balding angrily

Have a gay, gay, gay, gay, gay Christmas…

Jen-An, Owen, Jerry and I went to Chicago last week. The highlight of my time in Chicago was fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine. Family Guy stole my dream and made it a parody, so you may already know where this is going. I wanted to sit in front of Georges Seurat’s masterwork at The Art Institute and listen to The Dream Academy.

In Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, I identified with Cameron. I never wanted to be Ferris. I wanted to be - and be with - Cameron. He wasn’t my first movie crush, but he was important. The scene where the camera switches between Cameron’s eyes and those of the little girl in Sunday Afternoon on the Isle of La Grande Jatte was powerful for 14-year old me. I understood the longing in that exchange.

A little later, I started exploring Sondheim and rented the PBS performance of Mandy Patinkin in Sunday in the Park with George. I didn’t know it was about Georges Seurat’s famous painting until the end of Act I or that it was a multi-Tony-nominated musical; I thought I was making a discovery. The story is about the character of Seurat who isolates himself in pursuit of his art. That’s what I got out of it anyway.

Again, there’s that theme of loneliness with this painting. As a lonely little fella, I connected with this painting.

It’s breath-taking in person, and I nearly cried sitting there looking at it. I feel like Seurat painted it just for me, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like that scene is Ferris Bueller’s Day Off was filmed just for me. Or that “Sunday,” the song from Sunday in the Park with George, was written just for me. Or that Seth MacFarlane and Co. wrote the parody in Family Guy just for me.

I’m sure that these things are loved by many, many, many people. How Eleanor Rigby of us.

Apparently, Planet Unicorn isn’t the most original thing on the internet. I’m years late, but in case you haven’t seen it, here’s Charlie the Unicorn, by Jason Steele. Instead of three gay unicorns you get one apathetic and two very creepy unicorns. How did my site become the repository for all things unicorn?

I’ve pretty much been obsessed with “Planet Unicorn” for the last 3 days; I now have the theme song memorized. For my sanity, I’ve decided not to post any more. HOWEVER! There’s one more just uploaded on Acceptable TV. Again, it’s not as good as the first two, but for anyone that hasn’t had enough of Feathers, Cadillac, and Tom Cruise, go over and see.

Myself? I’m going to download them to my iPod and watch them whenever I want. Planet Unicorn is now officially my favorite. Poor “Teen Girl Squad” has to step down.

- Update -

Oh what the hell. Why break tradition if it’ll make it easier for me to find it?

So, I just had one of those convergence things that all the kids are doing. I was eating my tuna fish sammich watching Acceptable TV, enjoying myself a great deal, and I wanted to see more viewer submitted videos. I clicky-clicked and there, in front of my wondering eyes, was the second episode of Planet Unicorn. Hooray.

Now, it’s not as good as that first episode. The first episode was like a kick, a very funny kick, in the balls. This is still quite delightful, though.

This is probably the funniest damn thing I’ve seen in a week. (via Defamer) I’m not doing my usual thumb because this piece of brilliance needs to be all by itself.

- Update -

I originally had the YouTube version posted here, but the clip from Acceptable TV is of higher quality.

In case you missed the first “I’m peeking at you,” I commented on the search terms people most typed into Google to get to my site. Here’s the April edition; my hosting peoples start me fresh at the beginning of the month, so I thought this would be the perfect time. Following are the search terms with the number of times people typed them in to get to Balding Angrily.

Always with the bullets.

