« June 2006 | Main | August 2006 »
July 30, 2006
Seen Near Frederick, MD This Weekend
Posted by durban bud at 09:55 PM | Comments (6)
July 27, 2006
Shoo-Fly Pie!
"No kitty, it's my shoo-fly pie!"
My Mennonite Amish friend, BM, went up to Pennsylvania to visit his family. I think he went to help them churn butter or something. Anyway, I asked him to bring me back a shoo-fly pie. The Amish are excellent cooks (cuz there's not a whole lot of TV to watch, not even Project Runway!), and this kind of dessert is a specialty of theirs. So he rode his horse and buggy back today to make the delivery.
My mom got me hooked on these damn things as a kid. We would always stop at a Dutch Pantry when we were on vacation to satisfy my mother's cravings. The ingredients sound kinda disgusting, but it actually tastes delicious. It's nice and moist, and feels really good in your mouth.
The pie is just about gone, but I thought I would offer you a bite.
Posted by durban bud at 10:26 PM | Comments (7)
Is There Drama In Heaven?
Heaven is a wonderful belief; we get to see all the people who died before us that we miss. But what do we do after we enter?
I guess we get to "catch up" with our loved ones, but then what? Do we just walk around endlessly smiling at one another? Do we play shuffleboard? Trivial Pursuit? Twister? Do we work? Do we gossip? Do we get to masturbate? Do we poop? What the hell do we do? Think about it.
There would be like, a trillion people in heaven, if not more. If there are a trillion people, there must be some drama.
I know I would stalk Kurt Cobain, Thomas Jefferson, and Dana Plato (from Different Strokes) for awhile, but would I get annoyed because so many other people are trying to monopolize their time? Would I even attempt to speak to Jesus, or is he too busy running from the divine paparazzi?
Do we become like ghosts or spirits, and head back to planet earth to watch over the ones we love? I would probably do that for like, a day, and then I would scope out all the people having sex so I could watch for days. But if I'm thinking that, all the other ghosts are thinking that, so that means billions of people are watching us all have hot sex. The idea is kinda creepy.
Do we speak to the other ghosts who are looking over the same person that we are? If so, do we have disagreements over the proper haunting technique? If we don't interact with other ghosts, does our spiritual existence become lonely? Do we get to complain to God if one of the other ghosts is bugging us?
And most importantly, what would we wear? Would we wear all white outfits like this guy, or would we wear what we died in, or would we be all naked?
An eternity is a very long time; I don't want to live an eternity. I think I would get really bored. In fact, after about a month of "catching up" with my relatives, I would be ready to kill myself. Can I do that there?
Maybe heaven is a poorly thought out illusion to comfort our fears about death. It's a nice idea, but details matter.
It probably doesn't matter for me, since I'll be in hell for all the butt sex I've had, but if, by chance, I do enter heaven, I need these questions answered before I sign up.
Posted by durban bud at 08:27 AM | Comments (4)
July 26, 2006
No Public Dumping
Miss Manners: Hello?
Me: Hi, Miss Manners, it's TJ from durban bud.
Miss Manners: Ew. Um, hello, Mr. Bud. I'm actually glad you called. I've been meaning to speak to you.
Me: How are you today?
MM: I'm divine. I'm enjoying an exquisite Cranberry-Orange Scone with my dear friend, Heloise. She was kind enough to drop by to help me remove some nail polish I spilled on my afghan. How are you this fine mid-morning?
Me: I'm doing well. What did you want to speak to me about?
Me: Well, I'm concerned about your excessive use of foul language lately. It's quite offensive, especially the "C" word.
Me: Well sometimes the extreme always leaves an impression.
MM: Call me when the shuttle lands, Mr. Bud, and please stop using quotes from Heathers. Be original for Christ's sake.
Me: Okay, but really, is the "C" word any different from the "B" word?
MM: Did you have a question for me?
Me: Is it okay for someone to go the bathroom in a public stall?
MM: Of course, it is. That's what they're there for, dear. Wait a second, are we talking about number one or number two?
Me: Number two
MM: Oh heavens to betsy. Unless it's an absolute emergency, the answer is no. It is simply rude and unnecessary, much like your blog.
Me: That's what I thought, but a lot of people do it. A friend of mine recently did, and it was in a bathroom that only fits three people.
MM: I'm about to upchuck my cranberry-orange scone. Is this your friend who packs his entire wardrobe for short trips?
