Friday, July 30, 2010


Living and lusting amongst the second highest LGBT population in America, determining which of my fellow Los Angelenos on whom I am crushing most can be as hard as an erect cock.

However, my social circles are overlapping at an increasingly velocious rate and clusters of loyalty are beginning to arise. Thus, in order to move forward and explore any mutual infatuation, it appears as though some definitive choices will need to be made. But how am I to choose just one boi from each of these various peripheral friend groups? How will I know I’m making the right choice? How does anyone ever know?

It's easy, actually. As easy as I surely seem. All I, nay, all everyone in this predickament need do, is close our eyes, rub our stuff, and uhhh - we've got an answer.

The first person who comes to mind whilst masturbating: That's where our truest attention lies.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Butt, duh.

A proficient gambler, my friend Josh is always looking to raise the stakes. So naturally, at the bar after dodgeball last Wednesday, he suggested spankings as an added incentive - along with mass drunkenness - to winning each round of flip cup.

Yes, spankings. And not just the standard hand-to-ass slap one might normally see exchanged between athletes. Not even close.

While we all enjoy the post game beer binges as much as the sport that brings us together, we dodgeballers are a horde of aggressively competitive and borderline sexually deviant freaks. Thus, each time victory was secured, the losing side would bend over as the winners picked up the collection of metal spatulas that Happy Endings normally allocates for the safe and easy distribution of their discounted pizza and pitcher combo.

Squeals, squeaks, and yelps mingled with the unforgiving SMACK of stainless steel against thinly veiled flesh. Yet, I myself did not contribute to the cacophony. I didn't even flinch.

"I'm sorry?" I glanced back over my shoulder, grinning devilishly, "Was that supposed to be painful?"

No one was really surprised. It doesn't take more than one glance to infer that this pert 'n' plump ass o' mine can handle some heat. Although, let me be clear, boiz: S&M is NOT a fetish to which I subscribe. About an unnamed friend of mine, however, the same cannot be said.

Boy? Girl? I won't spill. But they were also present. And had anyone been playing close enough attention, the soundless smirk that tugged at their lips as paddle met cheek would have come as a shock.

Just goes to show, that it really is the quiet ones with the riding crops under their beds.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Hold it if you can.

Desperation yields only sex. Sex or permission to use a public restroom normally reserved for paying customers. Occasionally it might prompt an exhibitionistic combination of the two, but never anything of real substance.

No, no. Nature calls, love just shows up when you least expect it.

Monday, July 26, 2010

PG-I'm not 13 anymore.

When I was on the school basketball team in 8th grade, we were all mortified to wear the mandated short shorts that were part of our decades old uniform. Most of us spent more time tugging awkwardly at the hem than we did paying attention to anything else that was happening on the court. Nowagays, however, I would KILL - or at least maim another queen - for those radically retro polyester hot pants.

Such crimes of fassion might be an exaggeration. But like many a homosexual, I leap at any chance I get to flaunt the gams and glutes I weight train so hard to maintain. Thus, in the anticipation of attending my first big gay pool party next weekend, I treated myself to a new, West Hollywood worthy (read: NC-17) swimsuit.

A far cry of "Heeey girl!" from the board shorts I brought with me when I moved to Los Angeles from the Midwest, two years ago.

Unfortunately, I will once again have to drown my sensuality in that excess of water-repellent fabric when I head home to my family's lakeside compound later this summer. They all love me and support my lifestyle; but regardless of sexual orientation, most anyone is sure to balk at the omnipresent sight of their kin's bubble butt cheeks, the bottoms of mine which can NOT be contained by my recently acquired second skin.

Well, I guess it could. But only at the expense of exposing my crack. And that - would just be plain distasteful.

Saturday, July 24, 2010


If you go down on someone in their car and a homeless man is asleep in the abandoned armchair you parked next to, does that count as exhibitionism or a complete disregard of Los Angeles’ displaced population?


Seeing as he had woken up and wandered off by the time we put our seats back in their upright and locked positions - Imma gonna say both. And, uh, maybe a smidge of indecent exposure, too; because he surely got a glimpse. Although, lemme tell yah:

It is more than decent, what was exposed to me.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Damn it feels good to have been a loser.

"In adulthood, Mary," I recently dolled out wisdom to my 19-year-old sister, "nerds make the best people.


"A nerd, not a dork. Dorks are awkward. Nerds are quirky!"

"I am NOT a nerd."



She'll come around. Eventually she'll realize she is a nerd. A nerd in the popular crowd's clothing. Not to mention, that on top of being wildly successful, well-rounded, and both mentally and sexually stimulating people - most of us former outcasts tend to grow into and develop a better style, anyway.

Cool is relative. Good company is not. And in the end, in every sense, it's win - win for the losers.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

You know how everyone else knew I was gay? 1:7

I had a variety of Sarah Jessica Parker's 2005 Gap ads up on the wall of my dorm room, freshmen AND sophomore year of college.