• alex knesnik (10) - Who dat? Over the past month I’ve slowly come out of the closet about the website to my loved ones. These are all people to whom I’ve said, “Yeah, I have a website, but I don’t want you to read it because I’m embarrassed about the stuff I write about.” So. Hi mom!
• alex balding (7) - Who dat else? Let’s think of all the other balding Alexs. Alex P. Keaton wasn’t; he’s shaky but not balding. Oo, a Parkinson’s joke. That, ladies and gentlemen, makes me a bad person. But really, it doesn’t make me love him any less. I think Katherine Hepburn was the most beautiful and talented actress in the history of cinema, but she was a bit shaky.
• kiefer sutherland (4) - I Googled Mr. Sutherland after I saw this to see how far down the list Balding Angrily was. I got to about page 6 and gave up. You must be pretty hard up for Kiefer bits if you get here using that search term. You must need a Kiefer drip. “Really, this is the last website. After this, I’ll shut down the computer. I just want to see if this next site has just an itsy-bitsy, minute, barely visible slice that I couldn’t get from the other 200 websites.”
• frequency kenneth gay (4) - How often does Kenneth get gay with his work buddies? Twice a week? What does Kenneth do when he gets gay with his work buddies? Over-the-underwear activities? Does he have a martini party? Does he match the towels in the executive bathroom to the bathmat? And who’s curious about poor Kenneth and the frequency with which he gets gay? What kind of friends are those?
• jcrew employee discount (4) - Hm. Sorry I didn’t provide an answer before. I believe it was 50% except on special items. That discount applied to sale items too. I have a pair of pants in my closet that were originaly $120. I got them for about $20. If you were wondering if you should apply, I’d say, yeah. If they still have that discount.
• batman spanking robin (3) - My favorite part of this exercise is finding out about people’s little quirks. Some would call them sicknesses, but I won’t. At least 3 people want to see pictures of Batman spanking Robin. That’s cool. I think, though, to be fair you should also want to see pictures of Robin spanking Batman or Superman spanking Batman or Aquaman spanking She-Ra or Skeletor spanking Man-at-Arms. To limit it to just pictures of Batman spanking Robin seems incomplete, like you’re just not committing fully to your sickness quirk.
• get to know you questions deep (2) - Who is judging how intimate I should be with my questions? Who is telling me that me and my questions should go to a happy hour and spend three hours discussing our common loves and losses? I’m happy with the relationship me and my questions have right now, thank you very much. Maybe in a couple of months we’ll want to take it to that next level, but, you know, we just met. Why rush things?
• balding suicide (2) - I told you before the last time you did this; Jesus loves your bald head. Actually, this is a little more serious than the others. It makes me sad if someone out there is considering suicide because they’re going bald. There are many, many, many, many other things in this world that are more depressing and worthy of anxiety than a chrome dome. Do me a favor. Tell those other pretty-boy, skinny, black-hearted queens that their spiked, bleach-tipped hair looks ridiculous. Tell them they look like a porcupine run over by beauty supply van and their Armani WW1 flight goggles/sunglasses make them look like a Devo music video from the 80s. Tell them that you are a real person from the top of your shiny head to the tips of your unpainted toenails. Tell them to kiss your (more than likely) hairy white ass and not to come up for air until they are ready to recognize that bald is beautiful. That Bruce Willis gets more tail then they’ll ever hope to get. That Mr. Sexy-Ass-Kiss-Me-In-The-Morning-Then-Just-Walk-Away Jason Statham could tranport their sorry kneecaps to the backs of their legs. That the mother fucking King of Siam told you to tell them that “they be only womens and Christians and therefore unworthy of Buddha’s interest,” et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
• tailoring shirts tight pecs (2) - This sounds like a dance. It’s all in the hands and arms with this one. In the first part of the move, the “tailoring shirts” part, you put your arms in front you and make like you’re threading a needle, and in the “tight pecs” part, you feel on your breasteses in a circular fashion but with opposite hands, forearms crossed. Do it with me. A one and two and tailor shirt, and three and four and tighten pecs. Do whatever you want with your legs. Hopefully you’re close enough on the dance floor to the person you want to have sex with that they’re not looking down at your legs. And who cares anyway? He’s drunk. If you’re doing the Watusi with your legs, it wouldn’t matter because your beautiful, perfect, hairless head says to him that you are virile; you could last hours in the sack.
• batman spanking robin’ (2) - Now with apostraphe! For added possesiveness.

I never disclaimed any of my other stories because I think by reading a blog, you automatically accept that stuff is fictionalized for effect. This story is close enough to what I remember, however, that I feel like it would be manipulative if I didn’t say that I condensed the reality down to some key concepts. You should also know that you’re only getting my side of the story. My parents might see it differently, even though I endeavored to represent the truth, and paint them in a fair light. In the first part of the story, with two parents, it’s hard for me to remember who said what. I wish I had a recording of this time.

Me: I’ve been dating guys for the last 6 months. And I’m going to continue to date guys.

Lots of silence. Some leaning back in chairs. A couple of red faces.

