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December 30, 2006
The Year That Broke My Sanity Hymen
I suppose I should reflect upon 2006 as a year of learning life lessons and growing as a wiser man, but who am I kidding -- I would rather have been waterboarded.
My life played out like an episode of Desperate Housewives, or worse, Queer as Folk. There were elements of deception, sickness, death, sex, substance abuse, job woes, anxiety, turmoil, debt and theft. The only thing missing was murder -- although that may have happened --but if it did, I was not knowingly a part.
Some stuff I wrote about, but I had to keep some juicy details to myself, since other people were involved. I hate when that happens!
I'm not just referring to my own issues; many people around me also had their share of drama this year. It just seemed like a vicious cloud was raining shit biscuits on a bunch of people.
I had 10 good years of virtually no drama. Things were going very well for me on all fronts -- maybe too well. While most people experience ups and downs within every few years, I had more ups -- then again, I was probably high. So when it came my turn for a few downs, they hit me all at the same time, and I wasn't prepared.
Luckily I've climbed out of that creepy, black hole with only a few scratches. I'm still dusting myself off, but I'm in a much better place.
That said, there were some bright spots in '06. Two words: Jake Dakota! No seriously, I have some of the most amazingly supportive friends and family who stood by me before, during and, more importantly, after the ugly. It's a cliche, but you do learn who the most loyal people are in your life when something bad happens. And to those people, I raise my Diet Coke with Splenda as a toast (wheat bread, of course).
I've also made a lot of new friends throughout the year, who I'm confident I'll remain close with. Some of these include people who went through similar experiences, bloggers, and even some of you I don't know, who took the time to write me some nice words.
Despite my cranky posts as of late, I've had a low-key, relaxing, enjoyable holiday. It couldn't have gone smoother. And it will end on a good note as I'll be heading to the beach for a quiet, intimate New Year's celebration, thanks to the kindness of Sally, she who holds big, big suitcases.
So here's to a much better 2007 for all of us! Except Robin McGraw.
PS: I'll be selling my hymen on eBay for anyone interested.
Posted by durban bud at 12:25 AM | Comments (10)
December 29, 2006
Another Awful Gay Movie
[begin bitch]
I rented "Another Gay Movie" yesterday. That's another hour and a half of my life I won't get back. I should have known better, since I've already mentioned my dilemma with gay cinema.
I'm all for gross humor, but it should be somewhat clever. I watched it based on a certain birthday blogger's post that said:
"...it was raunchy and silly and good for some gut laughs....Hilarity ensues, with lots of penis and butt gags."
He must have been inebriated when he saw it, or text messaging potential BMB playmates. That would explain the gut laughs. I wish he had mentioned we would see Richard Hatch's repulsive penis. I nearly upchucked my spaghetti-o's with meatballs when I saw that, but luckily, I swallowed them back down.
This could have been a funny movie. I get that they were playing on extreme stereotypes and whatnot, but suggesting that fingering a guy's asshole feels like a spinach quiche is simply not true; it's much closer to a bundt cake with cream frosting. And no one masterbates with a condom on a cucumber! Except my ex.
Dumb.
And I was all excited to get Logo when we upgraded to digital cable. I have yet to watch anything on it. Every time I want to see what's on, it's fucking Queer as Folk, again. That was bad enough the first time around. Are there no other shows? If they're gonna keep playing the same old shit, they should just loop Tales of the City.
And what's up with John Mayer's hair?!?
[end bitch]
For now.
Posted by durban bud at 12:34 AM | Comments (8)
December 28, 2006
Away in a Manger
The Baby Jimbo was born on this day many, many years ago, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. It is believed Mary's lesbian sister, Dolly, conceived the Baby Jimbo through an immaculate conception gone awry, due to Dolly's affection for huffing paint thinner.
Isn't she precious, though? Now go tell her just how precious she really is, on this, the second holiest of all days.
Posted by durban bud at 12:26 AM | Comments (2)
December 26, 2006
Rocky Dennis Balboa
I accidentally punched a black girl in her boob today. I was in the security line at the airport, taking off my coat, when I heard a loud thud and a muffled gasp. Her face looked 16 years old, but her huge hips and mammoth mammaries suggested a 50-ish Patti LaBelle. I felt bad. I apologized profusely and wished her a "Merry Christmas," as she massaged her bruised bosom.
