Another example of why I am glad to be gay…

I went to a friend’s birthday dinner this weekend. One side of the table was hot, black gay guys. The other side of the table was hot, white straight chicks. I was there to bridge the two groups together seeing as how I am a hot, white gay guy. Everyone got along really well. The guys and I talked about music. The girls and I gossiped about ‘The Hills’. Nothing bonds bratty girls and catty gays quicker than talking about reality TV. The ladies confessed that they love watching “lame girls make fools of themselves on national TV”. We all agreed Audrina had turned into a “dumb girl” and that Heidi was a “total idiot”.

When the check came, my end of the table decided to each pay for our own meal, tax, tip and an additional 3 bucks for the birthday boy’s meal. I became team captain of the bill and gave everyone change as the bill made it’s way around the table. When the bill arrived at the blonde section of the table, they each gave me a twenty and then asked for a ten in return.

“Wait. What did you get again?”

“My entree was 9 bucks and I gave you ten.”

“Oh. Well, OK, So why don’t you give me two more bucks so that you are covered with tax and tip for yourself, then I need another 3 bucks to chip in for the birthday boy.”

Every single one of those bitches suddenly went deaf. They started talking amongst themselves and posing for pictures they were taking with each other’s digital cameras. I gave them the benefit of the doubt that they didn’t hear me, since I was sitting at the other end of the long table. I decided to repeat myself, only this time, I would say it embarrassingly loud.

“HEY AUDRINA! I NEED MORE MONEY FROM YOU GIRLS DOWN THERE!”

“What?”

“You didn’t pay enough for yourself, let alone pitching in for the birthday boy! Wanna throw me some cash?”

“My name isn’t Audrina.”

“My name isn’t Daddy Warbucks.”

The bitches ignored me again. Our reality TV bond was officially over. My end of the table was laughing at them… and with me for actually calling them out. One guest near me said that he couldn’t believe they were being such cheapskates. This was a situation where most people would awkwardly put in more money and not say anything to the evil doers. Well, my end of the table ended up awkwardly putting in more money to cover their blonde assholes, but I ended up saying way more than their sun-kissed highlights bargained for. Out side on the sidewalk, our dinner group split into two – white chicks in one circle, the rest circled in a group next to them.

The birthday boy asked, “Are you ladies going bowling with us?”

“No, we’re going to a bar in SoHo.”

“I hope there are lots of boys there to buy you drinks!” I smiled and waved. They did not wave back.

Everyone said ‘goodbye’ to each other, some hugs were exchanged. I stood to the side waiting for it all to be over. I knew I wouldn’t see many of these people ever again, especially these broke-ass vaginas. Our group walked away from the girls and one of them tried to be all sassy and holler “Goodnight, Jeff! We’ll miss you!”.

I smiled and waved again wishing each one of them a goodnight.

“Goodnight, Audrina! Goodnight Heidi! Have fun tonight with Audrina and Heidi, Heidi!”

I could see the steam escaping through their ears. Fuck you, cheap bitches. Fuck you. Thank God I don’t have to put up with your bullshit to get my dick wet.

America is Insane

Pop Quiz

Q. Who do I hate more than Sarah Palin this week?

A. Elisabeth Hasselbeck from ‘The View’.

If I was the delightful Joy Behar and had to deal with her bullshit every day, my head would explode. I cannot get over how passionately Elisabeth defends the GOP, McCain and Palin. She does it in such a vicious and biased way, it’s incredible. She doesn’t listen; only talks. What a vile young Republican. She is a perfect sheep for the far right. Ick. Ick. Ick.

And to think there was a time that I sort of liked her when she was a contestant on ‘Survivor’. Gross. For a good chuckle and also a chance to see her get under your skin, check out any number of her youtube videos.

She fucking spells “Elizabeth” with a fucking “s” for “Elisabeth”. Upchuck City.

Sarah Palin Videos

If you have seen these already, then you know that she is an ignorant cunt. I like watching them one right after the other to get the full impact.

I love this one which was for MTV. I love how hip and cool she is acting. Cunt. Transparent cunt.

5 Years in NYC Anniversary Party!!

We made it! After 5 years of job hunting, apartment searching, eating Starbucks muffins for dinner, sex, booze, boys, fights, fears, tears, and smiles, we topped it off with a delightful Anniversary Party. Yay us!

