durban bud: September 2006 Archives

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September 29, 2006

Cool Fags

We live in the back of a row house on the first and second floor. So I guess we live in the house's ass. We are surrounded by the asses of other houses from a parallel street. Many of these houses have decks on their second levels.

Many a time I have found myself wandering around my second level late at night wearing only my boxers. No big deal, right? Well it is a big deal when you realize your neighbors are hosting a family party with children on their deck, and you're sporting a semi-erect penis. Obviously, when it's dark out and the lights are on, you can see what's happening in here, but it's hard for me to see what's happening out there.

I just came upstairs to watch some telly in the peace and quiet. I opened a window to cool off the place, only to hear the loud cackling of a nearby party. Great. They have now all seen my bizness.

Drunk Girl was at the party, screaming and yelling things like, "OMG, shut up! Nuh-uh, you shut up!" She sees me. I hide.

Not realizing I can hear EVERYTHING now, I hear her giggle and say, "Who livthhhhs over thhhhere?" Neighbor Boy says, "A couple gay guys." "OMG thhhere fagthhhhhhhs?" This is followed by a few "Shhhhhhh's." It gets real quiet. Neighbor Boy says, "Yeah, but they're cool fags."

Gee, thanks!

I walk back to the window and wave enthusiastically to the party goers; then I lick my hand and blow them a big, wet, french kiss.

I'm such a bad ass. I close the window slightly, and turn on the TV. It is now peaceful. Drunk Girl has shut her trap. For now.

Update: It's after midnight, and Drunk Girl is screaming louder than before. She's shouting to strangers that pass by the party. Ugh. I hate her.

Finish your Zima and go back to Virginia, betch.

Update II: It's after 3:00pm; I just woke up. Drunk Girl kept me up late. I woke up at 9:00am, but saw that it was raining, so I went back to sleep. I can do that, cuz I'm a cool fag.

We're now heading to Frederick, MD to go to a big, gay party hosted by these cool fags; so Drunk Girl will not be there, but I'm sure there will be plenty of Drunk Gurls. I'll take my camera for documentation. See ya, wouldn't want to be ya!

Posted by durban bud at 11:23 PM | Comments (7)

September 28, 2006

Bogus Blog

Hmmm...I think I've stumbled across a blog that's not exactly honest. I've read a number of their entries, and everything seems a little too perfect to be believed; it's almost like a fantasy in the writer's head of what he wants his life to be like. I don't have any real proof, but I have fabulous intuition with a slight dose of cautious paranoia. Trust no one!

I won't mention who it is; I wouldn't want to embarrass them, or myself, if I'm wrong (which I never am). But I think a few people know who I am referring to.

I've heard about fake blogs before. There was a very public spat earlier this year surrounding a certain blog, but it didn't mean much to me cuz I never read it, and then there was the whole lonelygirl15 debacle.

I guess it doesn't really matter; after all, it's only a blahg. And if the readers enjoy the writing, who cares. But I do feel bad for people who get caught up in the stories and post comments, only to realize the shit ain't real.

I'll keep checking it out from time to time, cuz it's amusing and sad, kinda like "Flavor of Love 2". But I won't take it seriously until I read about an event they attended that can be verified by other people, or at least, a few photos of themselves or their friends.

I may be fake, but at least my blog is real.

Posted by durban bud at 2:30 PM | Comments (5)

September 26, 2006

Man-Meat Moratorium

Folsom weekend was loads of dirty, rotten, naughty fun. That said, I really don't need to see another penis for a long, long time. I really don't.

Our wonderful hosts, Matt & Michael, held a party on Friday night. I got to meet future porn star, John aka Waremouse aka Space Cadet. He's a funny guy. Some observations he made:

"If this party is a reality show, I'm the black guy who gets kicked off."
"Lisbon is the Baltimore of Europe."

"Dean Coulter is the Greta Garbo of gay porn."

He invited us to a Raging Stallion party on Saturday, but we couldn't make it. Saturday was all about Magnitude, the big, gay, leather dance party.

I played the part of spectator; although I did put on a leather Wonder Woman-like bracelet.

It was quite an experience. Lots of beautiful people. The music was great. Friendly atmosphere. Ran into a couple mandies.

I made it on the dance floor a few times, and proved to myself that I can still have fun without being fucked up on some drug. I saw a number of guys who were so high. I remember exactly how that felt and missed it for a split second; then I remembered how shitty I felt the entire week after. Not worth it to me. Plus, I didn't end up doing something I'd regret. So I remained fully clothed the entire time! Yay me!