I'm sure she'll have a nice welt on her titty later in the day. I imagine her standing in front of a full length mirror, naked, inspecting the damage, while cursing my white ass.
Finally on the plane, a Middle Eastern baby cried the entire flight and then vomited. The cabin became infused with the scent of parmesan cheese with a hint of mint and parsley, not exactly Christmas-y.
Babies should be stowed neatly in the overhead compartments or in cargo. If not, they should be given a sedative injection during pre-boarding, maybe something called Infantiphine. It's only fair, and I'm sure it would save a lot of grief for the parents as well.
Anyway, I went from one of the most culturally diverse places to one of the whitest places in America, New Hampshire, to visit the in-laws. Most people don't realize that a small portion of New Hampshire actually borders the ocean, and they do have large beaches. So here are some pics from the short trip to prove it.
I imposed the 3-Day Rule, so I had a fantastic time. Rob is the masterful photographer.
This is Portsmouth, NH, one of my favorite small towns in the country. Cute, progressive, cool, hip, fun, charming. I would move here if it weren't so cold.
This is William Whipple's home. He signed the Declaration of Independence, and subsequently asked people not to squeeze the Charmin.
I have black eyes and can't see.
Posted by durban bud at 9:42 PM | Comments (12)
December 25, 2006
Morning View
Whore.
Posted by durban bud at 1:50 PM | Comments (9)
December 22, 2006
Tasering Small Children
I probably shouldn't have kids, cuz I would invest in pepper spray and tasers.
I don't care if it's Christmas; if you behave like this, you will get tasered:
If any of you pass by a BMW dealership this holiday weekend, please stop by and reinact this commercial to the staff. Run in and scream your guts out. And then leave. It's only fair.
NARAL should totally include that ad in their holiday e-cards.
Also, last night I witnessed a particularly loathsome character on the telly, who goes by the name, "Larry, the Cable Guy." He probably works for Comcast. He kept saying, "Git 'er done," to which people laughed, screamed and applauded. Apparently, that's super funny. He continued with lame jokes.
He should be pepper sprayed, subdued, forced on Jenny Craig and neutered.
Both of those are on my holiday wish list.
Posted by durban bud at 7:15 PM | Comments (10)
December 21, 2006
Me Wrap Pretty One Day
I thought I had finished all my Christmas shopping, until I woke up this morning, startled, cuz I remembered my sister has THREE kids. I really wish she would keep her legs closed; it's costing me a fortune. Luckily, the third one is only 2, so buying for him is easy.
So I walked down to the convenience store to buy a jar of apple sauce. When I walked in, there was no one there. I got what I needed and went to the register. Still no one there. I yelled, "Hello!" and stood there for a moment. Two little eyes peeked up from behind the base of the counter. Scared the shit out of me. Her hair was a mess. It was the Korean Lady. "I'm uh so uh sowwy. I'm uh so tiwed." I looked over the counter and saw a little makeshift bed she had made for herself with blankets on the floor.
I guess business was slow today. Geez.
I spent the rest of the day wrapping presents. I'm not a good wrapper. At all. It's embarassing. And my sister always points this out: "Guess we know who this gift is from."
She thinks I should know how to do this well.
She's like: "I don't understand why you can't. I mean, you are gay, aren't you?"
"No, I just told you guys that to make dad cry and get the black sheep label from the family."
"You're weird. Anyway, my gay friends all wrap beautifully."
"Well, I'm not like most gay guys. Don't worry, me wrap pretty one day."
"Huh?"
"Ya know, David Sedaris?"
"No. I figured you would have gotten the gay gene for beautiful wrapping."
"I didn't get many gay genes; I hate musicals too. I didn't get many straight genes either; I hate NASCAR and fixing shit. OMG, maybe I'm transgendered!"
So I finished poorly wrapping the gifts, and took them down the street to my favorite little mail service store. Raj, my new Nepalese friend, always takes good care of me there. He did manage to reprimand me for waiting until the last minute to ship it.
"Where does the package need to be sent?"
"Denver."
He smiled.