Approximately 55 guests showed up at Kabin Bar in the east village after the HUMONGOUS rain storm that kept people away for the first hour of the party. Our unofficial ‘theme’ of the evening was Invite Everyone We Ever Met In NYC. Thankfully, the spacious back room was perfectly decorated, lit, and temperature controlled. It was a combination log cabin motiff and Victorian sitting room, and our interesting mix of friends helped color up the place as well. Seeing everyone mingle together in the bomb-ass room was so much fun.

In preparation for the party, I sent out evites, emails, Myface and Spacebook event notices. I also arranged to have the room reserved and carefully and tediously put together a mix for my ipod. When I spoke with the owner about reserving the room, the only point of contention was if we needed a DJ for the evening. I told him that our ipod would suffice and that we would just need a cocktail server for all the booze we would be drinking. He said, “Well, you can make requests to the DJ if you wanted, they work for you.” Sounds nice, but again, I tried to get out of having to deal with DJ Stranger by telling him the theme of the party and how we wanted to have music that represented the three of us who were celebrating that night. He countered with, “Well a good DJ will make sure you enjoy the music, but that the music doesn’t overpower the evening.”

I gave up. He said we could have an ipod from 8pm – 11pm. Then, the DJ would arrive. I guessed that it was his nephew or something.

The music mix I created was perfectly sublime. It amplified the evening as the crowd got bigger. By the time 11pm rolled around, everyone was feeling pretty groovy. Our amazing cocktail server, Morgan, pointed out the DJ to me from across the room. I said, “Oh, is that him?” Morgan laughed and said, “It’s a her.” I never have trusted girls that look like boys and I never will.

I introduced myself to the DJ, who’s name was Biet (Beeyut), and who I thought was French, but according to her myspace profile she is from “New York City, Alabama”. I asked, “So what sort of tunes do you spin?” She looked me square in the eye and said, “I know what’s going on here.” I took that to mean she saw the giant amount of gayness going on throughout the room and she would pick her tunes accordingly. I told her I trusted her and she proceeded to play two songs that I had already played earlier in the evening (Fatboy Slim’s ‘Praise You’ and Sam Sparro’s ‘21st Century Life’).

I thought that may be a good sign, even though it was repetitive, it was the right style. Well, we soon found out that was a trick to get us to be on her side. She proceeded to play some gansta rap. 50 Cent has no place at our party. One guest went up to her and asked to play something “more gay”. Her answer? A 12 minute long Justice song. If you wanna play something that sounds like Daft Punk, just play Daft Punk! I don’t wanna hear some clunky bullshit parading around as gay dance music. She had turned our party into a meth den with hard, pounding beats which were totally void of any melody. I could appreciate what she was trying to do, but it just wasn’t jiving with this crowd. So many people asked me, “What happened to your ipod?”

I had had enough of this girl. If it was a cute boy mayyybe I would have let him try for another 45 minutes. Time to fire her. In the nicest way possible. I asked Morgan how I could go about putting my ipod back on. She said, “Just give it to me. She gets paid whether she spins or not. I’ll take care of it. I hate her anyway.” Sweet! Five minutes later, Morgan had our party back on track with Princess Superstar blasting from the speakers. I was about to feel bad when I saw Biet packing up her gear, biet then someone told me that the last song she played was her own original song. Lame. You’re a loser. I’m a winner.

Speaking of winners, we let two random people into the private party. They were brother and sister, so they said. I am not sure. He was very upbeat and friendly and brown, she was whiny and needy and white. When she wasn’t busy guzzling chardonnay, she kept demanding that I play Britney Spears. I told her that I had just won back the night from the DJ and I have a playlist already in motion. No girl tells me what to play at our party that I’m letting you attend.

She stomped her feet and acted like a two year old. I’m not kidding. Any chance of playing Britney Spears vanished because I refuse to reward that behavior. I laughed and tried to walk away, biet her brother was nice and bought the three anniversary boys drinks, so I wasn’t openly rude. Somehow, I let her get my phone number and she ended up calling me at 3:52am, 4:04am, 4:12am, and 4:15am. Who knows why. I pretended I was asleep. Maybe she thought she was calling Britney Spears. She was that crazy.

The room closed at 2am. We caused some drunken debauchery in the streets for a little while. Someone made us pose with our ‘Happy Anniversary’ sign, the only decoration at the party. It was pretty fun until Jeff and Eric turned into zombies and tried to eat me.

