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November 30, 2006
Catty Online Poll
It's time for another catty online poll. I'm feeling lame on coming up with a topic, so can y'all give me some suggestions? What do YOU want to know. I've already done: cattiest gay guy on TV, sexual position preferences, and cities that have the hottest guys. I'm so deep!
Lemme know.
Posted by durban bud at 9:39 PM | Comments (16)
November 29, 2006
Isn't He Dead Yet?
It's official; we have run out of new ideas.
Perhaps Linda Lavin will also reprise her role in Alice soon. Actually, that would be kinda cool. Kiss my grits, right? Right?
Anyway, I'm still looking forward to this film.
Posted by durban bud at 7:44 PM | Comments (7)
Drama in the North Woods
Where did the North Woods Guys go? Hmmm.
Posted by durban bud at 9:59 AM | Comments (8)
November 28, 2006
Porn Crush
Imagine my surprise when I awoke this morning, to find a very naughty but oh so pleasant comment on my blog from my porn crush (one of the last comments). We all need a little ego stroking from time to time, especially when we're PMSing. And if the stroking comes from a hot porn star, even better.
Dreams DO come true, people. Especially if you're slutty.
Mission accomplished, indeed. This could get dangerous...
Posted by durban bud at 11:23 AM | Comments (10)
November 26, 2006
Pilgrims & Indians: Part 2
The first thing my mom said to me was, "You're too skinny." She likes me to be plump, like this guy. "I'm not skinny, Mom." "Well, your pants (pronounced: paints) are fallin' off your butt." "That's cuz I can't afford a belt. Hey, where's your costume?!?"
As my mom gets older, I'm noticing her speaking volume has increased to a glass shattering level. I believe this is a Southern trait. When the women in our extended family get together, they yell over each other to be heard. If drinking is involved, I have to leave the room.
Things went fairly well, except for the little hole in the turkey pan. The juice dripped onto the burner in the stove, which created a minor fire hazard. Of course, my parents showed up as this was happening. I had to open all the windows to let the black smoke escape. My mom walked in and said, "I CAN'T (pronounced: caint) BREATHE! WHAT IN THE HELL IS HAPPENIN' IN HURR?"
Luckily, Tos saved the day by bringing an extra pan. "I LIKE (pronounced: lock) THAT TOS. HE'S A GOOD EGG. AND HIS PARTNER IS NICE (pronounced: nas) TOO."
Dinner was good. About half an hour after finishing, my mom said, "LET'S GO CLEAN OUT YOUR CLOSET."
This reminded me that I had not planned anything else for them to do while they were here. So the next day I decided to take them to see some historic landmarks.
On Friday, we went down to Union Station to see the bathroom where Senator Larry Craig allegedly had gay sex. My mom said, "THIS IS DISGUSTIN'." "Indeed, it is."
On Saturday, I took them to Starbucks. My dad was none too happy about this, as he has weened my mom off of caffeine the past few years due to a hyper incident. "You can order a decaf, Mom." "NO, I'M ON VACATION. I'LL HAVE CAFFEINE!" Fine. I'm an enabler. My dad declined to take part. As I glanced back, I witnessed him at the condiments area stuffing his pockets with packets of natural sugar. "I caint find this stuff back home." "Yes you can, Dad. It's found in stores, where you have to purchase things."
We took our coffee to the Circle to people watch. My parents have turned into Joan and Melissa Rivers. I now know where my cattiness comes from. "SHE SHOULD NOT BE WEARIN' THAT. HER BUTT IS TOO BIG." "Mom, please use your indoor voice." "SHE CAINT HEAR ME." The woman looked back at us. My dad said, "That guy kinda looks like an angertwink. Is that what you would call him?" "Yes it is, Dad. Good call!"
From there, I took them over to the Iraq embassy conveniently located in Dupont Circle. For some reason, they posed for a picture in front of it. "MAKE SURE YOU GET THE IRAQ SIGN IN THE BACKGROUND." Okie doke.