Me: No
MM: Is it your friend with the incessant gagging problem?
Me: Um, I cannot confirm nor deny.
MM: Is he a republican?
Me: Who?
MM: The defecator
Me: No, why?
MM: Because most public room defecators are republicans. The act itself is very selfish. They think their shit don't stink, when, in fact, it does stink, and it affects all others around them. Screw the rest of the people. And neo-cons have the most offensive BM's; Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld and Condi are all public poopers. It's in their nature, and unfortunately, there is no solution to the madness. Is your public room defecating friend a homosexual?
Me: Yes
MM: Hmm. I thought your people knew better than that. Is he from Texas?
Me: Actually, yes. How did you know?
MM: Just a hunch. Gay Texans are a different breed, very cute and likeable but generally full of shit. Literally.
Me: Yikes, I have friends in Texas.
MM: Hold on, Heloise is shootin' her trap.
To Heloise: What?
MM: She said, things are bigger in Texas, and that includes their enormous poo. Heloise made a funny.
To Heloise: Keep scrubbin'
Me: Well, how do people avoid having to go?
MM: You have to think of it like this: What would Jesus do? Jesus would bake his brownies first thing in the morning, he would eat a healthy breakfast rich in fiber, he would eat a light lunch, and healthy small snacks throughout the day. He would avoid unhealthy binge eating and the Olive Garden. He would become regular. It's quite simple actually.
Me: Well, what if they have some sort of medical condition and can't help it?
MM: Then they must work at home, or become a real estate agent. Why do you think there are so many real estate agents? They have the freedom to poop.
Me: Hmm.
MM: Heloise wants to talk to you for a second.
Heloise: Jimmmmmmmbo, whazzzzzzzzup? Jimboooo. Jimbaroni. The Jimboni. Whaaaaazzzzzzup? The Jimeister. Jimbalyaaaa. Jimbo Juicccccce. Whaaaaazzzzzzup?
Me: I'm not Jimbo.
Silence
Heloise: Chrissssssafer, whaaaaazzzzzup? Chrissssay. Chrissssay. Chrisssay from Three's Company. Blah, blah, blah, Chrisssay. Jesus H. Chrisafer, whaaaaazzzzzup?
Me: This isn't Chrisafer either.
Silence
MM: Grabs phone. I'm sorry about that.
Me: Has she been drinking?
MM: She's had 2 mint juleps, but she's been huffing the hell out of the nail polish remover.
MM: I'm sorry, dear. So just to sum it up, public dumping is bad. It's poor etiquette. It's right up there with gum chomping. Emergency public pooping is the exception, not the rule.
Me: Okay, thanks for your time. I'll pass along the info.
Posted by durban bud at 12:35 AM | Comments (8)
July 25, 2006
Colin Farrell Is A Top
A lot of the kids these days are wearing leather Wonder Woman bracelets to signify their preferred sexual role; Colin Farrell is one of them, and it appears he is a top.
Wonder Women is versatile.
Posted by durban bud at 09:20 PM | Comments (3)
July 24, 2006
A Dirty Sanchez
* I went to see Strangers With Candy this past weekend. It was loads of dirty, stupid fun. My latest hero, Stephen Colbert, was in it, and that made me all warm inside. It was also a good educational tool, as I learned what a dirty sanchez and a rusty trombone are. Gotta love Wikipedia.
* I went out to dinner with a friend of mine from LA tonight. He said, "I check out your blog from time to time, but if I see you've written over 6 paragraphs, I close out my browser cuz I can't read that shit. You should be able to sum up your point in 2.5 paragraphs." Oh really? My friend's initials are BM, and I think that's quite appropriate. I told him that I sometimes use pictures instead of words to illustrate a point. Look for unflattering photos of BM to appear here soon.
Anyway, BM just got back from the Gay Games. He and I are totally gonna represent in the 2010 Gay Games with our amazing badminton skillz. Just you watch; the gold will be ours. Oh yes, it will be ours.
* Anna Goldstein met her unfortunate demise this evening, courtesy of a Dell Computers catalog. We will all miss her tenacity and spirit. Godspeed, Anna.
* We're seriously considering heading out to Folsom in September. That could be all sorts of naughty fun.
* I haven't had a drug or a drink in over 135 days; that's like, a third of a year that I haven't had a hangover. I rule! And I still rock the party that rocks the body.
