balding angrily

There has to be a better way to die than naked on your bathroom floor. Well, obviously there is. Probably 10,000 better ways. Running with the bulls. In the arms of a hot guy. Heck, I would have been happy to have died during a particularly nice wank. But naked on your bathroom floor? That tells the world that you were clumsy. You slipped and fell. Clumsy moron. Clumsy, naked moron.

Would I do it again? What do you mean would I do it again? Would I have taken a shower? Probably not. Or at least I would have watched my step getting out.

Oh! Would I live my life the same way? Of course I would have lived it differently. What a dumb question. Do you ask that of everyone that comes through here? I can’t imagine everyone’s waltzing through the gates going, “That was perfect! Wouldn’t change a thing!” And if there are those people, I don’t want to know them. In fact, you can write that on your little form there. “Does not want to be around people with no regrets.” Gah, can you imagine spending an eternity with a bunch of unbearably satisfied people? Makes me shiver.

No, please put me with the people that are just like me. You guys tortured me enough in life surrounding me with a bunch of differing opinions and different outlooks on life. It drove me crazy. All I wanted was a world where everyone agreed with me, and it seemed like at every turn someone was coming up to me and shoving their differences in my face. You know I used to fantasize about marrying another guy named Alex who looked just like me? Talked just like me? Same build? Same fashion sense? Yeah, of course you know. You’re you. But then you sent me this guy who was skinny and sweet and, well. Happy. It drove me out of my mind.

And the people he brought into my life? Chatty and friendly and nurturing and gentle? I could have done without all that, thankyouverymuch. If you’re sending me back down, please get it right.

No going back, eh? Well that’s good. Life was shit. Just as long as you put me with a bunch of me’s. And just as long as I get to have lots of sex.

I gotta say, that’s one thing you guys got right. Sex was awesome.

Sex with Jerry? It was awesome. I just said. Are you listening?

It was always a surprise. Like Easter baskets when I was a kid. I knew I was going to get treats. And I knew they would be delicious. And I knew there would be a lot of it. But I never knew EXACTLY what the treats were going to be. Sometimes there were solid chocolate bunnies. Sometimes there weren’t. Sometimes there were peanut butter eggs. Sometimes there were jellybeans. Sometimes not. Sometimes there was a totally new candy that had just come out. And sometimes there were hollow chocolate bunnies. You know, there’s something I gotta tell you. Those hollow chocolates were a real fuck you. A real donkey punch. You peel off the foil, and you see this huge bunny or Santa or whatever, and it’s HUGE, and, like, obviously full of chocolate. And you bite into it. And, like, nothing. Air. You bite into air. I hope you’re sending the inventor of hollow chocolate somewhere else because that is a mortal sin if there is such a thing.

Anyway that’s what sex was like. An Easter basket. Pretty damn familiar and predictable but just enough variation to keep it exciting.

Oh, I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to get me to say that I loved Jerry because of his differences. I put it to you that I would have loved him more had he been just like me.

No, no, no. The sex would have been BETTER.

Nah, ignore what I said before. Comparing sex to an Easter basket? That’s retarded. Believe me, the sex would have been better if he was just like me.

We’re done? That’s cool. Just point me to my area full of me’s, and I’ll be outta your hair.

But you just said no one goes back.

I thought you guys weren’t allowed to lie. Like that was a rule or something.

Fine. But don’t expect me to like it. And don’t expect me to be singing your praises down there. I’ll remember this. Mark my words.

• midline rhyming
• alliteration galore
• never-ending upbeat-to-downbeat syncopation
• Euro-Robo Britney at her Euro-Robotiest
• It hits me in my hips.  When I’m driving and I have it cranked up, it’s 1995. I’m 23, it’s Saturday night, and I’m on my way to J.R.’s. I’m blaring “No More I Love Yous.” I’m ordering a 7&7 because that’s manly. I’m driving drunk. I’m dancing. I’m dizzy from strobing lights. I’m being rubbed by strangers. I’m scared. I’m hopeful. I’m taking some guy home. I’m following some guy home. I’m believing it means something. I’m wearing my pride rings. I’m wearing a tight shirt. I’m showing off my chest. I’m brushing a guy’s hand. I’m talking. I’m confident. I’m shy. I’m perturbed. I’m over it. I’m excited. I’m meeting someone new. I’m the gayest I ever was and the gayest I ever will be. I’m handing out condoms. I’m running my hand through a guy’s hair, looking for the seam of his toupee. I’m crying because someone didn’t call me back. I’m not calling back. I’m buying condoms at Target. I’m lying to family. I’m ashamed and not. I’m riding on a gay pride float. I’m throwing candy and condoms to children. I’m speeding. I’m getting pulled over and openly cursing the cop because he interrupted my trick. I’m walking from bar to bar. I’m hanging my head. I’m stealing glances at the go-go boys. I’m watching the videos on the TVs. I’m trying to look disinterested. I am disinterested, but I’m so hungry. I’m yearning. I’m going home alone. I’m yelling at a stranger that blew me off. I’m ignoring people I know. It’s dark, and I’m driving.

While I’m ripping-off more successful bloggers, I thought I’d rip-off the Grand Poobah, The Big Cheese, The Blogger Before There Were Blogs - Lore Sjöberg.  And I’m not just going to steal his format, I’m going to steal his CONTENT.  Take that, intellectual property laws!

