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June 29, 2007

Rock, Paper, Scissors, Anal

It's been one of those weeks when everything seems to be going so well - like the stars are all in alignment just for me; and I wake up every morning feeling refreshed and excited to start a brand new day.

I'm totally kidding.

That's why I am so looking forward to heading to the beach this weekend -- for a full week.

The glorious DC humidity has finally hit hard. If you're not familiar with DC's humidity, I'll give you an example of what it's like. Shove your head up Laura Bush's vagina. Now try to breathe. Hard, isn't it? You'll notice how hot, sticky and wet the air is around you. You should also be aware of an off-putting odor, mixed with the aroma of mint juleps. Your breathing becomes slower; your voice takes on a smoker's rasp; and your exhales sound like queefs. That, my friends, is summertime in DC. So from July to August, we here in DC, live in Laura Bush's snizz.

That is why we often depart to the beach, and seek out a sugardaddy with a huge summer house in Burlington, VT.

On Sunday, I took Rhonda out to do some grocery shopping. As I passed by JR's, I noticed several Outsiders smoking their little lungs out. An angertwink yells: "Y'know that granny cart ages you 20 years." "Oh, really? Then I guess it's a good thing I'm only sixteen, twinkerbell." I looked at his cigarette. I looked at his face. I looked at his cigarette. I looked at his face and smiled, cuz he knows I'll outlive his twink ass.

The week started like that.

Anyway, I hope to see you this weekend or next week at the beach. I'll be in the water, relaxing, and occasionally playing the new game: rock, paper, scissors, anal. It's all the rage. I usually win.

Posted by durban bud at 09:56 AM | Comments (12)

June 27, 2007

Confess

I was forced to go to a Southern Baptist church for the first eighteen years of my life; I have a degree in psychology; and I'm gay. I think that qualifies me to be Father TJ. You must confess to me. I can help you.

I'll start the process.

I confess that I used to sleep on a waterbed for many years, and I rather enjoyed it. It was so warm and cozy during bitter winters in Rochester. My parents tried repeatedly to get rid of it, but I wouldn't let them. I was so uncool. And I still am.

There - I said it. I feel so much better. I have many more things to confess, but I'll start with that.

Now it's your turn. Confess your sins, sinner.

Posted by durban bud at 10:34 PM | Comments (35)

June 26, 2007

Fleshlight

The Banal Chewbacca left a comment on my last post mentioning the Fleshlight. I'd never heard of it, so I googled it. Oh my. Those living in Australia are horny.

"The Fleshlight is a sex toy, designed for use as a masturbation aid for men. The Fleshlight is named for the flesh-like material used in its inner sleeve, as well as the plastic case that houses the sleeve, which is fashioned to look like an oversized flashlight. The inner sleeve is available with vagina, mouth, and two types of anus shaped openings, as well as a non-descript slot opening. It was designed by a former police officer who was suffering a period of forced abstinence while his wife was pregnant."

Two types of anuses? I didn't know there was more than one. I mean, I'm aware of those with cauliflower butt, but, really, who wants to replicate that.

I'm not all that into toys, although the arsenal in my duffle bag under the bed suggests otherwise. Speaking of, if I leave this world unexpectedly, please remove that bag for me. Thanks.

I think it's the whole naughty novelty of it all, so we pick something new out, and then never use it. I don't remember buying half of the toys. One of them is a mask, like Robin (of Batman) wears. It's very Eyes Wide Shut and hilarious and so not sexy. I would post a photo of me wearing it, but I humiliate myself enough on this site. Thankfully, there are no sounds in that bag.

Anyway, the Fleshlight is not something I would use; I prefer my masturabatory sessions bareback.

Here are some photos of the Fleshlight's various orifices. I've posted them on the link below since some may deem them graphic.

Here is the mouth:

The butt:

The Non-Descript (the site says "perfect for the traveling man or someone who is a bit shy about their toys"):

Tos recently said, "What gay couple doesn't have a medium-sized butt plug?" I think he's probably right, though I suspect lesbians don't.

I would like to go through your duffle bag to see what you're hiding.

Posted by durban bud at 01:04 AM | Comments (18)

June 24, 2007

iPhucked

The cashier at CVS rang up my purchase, and before she gave me my change, she texted someone on her cell phone. Her drawer was open; I was waiting, and she was texting.