They, once again, opted to sleep in the spare room on the futon. They both woke to severe back pain. The next night my dad set an Aleve by the side of the bed in case my mom needed it in the middle of the night. In the morning my mom said, "I TOOK THAT ALEVE BUT IT DIDN'T SEEM TO HELP." My dad said, "No, you didn't. You took a Tic-Tac I put on the bedside table. The Aleve is still sittin' there." She awoke with back pain, but fresh breath and a burning stomach. I love my parents.
All in all, it was a pleasant visit. When filming wraps on Suitcase Sally's reality show, The Irritation of Ira, I think my parents are next in line for their own reality show. It needs to be seen to be believed.
They are gone now. My ears are still ringing and I feel fat. But I have a clean closet.
Posted by durban bud at 10:10 AM | Comments (6)
November 23, 2006
Denouement
Posted by durban bud at 5:21 PM | Comments (6)
November 21, 2006
Clay Aiken is an Angertwink, etc.
I'm sure y'all have seen this by now. This is further proof that I never, ever want to be a celebrity. There would hundreds of youtube videos with me feuding with someone.
"If that was a straight man, if that was a cute man...she would have said a different thing." Huh? So he IS gay AND ugly?
I agree with Kelly; not everything is homophobic, Rosie. The kid was being an angertwink the entire show, and he crossed a line. Lighten up.
The Dick in Dixie
"I put the dick in dixie and the cunt in country" - Hank Williams III
I saw the Dixie Chicks movie, Shut Up & Sing, the other day. I have a lot of respect for them now. I despise country music, but I wouldn't classify their latest CD as country; it's more of a pop record, produced by Rick Rubin (Beastie Boys, Run DMC, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Danzig, Johnny Cash).
Natalie Maines comes off as very genuine and honest. Yeah, she's silly at times, but she knows her shit and is very forthcoming about the amount of fans they've lost.
I saw them on VH1's Storytellers and their talent is unmistakable. I think they'll be getting a few Grammy nominations for this work. Even hardcore rock music connoisseurs, Bubala & Mumi, became fans because of the movie!
That said, I fucking hate country music. I grew up having to listen to that shit every single day. In a way, I think that was a form of child abuse. I was regularly punched in the face with the Statler Brothers, Don Williams, and the Oak Ridge Boys. You haven't experienced real depression until you've heard that music. It's no wonder I made 8mm slasher films when I was like, 11.
Cut the Cord
Would you NYC boys please go to Times Square and saw off the cord that is holding David Blaine's gyroscope? Thanks.
Apple Dumplin'
Can someone please buy me a brand new Apple laptop, so I can start making cool movies? They're only around $3000. It would make me very happy. Oh, and I also need a digital video recorder. Thanks so much!
Taylor Hicks
Um, he looks kinda...good.
Posted by durban bud at 2:50 PM | Comments (15)
November 20, 2006
Pilgrims & Indians: Part 1
I'm cooking a very traditional meal on Thursday. I told my parents they don't need to bring anything, but my mom insists on bringing canned corn. "I got the corn on sale at Tops, so let me bring it. And let me bring a pie (pronounced: pah)."
I wish they would fly here, but they insist on driving the seven hours, cuz it's "cheaper". They become such nervous nellies driving in the city. Last time they drove here, I met them out front to help them park. I saw a car slowly moving by, starting and stopping, starting and stopping. I waved at them. My mom saw me and smiled--frantically waving-- until a large SUV began blaring the horn at them. They hit the gas, drove through a stop sign, and attempted to drive down a one-way street the wrong way. I didn't see them again until an hour later. Apparently, they got caught in Dupont Circle doing a continuous loop. How they ended up several blocks from my place is still a mystery.
I told them that my Thanksgiving dinners are a little different than most, and that it's customary to dress up as a Pilgrim or Indian. "Your father is not gonna be no Pilgrim." "Then he can be an Indian. All he has to do is wear a feathered cap and perform a war cry before we eat." "I don't think so." "Then he'll have to be a Pilgrim or dress in drag-- it's what we do here in DC." "Y'all are weird in DC."