I hate Christmas.
Posted by durban bud at 4:59 PM | Comments (10)
December 20, 2006
Christmas Sux Donkey Dick Part 2
I finished my Christmas shopping within an hour at Target. I just ran in, grabbed shit off the shelves, paid and left.
My sister sent me a list of what to get her kids. Of course, I didn't get any of her suggestions, since the last time she did that, they hated what I got them. Six and eight-year olds really don't like fraction puzzles, apparently.
Since my sister enjoys reading, I bought her "He's Just Not That Into You."
And since her husband is a republican, I bought him the Dixie Chick's latest CD.
My 9-year-old nephew is a really bright kid, so I think he'll enjoy the Brokeback Mountain DVD.
My 7-year-old niece likes dolls, so I bought her Turleen.
And since I got Turleen for my mom last year, I think she'll enjoy Turleen's new friend, Jerwayne Jr.
My dad enjoys smelling fresh for my mom, usually by wearing baby powder, but I'm upgrading him to the sexy new fragrance by Pee Diddle. I mean, who doesn't want to be sexy like Pee Diddle? It obviously works for him!
I think they'll all be pleasantly surprised. All in all, it was a fairly painless shopping expedition.
As for gifts for my friends, I've decided to send them all smiles on Friendster.
Note to women with big asses: Please do not wear skin tight jeans to go Christmas shopping. No one wants to see your holiday camel toe; Jesus would frown upon that. But if you insist on wearing skin tight jeans, at least make sure your weave is on straight.
That's all.
Posted by durban bud at 3:53 PM | Comments (10)
December 18, 2006
Christmas Sux Donkey Dick
I kept a low profile this past weekend. I've been getting ready for my impending bear hibernation, loading up on fatty foods and storing nuts and such. I did manage to watch a lot of mindless television.
My new favorite gay network, Oxygen, has a show called "The Bad Girls Club," and it is fantastically bad. It's exactly like the Real World, only with even more dysfunctional bitches. I love it!
One girl got piss drunk on tequila and started beating up her roommates. She attacked one girl for no reason while she was sleeping. She pulled her hair and gave her a black eye. She also threw chairs and broke stuff. Of course, she did not remember anything in the morning. Countdown to rehab -- tick, tock.
I can't imagine they'll keep her on the show. It's very odd that the producers didn't step in since she was obviously hurting people. These kids these days, no morals!
You can watch highlights of the show on Oxygen's site, or watch the entire episodes online or On Demand. I highly recommend it!
Justin Timberlake did an incredible job on SNL. It's easy to write him off as the leader of an awful boy band, but he has some serious talent. I don't find him attractive like most of you homosexuals, but I would totally watch an episode of South Park with him.
Talk Sex with Sue Johanson was interesting, as usual. I've noticed many women calling in about having anal sex with their boyfriends, and what precautions they need to take. Sue explains exactly how the butt works, which is creepy. Me thinks she has some experience in this area. Gross.
And I suppose I need to start Christmas shopping, which gets in the way of my impending hibernation. Thank God for Amazon! My mom's like, "You know you don't have to buy me anything." And I'm all, "Okay."
Posted by durban bud at 2:24 PM | Comments (8)
December 17, 2006
Tuesdays With Larry
I finally made it up the stairs to my new temporary home. When the door opened I saw three twin-sized beds. You've got to be kidding me. I walked in and was pleasantly surprised by the accommodations. It was no Four Seasons, but it could pass for a Red Roof Inn -- a not-so-bad choice given the circumstances. The pleasantness quickly dissipated when two older gentlemen entered my room.
"You must be the new guy?"
"Yep."
"You're a lot younger than the other guy we had in here. He was an old man. Died today."
"Are you serious?"
"Don't worry -- they sanitized the bed not too long ago."
"Are you gonna come to the lecture tonight?"
"I don't think so; I need to decompress."
"I'm Larry and this is Alan. What got you in here?"
"Stress."
"Me too."
Larry was 57 but looked mid seventies. His face was hard and worn, showing years of abuse. He walked with a pathetic limp and talked with a smoker's growl. Alan was affable but forgettable.
