Noleta Has Emerged!

Hi all!

Yes, "Noleta has emerged"! A line from one of my favorite movies (and the inspiration for the blog title). A few minutes into Sordid Lives, Delta Burke storms out of her trailer, throwing out her cheatin', no good husband's belongings, and a neighbor says, "Oh, Noleta has emerged!"

I'm back from vacation. A little tanner, a little fatter, and a heckuva lot more relaxed. Thank goodness that storm called Ernesto moved up the East Coast, rather than churning up through the Gulf of Mexico. I feel bad for all those inland and on the coast too, having to deal with all that wind and rain. Ironically, a couple staying at the same place as me, is from Richmond, VA, and they got hit by a Hurricane while on vacation previously.

I've got lots of stuff to write about the trip, but I'll go ahead throw out a shameless plug for the wonderful little place we stayed. Casa de Playa is absolutely fabulous! Private, perfect, and just 30 steps from the beach. It's on the west end of Panama City Beach, away from all the hotels and high rises, so it's a bit quieter. Of course, the time of year is pretty good too, since it's after the big tourist season. The owners, a lovely gay couple, really know how to balance entertainment with privacy. Their beautiful home is adjacent to the guest house and pool and hottub, and were kind enough to invite my friends and I over for a dinner party last Monday night.

The food was phenomenal to say the least. Pork roast, potato salad, cole slaw, green beans spiced up with tomatoes and peppers, and fried apples. A Southern Boy's Delight! I hate mayonnaise, but the potato salad and cole slaw weren't too bad...in fact it was downright delicious. I made a caramel pie to take over, as any good Southern Gentleman would, and it was a big success. When I followed one of the homeowners in to the kitchen to put the pie in the freezer to chill, I noticed a portable DVD player next to the sink, and lo and behold, there was some Brazilian gay porn just playing away. Again, I'm a gentleman, so I just politely smiled and walked back outside to the deck/pergola and sipped on my margarita.

Several margaritas later and before dinner, I switched do a lovely Australian red wine. Let me setup the small party for you. There were four couples (including my friends I was vacationing with), me, plus a friend of the hosts who happens to play at a local piano bar. Nice looking, tall, built, tan, nice looking, tall, built...seems like a nice guy. The night before I hinted to the hosts that I was single and would like to meet said piano friend. Well the piano man got me confused for one of my coupled friends and spent the better part of ten minutes flirting and with him. Then when he realized the error of his ways, he latched on to me and began his mating ritual dance. After a few drinks and chatting, he started the whole "rubbing his leg against mine" thing, and saying things like, 'you have wonderful lips, I bet they'd feel good around ..." and "I'm really horny". C'mon. Be a little more subtle! I mean sheesh! I was like, oh you're duurrty. After some groping and sloppy kisses, he confides in me, "I'm sorry I think I've had too much to drink or something, because I can't get hard." Um, hello. If "Let's go back to my place, so you can see my apartment" wasn't a turn off, the part about not getting hard definitely was the ace in the hole for making sure there was no ace in the hole.

Of course that's just my side of the story. And there's still the rest of the week to talk about too.