"Your father found a little mixer thing at a garage sale, that I think you'll like (pronounced: lock). You can make smoothies with it." I know what this means; she's trying to pawn the shit off on me. I think you'll like it is code for your dad is collecting shit and I want to get rid of it. "Okay, but we really don't have room for anything else."
"Well, I would also like (lock) to bring down some old 45's we don't listen to anymore. I think you can prolly git a few bucks out of 'em if you sell 'em on the eBay. There's even some Everly Brothers records in there that I'm sure are worth a pretty penny." Yes, Mom, emphasis on penny.
My dad has become obsessed with accumulating crap in his old age; so much so that my mom has banned him from Target. He has a secret stash of matchbox cars, baseball caps and beef jerky he keeps hidden in a bag in their garage. Whenever I go home, he takes me to the garage to show off all the cool things he found on sale. "Don't tell your mother though." Once he drops my mom off at work, he heads over to Kmart or Target and roams the aisles for unnecessary bargains.
The last few times they have visited, they have declined sleeping in our bed, which puzzles me. For years, they've always slept on sodomy central with no problems. I've surmised they must have found some santorum or something on the sheets and it has traumatized them. They now insist on sleeping on the futon in the spare room, a bed that no one in their 60's should be laying on. My dad is tall and has back problems, but they're very adament about sleeping there.
It doesn't help that my sister has a big ass house in Colorado that they are used to visiting. My sister brags, "Well, we have four different king-size beds they can choose from." To which I ask, "Where do you live again?" "The suburbs of Denver." "Thank you."
They are not coming down until Thanksgiving Day, but I have a feeling my dad is already warming up the car, waiting on my mother.
To be continued...
Posted by durban bud at 12:34 PM | Comments (7)
November 19, 2006
Five-Alarm Phone Sex
A friend of mine had phone sex with a blogger while he was in his car, parked in front of an apartment building. Apparently, he shot a big load all over himself. Then he noticed the sound of sirens. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw a number of firetrucks heading his way. Covered in his own semen, he reached down to pull his pants back up. Five firetrucks stopped in front of the apartment building. He was sandwiched between all the trucks and couldn't get out. So there he sat, alone, scared, stuck -- with sperm dripping from his forehead -- a product of his own sinful lust.
I told him that phone sex is so 1990, and that phone sexing with a blogger, especially, signifies the lack of a moral compass.
He chastised me for including his name in one of my earlier posts. A bunch of his co-workers at his new job googled his name and my post was the first thing that came up. So now they all think he's a slutty alcoholic who has an affection for curb-dropping his friends when he gets horny. I love blogging!
Which leads me to this...
If you're introducing me to strangers at a party, please do not introduce me as a blogger. It's a sure-fire way to kill a conversation. He did this recently, and the look on people's faces was as if they smelled rotten cabbage. They looked at me with pity, until one of them said, "I don't read blogs." I said, "Most people don't." He added, "But if I were to read your blog, what is it called?" Naturally, I said, "The Sean Show."
Posted by durban bud at 3:09 PM | Comments (4)
November 16, 2006
Twirling
Huh?
I woke up in hot water.
It was night, pitch black.
I was alone.
Everyone was missing.
I was naked, startled.
My fingers were prune-like.
Two hours in water.
I was alone, I thought.
I reached down.
My dick was shriveled, two hours.
Dead sperm, I'm sure.
Squirrels were circling.
No, really.
I opened my eyes.
He was 6 inches from my face.
Smiling at me, big grin.
Yellow teeth.
Old, undesirable, Warren-like.
I felt a tug on my crotch.
No.
I got up, disoriented.
Where are my clothes, friends.
I walked to the edge of the deck.
There they are, my clothes.
I dressed and went inside.
Where am I, they?
A downstairs light guided me to the stairs.
I walked down the first flight.
I heard voices, getting closer.
I stepped onto the floor. Not quite there yet.
Faster. Move faster.
A hand grabbed mine.
I looked up. A grin, yellow teeth.
No.
He pulled my hand. I stumbled along.
Now in the room. It was dark.
He closed the door. I couldn't see.
He pulled me towards him.
No.
I found the door. Stay.
No means no. Right?
I walked quickly. He followed, embarrassed.