I sat on the bed of death and looked around for awhile. I glanced over to my new roomie's bedside table and noticed a book about Ronald Reagan. You've got to be kidding me. I am being punished, deservedly, I suppose. I put my head in my hands and sighed, wallowing in my own self-pity.
The perfect son, the "All American Boy," as they would say, the guy with a seemingly awesome life, was now fully exposed with cracks and imperfections on his shiny veneer. This sudden verisimilitude in my life performance was almost liberating, for once.
I stayed on the bed for a few hours, writing in my journal and reading inspirational crap.
My roommates returned a couple hours later. Larry took off his clothes to get ready for bed. Not surprisingly he was wearing tightie-whities, only they were no longer white -- they had a dirty grey hue to them. Gross. Just look away.
I thought it a good idea to get to know the guy sleeping right next to me, which was very unusual since I wasn't fucking him. He told me all about his hard life. He's married, the father of 5 girls, a wealthy executive vice president of a Fortune 500 company, and a raging alcoholic with an unhealthy affection for cocaine and Valium.
He told me he would be admitted to a hospital in a couple days for chest surgery.
"Why?"
"I got shot in 'Nam, and it's caused all sorts of problems around my heart."
"Shot?"
"Yeah, some gook shot me. Missed my heart by a centimeter. I turned around and saw this 12 year-old gook girl put a bullet in my chest. Caught me by surprise. But I still managed to squeeze out 5 rounds in her fuckin' face. Bitch. She was kinda hot too."
Um, security, I'd like to switch rooms, pronto.
I knew I wasn't going to sleep. I went down to the nurse's station and requested a sleeping pill. "I'm sorry, we can't give you anything without the doctor's permission. And he won't be in the office until tomorrow morning."
I went back to my room, defeated.
Larry asked, "What's wrong?"
"I can't sleep."
He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. "Come here." I followed him in. He closed the door and reached into his toiletry bag by the sink and pulled out a light blue pill. Great -- my first night here and I'm already breaking the rules.
"What is it?"
"It's contraband."
"I get that, but what kind?"
"It's a Tylenol PM. Shhhh, don't tell no body, 'kay? It's our little secret. Let me know if you need any more."
The bathroom was now our very own speakeasy.
We went to bed around 10pm every night thereafter. I sat in my bed and wrote in my journal while he read his Reagan book. But mostly we just talked. After each talk, I tried to write down some of our wild conversations. I knew I had to document this shit.
He led a fascinating, reckless life. it was so different from my own experiences, yet we both still ended up in the same place.
Larry hung all of his dirty laundry out for all to see if they were willing to indulge him. So he lamented about his miserable marriage, his days in Vietnam, his successes in business, and his numerous DUIs. He crashed his third company car, thus resulting in his current predicament.
I was very nosy inquisitive with him but he rarely asked anything about my personal life.
Until he did:
"So you're a fag?"
Here we go. Ouch. "Yes, though I prefer to be called buttfucker. And you're a breeder?"
"Well, I do like the pussy."
"Apparently. You have five kids. Your wife must be sore."
"You mind if I ask why you like dick?"
"The same reason you like pussy."
"Yeah, but two dicks can't make babies."
"True. But with rabbits like you and your wife helping to overpopulate the planet, consider gay people to be God's unique invention for global quantity control."
"You're not attracted to me, are you?"
"No offense, but I find you repulsive."
"Cocksucker!"
His blatant honesty helped to soften the sting left by some of his more ignorant verbal darts. We know straight guys think and say these things all the time when they're hanging out together, but to witness all of the standard homophobic talking points uttered from one man's mouth was hilarious yet sad.
This kind of juvenile banter occurred frequently but culminated in the following vulgar exchange:
"I don't know how you could like a guy's butt. Do you know what comes out of that?"
I was waiting for someone to ask me that exact question so I could counter with a mental list of other disgusting bodily fluids and functions produced by women that I had memorized.
"Blood, urine, yeast infections, babies, afterbirth and queefs come out of vaginas. It's all relative, innit?
I added, "I'm sure you've fantasized or even done a woman up the butt, hypocrite."
He never brought it up again.
