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September 30, 2007

Boob

I got a new customized t-shirt. You can see me wearing it and sucking on my about page.

We went to a bear party yesterday, hosted by our hot-tubbing friends. Bear parties are easy to distinguish from burly straight men football parties, by the Just For Men sheen glistening from the furry faces and the absence of football. Also, from the Prince Alberts.

I had a great time. Cheech & Chong were there. Sanjaya and Big Lug as well. And a number of fresh furbots to keep me entertained.

I scouted out foot fetishists, and was able to congregate these men to a small area of the house where I could be ravished with multiple foot rubs. I was told I have a nice arch! Sanjaya demonstrated the spots on a foot that foot fetishists find sexy. I didn't really care, as long as they didn't stop rubbing or shoot a load on my hot arch. I doubt straight guys would rub my feet at one of their parties. Another perk to being a homosexual, I guess.

We finished the evening off by grooming one another.

A sexy furball from Pennsylvania tipped me off to a gay porn version of Netflix called nymMedia. I knew there was a reason the Lord implored me to attend this party. I realize there are plenty of porn rental places around me, but sometimes I prefer not to leave my home or have to deal with this kind of drama. And having gay porn delivered directly into my slot is the way He wants it.

And I pass along this wisdom to you.

Posted by durban bud at 07:33 PM | Comments (11)

September 28, 2007

Sandy Patti

New term: Sandy Patti

A Sandy Patti is like a Chatty Patty, only more abrasive and preachy. Try using it in a sentence this weekend.

Since it's the end of the week I am reposting this inspirational video to lift your spirits and make you feel good.

We're going to a bear party tomorrow night. Silent Bob is a bear, apparently. He discussed it on Letterman the other night. You can watch it here. I've never sexualized him before. But I suppose you have. I liked Chasing Amy, though.

Posted by durban bud at 09:45 AM | Comments (15)

September 26, 2007

Sup Mix Kat Chillen in Herndon

Like most people, I spent the past few days contemplating whether Perez Hilton is a top or bottom. I also spent some time surfing the wonderful world of M4M hookups in DC on Craigslist (just for fun!). If you have an hour to spare, it's a worthy eye-opening experience.

Now, clearly I am no expert with online hookups and profile pics (or am I?), but I do have some opinions on what I think works and what doesn't.

To protect the innocent, my critique is available when you click the link below.

Posing like this is probably not a good idea:

Crop! Never include the face of an innocent friend when advertising your butt as a "sperm bank". It's rude.

Even worse, using a photo with your whole family -- especially if you've apparently just escaped a chain-gang. Not cool.

Try to avoid looking like former MTV VJ's:

Don't do this:

I mean, it's cool if you want to wear a bra and panties and play "table" from time to time, but it's not the best scenario to try and pick up a fishing buddy - which is exactly what this guy was looking for, along with a blowjob on the boat.

I could go on, but I won't -- for now.

But one thing is obvious here in DC: You can have sex whenever/wherever/however you want. Hmmm.

Posted by durban bud at 12:59 PM | Comments (14)

September 24, 2007

366 Days Later

Posted by durban bud at 09:36 AM | Comments (10)

September 19, 2007

Mama's Got a Brand New Nose

Sometimes when I hang out with my friends, they'll preface telling me something with, "This better not end up on your stupid blog." Usually I roll my eyes and think, everyone already knows you like to be dragged around in a diaper, but whatever, I won't say a word. Other friends, on the other hand, will suggest things about themselves to include on this site, and even send photos! That's where Mumping comes into play.

Mumping got a nose job, and like any proud mama, she wants to show it off. And why not? It looks great! Truthfully, I never thought she had a big nose. Unless it's glaring, I tend not to notice things like that on a person. See, I'm not superficial after all. Yay, me!

It never dawned on me that she had an issue with it, until she came over one night and said some homeless guy had just asked her, "Ya got a quarter, ya big nose motherfucker?" So, so rude. It's obvious homeless San Franciscans are infiltrating DC and playing on our insecurities. Go home back!

Her new nose is cute. Since she's Jewish, I've nicknamed it אסף. What? Is that name already taken? But it's so international.

It seems everyone is getting some work done these days. I don't have a problem with people doing it; however, some people get TONS of work done, but none of the procedures included the removal of the angerbitch living inside them. And sometimes that's uglier than the turkey neck they're ironing out. Perhaps surgeons will develop a cutting edge technique for this in the future.