• ass-in-face - Nothing says, “Love me unconditionally” like a winking brown-eye centimeters from your nose.  Like most cat behaviors, this one comes from your cat’s realization that you are not, at that moment, paying full attention to her.  You may be watching TV.  You may be doing a crossword puzzle.  You may be reading an article about the future of genetic science, wondering if someone’s going to invent a virus that will give you the ability to pee Mountain Dew, ‘cuz that would be really cool AND useful.  Whatever you’re doing, your cat will come to you, all affectionate-like and purring.  And you’ll think, “Aww, how sweet; she just wants a little rub.”  And she’ll nuzzle your face with her nose.  And you’ll scratch her back.  And she’ll arch her back and purr louder.  And it’ll be just adorable.  And then she’ll turn around with her tail proudly erect so that you’re involuntarily giving her a rectal exam. D
• pouncing - J & I found out last weekend that we probably have American Shorthairs.  According to Animal Planet, American Shorthairs are descendants of European Shorthairs that were brought over with the Pilgrims to rid the boats of mice.  American Shorthairs are supposedly excellent mousers.  All I know is that when I lay in the center of our bed and scratch the covers from underneath, one of our cats will LEAP over me to get to the scratching noise.  She’s like a mini-Michael Jordon with her hang-time.  Hopefully, as she gets older, she’ll start letting her tongue hang out.  And then I can set up a mini-basketball hoop on one side of the bed.  And I can buy her little kitty basketball shorts.  And she can have her own line of Nike shoes.  B+
• double eyelids - When I was I kid I used to stare at my cat for hours waiting for him to blink.  If I got to him when he was really drowsy, he would blink VERY slowly, so I could watch the inner eyelid slowly close before the outer eyelid.  It’s become a retread to say science fiction promised us rocket packs, flying cars, and teleportation by now.  You know what? They also promised us oculus doorways in spaceships.  Cats’ double eyelids are the closest we’ll get to oculus doorways, and that makes them awesome. A+
• curling in the lap - Again, you’re watching TV or writing on your blog, and your cat leaps into your lap, proceeding to knead your thigh like dough.  You stir your coffee, take a sip, and you’re just content to have a source of warmth and vibration close to your wang.  Then she curls up in a circle, and you stroke her back.  And you feel like a Don.  A+
• rum tum tugger - When I was in high school, I thought I had to love every musical, Cats included.  I bought the soundtrack and played it over-and-over, just like all my other musicals, but I did it begrudgingly.  After a few weeks of forcing myself to listen to both CDs from start to finish, I finally put “Memory” on repeat and ignored the rest.  Then my dad saw the touring show, and he said that I just HAD to see it.  That’s high praise from an ex-Marine.  Then this video started playing on VH1, and I honestly, well …  As a 15 year-old proto-gay living in Southern California, my conceptions of masculinity and femininity were wack.  I remember thinking, “Look, he’s getting all the chicks.  And he’s pretty tough.  If you offer him pheasant, he’d rather have grouse.  That’s straight-up gangsta.”  So, I started singing “The Rum Tum Tugger” around the house, and in another show of my mom’s complete obliviousness, she did nothing about it.  It wasn’t until 1995 when I saw Jeffrey that I realized that maybe, just maybe, “Cats” wasn’t all that.  Bryan Batt plays a singer/dancer who was in Cats because it was the only job he could get.  In the end - SPOILER ALERT! - his character dies; I read that as indictment of bad theater.  D

Oh. And to see a better piece on cats, go here.

Jerry and I went to Avenue Q two weekends ago. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a Broadway musical featuring cussing and sex-having puppets. We fell in love with the soundtrack when it came out and jumped at the chance to see the travelling version. So we walked in to the plaster sculpture-bedecked theater, and a group of four white-haired, smallish walker-operators sat behind us. Every time one of the puppets smoked a joint or assumed a mutually beneficial oral-pleasure position, we shrank into our seats thinking about our grandmas judging us.

In the midst of Avenue Q, when we weren’t shrinking into our seats, we were laughing loudly. And so was the girl next to us, who was the most straight-laced looking woman of thirty-two I’ve ever seen. The venue is in Fort Worth, and going to Fort Worth is just a strange experience. They have three world-class museums, a kickin’ downtown nightlife (which Dallas struggles to match), the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo, and a population that skews grey. In Dallas, you’ll see lots of faux. In Fort Worth, you’ll see lots of mix - genuine mix.

When the skinny, straight-haired, severe woman sitting next to me turned to me, I was thinking, “Dallas Uptight.” Instead she turned out to be “Fort Worth Delightful.” At half-time she introduced herself to us, and in the second half she laughed loudly and jabbed me in the side with her elbow. Meanwhile, her boyfriend looked VEEEERY uncomfortable. That’s what you get when your girlfriend drags you to a musical with puppets doing it doggy-style. And then she spends her free moments talking the two queers next to her.

We’re going to New York for Labor Day, and we’re going to see Spring Awakening and eat expensive food. We’re going to miss our travel companions, Jen-An and Owen. They moved to Los Angeles and left us lonely.

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.