Posted by durban bud at 10:16 PM | Comments (6)
July 22, 2006
Anna Goldstein
I've been having to work a lot this week, and it's really starting to piss me off, as it interferes with my afternoon naps.
In the meantime, this fucker was found climbing my walls. I had not invited it over. Please leave. I've named her Anna Goldstein. I was admiring her spiderman-like climbing skillz, as she walked on the ceiling, when she slipped and plummeted to the floor. Scared the shit out of me. I thought she might eat me, so I tried to kill Anna Goldstein with my birkenstock, but she got away. I could have searched for her, but I thought maybe it was a good idea having her around, so she could eat the other recently uninvited guests, the ants.
We finally called in the big guns to remedy the situation. I was sick and tired of them crawling on me while I was working. They've been a real problem this summer. I think one of them even hitched a ride with me to Safeway the other day. I deliberately didn't buy anything with sugar just to piss it off.
Anyway, the big guns are a very attractive, big muscled gay couple. The big guns have big guns. Ba-da-boom. They've been our bug killers for the past couple years, although they don't do anything for crabs; I've asked. Let's hope they fixed the situation until next year.
Last night, I volunteered my participation in a safe sex/drugs survey and interview for a local health clinic. I'm all about donating my time to help the children, plus they were giving me $75 and some pizza for spending two hours with them. Score!
I participated in this computer simulation of a conversation a gay guy might have with someone he's just about to bang. It was basically to try and teach people the correct way to go about discussing safe sex with someone you don't really know before actually hooking up.
It was easy, but when it was over I was interviewed by this guy to get my feedback on the simulation. The guy couldn't have been over 24 years old, and he was obviously straight. The short-sleeved button up dress shirt gave it away. So I'm talking about condoms and cum and butt sex with him. I thought I would be uncomfortable, but I think he was much more uncomfortable than I was. He appeared very nervous. I tried to put him at ease by over-emphasizing words like pounding, manhole, rimjob, squealing and Janice Dickinson.
Several times he would ask me the same question phrased differently; so to break up the monotony, I would blurt things out like, "I'm Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacCleod." Ya know, cuz I wanted to keep him at the top of his interviewing game. And I think I did.
When that was over, another man had entered my residence. It was another exterminator of sorts. He was there to repair all my computer issues. In between chastising me for having too much software, too many bugs and downloading too much porn on my system, he asked me an unusual question.
He asked why we gay people refer to ourselves as the "gay community." He said, "It sounds like a term created by politicians that generalizes who you all are. You and I probably have more in common than you and a black, 4-foot tall lesbian from Alaska, yet she's part of your 'community' and I am not. So what exactly is your community?" I'm like, "Um, uh, I guess people are part of our community if they share the gay experience." He's like, "Yeah, but everyone's experience is different, so what is this community? Is just being gay primarily who you are?" I'm like, "Uhhh, ummm, how's that computer coming along?" Luckily, Anna Goldstein made a return appearance, which caused him to scream uncontrollably, so our conversation came to a close.
I was actually impressed he had the balls to ask me some questions about the topic. He was a cool guy, and best of all, he fixed my laptop.
It's been an interesting week.
UPDATE: Anna Goldstein met her unfortunate demise this evening, courtesy of a Dell Computers catalog. We will all miss her tenacity and spirit. Godspeed, Anna.
Posted by durban bud at 11:10 AM | Comments (4)
July 19, 2006
Overheard In My Living Room
"You're starting to smell in your old age."
Meow.
Posted by durban bud at 08:22 PM | Comments (7)
July 18, 2006
The Anti-Christ is Among Us
What the hell is this woman's problem? Does she own a mirror? Is that a reverse mullet?
The anti-christ gets bitch-slapped by Elizabeth Smart. Ouch.
Posted by durban bud at 09:16 AM | Comments (6)
July 16, 2006
Sunday Serenity
I can't breathe; it's too humid. It's so hot, my chest hair has become pubic. The only thing to do is stay indoors and sleep, or maybe I'm a reincarnated cat, and I'm just doing what's in my nature. Sometimes I wish I were a cat so I could clean myself without soap. I would lick my hand and rub it on my face, or lick my chest with quick downward movements, or sit on my hindquarters with my legs sticking out so I could clean my cooter. Cats are cool like that.
I did manage to escape from my home last night. We were in the mood for some light mindless entertainment, something silly, something in which a man saves the world from destruction and all things evil, so we chose "An Inconvenient Truth." Only, it wasn't silly or mindless, it was depressingly real. It was a great educational lesson, and everyone should go see it.