Blonde Mom: What about that girl you went to see in Texarkana? You said you really liked her. It seemed like you did.
Me: I did really like her. I liked her a whole lot. She’s one of the few girls that I could say I wanted to continue dating, but…
Me: How can I say this? I like dating guys more. Even though I really liked her, and could even see one day marrying her, erm…
Dad: You’re bisexual?
Me: If you put two equally good-looking people in front of me, one male and one female, I would choose the male. I don’t think I understand bisexuals. I’m not sure I believe in it.*
Blonde Mom: So, that guy you were such good friends with last year? I mean, were you…?
Me: No. We weren’t like that. I kind of wished we had, but no. I mean I’ve liked a lot of guys that way. I think [my roommate in college] is very attractive.
Blonde Mom: So, you and he…?
Me: No. He’s definitely straight. I just really like him. We’re great friends. I find him very physically attractive…but no.
Blonde Mom: How could you say you could see yourself marrying a girl…but you’re sitting there telling us this? It sounds like you’re just using people for your own gratification.

Lots of silence.

Dad: I really can’t get over this weirdness you’re showing…for such an important part of your life. How could you be so…ambivalent?
Me: I’m trying to give you my perspective. I’m trying to be honest. I’m not like other guys I know that knew when they were 5. I’m trying to give you where I’m coming from.
Dad: Don’t give me that honesty bullshit. You’re doing this to make yourself feel better.
Me: Have you been happy with our relationship in the last months? I can tell you don’t buy the stories I’m telling you. And I feel weird lying.
Dad: Don’t give me this honesty thing with what you’re doing here. This is self-serving. You’re not doing us any favors.

The conversation ended on terms neither disastrous nor up. I went home. I called the next day, but Blonde Mom told me Dad would call back. I got a letter from Blonde Mom telling me how much I had hurt my dad through my selfishness, but she also affirmed their love for me. I waited. I called again, and Blonde Mom told me to wait. I waited. I imagined a lot during this time not getting a call from Dad. In that time, I got constipated and didn’t sleep, fearing I wasn’t strong enough to live without them. In this in-between time I called a suicide-prevention hotline. I cried a lot. I don’t know if I was capable of suicide or if I called because I needed to talk to someone.

My dad called me after a week of our first talk.

Dad: I just don’t understand. You’re going to continue to date guys. You’re calling yourself gay…
Me: But I never said I’m gay, and I gave a wishy-washy thing that wasn’t really a coming out…
Dad: I’m not convinced you are. I think you’re making a huge mistake. I see you heading for a life of hardship. You will more than likely die of AIDS. You realize that, don’t you?
Me: I don’t have statistics, but it’s not like that. And I’m very careful.
Me: I shouldn’t have given you that thing of ambivalence like you said.
Dad: I understand being attracted to men. I’ve been attracted to men myself…I’ve kind of liked another guy’s skin…that doesn’t make me gay.
Me: The fact is…and I never told you this in all the other times I talked to you about this gay thing…and I wasn’t going to bring it up in front of [Blonde Mom], but I’ve been masturbating to Playgirls since I knew how to masturbate.

There was silence after that, and he never said, “I get it now.” Writing this now, I don’t think it was necessary.

Me: Part of that ambivalent thing…was a kind of denial. Do you think it’s easy for me to look at my dad and have him picture me as a cocksucker? I mean, Dad, I admire you. I don’t want you to see me that way…something that I know you consider gross. It’s really hard for me to say that I’m gay.
Dad: This is a really shitty thing, Alex.
Me: The stories I’ve heard…it takes years…I just couldn’t see us tip-toeing around each other any more, me always lying to you about what I was doing on the weekends…you kind of going, ‘M-hm’ and giving me that kind of unbelieving face.
Dad: Deception never works in a relationship; You know, people just don’t have good relationships when there’s deception there. It comes out wrong.
Dad: I don’t want to see you…there are people out there…if they don’t want you dead, they’re not going to…You’re going to be hated. It’s going to be hard on you.
Me: Things have changed, I think. I don’t feel what you’re talking about. I haven’t seen it. I’ve heard about it, but I haven’t experienced it myself.
Me: I’m sorry you have to adjust. I’ve had about nine months to adjust to this. You just started.
Dad: I just want what’s best for you. And I don’t think…I think you can change your mind. I don’t think this is a done deal.
Me: I think it is. I mean, I hate to be absolutist, but I’m pretty sure this is a done-deal.

I didn’t change my mind, and they adjusted. It was tough for years. It’s only after I introduced them to Jerry that I think they breathed a whale-sized sigh of relief.