Still smiling, yellow teeth.
The voices grew louder, as did the lights.
There they were, smiling, laughing, twirling.
I don't miss it.
Really, I don't.
No means no.
Right?
Right.
Posted by durban bud at 8:18 PM | Comments (6)
Mario Lopez Has a Nice Butt & Other Observations
* My annual Thanksgiving Day feast with friends at my place will be replaced this year by a Thanksgiving Day feast with Mom & Dad at my place. They are staying a few nights, which means I will need to completely de-sex the place and wash the sheets, for a change. This will take hours. I'm sure some pesky nipple clamp will somehow magically appear while they're here, like last time. I hate when that happens.
My mom always feels the need to investigate my closet organization. During her last visit, I caught her reapplying my shirts on their hangers. Apparently, I don't do it neatly enough. As she was doing this, a leather, wanna-be cop cap fell from the top of my closet and hit her on the head. Without missing a beat, she picked it up and placed it on a more appropriate hook. Nothing was said. She continued sprucing up my closet. I was like, "Mom, my closet is fine." In her southern accent, she says, "I reckon it's okay, but yer shirts and pants (pronounced: "paints") are a big ol' mess (pronounced: "mayis")." Whatever.
I've never cooked a full meal for them before, so this should be interesting.
* Some 18-year old whore named pinkyboobies keeps asking to be my friend on myspace. I totally denied her. But she keeps coming back for more. Sorry, pinkyboobies, but I'm not interested in your whore web cam.
The spam situation is out of control on that site. The other day I got over 100 requests for friendship. They were from strippers and twinky male prostitutes. And if you have over 300 friends, I'm guessin' you don't really need another.
* Normally I'm not attracted to pretty, smooth boys, but Mario Lopez is hot. He has a very perky butt. I'd like to spank it.
The new Bond is also a beautiful man. Again, not normally my type, but very sexy. I may actually see this one.
Penelope Cruz is a beautiful woman. Again, not normally my type, but I would totally have sushi with her.
Balthazar Getty is totally my type. He's come a long way since Lord of the Flies. Sadly, he's one of them heterosexuals.
* If someone sends you a smile on Friendster, or something similar, are you supposed to respond? I don't know the protocol.
* What the hell happened to Carson Daly? He needs to eat a meal or two. He used to be cute; now he looks like he enjoys the crystal meth. I attempted to watch his show the other night when I couldn't sleep. I have never not laughed so much in my life.
Posted by durban bud at 12:39 AM | Comments (10)
November 15, 2006
Queer Eye Candidate
According to this guy, it's still 1983. Richard Simmons called; he's missing a pair of shorts and a bottle of Sun-In.
He is a self-described "fitness celebrity". He even includes a page on his website where you can purchase a number of his own sex-ay photos. I'm not sure what kind of people would want to buy them. Straight girls? I dunno. Maybe we should all buy our sisters or mothers a few of them for the holidays.
Abs are nice and all, but the hernia look he's promoting is so 23 years ago.
Apparently, a large amount of people are fed up with his commercials.
Check out the theme song on his home page.
I'm sure he's a millionaire, cuz, ya know, he is a "celebrity" in his own mind, so you would think he would spend a little more money on this new advertisement. Then again, this would have looked awesome in 1983.
Posted by durban bud at 12:34 AM | Comments (3)
November 14, 2006
I Once Gave Crabs to a Black Man
I feel kinda stupid. I heard on the news that a bunch of people were coming to town to unveil the new Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial on the mall today. First I thought, um, I didn't know they were building it; second I thought, wow, this is a fantastic opportunity to use my durban bud powers for good, instead of evil. I will take my camera down to the memorial and take photos for my three readers. I will educate them!
Sometimes I take for granted where I live. I am surrounded by pretty carved rocks and shit, and yet I rarely notice them. I sort of lump all that stuff into the "touristy" side of DC, and ignore it, sadly.
Most people fail to realize DC is full of beautiful neighborhoods too, all unique in their own way; lots of amazing architecture, outdoor cafes, fine restaurants and theatres, etc. All the happenings in the government, and the stuff you see on TV, tend to overshadow the actual "city" of DC.