We went to my favorite theater downtown, the E Street Cinemas. Downtown DC is flourishing. It's amazing to see how transformed this area has become since someone with a brain took office as mayor here. 5 years ago this place would be desolate on a weekend night. Now it is bustling with people and nightlife. Wonderful stores, restaurants, and theaters. It's awesome. This place is on par to become like San Francisco's downtown.
An Observation, a Lyric, and a Photo
When did erect collars come back into fashion?
We went out to dinner with Suitcase Sally. The gay boys were all gussied up in their tight polos and designer jeans, and they were sussin' up a sssstorm! Between all the "He's cute," "Oh, he's cute," "He likes to be [censored]," and "He's got a big dick" comments from Sally, I noticed a couple of the boyssss had their collars turned up. Ew. Please make it sssstop!
"I more like you better if we slept together, and there's something in your eyes that says maybe..."
Meow
Posted by durban bud at 03:25 PM | Comments (5)
July 14, 2006
Webster's Gay Edition
So about 100 new words are being entered in the 2006 version of the Merriam-Webster's Collegiate® Dictionary. Some of them are gay-oriented: drama queen, polyamory, soul patch and, of course, unibrow.
There are a number of gay terms that I believe should also be added. Let this serve as a guide for my straight readers.
Top
A man who enjoys placing his penis in another man's bum.
Bottom
A man who enjoys receiving a man's penis in his bum.
Versatile
A man who enjoys receiving a man's penis in his bum.
The Crew Club
A "gym" where men are allowed to pair up and make love
Manhunt
An online version of the Crew Club
PnP
A term used by a person who will be entering rehab in about 2 years
Thruple
A couple that invite a third into their relationship, usually followed by the dissolution of the relationship
Uh Wrong Ansa
Means "wrong answer". If your boss gives you a project at 3:00pm to finish by 5:00pm on a Friday, you simply reply, "Uh wrong ansssssa." Or, if one of your tricks tries to place his penis in your bum after you've eaten Thai food for dinner, you simply reply, "Uh wrong ansssssa."
Mangina
A man's anus
Skidmarks
A straight man
June Bugs
A new term for lesbians
Ann Coulter
A botched male to female transsexual operation
Bears
Big, burly hairy gay men that Stephen Colbert is frequently afraid of.
Twinks
Thin, hairless, young gay men
Musclebears
Men who should call me
Susser
A feminine gay man who uses a lot of s's when he sssspeaks. Twinks are usually good examples, and Michael Moloney from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
Sussin' Susser
A really feminine gay man who overuses a lot of s's when he sssspeaks. Michael Kors from Project Runway would be an example of a sussin' susser.
Ira
A term applied to an individual who packs their entire wardrobe and toiletries for a relatively short vacation
Am I missing any?
And...
This baby is a metaphor for the world:
Posted by durban bud at 10:41 AM | Comments (7)
July 12, 2006
Wednesday Whatnot
* Adam Carolla hangs up on Kunty Koulter. Classic.
mp3 audio (courtesy Crooks & Liars)
* This Real World chick needs some serious help. Couple things: she needs to get her eating disorder under control, and she needs to STOP drinking!
* I'll be watching the Emmy nominated scientology South Park episode on July 19th; you should too.
* That head butt guy is kinda sexy. His head must be really hard. I had no idea you could knock someone on their ass with your head. I think I'm gonna start doing that to people who bug me. If I see someone throwing their cigarette butts on the street or chomping their gum like a cow, I'm gonna apply the head butt maneuver. So look out.
* I hear Basic Instinct 2 is just awful; I'm so gonna rent it.
* DC is getting scarier. I think I need to move. Let me know if you have some extra room at your home; I may need to use it. Otherwise, I think I'm gonna move to a farm in Vermont. Get some goats, a couple meerkats, and maybe a pug or two.
* Catty poll fun!
Posted by durban bud at 06:38 PM | Comments (7)
July 11, 2006
I Need A Rub
I haven't had a massage in a long time. And after the past year, I desperately need one. My problem is I can't find a really good masseur. I've had some pretty bad experiences which I should write about in depth later, but for now: There was the straight guy who was sick and coughed on me the whole time. There was the skinny little chatty patty who engaged me in conversation the whole time, and pet me like I was her puppy. There was the effeminate gay guy who sssssooo wanted to chit chat and ssssseemed to have bird fingers, as I hardly felt anything. These situations created more knots in my back as I left.
