taken a few minutes to stop and stand in the same spot in the middle of this celebration since my very first GLBT pride day in 1988. Other than feeling old, I had an overwhelming since of history.

It is important to remember that we as GLBT citizens have taken a quantum leap in just the blink of an eye.  We have come light-years from when I started to stand on a street corner to watch the patchwork of individuals celebrating their humanity with a parade.

Back in 1992, I marched to stop Colorado voters approving an amendment that prevented the state from taking any legislative, executive, or judicial action to recognize gay and lesbian individuals as a protected class.  Meaning equal protection under the law.  We lost this fight for freedom. Yet, this fight for equal rights had a very underestimated foundation in our journey. The arrival of James Dobson and his organization, Focus on the Family, to Colorado in 1991 to funnel millions of dollars in passing this amendment.  The very same hate-based organization that helped organize the coalition to sponsors of California's Proposition 8. Their losing battle to stop marriage equality. The tides have shifted, they are finding themselves on the wrong side of history.

We march forward as Boulder County, Colorado began issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples Wednesday afternoon. This began just hours after the 10th U.S. Circuit Court struck down Utah's ban on gay marriage. And yes, Colorado attorney general's office said the licenses won't be valid. Read the whole story here Yet, it is a step in the long march to freedom.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Pride Comes Before the Fall

Two more days of work until Gay Christmas/Hanukkah! That's right, this weekend is Pridefest in Denver, Colorado.  I finally made the smart choice of taking five days off to celebrate. I decided that this year I was going to dive in and enjoy all the events surrounding the days to their full abandon.  I am going to enjoy the family atmosphere during Saturday's events and the countless parties on Saturday night and Sunday.  Maybe I'll  even get to go to our local amusement park for gay days on Monday.

I took so much time off around the holiday because I realize that I'm not as young as I used to be. Hopefully I won't be too exhausted by all the pridefulness. Nothing worse than returning to work, sunburned and tired.

I just need to get through the next two days...
Two days...

Link to Denver's LGBT center.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Beard Update

We are five months into the Steve grows a beard challenge. This is also known as "Project Wanna-Be-But-Too-Old-To-Be-A Hipster." Although I feel the challenge is going well, I am having to buy Just For Men beard dye almost weekly, and my boss has stopped talking to me without staring into my furry chin like its that puzzle box from the Hellraiser movies.

There is also this....

Yes. Random guys adding their thoughts on my fur-face from the inter-webs. The inter-web has spoken. Well, take heart judgmental random assemblage of internet dudes; There are only six more months of bushy beard covering up my nice fade[sp] As my birthday is just a half a year away.

Let us recap....

Started out here, looking like a some-
what functioning part of

Now looking like a HR call waiting
to happen.

There was one beard trim so I could have
professional portraits done with my
Christmas cat; Mr. Sprinkle Pants. 

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

The Lumberjack Horticulturist

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Have you ever locked eyes with a guy, maybe a smile is shared and then a strange feeling comes over you. The feeling that only comes to a person when they have stopped breathing. Not the hold your breath kind of stopped breathing, the kind that comes when the air is knocked out of you by something hitting your chest at top speed. Like one of those anvils from Wile E. Coyote.   In an instant you believe you could quite possibly die from this weight that has blindsided you.

This light-speed occurrence has happened a minuscule amount of times in my life. This is not to say that I have not fallen head-over-heals in love, yes I have. To quote John Green's new movie, The Fault in Our Stars,  you fall in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once, then get awaken at 3AM and sharply asked to taken the F*cking dog out. Well, John Green's quote goes something like that.

I was at Cherry Creek Mall early one January morning. I was there early because I had to deposit a check into the ATM because my bank for some satanic reason doesn't have a single branch in the state. Just ATMs. As I stood at the ATM I started to think about the kind of people who call these machines, ATM machines. As in Automated Teller Machine machines.  I decided right then that I hated those people. As I made my way to the mall exit, sporting my dirtiest of dirty sweats; I wondered if these people also use a PIN number in the ATM machine. As this was running through my mind, I saw a blur of beard and flannel move to my right. That is when I saw him.

He was sporting a real flannel shirt. Red on black. His beard was the perfect length between manly and hipster. He wore glasses. All these personal aspects highlighted the dead Kalanchoe blossfeldiana in his hand.  I knew it was a Kalanchoe because as I teenager I had a job watering plants in a greenhouse and I killed many standard houseplants.  This led me to believe he may have been the mall's Horticulturist.  Standing there before him, the early morning mall florescent lighting reflexed the gravy stains in my shirt. I was in love. Deeply, deeply in love. I croaked out something like, "What? That Kalanchoe is dead to you?" He smiled and said in equal jest, "Do you want it?"  Do I want it.... yes! I wanted it all, I wanted him. Every fiber of his lumberjacky shirt. Every hair on his face. Yes, I wanted him. Instead, I kept walking.... and now I think of him often. 

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Sunday Morning

Welcome My New Baby

I would  like to introduce my new baby to the world. Just In case you missed it elsewhere on the interweb; I give you the new Stevie Jeep...

I'm already shopping for a lift kit and massive wheels. 

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Pay Attention

I found some great life advice on Marc and Angel.com. I've desided to post my two favorite tid-bits of living advice from an article written by Marc Chernoff. 