The before and after photos of Mumping's nose are after the jump. אסף is quite stunning, don't ya think?

Posted by durban bud at 12:10 PM | Comments (19)

September 16, 2007

I Could Just Kill A Man

And I blame Jodie Foster. We sat through the dreadful mess known as The Brave One. I heard her on various talk shows say she was very proud of this film. I thought she was serious, so I made plans to see it. In hindsight, I'm guessing she is proud of this film, like she is proud of her homosexuality. Ba-da-boom!

I enjoy Jodie Foster (Candleshoe, anyone?) and Neil Jordan (The Crying Game -- which I saw way before everyone knew the secret, and I was well surprised!), but I'm not sure what led them to think this would make a good movie. Sure, it was great to see her blow away the bad guys, but we shouldn't have been laughing at key elements in the film.

Sill, it piqued an interest in owning a dildo-shaped gun and ridding the community of self-righteous trolls and bitterbears. I would make a great vigilante.

So I took that rage to Nellie's later in the evening. It was my first time there. Luckily my friends hadn't seen the film, so they mellowed out my angerbuzz. It was a pleasant enough place, especially the rooftop deck.

While there, a friend tipped me off to a game called, "Can you spot the steroid user?" Apparently 'roids are making a huge comeback this season. He pointed out a few. There are clear signs I'm told: huge body mass gain within a couple weeks, protruding hard bellies, thick necks -- but the clearest sign takes place a couple months from now when they go bat-shit crazy, albeit with fierce muscles and tiny testes.

Here's hoping they avoid The Brave One when it's available on DVD in a couple months, or all hell's gonna break loose.

UPDATE: This clip of cute little pant-suit Jodie is way better than Brave One Jodie, and it's free to watch and more realistic! Thanks, Jeremy.

Posted by durban bud at 06:13 PM | Comments (11)

September 14, 2007

The Ice Man of Jiggyness

Brettcajun is holding a jigg-off, where bloggers can submit videos of themselves showing off their mad dance skillz and readers can vote for their favorite.

Well, one fan of hirsute heartthrob Aaron thinks he's the right man for the job. As the anonymous fan commented on Brett's blog, "We want Aaron (Meanwhile)! ...He'd be like the Ice Man of jiggyness and leave the competition agape at his smooth, charismatic moves."

I couldn't agree more. His milkshake at Blowoff is legendary.

So, Aaron, in the immortal words of Salt-N-Pepa:

"Just rock, baby-pop, don’t stop
Stick out your butt, and shake what you got."

This is your calling, Jigga.

Posted by durban bud at 03:45 PM | Comments (8)

September 13, 2007

Pepa Got Pissed and Pulled Out a Pump

Poor Pepa. Salt found Jesus and has refused to perform their classic songs or record new material, leaving Pepa no future with her established brand. That doesn't seem very Christian, yo.

I know it wouldn't be the same, but if I were Pepa -- and some say I am -- I would have replaced Salt with a similar sounding rap chick and named her Paprika, or maybe Cumin. But, instead, Pepa has been in career limbo.

If I were part of a successful gay bear rap duo with, say, Jimbo, and he found Jesus H Christ during our heeeeeeeey-day, and refused to perform our hits, "Smack That (Big Bear Ass)," "Groom Yo Man on the Dancefloor," and "I Can't Believe You Left Me for an Otter (from Bowie, MD)," I would, first, giggle uncontrollably; second, I would kick his poofy gay bear ass. And then I would sue him for ruining our successful gay bear rap group, DurBo (or maybe JimBud).

But that's just me.

Anyway, VH1 is (of course) documenting a potential reunion of Salt N Pepa. Check out a scene from it after the jump. Pray that Satan has some pull in the outcome. Suck it, Jesus. Indeed.

Posted by durban bud at 12:16 PM | Comments (13)

September 12, 2007

Angertwink

I wish I had an ounce of this guy's passion for something. But I don't.

Y'know when a friend gets wasted and starts to get all emotional on you? That's what it looks like.

I realize this video is everywhere. My apologies for my lack of originality.

Posted by durban bud at 10:36 AM | Comments (33)

Siggabertha

Tucson's favorite bear and family history expert Homer is helping me figure out my true identity. It's an emergency! I'm like Jason Bourne, only not as pretty -- and furrier. And Homer is Julia Stiles, without the 'gina and blank stare.