I just want a simple full body massage without any talking and a whole lot of rubbing. If anyone knows if this person exists in DC, please contact me. I'm serious.
And if the masseur looks like this guy, even better.
Hat tip to Bubala
Stephen Colbert & Bears
He makes me laugh.
Posted by durban bud at 11:06 AM | Comments (7)
July 10, 2006
My Search For Winona Ryder
I had a surreal dream last night; I dreamt I was hanging out with Tony Bennett and Joey Ramone. Only it wasn't a dream, it was a flashback.
In my silly Things You Don't Really Need to Know About Me post, I referenced my former republican roommate. He was a secret service cop, and he took his job very seriously, maybe too seriously.
He always felt the need to "protect" me. I'll give you some examples:
We were watching TV one evening when we heard a noise outside our patio. He took his gun out and told me to "get down." I complied as he went out to investigate. It was only a rat.
After a night of heavy drinking at a local bar, I knocked over a chair that was on a table as the bar was closing. The bartender rushed over to see what the commotion was. My roommate took out his badge, shoved it in the bartender's face and said, "I'll take care of this."
Another evening, we were driving down a quiet street when a few teenage boys pretended to throw something at my roommate's camaro. God forbid, you fuck with his camaro. He put on the brakes, told me to stay put, lept outside and confronted the hooligans. He flashed his badge and began frisking the unsuspecting teens. I was mortified. He said, "You like harrassing people? Well, I like harrassing derelicts." I put my cap over my face and prayed for him to get back in the car. "Please stop, please stop."
Anyway, not too long after, he took me to one of the big music festivals in the area. A bunch of my favorite artists were playing: Better Than Ezra, Bush, Hole, Juliana Hatfield, etc.
It was a gorgeous day. The sun was shining. I laid down on a blanket as Juliana took the stage. I told my roommate how cool it would be to meet her. He went to get us some beers and was gone for awhile. He came back and started motioning for me to follow him. "Huh? Where are we going? I want to watch Juliana's set." He said, "C'mon, hurry up. I've got something better."
I followed him to a side area by the stage. A bunch of men motioned for me to come over, and opened an area for me to walk through by a fence. "What is going on?" "Just pretend you're a senator's son and I am protecting you." Um, okay. Score! I got backstage! I was so excited, I wet my panties.
Normally, I'm not into the whole celebrity thing, but, goddamnit, today was my day to be a celebrity geek.
Juliana had just finished her set and dove into the crowd. As she walked down the stairs off the stage, I was the first person to approach her. I said, "Hi Julie (cuz, ya know, I'm on a first name basis with her), I'm T.J." She was out of breath and her mascara was running down her face, "Um, oh, hi." Some annoying fan approached her as well and ruined our stimulating conversation. She handed me a camera and asked me to take their picture. The girl put her arm around "Julie" and put on a big smile. Julie stuck her tongue out and I snapped the photo.
By then, I was over Julie. Now who else can I bug?!?
General Public were also performing, so I struck up a conversation with some of their lackeys. "Can I get you anything," one of them asked. "What do you mean?" "Would you like something to drink, like a beer?" "Oh, sure. And keep 'em comin'!"
General Public's people were keeping me nice and sauced. "Did you hear Winona Ryder is here?" "No," I tried to play it cool. THE Winona Ryder is HERE, I thought, from one of my favorite movies, Heathers! "Maybe I'll go say hi later." My panties were drenched at this point. Soul Asylum were the main attraction, and Winona was dating the lead singer at the time. My mission was confirmed.
I was now in the tunnels of RFK stadium. I spent too much time with the General Public boys that I was missing much of the show.
Courtney Love was just finishing up a surprise set, so I ran back to the stage so I could accost her. I was screaming, "Coooourtneeeeey!" Her people shielded her from me, and she got into a jeep. I kept screaming. She flashed a big smile and gave me the finger. Whatever, her loss.
Who next, who next? Oh, there's Gavin Rossdale! At the time, Bush were my favorite band. They filled my Nirvana void. I passed by Gavin several times, and he always smiled and said hello. For some reason, I was nervous to go up to him. I finally did, and asked if he would sign my T-shirt. He was more than gracious and very friendly. After he signed, I asked, "Have you seen Winona?" "Nope, sorry."