That evening, I caught a documentary on the National Geographic Channel about the Dinka:
"The Dinka are a group of tribes of south Sudan, inhabiting the swamplands of the Bahr el Ghazal region." I don't know where that is either, but it doesn't sound like Key West. "They are mainly agro-pastoral people, relying on cattle herding at riverside camps in the dry season and growing millet in fixed settlements during the rainy season. They number around 4.5 million people, constituting about 12% of the population of the entire country, and constitute the largest ethnic tribe in South Sudan."

The Dinka love their cows. When a man wants to marry a woman, he has to impress the family of the woman, in order for them to "give her to him". So he has to show up with a hundred cows and answer her family's questions first. Having many cows is a sign of wealth.

They also let the cows piss on their heads to color their hair a cool orange hue -- which now explains where the ingredients for Sun-In came from.

The Dinka do not have electricity, Diesel Jeans, iPhones, or bras (obviously). They do, however, have genocide.

My 2-year-old iPod passed away last week. The headphones mysteriously stopped working and the battery ran out. They do this on purpose, don't they?

To replace these, it would cost half of what it would be for a brand new iPod -- with more gigs and video. So I had to buy a new one. I mean, how can I possibly do cardio without one? The iPhone comes out later this week. And in a few months, it will be updated to something even better. I will always be a version behind. I will always be the boy with the Muppet Movie lunchbox in a cafeteria full of boys with Transformers lunchboxes.

With the exception of advances in medical sciences and the invention of a pocket gay -- which turns into a full-size man when taken out, to be used only for masturabatory purposes or massages -- what else do we really need?

Posted by durban bud at 02:30 PM | Comments (7)

June 22, 2007

Where Are All My Porn Star Friends?

This is Moby's roommate:

This is Moby's roommate's partner:

This is me moving to Moby's:

Posted by durban bud at 03:06 AM | Comments (14)

June 19, 2007

Hell is for Children

Had a fantastic time with the hot-tubbers and their many friends last weekend in Rehoboth.

While out at a bar called the Double L, I was approached by a drunk 21-year-old punk rocker, wearing an anti-Bush t-shirt and spandex pants with a thick studded belt. He was Pat Benatar, the early years.

Pat: Yo, you look really familiar.
Me: Hmmm. I don't think we've met.
Pat: I know you from somewhere, dude.
Me: I have a blog. Maybe you've seen my photo there?
Pat: Ew. I don't read blogs. Do you have a Big Muscle Bears profile?
Me: No.
Pat: Oh, I know, I know! You look like this 42-year-old I met here last week. He was pretty hot for a guy at this bar.
Me: Hell is for children.
Pat: What?
Me: Nevermind.
Pat: I had a blast at IBR this year.
Me: Is that what you get before IBS?
Pat: No way, dude! It's the International Bear Rendezvous! I fisted 2 hot guys there.
Me: Wow, I didn't need to know that. You're awfully young to be tweakin' the intestines.

A friend we were with gave Pat his phone number.

We spent a lot of time with an interesting bloke who's into feet. I have a nickname for him, but he told me it would be inappropriate to tell others. So I'll just refer to him as Sanjaya, instead. By the way - he gave me a non-sexual foot rub and it was delicious.

Sanjaya has a fascinating sex life. He has a glory hole in his basement. He carved a hole in a wardrobe he bought from Ikea, I guess. Glory holes are really just an adult version of peek-a-boo, aren't they? So remember that next time you play that little game with an infant, cuz you're really just prepping him for kinky sex games. Pig.

Sanjaya has many interesting stories of his sexploits with married men. He was approached by a married couple who wanted him to make butt love to the husband while the wife watched. They were at a hotel -- Sanjaya was doing the husband on one bed, while the wife ate potato chips and watched TV on the other. Occasionally she would look over and say, "Fuck him harder" -- while chomping on her chips.

Also, if someone says, "Do you have a little surprise in there for me?" -- while performing analingus on you -- it's a good idea to call it a night.

There is a whole other world out there that you and I don't know about. Well, maybe you do, but I don't. So it's good to ask questions.

We're running with the shadows of the night, y'all.

Posted by durban bud at 09:37 PM | Comments (26)

June 18, 2007

When I Knew I Was Different

I was eleven and watching hours of a new network called MTV. I saw a video by April Wine called, "If You See Kay." All I could think was, if you spell that out, it says, "IF UCK". To make sure I wasn't imagining it, I wrote it down on a piece of paper.

My mom found that piece of paper during a laundry session. She screams, "Teeeeeeeeeeee - get in here! What is this?" And I'm all, "It's not what you think! Y'see - I saw this video from this band called April Wine and they have a song..."