"I got to thinking..."
Maybe jerking off to all of this gay porn actually means something.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Rapid results.

"What are you doing tonight?" My friend Liana asked as we left work, yesterday.

"Oh - nothing, really. Going to the gym. Writing. Washing the dishes, probably...Not."

"You should go out and do something. Your hair looks great."

"Uh! Thank you." I tittered in delight. "I am stopping at the clinic for a free STD screening on my way home. That's not too bad of a place to meet men."

In fact, now thanks to rapid testing, it's actually pretty smart. No need for prospective partners to worry whether not you're actually negative when there's an office full of healthcare professionals who can vouch for you. Alas, while I'm still clean, there was no one else there with whom I would want to get dirty.

The nurse did say I have, "great veins," though. "But I bet you get that every time anyone draws blood."

"True," I affirmed, "But I'll always take a compliment!"

And while a phone number would have been nice, after two instances of unsolicited flattery in just as many hours - I was content to go home, read a magazine, and think about cleaning my kitchen.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Peanut Bitter.

I'm only eating you from the jar because I don't feel as though the bread is worth the extra grams of sugar.

What? LAZY?! Who the fuck are you to -

Don't tell me to calm down! Over three million Americans can hardly be in the same room as you, lest their throats close up. You should just be glad I'm consuming you at all.

Oh. OH! Nowww you're sorry. Well, TOO LATE. Back in the fridge you go.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

You know how everyone else knows I'm gay, now? 1:2

I'm still at the gym 30 minutes before I need to leave for a party on a Saturday night. Damn us gays and our high expectations for one another's fitness. It might amp up our sex lives, but it really cuts into our public debauchery.

At least we're more likely to live longer, healthier lives. I guess we can be thankful for that. And maybe our people will become less judgmental the closer we get to being able to retire to a life of leisure in Palm Springs.

Although, for many - that maybe is likely to be as thin as the head to toe linen in which we are all sure to bedizen ourselves.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Mind stalker.

It has been said that when the thought of someone suddenly enters your brain, they too are thinking of you. If that's the case, then - scant virtual interactions aside - there is NO way that the boiz upon whom I am crushing most are unaware of my affections.

I just hope they're not tearing at their temples and screaming, "GET OUT OF MY HEADDD," because I am in there morning, noon, and night.


Maybe the asylum will allow conjugal visits. Although, if it's me who put them there...

I'm guessing that they won't want me to put it anywhere.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Understandably so WHAT.

We all have some baggage. Over time, a small carry on and even a side satchel of slight emotional scarring are to be expected. But we only have one life. One ride. And there's no telling how long the trip is going to be.

In terms of relationships, that is reason enough to pack lightly.

So go on. Let go. Drop those extra canvas cases of drama and WALK AWAY!

No one is going to tackle you for making this choice. Unless it's a chance at love with me that you're headed towards. In that case, I'll don a Homoland Security uniform and cuff you like they would at LA - triple X.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

That's...Not a compliment. 1:1

"You have a lady butt," a college friend once told me.


I don't think that's the response she deserved; but if a man butt is a flat butt, I'll take a feminine heinie any day.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

No shame after Pride.

"I met you before," more than a few people have said this month, their eyes falling in mild irritation. "Twice."

"What?!" I always laugh. "I'm sorry. Where?"

"Pride?" They cling to the uptalk and the last hope that I might actually remember them.

"Ohhh - well there you go. You can't begrudge me THAT. I was drunk for three straight days."

That excuse has appeased most of them. As for the rest, well, whatever. I forgot them for a third time when their frown failed to flip the fuck back around.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

You made your bed, now fuck yourself in it.

There’s angry sex. There’s make up sex. And on the way from one polarized, but equally passionate point to the next is the less enjoyable, unavoidable, “There’s no way in HELL I’m going to have sex with you.”

My friend Mariah was in this horizontal mamboless limbo, last week. “Handle it yourself,” she denied her unfoundedly cranky boyfriend. “You’re pissin’ me off.”

Although I’ve not yet been in a relationship, her reticence is understandable. Snap at me, and you’d better not think about touching my arm – much less an erogenous zone. Not without a few hours of space and an artless apology.

Un – UH, boiz. Trust.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Who ordered the JJ?

Provided with free and relatively palatable coffee, as we are at my office, there’s never a legitimate need to walk to Starbucks and spend my own money during the work day. Yet, every other week or so I feel something pulling me in the direction of the nearest franchise. Something even stronger than my debilitating caffeine dependency:


Despite the throngs of people swarming both our courtyard and the slew of food trucks lined up out front of our building, I experience the occasional urge to place myself amongst a different crowd. A cross section of people whose paths I would not cross if I were to simply plunk down in the shade of our decorative waterfall and read my book. Yesterday afternoon I not only felt this pull, but a push, as well.

