This winter was not kind to the Japanese Umbrella Pine I relocated to the front of the house, dealing some harsh burns to a number of its lower branches, which were largely surrounded by snow and ice for much of the season. The majority of the plant has remained intact and green, however, so I’m hopeful it will spring back in the coming months. Mother Nature can be a dangerous mistress.

Big changes are afoot here (well, in my life, which will translate to this blog) but more on that later. Let’s just say this will be a spring of new experiences all around, and there won’t be much looking back. Except for Monday mornings. Here we go again…

Last week Harry Judd got naked again for Attitude magazine’s 20th anniversary special (providing these two new luscious shots,) while David Beckham debuted a rather lack-luster swimwear line.

I finally posted a full-frontal shot, followed quickly by an almost-full-frontal shot. Not sure which was less well-received.

Lest you think it was all hard and edgy, things got soft and sweet with some under-the-table action, some statuesque poses, and some lotion-rubbing antics.

For some reason, this sort of flashing always makes me wet in the face.

Justin Timberlake grabbed his crotch ~ truly, madly, and deeply.

Meanwhile, I put my cock in a sock and recorded the moment for posterity.

Madonna has a way of waking me up, even when it’s not over.

While I’m not the biggest fan of the various restaurant weeks that go on in Albany and Boston, they do serve their purpose for those who don’t get out much. For those of us that do, they’re usually a disappointing exercise in which my favorite restaurants go cheap on their portions and service in the hopes of attracting the average non-restaurant-goer. But I won’t piss on this year’s Downtown Albany Restaurant week, where one can get a three-course meal for $20.14 – mainly because Downtown Albany (not to be mistaken for ‘Downton Abbey’ despite what my FaceBook and Twitter friends not-so-wittily say) needs all the help it can get. See, I am supportive of this city.  Eat your heart out, Downtown Albany!

Having waxed rhapsodic about the Victorian Stroll last winter, I find a growing soft-spot in my heart for Troy. Suzie’s even contemplating a move there, and tonight my parents are taking us out to dinner followed by a show at the Troy Music Hall. (The last time I was there must have been when I was onstage performing with the Empire State Youth Orchestra – not exactly the happiest of memories.)

Troy’s downtown area is a quaint one, with historical throwbacks dating to the 1800’s (I believe that parts of it were used in scenes from ‘The Age of Innocence’ to re-create the look of old New York City.) It retains that historical charm, with beautiful buildings and brownstones, and it continues to rebuild its image after a questionable number of declining years.

When I was a kid, Troy was the next biggest city to where my grandmother lived – in Hoosick Falls (which says something about Hoosick Falls), so whenever we were visiting she would take us on the bus to visit the downtown area. I don’t remember much of those trips, other than going over a big bridge and possibly shopping at the Carl Company. Since then, I’ve had a nostalgic fondness for the home of Uncle Sam.

The Trojan Renaissance continues on every last Friday of the month, when Troy Night Out features art exhibits and live performances at the restaurant and shops in the downtown vicinity. These nights are a fun time to get out and see what the city’s like at its most vibrant and active. Now that the weather is getting nice again they’re the perfect times to stroll the streets and see what Troy has to offer.

Oh my God, I thought as I turned my hands over in themselves, rubbing lotion into the dry cracks of my knuckles, I’ve turned into Mrs. Loomis. She was my second grade teacher – one of my favorites – and I remember quite a few days of that school year. It was the year we each got a folder with our name on it, one we would keep until the last day of school.

In a method that would likely be unthinkable in today’s overly-egalitarian coddling of children, those students who completed a perfect day of school work would receive a sticker for our personalized folders. At the end of the year, the student with the most stickers would get to pick from a pile of prizes, and so on down the line until everyone got one. I guess in a way it was kind of cruel, but only if you were one of the dumb kids. Well, scholastically-challenged. Oh fuck it, dumb. This blog isn’t going to win any child-friendly awards any time soon.

But I digress… back to the lotion at hand. Or on hand. I use it sparingly now, remembering a certain day when Mrs. Loomis made the mistake of squeezing out more than she needed. She often sat at her desk while we were working, twisting her hands and fingers around each other after procuring a small amount of lotion from her container of Vaseline. I watched with keen interest this magic ritual. She didn’t even take her rings off to do it. One day she absent-mindedly squirted too much into her palm. She looked up and asked the class if anyone wanted some. A few girls stood up and got in line, and a boy or two. (I was not one of them.) She took a little bit from the excess on her hand and put some on each child’s hand until she had a manageable amount left. The kids acted like little adults, rubbing it in as they returned to their desks. One of the kids, Sammy, was notoriously ill-behaved. I had no tolerance for such nonsense, so he was never one of my favorites, but he stood in line, much to my amused surprise. He got his little dollop of lotion and swirled it around in his hands. My heart softened a little at that moment. I wondered if he lived in a home bereft of the luxury of lotion. I wondered what else his home might not have that mine did, and that I’d always taken for granted. While I’d never been outwardly mean (I was actually frightened of him), inwardly I became a little nicer, unsure if such an internal change made any difference at all.