It's rare to spot a tourist in my neighborhood, except, of course, for the gays; they're easy to spot: rainbows on clothing and/or HRC store bags.
I did all the touristy stuff when I first moved here; now when people come to visit, I tell them to enjoy the sights and call me when you're done.
My parents came a couple years ago, so I took them to see the cherry blossoms. Of course, a huge wind storm hit the city a week earlier. I still took them down to the Tidal Basin to admire all the pretty twigs. When we were down there, we stumbled upon something called the FDR Memorial. Who knew?!?
I live a mile away from the White House, and a couple miles from the Capitol, the Lincoln Memorial, the Supreme Court, all the museums, the Vietnam War Memorial, WW II Memorial, and the Eagle; yet I never visit them anymore. I probably should.
The Washington Monument is a sight to behold when you're returning in a plane from a long trip. Nothing says "Welcome Home" like a giant, rock hard dick pointing up to the sky.
The FDR and Jefferson Memorials are my favorites. The Jefferson Memorial is so beautiful at night. It's kinda romantic there, a great place to go on a date and get felt up, fyi. I hear there are lots of boys holding hands and pot smoking.
Anyway, I wanted to take some pics of the new MLK Jr. Memorial until I realized, it hasn't been built yet! Rob broke the news to me when I asked for directions. What the dilio? Shouldn't they wait to bus in all the celebrities until it's time for the big reveal?
I'm glad I didn't go down there. I would have been like, "Oprah, so where is the memorial, and why are you holding a shovel?" And she would have been all, "It hasn't been built yet, dumb fuck." And I'm all, "Don't get snippy, Oprah."
So you won't see any of my photos until 2008, should my blog last that long. Perhaps I'll take some photos along the way, but that would mean I have to venture, like, a mile away, into tourist land.
I guess I need to observe my surroundings more, cuz I do live in a beautiful city (despite, of course, all the gang-bangs, murders, corruption, thefts, rapes, parking drama, cab drivers, angertwinks, mismanagement, DMV, pollution, STDs, George W Bush living down the street, whores, property taxes, crystal meth, attitude, bitterness, bad public schools, high cost of living, traffic, humidity, and the vast multitude of weiner dogs)!
So in the immortal words of our dear Star Jones:
"Take a little time to enjoy the view."
Posted by durban bud at 12:32 AM | Comments (8)
November 12, 2006
It's Time For The Puppet Show
This past weekend was a thumpin'.
I tried to organize a movie night on Friday. Trying to get seven homosexuals to decide on a movie is like trying to shove a tampon in your urethra; it may eventually happen, but the process is painful and bloody.
"How 'bout Borat?"
"We've seen it."
"How 'bout The Queen?
"I've seen it."
"How 'bout Shut Up & Sing?"
"It's not playing here."
"TJ, you decide on the film, but make sure it's light and humorous. I'm not in the mood to see something heavy."
"Okay, let's see Babel."
"What's Babel?"
"It's this new film with Brad Pitt. I hear it's hysterical."
"Okay, let's see that!"
Cool. So we picked a time to all meet up. However, between all the primping and manscaping, we were not going to make the film on time. There were several phone calls and text messages of "I'm not ready yet." Three of the homosexuals were named Robert. Coincidence? I think not. So we opted for a nice, intimate dinner at Lauriol Plaza.
Lauriol Plaza is great, but I refuse to go in the evening unless Suitcase Sally is coming with us. With his presence, we are allowed to bypass all the angertwinks and heavy-set suburban women, and get a table immediately. I love that feature.
Because of the thousands of people there and dreadful acoustics, trying to have an audible conversation is rather difficult. I tried to interject myself in a few discussions but was routinely ignored, as usual. I would say, "Yeah, but I think property taxes are gonna go up here in DC." Silence. So I would speak louder, "I THINK PROPERTY TAXES ARE GONNA GO UP HERE." "That's great, TJ, but we were debating whether Meryl Streep will get an Oscar nomination for The Devil Wears Prada." Oh. So I resigned myself to having conversations with my finger, "redrum" style, and sending text messages to myself.