My extended family is so large that my parents haven't been able to keep track of everyone, especially the older relatives. And they don't ask questions. It's a Southern thing, I guess. For example -- my mom just found out last week that her grandfather was murdered decades ago. Nice. It's obvious where my apathy gene came from.

I'm learning my great aunts and uncles have very common last names, but unusual first names -- like Fanny, Ott and Nellie (I totally giggled, too).

Aunt Fanny smoked a pipe. I vaguely remember her big and burly frame, always appearing uncomfortable in that beige wool skirt. I bet she was a friend of Susan B Anthony, wink wink.

And if I knew someone named Ott, I would call him Tater Ott, cuz it would be funny.

Somewhere -- way back in my family history -- lived a woman named Siggabertha. What the hell is a Siggabertha? Sounds like a potato bug species, or maybe an Eddie Murphy movie. I wonder if anyone ever said, "Sigga, please" to her from time to time. I probably would have.

I'm just starting this exploration. Hopefully I'll learn I'm part Jewish or related to Paul Lynde or John Peter Zenger -- who, by the way, was the topic of an oral presentation I did in 5th grade. I wore knickers and knee-socks to get into character, even though we weren't told we had to dress up. Later I found out he didn't dress like that. I still got an A. I also got beat up.

Anyway, I'm hoping the research will yield more than just hillbilly in my blood -- not that there's anything wrong with it, of course. But too much leads to naming your child Siggabertha.

Cue Moby's Extreme Ways here --->

Posted by durban bud at 01:10 AM | Comments (12)

September 09, 2007

The Art of Cockblocking Tyra Banks

Apparently it was disgustingly hot in DC yesterday. I wouldn't know. I was too busy watching a marathon of America's Next Top Model in the comfort of my air-conditioned home, curled up on the couch like a man-cat. Meow.

Pathetic, I know, but I. Could. Not. Look. Away. Does. It. Annoy. You. When. People. Write. Like. This?

Why has no one tipped me off to this show before? MTV ran a marathon of the 4th and 7th seasons all weekend -- cuz, y'know, it's all about the music on that network.

This gorgeous man was a guest judge on one of the episodes. I had never heard of him. Supposedly he's straight. Mmmhmmm.

Sadly, I've only experienced one minor intimate relation with a man of African descent. He was a big, burly, muscle man -- hard as a brick and about the size of two durban buds. But he tried to get all rough and dominant top with me. I was all, "Gurl, please. Put me down. I am not a fafafini!" So it didn't go so well.

A couple months later I was walking down 17th, when a car pulled alongside me. It was him. We exchanged pleasantries and I turned on Corcoran and headed to my apartment. He parked his car and came running after me. Um, security, we have a situation with an angry DOM. I thought he was pissed cuz I gave him crabs or something, but he just wanted to talk. Mmmhmmm. It was that day I learned the art of cockblocking.

My fall seminars on the subject begin the weekend before Power Bottom Appreciation Day, which isn't too far away. And the next season of America's Next Top Model premieres September 19th. Please mark your calendars for ALL events. It's gonna be a great season.

Posted by durban bud at 09:32 PM | Comments (10)

September 06, 2007

A Hymn for Autumn

I'm gonna be alone 'til Tuesday. Time to get a Manhunt account!

Nah, I'll prolly just watch a Forensic Files marathon and read through every Big Muscle Bears profile. Or maybe I'll host a cuddle party. We'll see.

And I know y'all are gonna be singing this all weekend. Careful not to watch in front of the kids. Thanks for the link, Uncle Ira.

Posted by durban bud at 09:53 PM | Comments (9)

tourette's

A friend let us stay at his place in LA while he was out of town. He lives in an apartment complex where everyone has their windows open. He failed to mention his neighbor has tourette's. He also failed to mention that most places in LA do not have air conditioning -- which is problematic during a heatwave, but that's another story.

Anyway, we began hearing loud noises that sounded like a cross between a scream and a hiccup. Hmm, very strange. We found out who the culprit was when we were leaving the complex one afternoon. A woman was in the small swimming pool in the front of the building. We heard her scrippup a few times as we walked by. And then we heard her say, "Fucking faggots!" Typical LA "attitude".