I would often see him around the campus, outside smoking a cigarette. He would yell, "Teeeeeeeeee Jaaaaaaaaaay, whazzup, buddy?" I would pat him on his back, causing him to cough. I'd say, "Stop smoking."
"Fuck you."
I was eventually transferred out of his room and into a better residence.
He would ask me to sit and chat with him whenever he went outside to scratch his smoke itch.
He told more crazy stories. Some were tame, like the time he was doing business with the first guy who manufactured tilapia fish in the US, a decade ago.
"It was in Chicago. They had Olympic-sized pools filled with them fish. They were basically made in a lab, a cross between a catfish and another type I can't remember the name of."
Other stories were far more disturbing. Some guys on campus told me to ask about the "incident" at the bar. So I did.
"I don't like to talk about this," he moaned, "but I'll tell you."
While in Vietnam he parachuted with a bunch of other men into some village. They all took refuge at a local bar frequented by green berets. They were all getting hammered, when a man wearing a long trench coat entered. The man walked over to another man sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. He crept up behind him and took out a long machete hidden in his coat. He raised the machete over his head. And with one strong swing, he sliced the man's head off. The head went flying onto the floor, while his body sat upright on the barstool for about 20 seconds, blood spurting everywhere. Customers were screaming and running. The murderer was tackled and arrested. Apparently the beheaded man had slept with the guy's wife.
"Them green berets are fucking crazy," he would say. "I'll never forget the image of the guy's body sitting on that stool with no fucking head."
I wasn't sure how to respond to this uplifting little story. Um, so how 'bout that Taylor Hicks winning American Idol?!?
I asked, "Have you ever gone into therapy to deal with all this?"
"Yeah, I did when I first got back. Haven't been in awhile."
"I'm not sure what I would do if I witnessed the shit you've seen."
"You develop you're own coping mechanisms, most of 'em aren't healthy. Stress can be a motherfucker. You're lucky you're taking care of your shit at a young age, instead of waiting, like me, to deal with your demons when you're an old man. Consider this a blessing, kid."
"Yeah, but my stress is nowhere near your level; in fact, I'm embarrassed by my silly life drama."
"It's all relative, innit?"
Larry was almost done with his stay. The day before he left he spoke before the campus to say his thank yous and hopes for the future. He was just about done speaking when he paused, looked towards me and said, "And I'd like to thank TJ for being the best roommate a guy could hope for." This caught me off guard. I smiled and got all shy.
As he walked back to his seat, I stood up and patted him on the back. He coughed.
The next morning we sat outside on the bench one last time. He was waiting for his wife to pick him up, his bags packed by his side.
He lit up a cigarette and said, "Look around at all these fuck-ups. Major fuck-ups. But you know what? At least they're willing to admit their imperfections and make an attempt at bettering their lives. Most people don't do anything and just complain about how unhappy they are or lie about it. Every single person has demons of some sort -- whether it's drugs, anger, food, shopping, money, work, sex, religion, depression, love, blah, blah. It's not always visible to the naked eye, but it will rear its ugly head eventually. It'll get you. And if you don't know how to cope it'll knock you on your ass. Everyone should be able to check out for a month to take inventory on their own well-being. It should be required by law."
I felt an odd sense of pride for a moment; I knew I had done the right thing. Then I thought, OMG -- am I being featured in a Lifetime Movie of the Week starring Valerie Bertinelli?
"We won't see any of these people again. We'll talk about keeping in touch, but we won't. And that's fine. We all have our own lives, our own shit to deal with. And most of these people will be back anyway.
"That said, here's my card if you ever want to talk. Do with it what you will. It's there if you ever need me. But I think you'll be just fine."
I put it in my pocket, knowing I would never look at it again.
His wife arrived and drove up to the main entrance. We both stood up and hugged. I managed to squeeze one more cough out of him.
"Stop smoking."
"Fuck you."
I started to walk away but turned back around to ask one final question, after rehashing some of his words of wisdom in my mind.
As he was getting into the front passenger seat, I yelled, "Hey Larry -- do you think you'll ever have to come back to this place?"
Before he closed the car door he looked out at me and smiled. With a subtle nod of his head, he answered, "Yep."