It was then. I believe my mom felt the same. And I'm cool with that.

Posted by durban bud at 09:51 PM | Comments (14)

June 15, 2007

Together

Many people ask me what happens when I get together with a large group of friends. We sit around and chat, sip high protein-low carb shakes, watch porn, analyze others -- but, mostly, we do exactly this:

Only with a bunch of bearish men.

Posted by durban bud at 09:53 PM | Comments (18)

Gigantoraptor

No, that's not a gay pride float-- it's a newly discovered dinosaur: Gigantoraptor. I bet Adam and Eve shit their fig leaves when they saw that giant chicken running towards them. "Oh muh God, Adam -- that thing is gonna peck us to death. Run, goddamn it!"

So cool.

Posted by durban bud at 12:38 AM | Comments (11)

June 12, 2007

Mister Fister Gets a Mani-Pedi

Mister Fister came to DC for the big, gay weekend. Oddly, he didn't recruit any slaves during his entire visit. He did, however, talk me into getting a manicure and pedicure. If his slaves only knew what a beauty queen he really is, they might not be so quick to lick them boots. But, I guess, it does make sense for him to get his fingernails nice and clipped - for obvious reasons.

I've only had two pedicures in my life, and that was about four years ago. I only did it so I could have a cheap foot rub by a non-threatening Asian woman, uninterested in jizzing on my feet (though she did apply some clear-ish, bleach smelling, liquidy substance to my toenails).

So I agreed to go to a salon, within an unusual maze of a town called Crystal City -- insert tired meth joke here. Despite its close proximity to DC, I'd never been there before. And I have no reason to go back. She rubbed my feet for less than a minute. Rude. No fortune cookie fo' you!

I've been yelled at before for using people's real first names on this site, or even initials, so I'm forced to use nicknames, sometimes. So I took my pretty hands and feet -- along with Mr. Bartender, the Sarge, Mister Fister, Big Lug and Rob (sorry!) -- and headed to the homosexual festivities.

The weather was the best it's ever been for Pride in DC. You could actually breathe.

By far, my favorite of the large balloons that tower above the buildings from the parade was Jimbo's. It was basically a replica of his infamous, poofy, cute ass. The handlers had quite a challenge controlling it, though. The balloon was going every which way, due to the wind, and almost collapsed on a sea of screaming Jennifers. That Jimbo -- even as a balloon, he's cantankerous.

Interestingly, the pooper scooper mascot was on the float behind him.

On our way back from the festival, we stopped to get something to eat. Downtown DC is getting some really nice, impressive, high-end restaurants -- so many to choose from these days! So we went to Ruby Tuesdays.

And here are some token photos from the weekend with the boys:

Posted by durban bud at 07:04 PM | Comments (14)

June 08, 2007

Baton Twirling 2007

Pride has hit DC with a vengeance. 17th Street is a smorgasbord of rainbow colors. I'll be celebrating my love of the same sex by hitting the parade and the festival.

I reckon I'll see some of this:

And some of this:

And a lot of this:

It's a good time.

Many people bemoan the need for Pride celebrations. Then I read heartbreaking stories like this one.

I have a huge amount of respect for gay people living honestly in rural areas. Though, I suppose it would be even more difficult to be a transgendered muslim, wearing a turban, living in a rural area. So, it's cool they can come into the city to celebrate who they are, without worry.

There will be some crazy things to see during the weekend, but there's also enough boring "normal" stuff to see as well.

So I'll be there, celebrating all those who came before me, who died for my gay sins. Also, I'll be honoring the ass.

Posted by durban bud at 08:00 PM | Comments (9)

June 07, 2007

The Dope Show

You know how Janet Jackson does that little wavy dance move with her head over her shoulder? Yeah, well I just did that while walking down the street, listening to my iPod. I have no idea why -- it just happened. It must be a form of gay tourette's we all have, unconsciously, when hearing a beat. Even more odd, I was listening to Marilyn Manson's "The Dope Show". Some guy saw me do it, so I just pretended to be mildly retarded, which isn't hard for me.

By the way, Manson finally friended me on MySpace (and I can just call him Manson, cuz he's now my friend). I realize he has over 100,000 friends on that site, but, whatever.

So my mission is now complete. The photo window dressing on my page now features Johnny (my bisexual goth friend I met at addiction camp), Pam (my angelic heterosexual friend from high school), Marilyn Manson (my wacky rock star friend), and Clickboo (my gay blogger friend). I'm celebrating diversity this month. Are you?