After watching some of the events occuring in the dungeon or onstage for everyone to see, I realized just how much of a prude I really am.

Sunday was the fair. It was a gorgeous day. Crazy crowds. Lots of fun. I knew what to expect so I wasn't shocked by anything. It's basically an anything goes type of event.

I met a bunch of porn stars. All of them were really sweet, especially my boy, Jake. He was a good sport, as I took several photos with him. I was well-behaved. Good guy. I hope he comes to DC soon; we would love to take him out for sushi or something.

I have to say it was kind of ego brusing to be around all these hot guys. I look like the retarded brother with Down's in the pictures I took with them. Oh well. We can't all look that good.

All in all, we had a wonderful time. I love San Fran. I always have a good time there. I hope to go back soon.

I know you're just dying to see some of the photos. *They are pretty R-Rated*, so view them at your own discretion.

Cosmic Blast

T.Todd freakin' me the fuck out.

Porn Stars:

Kirk Ziegler

Jake. I love how his photo is in the background on the right.

Blurry Jake

Enzo Grimaldi

Folsom Pics:

Yes, he is doing what you think he is doing.

So that is why I am on a man-meat moratorium.

Posted by durban bud at 9:05 AM | Comments (13)

September 25, 2006

Mission Accomplished

Posted by durban bud at 1:09 AM | Comments (20)

September 23, 2006

Rice-A-Roni

I'm here. I'm queer. I'm used to it.

Somewhere in the Mission

A Dirty...

Voodoo

You've heard of "Mom Jeans"; these must be "Dad Jeans"

The only straight couple in the Castro

The gayest place in the world

Ow.

The fair is tomorrow. Off to the big party tonight...

Posted by durban bud at 10:20 PM | Comments (3)

September 20, 2006

Stalking Jake Dakota

Jake is the one with the baseball cap. I will be stalking him at Folsom this weekend. He's my very own McDreamy. I've already alerted him of my intentions, and he seemed to imply that it would be okay. With my luck, I'll fuck it up and won't meet him, but at least I'll try!

Anyway, I leave tomorrow. I'll be taking my laptop, so maybe I'll live blog from Folsom! Nah, I'm not that pathetic (or am I)?

I'll be staying with sex god, Cosmicblast. He's hosting a party Friday night. I hope I can make it. I'll prolly end up at Harvey's drinking milk and playing trivia.

We all bought tickets to some party called Magnitude. We didn't read the dress code until after we got our tix. It calls for wearing something leather. Um, not sure about that. I'm not bringing any leather items I may have. No room in my backpack; plus, I'd be the one in the security line who gets pulled aside, questioned, and anally raped. Maybe I'll just wear a wrist band or something, like Wonder Woman does.

I haven't been to a club proper in like 3 years. Since I won't be partaking in drugs and alcohol, it should make for a unique experience. I hope I don't slip on any Crisco.

Sunday is the fair and the performance with Bob and Rich.

Update: Jake and me

*************
This photo was lifted off porn star Jason Ridge's site. He's kinda hot too, but it's all about Mr. Dakota this weekend.

Posted by durban bud at 2:16 PM | Comments (13)

September 19, 2006

Gayface

Haaaaaaaaaaaay

Gayface is the look that gay men have that enables other gay men to quickly identify them as "family" no matter what they're doing, wearing or saying. Gayface is identifiable in photos. Gayface cannot be hidden by attempts to butch it up. Straight men with gayface are not really straight.

Anyway, I met some lovely men on Saturday at Jimbo's pre-Blowoff gathering. They are man candy, so they shall be referred to as "Mandies"; it's the new "Sugar Tits". Feel free to spread the term around.

So a bunch of us descended upon Blowoff. I had a blast. Such a good vibe there. Great guys. No attitude. Of course, I ran into virtually everyone I link to on here.

I was worried if a bunch of the refugees from Nation would take over the space, but that didn't appear to happen. I did notice a few refugees though. One platinum blonde twink, dressed to the nines, and with a severe case of Gayface, was vogueing or something in the dance area. He kept bumping into me with those hand movements. Please don't do that; it scares me.

* My very good friend, David, is now a Baby Daddy. I met his son, Joshua, yesterday. He is absolutely adorable, and I know David will be an amazing father. He's such an awesome caregiver, as he's taken care of me when I desperately needed it.

It's been a long, arduous process for him to adopt that started 3 years ago. Finally, he has his son, and I couldn't be happier for both of them.