Posted by durban bud at 12:28 AM | Comments (12)
December 15, 2006
Dear Yeast Infections
Dear Melinda,
Thanks for emailing me regarding your web site featuring "Ghorgeous Gbirl Soucks BIGCOCCK & Gets Tuitty Cwumshot". I'm really not interested though. See, I'm a homosexual and that whole scenario is a total turnoff. I'm also not interested in your web site with the woman sucking off a well-endowed horse. Frankly, I find that really disgusting and nauseating. So please contact someone who would get off on that sort of thing, you dirty whore.
Dear Jefferey,
Thanks for emailing me about "TOP quality med$ for the most attractive prices"; but you see, I no longer take drugs, so your product is really of no interest to me. I hope you overdose. In the meantime, I suggest contacting someone who would enjoy your type of product.
Dear PayPal,
Thank you for informing me that my PayPal account has been compromised. The only problem is I don't have a PayPal account. Frankly, you're a fucking asshole. Please contact someone more retarded and gullible.
Dear JohnC,
Thank you for taking the time to post hundreds of comments weekly on my site, but you're really wasting your time and mine. You see, I have comment moderation turned on specifically for e-coli like you. None of my readers would be interested in your home loans or your casino sites or your fake penis enlargement pills or your goddamn printer ink cartridges. I hope you get anal warts. So please head on over to a new blog who could probably use the traffic.
So, to all of you cyber yeast infections, stop contacting me about these things. Your tenacity is quite disconcerting. I mean no disrespect, but if you were to be beheaded, I would probably chant "Allāhu Akbar" along with the others.
Sincerely,
dBud
Posted by durban bud at 12:03 AM
December 14, 2006
Golden Globes
Posted by durban bud at 2:18 PM | Comments (4)
December 13, 2006
The First Date
Dating can be so awkward, as I witnessed today at the Health Bar. It's like acting; you have to pick the right clothing, remember your best lines, manscape, and put in the nicest hair product.
Apparently these two attractive men met at JRs a few nights before. I would not have known anything about them if one of them was not a loud Chatty Patty. Patty works for one of the local news stations. I'm not sure if he's an anchor, or a writer or producer, or a weatherman, though he's probably a weatherman since 90% of them are gay.
Unfortunately this budding romance is not gonna last; Patty didn't allow the Other Guy to speak very much, he ordered a glass of wine, which is a telling sign since it was noontime, and he was bossy with the waiter. And he didn't know what Blowoff or the 9:30 Club were! The Other Guy said, "It's an interesting party, with a cool mix of guys from JRs and Remington's, and they play industrial music." Not sure I would describe it like that but whatever. I could tell the Other Guy wished he were somewhere else.
It's hard to size someone up when you meet him at a bar late at night, drunk and horny. You finally see the person in the daylight; you get to see how they carry themselves while sober; and you are ready to judge all of their little idiosynchrisies. And who pays the bill?
It's so nerve-wracking. I was nervous for them just by observing. It's like a job interview. You close with, "I'll give you a call." Doubt it.
I guess it's the nature of the business. You only become more comfortable the more dates you have, though after having so many, you become jaded.
For the record, Patty paid.
Posted by durban bud at 3:02 PM | Comments (7)
December 11, 2006
Catty Poll: Foreskin Fatwa
UPDATE: How timely.
Last night I was watching my favorite sitcom, Talk Sex with Sue Johanson. A gay guy called in and said he was experiencing some discomfort with his boyfriend's smelly "smegma" buildup underneath his foreskin. I almost upchucked my Honey Nut Cheerios® when he said that. Sue seemed to be very aware of this situation and suggested they shower beforehand, and "make sure you soap it up with lots of bubbles and clean it for him, without telling him why." I assume this is rare for most guys with foreskin. Anyway, I asked for suggestions for my next poll, and Tos suggested "cut or uncut". So here goes:
Previous polls:
Sexual roles
Cities with the Hottest Guys
Annoying Queen on TV
Posted by durban bud at 4:21 PM | Comments (15)
The Elephant Men
This weekend I learned all about HDMI cables, DVI cables, RGB cables, inputs, outputs, blah blah. For some reason the sound stopped on our bitchin' plasma, so between hissy fits and chair throwing, we managed to make it down to Graffiti Audio & Video.