Saturday was gorgeous. I got my hair did at the Hair Cuttery. Donna Brazile was there. Yeah, I was kinda surprised too. Good for her for wanting to save a few bucks. As I was leaving, her hairdresser had all her hair sticking straight up. She looked like one of those troll dolls. It was cute.
That evening, a bunch of us descended upon Titan to meet up with our hot tub friends, Tim & Donn. Bubala & Mumi were in attendance.
From there, we headed over to Blowoff (aka "Wear Your Wittiest T-Shirt to a Club Night"). Wow. That event has certainly grown from a small gathering in the downstairs bar to a huge club event. It was pretty awesome. I'm really happy for Bob & Rich; they deserve all the success. One day, during their party, all the music will stop, and a spotlight will shine on me on the stage, and I will show off my mad triangle skillz. One day it will happen, fingers crossed.
All the boys were there. I saw Marcia, Jan, Cindy, Greg, Peter, Bobby, and even Alice. I definitely saw more non-blogging friends, who were cool to chat with, briefly.
A quick shout-out to Robert, Robert, Robert, Josh, Josh and Josh. Great to see you guys!
Fun weekend. Good friends. New people. From all the socializing and eating, I need a nap and a colostomy bag.
Posted by durban bud at 3:02 PM | Comments (5)
November 10, 2006
The Joy of Poppers
There is a relatively new gay bookstore down the street from me. It's sandwiched between quaint, little restaurants and boutique shops. There's a tacky billboard in front of the store with cut-out photos of half naked men from porn magazines.
The man who owns and runs the store is Asian, and speaks very broken English.
I went in tonight to buy a book. The store is littered with new and used books, magazines, DVDs, dildos and lube. It is the size of my kitchen, and extremely uncomfortable if more than two people are in there at the same time.
As he was ringing up my purchase, I noticed a clear, rather large dildo on the counter. "What's that?" I asked. "Iz a dildo." "I know, but is that glass?" "Yes, iza made uh glass. It feels uh vedy good." Ew. "Is that safe?" "Yes, vedy safe. I think you would like it." Huh? Why would you think that? "No, thanks." The idea of broken glass up my ass is not all that appealing.
There was also a DVD on the counter with Jake Dakota on the cover. Naturally, I said, "I met him." "Oh, he uh so hot. He get fucked so hod." He then became very animated, demonstrating how Jake gets fucked. Then, he says:
"You uh have a porn star look."
What does that mean? "You're crazy." Wait a second, "Do I look slutty or something?"
"Not really." Huh??? "But you uh look like trouble, like uh bad boys." I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted by all of this. "I know uh Michael Brandons. I give him your name."
"That's funny. I don't think so."
"I write down your info in case you change mind. What's your uh name?"
"Um, my name is Jimbo, but I'm not interested. At all. Thanks though."
I pay for my Aidan Shaw autobiography. He puts it in a bag along with a small bottle. "I give you for free." I pull it out; it's a small bottle of poppers. One of the bonuses of going to this store is the free shit he gives us.
He informs me that he has gotten a better quality version of Jungle Juice in stock. He pulls it out, opens the bottle, shoves it under my nose, and says, "Try it! Iz so strong. I think you would like."
I push his hand away. "Noooooo! I'm not sniffing that. I'll get all flushed and naseous. Plus, aren't I supposed to be engaged in sexual activity when doing that?" Geez.
He's a nice guy, but a pushy salesman. I put the free sample bottle in my pocket. As I leave, he says, "Bye, Jimbos."
I get to my building, open the front door, and take my key out to check my mail. As I pull the key out, the bottle of poppers decides to come out as well. It falls to the floor. I freak out. Luckily, it didn't shatter, but I notice liquid coming down the outer protective plastic. Oh, shit. I instantly become flushed and naseous.
The foyer of our building has now become the backroom at the Eagle. I throw the bottle in my bag and make a mad dash for my apartment. As I'm running down the hall, I can hear the two college chicks who live upstairs coming down the stairs. I open my door, and quickly close it.