That said, I still do not babysit. I have a tendency to taser unruly children. Sorry.

Posted by durban bud at 12:21 PM | Comments (5)

September 18, 2006

Talk Sex With Durban Bud

I think I would be a better sexpert than Sue Johanson. She doesn't really know what the hell she is talking about sometimes. Don't get me wrong; she seems like a lovely woman to share a drumstick with at a Swiss Chalet, but sometimes I want to smack her with a vibrator.

Some guy called in last night and said he was having trouble reaching an orgasm while pummeling his girlfriend. She told him that maybe he is worried his penis isn't big enough which is causing him to not be able to finish. Huh? I was like, c'mon Sue, ask him if he has other stressors in his life right now, or if he's on some kind of medication that could be causing this. But she didn't ask that. Those seem like obvious questions. Instead she gave the guy a dick-size complex; now he'll never cum.

What exactly are her credentials? She's not a doctor. Her bio says she's a registered nurse and a mother and a grandmother. My friend, Gregg, is also a registered nurse, but I wouldn't take sex advice from him. I'm a web guy and an uncle and a son, so I guess I could be a sex educator too.

I should co-host that show with her. She could handle the cooter and old people questions, and I'll handle the rest.

I always wonder who these people are that actually call into these shows. I don't know of anyone who has ever done that. It seems like most of questions could be answered on the Internet. If they have the Oxygen network in their household, it's a good bet they also have Internet access.

I used to listen to Dr. Ruth when I was in middle school. I would lay in bed with my little headphones hooked up to my boombox and listen as she talked openly about gay people and anal sex. She was very pro-gay and pro-butt sex. I think she was the first person I knew of that did that.

I love hearing about people's fetishes. Jimbo pointed out this one on his blog. In all my sexual exploits, I haven't come across someone with an odd fetish. I wish I had met a guy with a foot fetish. I love to have my feet rubbed. He could have rubbed them all night if he wanted and then finished with "This Little Piggy." That would have made me happy. If you know of any unusual fetishes you've encountered, please let me know. That shit entertains me.

So if you are considering calling up Sue Johanson's show for some advice, consider asking me instead. I'm sure I could provide you with the answers you are seeking.

Posted by durban bud at 12:09 PM | Comments (13)

September 16, 2006

Call Me When You're Sober

That has to be the best song title this year.

I have been sorely lacking in the music listening department these days. I can't seem to find a good place to hear new music, or maybe I'm too lazy.

I check out some videos on VH1 from time to time, but usually they're just playing Hulk Hogan or Flavor Flav shows. I don't listen to radio anymore since I don't drive anywhere. I look at the Modern Rock charts and realize I am getting really old, as I don't recognize the majority of the artists anymore. Dumbek would be really disappointed with my music knowledge as of late.

I'll be at Blowoff tonight to hopefully edumacate myself on some new tunes.

I wish Apple would stop coming out with new versions of their iPod. When I was at the beach, someone commented:

"Oh, your iPod is soooo cute; it's so ancient. What is that, like a year old?"

So I need a new version. Anyway, I went to iTunes to do some shopping for music. Here's the way it went down:

I downloaded a couple Snow Patrol songs.

I downloaded a couple songs by The Fray.

I downloaded the new Evanescence song.

I downloaded an old Linkin Park song.

I downloaded a Gnarls Barkley song.

I downloaded that KT Tunstall song.

And then.

I downloaded an Ashlee Simpson song.

So sue me.

Posted by durban bud at 10:51 AM | Comments (7)

September 15, 2006

Beautiful Renovation

Safeway spends tens of dollars renovating the front of their 17th Street location. Isn't it beautiful???

We really need a Wegmans here in DC. They started in my hometown of Rochester, NY. One of the best things to come out of that city.

Posted by durban bud at 11:14 AM | Comments (10)

September 13, 2006

Phobias

My TV still doesn't work. Comcast was supposed to send someone out yesterday to fix it. They never showed up, and this was after we threatened to leave them. I have taken the wisdom I obtained from the book, "He's Just Not That Into You," and am moving on. We are switching to something else, but we need our TV restored to how it was before Comcast got involved.

Anyway, this has given me a lot of time to be productive and read and write and churn butter. I feel like I'm in Little House on the Prairie. No wonder Nelly was such a bitch. There wasn't much else to do.