The sales guys there were very helpful, but suggested we go to Radio Shack to see if they have HDMI converters cuz they didn't have any. I didn't even know Radio Shack still existed. So we ventured on over.
About ten salesmen greeted us at the door. I don't mean to be rude, but does Radio Shack have a policy against hiring semi-attractive people? Even Rocky Dennis would say, "Eeeew." One of the elephant men asked what we were looking for; I told him and he took us to the proper section.
He informed us that HDMI converters have a male input and a female input and then showed us how their "organs" are different looking. I asked him, "That's cool, but what happens if the HDMI converter is gay?" He wasn't amused and walked away.
As we were leaving, I noticed a huge crack in one of the mirrors by the cash register. I wasn't surprised.
So then Rob and I went to the gay book store. When the owner saw me, he said, "Hi, uh Jimbos. How uh you?" I'm like, "Hey guuuurl. I'm feelin' sass-ay!" He's all, "I have uh new poppers. They uh so strong." "No way! Remember last time?"
He showed me the cover to Jake's new movie. He started in on the whole "you should be a porn star" schtick again. Jeezus, give it a rest. But this time he added: "You uh the right height for porn star, not too tall." Huh? I didn't ask.
Jake was lookin' mighty sexy. For your viewing pleasure, I am posting photos of some hot mandies and one chica (for the lesbians and 3 straight guys who read this). The photos are posted, as the kids say, "after the jump".
My boy Jake:
Parker Williams:
Infamous lip purser, Danny Craig:
This guy is on that awful show, Dog, the Bounty Hunter. I couldn't find any decent pictures of him so this will have to do. His name is Duane and he's the son of that scary man:
The most beautiful woman I have seen, Penelope Cruz:
Posted by durban bud at 2:03 AM
December 8, 2006
Morning View
Posted by durban bud at 1:11 PM | Comments (20)
December 7, 2006
Make the Yuletide Gay
So begins the time of year when we're aurally pounded by "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas".
This is the most dreaded song for paranoid closet cases. They think everyone will stop, point, and shame them when the word gay is uttered. At least I did.
It's funny how gay is now solely synonymous with homosexual. I don't know anyone who has ever used the word to mean happy. That's why it makes hearing those songs a bit awkward cuz you know everyone is thinking of homosexuality, however briefly, in a Christmas song.
I remember hearing that damn song the Christmas before I came out. My mom invited a number of relatives over for dinner. I was in charge of playing the background music. The kids were clamoring for some John Denver with the Muppets, so I obliged. Of course, the gay song came on during one of the quiet moments at the table. I deliberately started a conversation when it got close to that one line, to avoid any uncomfortableness. But it didn't go as planned.
John Denver sang, "Have yourself a merry little Christmas, make the yuletide--." And that's when it happened; the CD started to skip: "ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga..." I got up, ran over to the CD player and tapped it on its side. The music stopped. It got very quiet, then resumed: "gay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay." Avoiding any awkwardness was now replaced by awkwardness times twenty.
Nervous smiles came in my direction. The gay verse did not signify "happy"; it signified "TJ doesn't have a girlfriend and probably likes man butt." I was aware people were speculating.
Deck the Halls was always a pisser too, but the "Don we now our gay apparel" verse goes by nice and quick, unlike HYAMLC, which is slow and lingers.
Anyway, I look forward to watching the new HD version of Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer on my new bitchin' plasma this Friday. Rock! On!
UPDATE: The way they remastered this for high definition was incredible! The colors and details were so crisp. It was so crisp you could make out the li'l bulge in Yukon Cornelius's pants. btw- He's a total bear.
Posted by durban bud at 12:13 AM | Comments (6)
December 5, 2006
Bitchin' Plasma
A couple months ago our beautiful, kick-ass, 32-inch plasma television died a sad death after only 3 years. After the whole debacle with Donkey Dick Sucking Comcast, this is not what we needed. It just stopped working. Not cool.
Three years ago, the TV cost $3000. Luckily we also bought an extended warrantly for $400. I had to get an estimate to have it fixed. Well, the estimate came back at $3000 to repair it. Uh wrong ansa. I faxed the warranty people the estimate and they told me they would send us a brand new 42-inch Philips replacement, cuz they're now cheaper. Fantastic, I love warranties!