“Today,” my horoscope began, “you are wonderfully optimistic about matters of the heart, dear Justin! Lifted by the auspicious influence of the Sun and the Chariot, you’re making big steps forward in your romantic quest. If you’re single, you may find your soul mate today, and if you’re a couple you will re-discover your intimacy. Everything that has to do with love and emotions is under a benign influence today. So seize the opportunity – be passionate!”

Not one to ignore the Universe – or MSN astrologists – I took a late lunch and set off toward the green awnings, nearly giddy in anticipation of an iced coffee and, perhaps, a side of true love.

Is it you, Rivers Cuomo 2.0mo? I scanned the rocker’s doppelganger as I let him step ahead of me in line while I sipped on a sample. I like your glasses. You’ve got great hair. Ohhh – old hands. Hmm…Okay. You’re still really cute.

What about you, sexy Persian? A swarthy college-aged boy stepped up to the counter as I moved over to wait for my drink. That Abercrombie & Fitch emblem could say gay, not just poor taste. But you didn’t check out my ass.

Shoot. You’d notice. Even if you weren’t interested, you’d notice my ass.

You can’t ignore that which is there
Even if you have no sense of smell
you still breathe air.

God DAMMIT, soul mate. I just wrote a fucking poem. Right here in line. Jesus. Snap me UP already.

“Keep on rockin’ the mustache,”
Rivers Redux interrupted my train wreck of thought as he walked past.

“OH!” I began to laugh, taken off guard. “Thank you!”

“I don’t know the coffee shop etiquette,” he engaged a young blonde woman at a nearby table. “Can I sit here?”

I frowned.

“Muchos gracias,” he pulled out a chair.

Ooo – no, don't. Don’t pull out the Spanish pleasantries. Meh. Whatever. You can have him, girl.

“I’m learning,” he smiled, winsomely.

Awww...That is cute, actually. Corny, but cute. FUCKYOUGIRL!

Well, maybe he’s a Taurus, too. Alright. You go boy. Meet your girl. Someone might as well find their soul mate today; because it ain’t lookin’ like it’s gonna be me.

It wasn’t.

Not during the 28 minutes I sat outside the coffee shop. Nor the two hours I spent at the gym later that night. Perhaps I should have gone to the grocery store like I planned, but by then my failing deodorant was bound to overpower fate, anyway.

And my horoscope wasn’t completely wrong. I am still “wonderfully optimistic about matters of the heart.” No amount of false promise or unfulfilled fortunes will ever squelch that enthusiasm.

Especially not on two cups a day.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Beers to that.

In the future, I'm sure to look back on the summer of 2010 as the one season during which I made up for all the day drinking I missed while working weekends throughout my final two YEARS of college.


Monday, July 5, 2010

I want fireworks.

But sparklers will do. For now. So, boi(z), ditch your fear, grab your matches, and I just might consider sharing my chips.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

(No longer) bored on the Fourth of July.

When I was a kid, I couldn't wait until my friends and I were old enough to host our own Fourth of July BBQ where, away from prying, parental eyes, we could drink alcohol and eat chips all day and into the fireworks lit night.

Although I've been able to get my hands on booze (legally or otherwise) for the past six years now, grilles are harder to come by. Thus, today is the first time my childhood daydream will be realized. And while no one who I then imagined would be in attendance also lives in LA, another friendly fixture of that time period, aunt Zelda on "Sabrina, the Teenage Witch," will.

OBAMA, I love this town! And country.

Saturday, July 3, 2010

You know how everyone else knows I'm gay, now? 1:1

Why shower it off? I was going to get sweaty anyways. Just a shame it was via a less intimate Downward-Facing Dog than I'd hoped to be doing the morning after hitting West Hollywood's favored Friday night dance event.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Not the one he was hoping for.

When we're out at a club, few in mah crew are apt to tell a man to,
"Step back you're dancing kinda close
I feel a little poke coming through
On you."
Last night, however, my friend Carlo wasn't quite as polite or articulate. His shriek was justifiable, though. I did poke him in the eye.

Readily raring.

Uhhh - NO going out for me tonight, I thought upon struggling to get out of bed after only three hours of sleep, this morning.


Let me think about it. Un - un - un - un - un - UN. Un - un - unnn,
I sung silently, dancing from the bathroom to the kitchen, just five minutes later.

I don't know who I thought I was kidding.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Must(ache) I shave?

My mom thinks so. Ande, my fellow B!tchling on E! Online's Answer Bitch podcast where I co-co-host every Tuesday, says I "look like a chick with facial hair." But Leslie, our leader, is a fan. As are a smattering of other friends and family. And regardless -

If you ain't in line for a ride, I don't really care.

Even then, don't knock it till yah try to straddle it. This 70s porn star look i'n't just for show. I don't (usually) accept money, but I can put a whole lot where my mouth is.