And to make matters worse, I will most likely be murdered. Rob called that member of 50 Cent's entourage who created this whole mess to inform him that we are going to report him directly to some Better Business Bureau for Cable. He and G-Murda know where I live. They will come back and put a cap in my ass. I will be featured on an episode of Forensic Files. I just know it.

So, I've been spending my time surfing YouTube. I came across this video of a chick who is deathly afraid of pickles. No, it's not Tos; it's some other chick, but their reaction to pickles is very similar.

I don't think I have any major phobias like that. I guess I'm kinda afraid of heights, although I have gone skydiving. I do have a fear of those cable car gondolas that require only one cable to get from point A to point B. If it's way high in the air, forget it; I will break out in hives, cuz I just know this will happen. And I don't like flying anymore, especially during takeoff. Any slight turbulence as we launch into the air creates a mild heart attack.

I used to be afraid of spiders, but they don't bother me much anymore. And this thing kinda freaks me out.

Other than that and labiaplasty, I don't have any fears (that I'm aware of), except the fear of my impeding doom from the cable guy.

Do you have any phobias like this?

Posted by durban bud at 1:56 PM | Comments (15)

September 12, 2006

Hi, My Name is TJ, and I Am a Retard

Today is voting day here in DC. It's the democratic primary election.

It's my civic duty, so I was all in a tizzy today about who I was gonna vote for. I discussed this at length with several friends.

I go with Rob to our local polling place to cast my exciting ballot. I give them my name and address. They look it up. I am not listed. Uh wrong ansa! I must be listed. Rob is listed and breezes on through. They ask if I have voted there before. I say yes. They ask me to fill out a form and head over to the special needs voter booth.

They, too, look up my address and inform me that I am, indeed, at the right precinct. WTF? The woman asks me which party I will be voting for? "I am a registered independent, but I will probably vote straight democrat."

The woman smiles and says, "This is for the democratic primary, honey. As an independent, you can vote in the general election."

Oh. Yeah.

Posted by durban bud at 2:19 PM | Comments (4)

September 11, 2006

Comcast Sux Donkey Dick

*May not be safe for work*

We received a letter from Comcast informing us that they are no longer offering HBO on their basic cable system, so we need to upgrade to digital cable in order to continue receiving it. Okay, fine, we'll upgrade. Cha-ching for them. We have the equipment for it, plus it's time to get better picture quality.

A member of 50 Cent's entourage shows up last Thursday to install our new "box".

"Do you want me to hook it up?" he asks as he enters my home.

"Um, yeah. That would be mighty helpful."

He unhooks our cable and tries to install the new box to our bitchin' plasma TV.

"This ain't gonna work."

"Why not?"

"Cuz this don't have the right input; but the HD box do. If you get the HD box, it'll work."

"We already have an HD tuner."

"You have to have a Comcast HD tuner."

"Why?"

"That's just the way it is."

"How much more is their HD box?"

"About 5 dollar a month."

"Okay, we'll get the HD box." Cha-ching.

"I don't have an HD box in my truck; I can come back first thing tomorrow to hook it up."

"Okay, fine." I'm such a pushover sometimes.

He attempts to hook our original cable back up.

"It ain't workin'. I hooked it up exactly like it was before."

Um, no you didn't cuz it was working fine before you showed up. At that point, I just wanted him out of my home. I can live without the TV working for a day. I think. It's always weird when strangers are in your personal space. And I had an enormous fear that one of my butt-sex pornos was gonna show up as he moved some of my DVDs to access the equipment.

Next day, he doesn't show up on time. I call his cell. He's on his way. Great.

He brings in the new box along with another member of 50 Cent's entourage, G-Murda.

"He's training with me."

He hooks up the new box. It doesn't work. He spends an hour trying to get it to work. G-Murda is just sitting there with his head in his hands.

"I don't know why it won't work. I've tried everything."

"Can you call someone else who might be able to fix it?"

"I've hooked up a million of these things. I'm one of the head techs. If I can't do it, they can't either."

He spends another hour trying to hook back up our original cable. G-Murda is still sitting there, head in hands.

"Well, how are you going to fix this?"

"I'll call my supervisor, and see what we can do."

"You are gonna come back and fix this today, right?"

"Yeah, I'll call you after I speak to my supervisor."

I know that will be the last time I see or hear from him.