The new TV comes with a super cool, but completely unnecessary, Ambilight feature. So my living room will now become a trip-hop lounge when I watch movies. It's kind of like something you would buy at Spencers.
This is awesome. Of course, they just dumped off the new TV, so it should be interesting to see if I can get it all working. I might need the help of a gay A/V tech wizard. Seriously. Rob will buy you a case of beer.
So you all are invited over for movie night. The feature presentation will be Basic Instinct 2, or maybe a Raging Stallion or Mustang Video movie. Don't be late.
Posted by durban bud at 12:52 PM | Comments (11)
December 3, 2006
Pursing Lips
Jimbo says I purse my lips in every single photo I'm in. Not sure I agree with him. Frankly, I think his girdle is too tight, causing him to imagine things. It's not a conscious decision if I do, or maybe it is, cuz I look like shit in most photos, and pursing my lips is a tool to try and look somewhat cool. For the record, Jimbo tends to leave his mouth open in almost all of his pics.
Speaking of pursing lips, I saw the new James Bond movie last night. It's my gay blogging duty to mention that film.
Daniel Craig is a beautiful man and a masterful lip purser. I would totally share a burrito with him at a Chipotle if he asked me.
Whoever took the risk to cast him as the new Bond is a genious. When I first saw his pics, I was not impressed. His face seems a bit worn, maybe the result of a cruel bout of adolescent acne. But he seems to have aged into a ruggedly handsome man, which proves you can still look better no matter how old you are.
I'm not sure what the movie was about; something about millions of dollars, gambling, a tragic relationship, and the word "ellipsis". I did notice Craig has very sexy lips and a cute butt; Judi Dench needs major dental work; I want to visit Montenegro; and chicks with big boobs look funny riding horses on beaches.
It was a great movie. I haven't seen or wanted to see a Bond film since, I believe, For Your Eyes Only with the not very sexy, Roger Moore. But with this guy at the helm of the franchise, I look forward to the next one.
I hope he hooks up with, at least, one guy in it. That would make me happy.
Posted by durban bud at 11:41 AM | Comments (10)
December 2, 2006
Stress Produces Body Butter
I went to bed at 10am this morning. I felt like I had done crystal meth or something, except without the high risk sexual behavior and inability to cum. I've been pulling all-nighters this week trying to finish up a client's huge project. I tend to work my best under pressure. My therapist says that I would be brilliant if I applied that level of devotion to my entire life. He attributes this to my ADD. He has ADD too, by the way, which probably explains why we both show up late to our appointments.
I was really out of it, so I went to visit the Korean Lady to load up on more caffeine. I walked in. The door has a bell on it which made a loud noise. I grabbed my 2-liter and set it by the register. She was behind the counter with her back turned to me. She was stirring noodles in a pot. She just stirred and stirred. I cleared my throat hoping she would hear me. She didn't. Then I noticed giggling coming from the floor. Scared the crap out of me. Her 9 year old son was on the floor playing a video game. She turned around, startled when she saw me, and said, "I'm a so sorry." She yammered on about something I couldn't understand. I noticed I spoke to her with a very loud voice, as if she were deaf. When I was leaving, I said thank you in sign language. I knew at this point that I should get some sleep.
And for some odd reason, I smell like butter.
* So World AIDS Day just happened. I went to see the quilt the last time it was displayed on the mall. A bunch of people gathered in the evening for a candlelit memorial. It was beautiful, actually.
During the day, we all held hands in a big chain around the Capitol. Seeing my friend Pam, holding hands with a big bear, dressed in full leather, was priceless.
Judith Light from Who's the Boss? was there. I kept yelling, "I'm the boss," to her. Elizabeth Taylor was also there. She walked by me. The only thing I could muster to say to her was, "I loved you in the Flintstones!"
* A couple people just did google searches for "he keeps trying to feel my tits" and "how do I stop my pussy from queefing" and my site came up. It's starting to become a go-to guide for the perverse.
If you're looking to build traffic to your site, mention the words queefing and Dean Coulter. It works wonders, apparently.
Posted by durban bud at 2:47 PM | Comments (3)