I peer out the peephole to watch them. They're blabbing away to one another, when one of them says, "OMG, what is that smell?" The other one says, "OMG, that's terrible! What is that?" College Chick #1 puts her sweatshirt up over her nose and mutters, "I think I'm gonna be sick. What the fuck is it? Smells like paint thinner or something." Indeed.
As they open the front door to the foyer, the freshly poppered air hits them hard. I hear screaming and gagging.
This happened about four hours ago. And the hallway still smells awful. I can only imagine what the foyer smells like. I feel bad for the straight couple who live in the front of the building.
Almost every gay boy has a popper horror story, and I guess this is mine.
Damn gay bookstore salesman.
Posted by durban bud at 1:08 AM | Comments (15)
November 8, 2006
Getting Pwned*
I realize I'm not the nicest person, but I feel almost guilty for the elation I'm experiencing at George Allen's defeat. There is hope for Virginia; not much, but a little.
Suzanne Malveaux's question during Bush's press conference was priceless:
"With all due respect, Nancy Pelosi has called you incompetent, a liar, the emperor with no clothes, and as recently as yesterday, dangerous. How will you work with someone who has such little respect for your leadership and who is third in line to the presidency?"
He must have been seething hearing all those insults. He no longer has all those protective barriers he once had.
Speaking of not being nice, it is now official from watching last night's election coverage: Ken Mehlman is one of the homliest people living in America. So which one of you dirty mackerels slept with this chairman of fug? Someone is boning him, if we are to believe the rumors; so who is it?
Talk about getting egg on your face. Dumbass.
This will be my last post about the election, for now. I know some of you would rather hear about butt sex, so I'll get back to my regularly scheduled programming.
Posted by durban bud at 11:01 PM | Comments (6)
Bear Hugs Pending
Wasn't last night fantastic? I stayed up way too late though, waiting for the Missouri and Virginia results. The Virginia race was thrilling television. I hope the current results hold and smug Allen goes down.
It's sad that all those gay marriage bans passed, but not a surprise. Each time they announced one passing, I engaged in hot gay sex.
Since the majority in the Senate has not been declared yet, my bear hugs are pending. Plus, it's raining, and dBud doesn't go out in the rain.
I'll keep you posted. What a great election for a change.
UPDATE: Wisconsin appears to be more conservative than Virginia now, and that's scary. The gay marriage ban passed 59% to 41% in Wisconsin, and 57% to 43% in Virginia. Hmmm.
Maybe I should move to Arizona.
Posted by durban bud at 9:53 AM | Comments (6)
November 7, 2006
Bear Hibernation
Last night I visited the Korean Lady and purchased a pint of Ben & Jerry's Half-Baked ice cream. I ate the whole thing. And I didn't feel guilty. I know what this means; I am starting my winter hibernation process.
Since it gets dark earlier, I would prefer to stay in and not be seen. And if it's raining out, forget it. I find myself napping more frequently, avoiding the gym and eating more. It could be seasonal affective disorder, but I think it has more to do with my bearishness; it's in my nature.
Anyway, it's raining here today, but I voted. There was no one else at the polling station. DC is the bluest "state" there is; John Kerry got 93% of the vote, so the outcome here is less than enthralling. I still feel a sense of pride after I vote. It makes me sad that some people avoid it, especially in places with close races. Perhaps it should be required in a democracy, like jury duty, taxes, and sodomy.
I voted on an electronic voting machine, and it went smoothly; however, I think we should all get a paper receipt from those types of machines. And I believe all voting should be standardized, especially after the 2000 election. If Bush had any brains, this would have been taken care of years ago.
I love election nights. They're like a less glamorous Oscar night, with ugly people and bad toupees.
If George Allen, Santorum and Tester all go down, I will have the most explosive orgasm imaginable, Peter North style!
So I am settling in this evening, ordering some Chinese food, curling up on the couch with a blanket and watching CNN.
The pre-hibernation routine has begun, indeed.
UPDATE: I am bubbling in my panties right now; you have no idea...