I call him at 3:00 & 4:00 & 5:00 & 6:00 & 7:00. No word. Nothing. By 8:00, I'm fuming. It takes a lot to get me pissed off. I like to think I'm pretty mellow and non-confrontational. I called customer service and went off. I asked to speak to a supervisor. The supervisor tells me they will send someone out next Wednesday to fix it. "Uh, wrong ansa! It needs to be hooked up now! This whole thing started because of you guys. You told us we couldn't get HBO unless we got digital. Being whores for HBO, we need it now! Plus, you're now getting more money from us! Fix it!"

"We're sorry, sir." He tries to instruct me how to hook back up our original cable box. "Yeah, buddy. This ain't gonna work." "Okay, call me around noon tomorrow and I'll see what I can do." He gives me a direct line number.

I call the direct line number at noon. It rings and rings. And rings. No answer. Nothing.

I call the main customer service number. I wait on hold for 20 minutes.

Someone answers, "Thanyafocallcomca, howhelu."

"What?"

"Thanyafocallcomca, howhelu."

"Is this Comcast?"

"Mmmmmhmmmmm."

It appears Shirley Q Liquor has gotten a job at Comcast.

"I'm trying to reach Cesar at extension 2188. By the way, how you durrin'?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind."

"Please hold."

Another 20 minutes go by.

Someone answers, "Thanyafocallcomca, howhelu."

"I'm waiting to be transferred to extension 2188!"

"Please hold."

"No, I don't wa-"

The line is disconnected. Mother. Fuckers.

I call back. The woman informs me that she will "email the supervisor."

I am at the mercy of these dickwads.

Finally, the supervisor calls me back and tells me the tech supervisor will call me to schedule a time to stop by. How many fucking supervisors are there?

I'm out of options. I have no recourse.

Needless to say, that is the last time I have heard from anyone. I have a Comcast HD box here that won't work. And no cable for the past 4 days.

I am going to switch to DirecTV or Dish. This is where I need your help. Which one is better???

Posted by durban bud at 2:53 PM | Comments (26)

September 10, 2006

That Day: A DC Perspective

I was sitting at my computer in the corner of my living room in our one bedroom apartment ready to start my work day. Around 9am, Marla, my next door neighbor who also worked at home, called me. She asked if I had seen the news about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. I turned the Today show on to hear the details. It looked to me like a little Cessna had crashed near the top of the building. I really didn't think much of it, but was riveted by the discussion and coverage of the crash, so I kept watching, with Marla still on the phone. That's when I saw the second plane crash. Like everyone else, I knew we were being attacked. It was all so surreal. From then on, I was glued to the TV.

A reporter was on the news from the Pentagon saying smoke was coming out of the building. They thought it might be a bomb. I looked out my window and could see smoke billowing into the crystal clear blue sky.

I spoke to Tos, who was working at the former USA Today building in Virginia. He could see the destruction outside his building overlooking the Pentagon. The fire was enormous. It was a plane.

Everyone in DC was sent home from work. There was such a state of panic. Was another plane on its way to DC to hit the Capitol? Or maybe a bomb? That's what everyone thought. Downtown was chaos. People running everywhere.

The phone was ringing off the hook. I received a ton of emails. Are you okay? I tried to contact everyone I knew in New York City. Are you okay? The phones were jammed.

The building I lived in, The Wardman, was very Melrose Place-like. Or Tales of the City. Or even Seinfeld. We were all friendly with one another, and often went over to each other's apartments. We all convened at one location or another to watch the news. We just wanted to be around other people.

At lunch time, a group of us took a walk down 17th Street to get some food. It was so beautiful out. An eerie calm seemed to be present on the street. Strangers would look at us and smile, something rare in this city. It all just seemed we were happy to be okay. And I think some of us felt guilty for that.

During lunch, we saw several planes pass over us. We all looked to see where they were going. The sound of the planes was so loud and terrifying. We waited to hear the crash, but luckily that didn't happen. For weeks after, people would stop on the street and look up whenever a plane, helicopter or fighter jet were present. And they were very present after that day.

That evening, a group of us watched the news from our place. It was so nice to be around friends; we were very emotional. Any disagreements we may have had with one another before were gone. It's weird how a tragedy can do that.

Obviously, I'll never forget where I was that day when it happened, or who I was with.

Where were you that day?

Posted by durban bud at 1:33 PM | Comments (7)

September 8, 2006

Jeffrey's Weather Part 2

This seems to prove my earlier point regarding weathermen:

Posted by durban bud at 9:24 AM | Comments (9)

September 7, 2006

The Korean Lady

The Korean woman who runs the convenience store down the street loves me. I made the mistake of telling her that I like the new Diet Coke with Splenda. She ordered a bunch of the 2-litres specifically for me. Well, apparently Coke has ceased making this version due to poor sales, at least that's what she told me.