In other news, some woman just called from my front door intercom -- and I'm noticing these visits are becoming more frequent.

Woman: Hello, my name is (inaudible) and I was wondering if you had some time so I could talk to you about our bible.
Me: The bible?
Woman: Yes, I'd like to talk to you about our bible.
Me: Is that the book where it talks about some guy living in a whale or something?
Woman: Our bible talks about many things. Do you have a few minutes?
Me: Does your bible mention the dinosaurs?
Woman: Sir, our bible talks about many things. Do you have a few minutes?
Me: But does your bible mention the goddamn dinosaurs?

Click.

Posted by durban bud at 01:01 PM | Comments (16)

June 05, 2007

The Consortium of Gay Flag Creators

The Consortium of Gay Flag Creators has released yet another flag. This time they target Muscle Pride. Woo-hoo! Push that big, bad bar in the air, like you just don't care.

Hmm. I'm not an expert on gym equipment, but that bar looks a tad unsafe. Maybe it's from Gold's.

I did a little research and found there are pride flags for almost everything. Given how creative us homosexuals are supposed to be, I'm surprised how lame these flags have been designed over the years. Most of them are just images placed on top of the rainbow flag.

Here is the standard rainbow flag. Simple but bland.

Bear Pride.

Bisexual Pride. Yawn. I can't decide if I like it or not.

Gay Tennis Pride. Odd.

Gay Christian Pride. Cute, but you're still going to hell.

Gay Yachters Pride. I suppose this would come in handy if you're trying to locate other boating homosexuals via Manhunt on the seas -- though I would fear pirates.

Gay Divers Pride. This is my least favorite. Hideous.

Gay Cowboy Pride. A cowboy hat - nice touch.

Gay Californian Bear Pride.

Gay Truckers Pride.

Gay Canadian Bear Pride. I like this one.

Twink Pride.

Power Bottom Pride.

Scat Pride. Gross.

And even this epileptic design for the 2012 Olympics is, at least, interesting.

I think we can do better than these. You can see more odd ones at this site.

Someone should have a redesign contest.

Posted by durban bud at 11:45 PM | Comments (22)

June 03, 2007

You Must Be Logged-In To Do That!

I just asked Marilyn Manson to be my friend on MySpace. He better not deny me. It's not so much that I'm a fan, I just think it would look nice to have his photo sandwiched between my longtime high school friend Pam and fellow blogger Clickboo. And since this month is all about celebrating diversity, I'll do it my own way. Fingers crossed.

Don't you just hate when people blather on and on about their workout routines? So 2002.

So, a friend has been working me hard at the gym lately. He's a very patient drill sergeant with me -- I guess it's a combination of his military training and former Mr. Eagle title status. And I assume winning Mr. Eagle is a step up from winning Mr. Fireplace or maybe Mr. Splash. But I'm not sure. By the way -- is it appropriate for someone to wear his sash to the gym during workouts? Just curious.

I'm also learning new things with the sarge.

There's a reason the hip adductor machine is located near the women's workout room -- it's meant for women! Men -- who use it too often -- will fuck up their hip bones. I know it's fun to show how far you can spread your legs and all, but you're damaging your bones and probably growing a little, baby va-jay-jay in the process. You've been warned.

Yesterday the drill sarge told me and Rob that we would work on legs. As any homosexual knows, a leg workout is really just code for sculpting the ass. Squats, lunges, sphincter tightening and leg presses are all about the glutes, I'm told.

Then we learned the workout wasn't at the gym; it was at Meridian Hill Park -- more specifically, it involved these steps by the fountain.

I ran up and around the steps three times before vomiting. I opted out of the advanced conditioning he proposed after -- which was basically just lunging over hypodermic needles and empty flasks strewn throughout the park. Maybe next time.

Anyway, the purpose of the intense workouts is to get me in shape for a triathlon, or maybe a Big Muscle Bears profile. I'm still up in the the air about which is healthier.

Although I am not photogenic, I am allowing myself to consider the profile to help celebrate diversity and pollute even more internet real estate. My profile will be completely different from the rest. It will be an homage, of sorts. Stay tuned; you'll see.

In other news, I fear Russia is reverting back to the Soviet Union.

Posted by durban bud at 10:04 PM | Comments (15)

June 01, 2007

Umbrella

This about sums it up. Thanks to the Banal Chewbacca. Keep sending them. They make me moist.

Posted by durban bud at 01:29 PM