1) Pay attention to who your real friends are. As we grow up, we realize it becomes less important to have more friends and more important to have real ones.  Remember, life is kind of like a party.  You invite a lot of people, some leave early, some stay all night, some laugh with you, some laugh at you, and some show up really late.  But in the end, after the fun, there are a few who stay to help you clean up the mess.  And most of the time, they aren’t even the ones who made the mess.  These people are your real friends in life.  They are the ones who matter most.

2) Always be loyal. True love and real friendship aren’t about being inseparable. These relationships are about two people being true to each other even when they are separated.  When it comes to relationships, remaining faithful is never an option, but a priority.  Loyalty is everything.

Monday, June 2, 2014

The New Fourteen MPG Baby

Here is a recap on how my week is going...... After five years in a mature sports sedan I finally  broken down and bought....

A Jeep.


Attempting to not be
one of the douchey Jeep
drivers that take selfies
whilst on the highway. 
As with all new Jeep owners, other than pontificating in a dogmatic manner of what things Jeep owners are allowed to drive over, (curbs, grassy knolls, children) I have spent all of my free time shopping for things to bolt on the new baby.  Bumpers, rock guards, and other expensive "off-road" accessories. I had forgotten how off roading, or 4x4 websites are like drag queen dress shops. There's a thousand ways to spend money in an attempt to improve your look; but, very few choices will avoid you looking like Anna Nicole Smith.

During the test drive I did have to test all parts of the 4x4 monster. In attempt to test the quality of sound system I HAD to crank up Rupaul and Lady Bunny's mix of Lollipop. The sales person may never recover.

So.... If you're thinking about birthday or Hanukkah presents for the next five years, gift cards to ExtremeOffRoad.com or JeepGrrrrrrrrrrr.com would work. 

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Gym, or Jack N' The Box

"You move in the direction you think."

For me, walking out to the gym at 1a.m. covered in sweat with my headphones blaring, is the most triumphant and empowering part of my life. It's that feeling, one of being Alexander the Great standing over King Darius, that I crave. Yet, why do I forget that feeling when I want to skip the gym and head straight for the bar?

It is funny how I must re-learn this lesson, over and over. How we as humans sabotage our own happiness. I find that there is nothing better in my world than completing a great workout and to be filled with accomplishment. And yet, it is tough to shut-off the little part of our brains that does not  want me to have this feeling of happiness. As I feel it is not deserved.  Is this because we attach value to the negative beliefs and thoughts we have on deserving rewards? These nagging doubts on whether we really deserve what we're striving for; apprehension that we don't deserve success. It is that fear of our achievement that isolates us.

I guess I need to pay better attention. Tune into my thoughts. Listen to find out if they are trying to sabotage my goals.  Free myself from this cycle negatively impacting the things that make me happy. Spend more energy smashing these anti-sucess beliefs with a frickin' dumbbell.

Friday, May 23, 2014

RLF (Rabbit Liberation Front)

Outside of the grand metropolis of Denver, Colorado is God's country. Well, I am unsure if it was God himself who declared this statement upon a massive billboard next to the interstate just out of where civilization ends and farms begin.  Yet, I passed this billboard in my unyielding quest to do what I've done non-stop since school let out; shop for a new car. This visit to the countryside brought me to a dealership that specialized in over sized Dodge farm trucks.

I was; however, not there for the farm trucks. I was there for the Jeeps. This particular dealership had Wranglers in spades. So many that they were not on the dealers lot, but on a grass knoll next to the sprawling complex.  I climbed the grass knoll to look for a Wrangler with my tight, and unquenching list of "needs" like, the correct radio, automatic climate control, the best color.  Sometimes I feel I should do what BMW owners have done for decades. Fly to the factory, pick their new car up straight from the assembly line, drive around Germany, and have it shipped home. Although, instead of zipping around Munich, I'd be touring around Toledo, Ohio.  No difference, really.

As I peered into window after window I noticed something strange under every Jeep. Cages? Those humane trap cages used to capture feral cats. Since this was God's country and there was noting but fields around the dealership, I was intrigued as to what they were capturing. Then, I saw a cage with a huge rock in it. Wait? A furry rock?  A huge furry rock with ears? Bunny!!!!!!!!

The dealership had a line of fuzzy bunnies in cages. All looking scared as they pretended to be rocks. As the facility was closed, those bunnies  would be there a long time. This is when I snapped. I grabbed the cage with a terrified rabbit inside and began to dislodged the bunny. Shaking the cage like a ketchup bottle.  Upon freeing three bunnies,  I had trouble with the fourth cage. As I struggled with the door, the bunny inside and I locked eyes. This is when I said out loud, "I'm going to get you out of here" in my best Indiana Jones voice. After shaking the cage like a cereal box the bunny went bouncing to the ground. I'm sure he thanked me as he ran for the safety of the fields.

I ran too. To my car. I'm quite sure there was video of a crazy man manifesting bunnies like a magician. They would of told me everything that everyone else has said upon hearing of my idiotic act.  That rabbits harbor disease, I could easily of picked up something. It is not like I licked them. I didn't even touch them. I was raised on a farm with pet rabbits, I do know all the precautions. Like to not mess with strange rabbits under Jeeps. As for buying a Jeep out in God's Country? No thank you. All their Jeeps have damn rabbits chewing up the wiring. They really should do something about that.

Stevie B. Bunny Wrangler.