See? Jeff and Eric became motherfucking zombies! I love those zombies!

The entire evening was a goddamn delight! Thanks friends! Thanks Morgan! Thanks brown guy and your “sister”? Thanks to everyone biet Biet! Here’s to another 5 years! Only this time, I want a nice apartment, a nice boy, and a nice role in a movie or something!

This bitch started a fight with me on Facebook…

So, I was reading through a Michael Phelps Fans message board the other day, and along came Jessica Berry. She is a graduate of Jacksonville Christian Academy and, apparently, a really big fan of the Olympics. On the message board, some hilarious little gay boy started the important thread topic of “Any Dudes Wanna Hump Michael Phelps?” Well, Jessica just couldn’t stay on topic. She told all the boys in the thread that they were going to hell and that they were morally bankrupt and that God made Adam & Eve, not Adam & Steve. So unoriginal. Those Christian assholes need a new line.

I told her to shut up and go listen to her Hannah Montana CDs.

From there, she took her Christian values up a notch and told me that being gay is a choice and that since I chose sin, I would be damned in eternal damnation or something. We all know how that topic gets under my skin, so I said something mean about her caked on make-up. After several nasty messages back and forth, I got tired and stopped yelling at her. Christian girls are boring…. but not boring enough to list some quotes from their Facebook messages!

“being gay doesnt just happen u decide how u want to be and u chose to be gay and dont get mad at me get mad at God cause im just only saying what he said”

“being homo is not an ethnic race”

“Hannah Montana isn’t my style. I’m more of a Jonas Brothers gurl”

“have a peachy keen day. jesus loves u “

“now about the makeup ur just jealous cause u cant wear it”

She obviously doesn’t have any gay friends. Otherwise she would KNOW that we CAN wear make-up.

What a sad example of America. What a disgusting, mindless human being. What a cunt.

Old Lady Dirty Dancing

I just bit this video from Jon’s gchat status message. Thanks Jon!

Girls & TV Don’t Mix

Millions of Americans struggle with GIGS. It’s a serious disease that infects even the best, coolest women in the country. GIGS cannot be cured and there is no scientific research that helps determine where this unfortunate affliction originates.

Girls Interrupting Gays Syndrome, or GIGS, can be diagnosed best while watching television. Watching TV with girls is the most common way to be affected by GIGS. Sometimes GIGS can occur during a particularly unruly evening at karaoke. You can try this experiment out for yourself and is extremely beneficial while conducting home GIGS exams. Gather several gay men over for a television party. Pick a theme such as reality TV night or have an ‘Ugly Betty’ marathon. Usually, women with GIGS will start showing symptoms after the opening credits, sometimes GIGS will incubate until as long as after the first commercial.

Let’s take the show ‘Survivor: China’ for an example. Even if you have never heard of the show before, a reasonable person can infer that the two groups of contestants are teams and that they somehow must ‘survive‘ in ‘China‘. However, those infected with GIGS are not reasonable people. You may encounter the following questions while you are trying to relax and enjoy your favorite program – “Where are they?”, “What are they doing?”, “Why is that girl wearing boots?”, “Do they have to live on an island?”, “Why do they have to live on the island?”, “What do they do for food?”, “Has anyone ever died on this show?”.

Seriously! WHAT. THE. FUCK. STOP. TALKING. I don’t understand how so many women do this to people! YOU ARE RUINING LIVES! Feel free to make funny, witty comments about the program, but usually your questions will be answered if you actually WATCH THE FUCKING SHOW! I only have 45 minutes to spare to chill and watch a TV show and you make it so annoying! Girls everywhere – take heed – please seek professional help for your GIGS!

The End of Harry P.

THERE ARE NOT ANY SPOILERS. DON’T WORRY!

Sooo, I was finishing the last 30 pages of the last Harry Potter book – don’t worry, there will be no spoilers – in the campus cafeteria. This entire month we are hosting a pre-college (read: high school) program for bratty rich kids who have displayed unbridled imagination and creativity. I have dodged several of their loud conversations about the book. Usually their non-Harry convo’s are a source of entertainment. An example…

Sad Arty Girl: Oh my god, are you OK? I missed you yesterday!
Happy Arty Girl: Oh yeah, I’m fine. I have blood in my eye!
Sad Arty Girl: Oh. Did you hear about Lindsay Lohan?
Happy Arty Girl: No. I had blood in my eye! Let’s get sushi!