I ran into Juliana again. Since I was getting into the whole autograph thing, I asked her to sign my T-shirt as well. She looked at the Bush graphic on front of the shirt, and said, "That's kinda offensive." The image is of a man dressed as a bush. "Huh, it's just a bush," I said to her, not realizing how odd that sounded. She began to write her name. "You're pen's not working," she complained. I patted her on the back, "Don't worry about it." I pulled my shirt away. I know Juliana Hatfield is not giving me attitude, 'mmm'kay.
The Bush boys were about to hit the stage. My roommate flashed his badge again and the festival people allowed me to get onto the side of the stage to watch their performance. I was in major dork mode at this point. I gave the bass player a hug, told the guys to "go get 'em," and watched as they got into a prayer huddle right before stepping out in front of 55,000 people. I did everything in my power not to let myself run onto the middle of the stage and do a little jig for all to see. The whole thing was so surreal.
After their set, I ran back in the tunnels to find my next victim. Alison Stewart from MTV News was back there conducting interviews. I asked her if she wanted to interview me; she declined. I grabbed her microphone and did a number of Beavis & Butthead impersonations. "Allithhhon Thhhtewwwart ithhhh not very nittthhh." I then asked if she would allow me to be in the next installment of the Real World. She was a good sport and we actually spoke for awhile. "Have you seen Winona?" I asked. "Nope."
I was standing in a hallway with my roommate and some people from MTV. Joey Ramone came up to chat, and one of the festival folks introduced me to him. When people would ask who I was, I would say "I'm T.J." and my roommate would say, "I'm protecting him." Nobody seemed to really care or ask any followups. Joey Ramone did say, "Whoa, you must be pretty important." I'm like, "You have no idea."
Juliana came over again, "Do you have a cigarette?" "Nope. Smoking is offensive."
For some reason, Tony Bennett was also on the bill. The alternative crowd loves him, I guess. He came into the hallway. He spoke to a few people, but they left him just standing there. So I said, "You're that guy who really likes San Francisco." Big. Dork. Moment. He smiled and I introduced myself. I followed up with, "Didn't you just win a bunch of Grammys?" Luckily, he did in fact win Best Album earlier in the year. He was very sweet and charming.
Then everyone seemed to disappear except for Joey Ramone, Tony and me. Joey was like 7 feet tall. Tony is about 5 foot. We were all just standing there in silence, so I said, "Have you guys seen Winona?"
By this point, it was getting late with still no sign of Winona. I ran through the tunnels stopping at various dressing rooms to see if anyone knew where she was. Soul Asylum were getting ready to perform, so people assumed she was outside by the stage. I went outside to continue my search. She was nowhere to be found. *Sigh*
My roommate was showing signs of wear, and was itching to beat the traffic as the concert was coming to a close. My search for Winona had come up empty. Oh well.
I didn't meet Winona, but I did learn something about myself that day. I'm a huge dork.
Posted by durban bud at 11:15 AM | Comments (4)
July 08, 2006
Things You Don't Really Need to Know About Me
* I've never seen an episode of Law & Order or any of its spinoffs, although I have deliberately caught glimpses of Chris Meloni from time to time.
* I've never seen an episode of CSI or any of its spinoffs.
* I've probably seen all the episodes of Forensic Files.
* When I was little, I used to pretend I was Robin from Batman. I took the red shirt off my Winnie the Pooh doll to use as my Robin shirt. I also had a mask.
* For about 3 years in a row, I dressed as a witch for Halloween. The witch hat was attached to long blonde hair. My parents got me this costume, so basically they dressed me in drag as a child.
* I was selected by my 4th grade class to give a speech in front of the school about the release of the Iran hostages. My sister was selected by her 6th grade class to also deliver a speech. The media was there filming the event. My sister was featured on the local news; I was not. I'm still bitter.
* I like almost every type of food except crabs and Ethiopian cuisine. I'm not a picky eater.
* I don't have any allergies that I know of.
* I drink too much caffeine.
* I have a strange fascination for washing machines. Whenever my mom would do a load, she would prop me on top of the machine so I could watch the whole event. I still find myself watching until all the clothes have been sucked down and are nice and wet.
* I first had sex with a dude when I was 20. It was lame.
* I used to be very anti-drug in school. I stormed out on several occasions when my friends decided to partake in illegal substances.
* I've been in two fist fights in my life. One of them was with a guy who was constantly bullying me. I totally kicked both their asses. I rule.
* I think Steve Carell from The Office is kinda hot, although he could probably fuck a small goat with that nose.