Incidentally, Rob thinks I have a mild form of tourette's or tics. Not sure I agree. Butt fuck! He complains that I blurt things out in the middle of the night, like "fanny" or "turd burglar". It's really just cuz I need some attention. Sometimes I say, "I love you," but he says I'm being disingenuous cuz he's trying to sleep. Well, wake up and let's chat about it. Communication is key, they say.

We all have mental tourette's; we're just better at suppressing the urge to verbalize it. I mean, how often have you instantly thought, "That lipo totally didn't work for you" or "I wanna taste your taint" or "Gurl, get some White Strips" or "Angry, toxic, judgmental lesbian!" I, of course, never think those things cuz I'm a man of God, but most people do, sadly.

People with tourette's are just more honest; the rest are tactfully disingenuous. So the next time someone calls you a fucking faggot, say thank you, cuz it's probably true.

Posted by durban bud at 01:28 PM | Comments (4)

September 04, 2007

Entourage

I had the chance to meet Bill Clinton during his last year in office. I turned the opportunity down.

A friend of mine -- who worked in the government and several Democratic campaigns -- called and asked if I would be willing to drive a vehicle in the president's motorcade during one of his appearances in Baltimore. Obviously this was so pre-9/11. I would be driving one of about ten vehicles. All drivers would then get to meet and have their picture taken with him, if they hadn't already.

Um, yeah, that's prolly a bad idea.

I didn't have a problem with the background check and whatnot, but visions of me accidentally running over some pregnant woman and slamming into the president's limo, were weighing heavily on my mind. And the video of this horrific scene would be repeated on CNN, BBC World News and Animal Planet all month. And my parents have been embarrassed enough.

Plus, I would have to wear a suit.

At the time, I rarely drove anywhere cuz I got rid of my car, so reacquainting myself with the road -- in a strange vehicle, in a strange city, and with the fucking President of the United States outside my window -- was a bit daunting. I said no. It was for the safety of our country, trust me.

But I would love to meet him someday. He was smart, and I miss smart.

We make fun of Miss Teen South Carolina for butchering a question, but we kinda elected an older version of Miss Teen South Carolina as our Miss Teen Commander-in-Chief, twice. Bill Maher has the proof.

Posted by durban bud at 11:06 PM | Comments (7)

September 02, 2007

Spin the Bottom

Much like birds heading south for the winter, the gays flock to Ikea for Labor Day Weekend.

The Sarge kept referring to the store as "Icky Ugh", but I didn't, cuz I'm a Christian.

We're kinda interested in buying a sectional for the living room. We came across a huge circular couch/mattress thing I liked, that would be ideal when having friends over to watch a movie. Plus, we could play spin the bottom on it. It's always best to look for products that can serve multiple functions, as my grandma would say. I tried to find a photo of it on Ikea's site, but I can't find it. It was probably set out just for that one day, cuz they knew their audience.

We pushed our cart through the store picking up unnecessary baskets, kitchen utensils and all things pressed wood. As I dumped a number of candles (only $2.99 each!) into the cart and pushed it further into the store, Rob looks down and says, "OMG, this isn't our cart!" Lovely. So like any thoughtful Christian samaritans, we grabbed our shit and ran.

When I got back to DC, I made my triumphant return to the gym after eating that whole blue cake. I'm being proactive with a firm gym schedule and getting back on the Body/Eating for Life dietary plan. I'm serious about this. So I busted my ass at the gym lifting weights and riding the elliptical machine. I felt great and accomplished when I finished.

When I got home, I made a carrot cake.

I'm not sure what's wrong with me! Maybe I'm ovulating. Or maybe it's all the Kegel exercises I'm secretly doing at client meetings. Whatever it is, my baking hormones are at Code Red status.

And I have to say, it was the best cake I've ever made! Though, I've only made three.

I used a full bag of baby carrots. I put them in a blender to shred them. Apparently a couple of them didn't get shredded cuz I did come across a full size tender carrot in a piece, which was rather off-putting.

But it was oh-so-moist. Seriously, you would have been impressed. I should totally open my own bakery around here. God knows we need something to compete with that unsavory Cake Love. Plus, mine would also sell poppers.

As I was enjoying a piece of my moist, scrumptious, heavenly carrot cake, I read that Jake Dakota cheated on me with another --- are you ready? -- blogger. The horror! I nearly choked on a pecan.

Jake, you had me at "harder!" It was special. How could you do this to me? I make cakes!

Posted by durban bud at 11:16 PM | Comments (10)