I was on my final two pages of Harry Potter, my eyes were not filled with blood, but tears. I knew the end of the series was approaching. I wanted to savor every last detail as the book came to a close. Literally, three paragraphs away from the end, my head and heart immersed in the final moments of the wizarding world, two 15 year-old knuckleheads boys ran up to me and asked if that was the Harry Potter book. I quickly answered yes without looking up. “Wellll, who dies?”, they sounded like nails on chalkboard. “I’m right at the end. Sorry”, I tried to dismiss them with a wave. “Oh, sorry, we’ll wait” they dropped their backpacks on my table. It was everything I could do to not throw them a few hexes. I looked up and through misty eyes said, “No. You won’t wait. You are interrupting the end of the book. It is very rude.”

Without any argument, they gathered their bags and walked away. One of them said, “Wow. That shit must be serious. That man was crying! Did you see him crying?” The other answered, “Man, I would cry too if I was reading a kids book by myslef in a cafeteria.”

AVADA KADAVA, BITCHES!

Heidi and Savannah

Think twentysomething twin sisters from Georgia. Imagine two spunky blondes. Hear the hot accent. Picture them totally single, totally available, totally wasted. Two Georgia Peaches. Now, whatever picture you have conjured up in your head is pretty hot, right? Now think the exact fugly opposite of that visual add about 90 pounds and keep the accents and you will have the two girls that tried to rape me at an 80s club in SoHo last night.

I was sipping on my standard Stoli Vanilla and Pepsi, grooving to Karma Chameleon, when a busty blonde came up to me and started bumping asses with me. OK. I’m a free spirit, I’ll bump and grind to The Culture Club with a strange drunk girl at a lame straight bar. I’m up for new experiences. I introduced myself as ‘Dax’, she told me her name was Heidi and this was her sister Savannah and they were here to have a good time and make people dance. Well, they had me tapping my feet. They were trashed and a little too touchy feely for my taste in meeting strangers, but hey…I let it slide.

Later on in the night, up at the bar, I ran into Savannah. We had a silly little conversation about New York, how did she like it, how long is she in town for, what her favorite 80s song was. I used lots of words like ’sassafrass’, ‘fierce’ and ‘fantabulous’. I thought I had a new fag hag, if only for the night. So she asked me to dance. OK. Her sister, Heidi, came out on the floor to chat it up with us too. Savannah tripped on her sweater that she had tied around her waist and fell crashing to the floor. I helped her up. She was embarassed. Heidi laughed. They were so sisterly. Kind of like the Bobsy Twins, but fat and really ugly. Don’t get me wrong though, they had great hair.

Then it happened. Savannah grabbed my junk. Yup. Totally squeezed my sack. I danced into the other direction. At this point, my friends are dying watching this from the side. Blister in the Sun by the Violent Femmes began to play so I started fast dancing in a really funny, really gay way. At least I thought I was throwing the gay vibe out there pretty hard. Then Savannah tried to put the moves on me out on the dance floor. She tried to kiss me. Four times. Four seperate, disctinctly visual times. Everyone saw me dance away from them. Savannah got pissed and ran over to Heidi and yelled ‘He just blew me off! Fuck him!’

I sort of felt bad, for a second. Then I felt hilarious. Extremely hilarious. I briefly reviewed what had happened with my friends, then I went over to talk to the Good Time Girls. Savannah huffed away, but I wanted to say something to Heidi.

Me: I think I’m in trouble.
Heidi: Yes. You are.
Me: My boyfriend just got mad at me because he thought I was hitting on your sister.
Heidi: Your what?
Me: My boyfriend.
Heidi: You’re gay?
Me: Yeah.

Heidi gave me the weirdest look. Like gay wasn’t even in her vocabulary. Apparently every sassy guy in Georgia who uses words like ’sassafrass’, talks with their hands, and knows every word to 99 Red Balloons is into pussy. Big vagina. Heidi ran off to tell Savannah and they dissed me later in the night at the bar when I said hello. Funny how bitter girls turn when they find out that the guy they just tried to rape is a homo.

Maybe I should have at least got a handy out of it. Maybe I could have lived every straight guys fantasy of having sex with twins. Maybe I should have got Savannah’s digits. Ha. Right.