* I appear calm, but my mind is usually racing in a million different directions.
* I used to be roommates with a gay republican. He was a secret service cop. He took me target shooting once with his 9mm. I was a good shot. That was the only time I've ever used a gun.
* This same roommate took me on a private tour of the White House. I got to hold Socks, the Clinton's cat.
* I had a blanket I used to take everywhere when I was a kid. My mom still has it.
* My parents have created a large collage of different photos of family and friends through the years on a wall in their home. All of the photos surround two enormous large high school senior portraits of me and my sister. You have never seen terror until you have seen a large image of yourself with a mullet for everyone to see.
* My first job was at an ice cream place. It lasted two weeks. I got in trouble for constantly sticking my fingers in the cream.
* I had the coolest fat pussy when I was growing up. I was the only one who gave her any attention. She beat up several dogs who dared to enter our home. And she had no claws.
* My cat was black. One year, I dyed her tail blonde.
* My first concert was The Police with A Flock of Seagulls & The Fixx. My dad took me.
* I'm terrible at getting back to people who have tried to contact me.
* The telephone ringing is one of my least favorite sounds.
* I used to have a waterbed. I totally had sex on it.
* I played soccer in high school. Well, I mostly watched from the bench.
* I used to play the drums.
* I own a pair of leather chaps. And a harness.
* I changed my major 4 times in college. I still don't know what I really want to do.
* I'm a huge flirt.
* My dad took me several times to see the Buffalo Bills play. I was obsessed with football for a few years.
* My parents took me to a religious choral concert at some church. When it was over, I asked one of the 50 singers for their autograph.
* I miss Beavis & Butthead.
* I was in the cub scouts.
* I find cigarette smoking disgusting.
* Spring is my favorite season. Turn, turn, turn.
* I don't have a car. I used to, but I don't really need one anymore. Walking or cabs are best for me.
* I like Eminem. I like Moby too.
* I wrote all of this while watching a terrible movie called "Failure to Launch." What a piece of crap.
* I hate stupid movies.
Posted by durban bud at 09:21 PM | Comments (7)
July 07, 2006
How to Make a Straight Guy Squirm
I had a meeting last night with a couple straight guys. They are very affable, and I do not judge them by their lifestyle choice. I treat everyone equally.
One of the guys asked me, "So how is your, uh, your, um, your, you know, boyfriend? I don't know the correct term."
"I prefer butt buddy, thanks," I said, which was followed by some uncomfortable silence.
So what is the correct term?
Boyfriend applies to someone you have been dating for a relatively short period of time. After about a year or so, you need to refer to them with another term.
Life partner and Longtime Companion sound too clinical, or too forced.
Lover sounds too 1970's. If you use that term, you are probably over 50 and really gay.
Significant Other sounds like you're trying to hide something. Plus, it's pretty vague.
My Bitch or My Fudge are just kinda rude.
Husband or Fiance don't apply.
Special Friend makes us sound retarded.
I prefer the term partner, for now, even though it makes us seem like we're lawyers or something.
At the 'hab, Rob and I participated in a group counseling session with a number of other couples, all heterosexual. We were asked to stand up and introduce our mates.
I introduced Rob as my partner. One of the other participants later told me his wife thought it was very nice of me to bring my business partner to such an occasion. As if! He told her we were gay. She said, "No, they're business partners; he introduced him as his partner. They're not gay." She did not believe it until we were forced to sit in opposing chairs in front of the entire group, and talk about our "feelings" for one another. Ugh, talk about uncomfortable. That was just one of the more surreal experiences of my life.
The first couple that sat in the hot seats were a poster couple for toxicity and divorce. They yelled at each other the entire time, and claimed the only reason they had not divorced was because they're Catholic and have six children. Then the wife dropped the G-Bomb. "And HE has issues because one of our sons is GAY!" Oh shit. And we have to follow this? Calgon, take me away.
Anyway...
It's all relative. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter what we're called. But it does matter.
Posted by durban bud at 08:21 AM | Comments (7)
July 06, 2006
Oh My God, Shoes
I just got back from an extended holiday get-a-way at Rehoboth, so I'll blog later.
In the meantime...
I realize this video is so 1 month ago, but it still makes me giggle. As I was driving home this morning (in the fucking rain, by the way), I kept saying "Oh my god, shoes" and "Shut up, Deck". I'm weird.
Posted by durban bud at 01:40 PM | Comments (5)