I walked in today to buy whatever caffeine product I was in the mood for. There is a huge line at the register. She sees me and starts yelling, "WE HAVE SPLENDA FO' YOU! IN CAN!" I'm startled, "Huh?" "WE HAVE SPLENDA IN CAN IN BACK! WE FOUND FO' YOU!" She stops checking people out and orders one of her kids she holds hostage at the store to go to the refridgerator in the back to bring me some. People are clearly annoyed and staring at me. "That's okay, I don't really ne--." The kid who must be 9 years old goes to the back and brings out a large box." "SEE! WE FOUND CAN FO' YOU!" I walk away and hide behind some jars of pasta sauce hoping she will continue checking people out. She is still yelling. Please stop.

The store eventually empties, so I come out of my hiding place and head to the register. I feel obliged to purchase the large box of cans. "WE FOUND FO' YOU!" She is still shouting even though I am like a foot away from her. "Thank you. You didn't need to do that." "Well, we know you love-uh the Splenda." Great. Nothin' like being known as the boy who loves his Splenda.

As she's ringing me up, I notice a bunch of bags filled with a yellow liquid for sale by the register. I pick one up to investigate and see a pickle in the bag. I make a look of disgust on my face. She notices and says, "Those fo' black peoples."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Those fo' black peoples. They love in bag."

"We have pickle in jar fo' you over there."

Oh dear. I have no idea how to respond to my little racist friend.

"I make pickle in Korea. They so good. I make you some. I bring in recipe fo' you so you can make."

"Yeah, um, I don't think I want to start making pickles. Thanks."

"Oh, you no like pickle?"

"No, I like pickles. I just don't need to make them." I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

"I make good pickle. They vedy, vedy cispy. So vedy vedy cispy."

"Oh, I do love them crispy," I add for some odd reason.

"I bing in recipe fo' you! So vedy cispy."

I smile and leave.

If I go in there next time and she has a huge line and YELLS at me that she has my pickle recipe, I am never going back.

Posted by durban bud at 1:14 PM | Comments (6)

September 6, 2006

Trick

We all have our share of bad hook up stories. I have tons of them. I've erased most of them from my memory, but one memory resurfaced the other day when I went to a party to see a bunch of friends I hadn't seen in a long time. I was introduced to one of those awful tricks I had a one night stand with a long time ago. A really bad one night stand. Ew.

I met this guy when I first moved to DC at some trashy bar called the Frat House. I have since learned that Men + Frat House = Automatic Booty Tang. At the time, I was all, "I don't have one night stands. I need to get to know the person first before we engage in any sexual activty." I was, after all, severely naive with like moral values and shit.

For some reason, he's always been kind of a dick to me since our original evening of doom. I'm really not sure why. Was he expecting more? Did I somehow offend him? Is his penis still bleeding? Who knows. All I know is the sex was horrific. I think he wanted anal, but this was in my innocent pre-anal days, so maybe he was really bored.

Whenever I would see him in a bar thereafter, he would ignore me, give me dirty looks, or throw napkins at me. Fuh Reek.

I noticed him early on in the evening at the party. I was caught by surprise cuz I had never seen my friends hanging out with him before. He looked awful. He definitely has let himself go. I thought he was hot when I tricked with him. Then again, I was probably wasted. Another reason to stop drinking! Anyway, he is now troll-like.

One of my friends introduced me to a number of guys. Rumpelstiltskin was one of them. My friend is like, "Do you know TJ?" He said, "Nope." I'm like, "Uh, yeah ya do. Your tongue was up my mangina* for like half an hour, lie bag!" But I didn't say that. Instead I said nothing and shook his troll hand. This was followed by an uncomfortable silence. I excused myself from the group and vomited in the kitchen sink.

Maybe I was totally forgettable to him, or maybe he considers me a troll too. I don't care.

One night stands aren't really one-night stands anymore. They always rear their ugly heads one more time in your life. Eventually.

* Gay Glossary

Posted by durban bud at 1:01 PM | Comments (8)

September 4, 2006

This Used To Be My Playground

The storm took away a large chunk of the beach. There was virtually no sand on Saturday and Sunday. There is a small amount that remains today, so we were allowed back. The large waves and strong undertow prevented people from going out past knee-deep.

It's been a fantastic weekend regardless. Suitcase Sally and Manhattan Furball made it especially entertaining.

I love September.