*Now, I believe in the Kinsey scale, but at the time I was ignorant. There remains a contingent of gay males that cheat on their wives with men and justify cheating with “But I’m bisexual.” However, I’ve met enough honest-to-goodness bisexuals and understand the stigma they endure from both gays and straights to know I was wrong.

I don’t remember doing this, but apparently in a moment of bad judgment I showed my nieces Pickle Surprise. All Easter Sunday they kept saying, “Plop the ham thusly please” in an affected accent. It’s not that there is anything overtly wrong with Pickle Surprise; it’s just incongruous to hear the coke-fueled words of a green-sequined phallic symbol come out of a middle-school-aged, giggly girl. It’s also strange to watch Jerry imitate a tranny by putting his fingers up to his eyes, Batdance-like, and say, “Hammmmmmm” while seated around the table set for a dinner to celebrate the risen Christ.

The fact is, Straighty, we, The Gay Menace, are watching you lasciviously, and I think a lot of you like it. I started thinking about this after I put up my Patrick Wilson Post of Adoration.

I worked at J. Crew in the men’s sportswear area when I was 25 or thereabouts. In 1997, The Crew had an area dedicated to sportswear. They still sell ties, sport coats, slacks, and dress shirts, but at that time it was more of a focus. Business casual in the office was still slightly dressy; a man was still expected to wear a sport coat and tie every once in a while. The Crew catered to that.

I sold the shit out of that stuff. I loved J. Crew clothes because it fit my sensibilities; it was casual/cool/fun with a Hampton vibe. It was dressy, but with big pink polka dots on a yellow background. I also loved serving clueless straight guys that put their fashion in my hands; I was responsible for these guys looking good, and I took that responsibility to heart. Maybe you think that’s trivial, but I didn’t. It’s no wonder Queer Eye was such a hit given the amount of helpless, searching men I saw wander into my section.

I’ll say this up front. I never saw a guy with his pants down, or accidentally stumbled into the dressing room with an arm full of clothes as he was changing. I never felt up a guy’s package like Joey’s bad tailor in the episode of Friends. I never unnecessarily checked a guy’s inseam. I would never be so brazen.

However.

My J. Crew job was my second job; I was in an architecture office in my full-time job. I had the biggest crush on one straight guy at this office. He was built like a Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em robot but with rounder edges. His smile was genuine and frequent. He engaged everyone in the firm with blue, happy eyes and a firm handshake.

I got, as part of my J. Crew job, a few coupons for friends and family to come in and enjoy my employee discount. I gave one of these coupons to this broad fella, and I was at his side within a second of his entering the store to lead him to the clothes I wanted to see him in and the changing room that I badly wanted to share with him. I gave him a short-sleeved sweater that I knew would be two sizes too small on him but would show off his pecs.

He put it on, and came out to ask my opinion. I told him, as my hand hovered less than an inch from his chest, “It’s kind of tight through here. It depends on what your style is. Some guys like this real-tight look.” We went back and forth about the tightness of the sweater for a while longer than necessary.

He finally asked, “Well, what do you think?”

It took every ounce of effort not to send him into the world looking like Right Said Fred in that sweater. Instead I said, “I’d try the larger size.”

This guy knew that I was gay, and he probably also knew that I had a crush on him. Since most people say that they can read my face like a book, it’s safe to say that he saw my look of lust as my hand almost stroked his chest. However, he kept up his generous smile and kept lit the light in his eyes throughout, and I can truthfully say that it was him and not me who dragged out the process of deciding on that sweater. I can also say that he spent a heck of a lot of money that night, all while I mentally devoured him, albeit in a friendly way.

And he was one out of many, many, many straight men that bought a lot of clothes from me, spending a lot of money, while I was being a friendly predator. To be fair, there were many men I served that I knew to keep professional with, but my big sales came from men to whom I said, “You look REALLY good in that. I’m almost jealous of your wife.” They may have blushed, but it didn’t stop them from whipping out their credit cards. Or from spending a couple of hours with me tugging on their trousers and scanning their bodies like produce. I should also say that these weren’t metrosexuals. (”Metrosexual” sounds so 2002. Have we come up with different nomenclature?) These were average joes that merely needed help putting a look together.

Before you get worried in the locker room now that you know our - or maybe just my - secret that we really do watch you behind sunglasses while you play football in the park shirtless, you should also know that we are fickle. We forget about you the moment we look away - or in my case - the moment you walked past the glass doors into the mall.