Posted by durban bud at 4:29 PM | Comments (8)
Bruno
HBO just ran a marathon of Da Ali G Show. This is my favorite character from the guy who also plays Borat. Here he is, as Bruno, interviewing a pastor who "converts" gay people:
Posted by durban bud at 12:39 AM | Comments (7)
November 5, 2006
Hey Man, Nice Shot
So I finally saw Shortbus today. It was definitely interesting. I felt 3 things when it was over. 1) I felt like engaging in slutty behavior, again. 2) I felt like I may have acquired an STD. 3) I felt I need to see it again cuz I'm not sure I understood everything.
Are we to seek out sex with other people to make our own relationship with our partner better? Was this the Price of Tides with actual penetration shown, ya know, close ups of Mr. Nolte's hard cock pounding Ms. Streisand's shaved beaver? Hmmm, dunno.
The acting was better than I thought it would be. The actors were pretty brave to show us everything: lots and lots of hard penises, penetration, cooters, rimming, tits, flogging, orgies, orgasms and even some autofellatio!
I also saw Borat today. It was very good, not great; but I chalk that up to reading too many reviews and interviews beforehand. I kinda knew what was gonna happen. Plus, I had to take a wicked piss throughout the movie, so that could have influenced my vote.
On the DVD I hope they include some interviews with some of the people who got punk'd. Most of these people deserved to be put up there on the big screen for all too see, showcasing all their racism, sexism and homophobia. But I wonder how this will play in Middle America; I kinda doubt most of them will get the joke(s).
Both movies contained a lot of nudity. One thing is fer sure; I don't need to see anymore movies with that much nakedness for like another day.
Posted by durban bud at 12:27 AM | Comments (4)
November 3, 2006
Sacha Baron Cohen
Many people stop me and say, "Hey dBud, can you please, please, please show us on your blog what the guy who plays Borat, Bruno and Ali G really looks like?" To which I reply, "No."
But I'm excited about the opening of Borat, so here is Sacha Baron Cohen out of character on Letterman last year. He's kinda...cute. And oh so British. Love him.
Posted by durban bud at 12:24 AM | Comments (4)
November 2, 2006
Womanhunt.net
Do women have their own online hookup site(s)?
Is this one?
Posted by durban bud at 11:41 AM | Comments (9)
Turtle Suicide
If I were a turtle, I would totally kill myself. They live way too long, like 100 years. And what exactly do they do? They're like little Terri Schiavos with shells. They must be miserable and cranky. No wonder they snap. I bet Senator Larry Craig was a turtle in a former life.
After about two years of crawling a foot every hour, I would find a nice highway to crawl onto.
My friend, Reenie, had this huge ass car in high school. It was comical, cuz she's a petite woman driving this big, brown, old Hummer-like vehicle. It was like an African-American Christine.
We were driving down some highway and I noticed a little turtle crawling on the road. I said, "Look out for Ken Mehlman the turtle!" CRUNCH! Poor thing. Then I thought, it was probably trying to commit suicide. And I don't blame it.
It must be difficult to live your life hidden by a large, protective barrier from the real world. And I think we all know some uptight, cranky turtles stuck in their shells today.
Posted by durban bud at 10:48 AM | Comments (3)
November 1, 2006
Free Bear Hugs
If the election goes well next Tuesday, I have decided to be one of those dorky guys who give out free hugs to strangers. Only my hugs will be different; I will be giving out free bear hugs.
Since most people on the day after elections are either depressed or elated, it makes since that they would want a hug. I know I did the last election, and the election before that, and the election before that.
I'm actually very fond of bear hugs. Most people might find this odd, since I'm usually classified as aloof and standoffish. But I do love to give bear hugs, unless, of course, you're scary and gross.
Next Wednesday in Dupont Circle from 10am to 2pm, I will do my part to help make the world a better place. And no money is involved! Wouldn't it be fun to watch me make an ass of myself, again? So make sure you vote to make this happen!
If the election does not go well, then I will be the one who requires a big bear hug that day. You can find me in the fetal position on my bed.
The Dark, Dark Closet:
Posted by durban bud at 8:21 AM | Comments (9)