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January 30, 2008
The Box
I noticed a few boxes strewn in the middle of the alley this morning. It's very windy here, so the Lord must have gently blown them into my path for a reason. I was walking an ornery dog so I couldn't stop to observe their cardboard nuances, though I could tell one was brown, one was white, and the other was flattened -- ran over by a careless cab driver, or maybe my texting-while-driving friend Ira, no doubt.
As I passed the boxes, I paused and thought, perhaps I should move them out of the way. Some people say it's rude to leave trash in the middle of an alley, expecting someone else to clean up the mess. I felt compelled to do something for the greater good of the environment. It was my calling. So I turned around.
I looked down at the three boxes. With only one hand free, I had to make a choice. Which box should I choose? I mean, I'm all about cleaning up the environment, but with babysteps, okay?
I looked up to the crisp blue sky for guidance. The warmth of the sunshine beamed on my face, highlighting the few red hairs in my goatee. I felt a strange feeling come over me. Clyde became very still and sat. I smiled. I could smell cinnamon and Calvin Klein's Eternity. I knew what was happening. It was Him.
He gently whispered in my ear, "Gurrrrl, those three boxes represent the leading candidates for President. You know what to do. Choose the one you want to win. Make the right choice, son. Please make the right choice. K, thanks."
I nodded, still smiling. It was an easy choice. I let go of the leash, bent down and picked up the box that most represented my candidate. I held it over my head, like John Cusack from Say Anything. I wanted the Lord to see my proud choice.
I felt that strange feeling again. I could hear Sarah Brightman singing in the background, and in my ear, He ever-so-softly whispered, "Touché."
I walked over to the dumpster and disposed of the box.
I'm doing my part to help the environment. Are you?
Posted by durban bud at 12:26 PM | Comments (12)
January 28, 2008
Breaking Cujo
One of my neighbors thinks my name is Chuck. I just walked Cujo Clyde and when he saw me, he said, "Hey Chuck, how's it going?" I'm like, "Hey, it's going well, thankssss." I never correct him. He's been doing it for so long that I've grown accustomed to it, plus we never stop and chat anyway. There is another gay guy named Chuck who lives in a house nearby, but he's obese. Surely, he's not confusing us. Surely, he's not fucking confusing us.
Right after we exchanged erroneous pleasantries, a woman with a thick Caribbean accent walked by, saw Clyde and said, "That is a big-ass pit-bull, mon." I paused, turned around and yelled, "He's not a pit-bull!"
But he exhibited pit-bull stereotypes this past weekend, that's fer sure, mon.
Tos brought over his sweet dog Shelly to hang out for a few hours on Saturday.
Clyde's behavior with strange dogs is documented, but his owner insisted that after an initial meeting he tends to ignore them. Cool.
He met Shelly, sniffed and ignored her. Tos even gave them both a treat. 10 good minutes. Then Clyde put his paw on her back. She barked and he bit her neck and WOULD NOT LET GO. Three of us grabbed Clyde, pulled his choke-chain, screamed at him to let go, attempted to open his jaw, but nothing worked. He was in the zone. After about a minute he finally let go, with bloodshot eyes. Luckily, there was no damage and Shelly was/is fine, but shaken, as we all were. Great, I'm taking care of fucking OJ, the dog. How embarrassing. Visions of me and Clyde fleeing ASPCA authorities in a white bronco are not far from my mind.
I immediately called his owner and banished Eminem to his naughty mat. Tos took Kim home.
Something tells me this behavior is not a new thing; I was just never informed. His owner adopted Clyde and his sister Bonnie (ha ha) as puppies. A couple years ago, she gave 5-year-old Bonnie away. She said Clyde required too much attention. Hmmm. She also had his front teeth removed (which explains his awful lisp now). For example, when I told him to apologize to Shelly for what he did, he said, "I'm thhhow-wee, thhhelly. I'm tho, tho, thhhow-wee."
The bottom line is his anger management needs to be dealt with or he's gonna get euthanized by a pissed-off dog owner, and rightfully so. His time with me (at least full-time) will be up soon. I'm going to attempt to use a gentle leader for the remaining weeks. Pray for me on that one. At my request, she is also going to apply to the Dog Whisperer. If anyone can teach Clyde how to behave well with a pack of dogs, it's Ms. Milan.
But if Clyde doesn't get to be on TV, you can watch this video of an American Bulldog also named Clyde to witness their sheer awesome strength.
Take care,
Chuck
Posted by durban bud at 04:10 PM | Comments (11)
January 23, 2008
With a Butt Like That
I managed to get out and about Friday evening. Jimbo won tickets to see Scott Bakula do some cabaret thingie and invited me along. I only knew Mr. Bakula from Quantum Leap and that Star Trek spin-off. I had no idea he was a singer or dancer. I just knew that he was handsome, and, sometimes, that's enough for me.
Jimbo tipped me off that some Trekkies might be in attendance wearing full-on Trek gear; I just wasn't expecting him to be one of them! So there we were at the beautiful new Harmon Theater in downtown DC -- I was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt and Jimbo was dressed like a Klingon. Oh. My. God. I was a little embarrassed at first -- especially when he kept shouting, "The wind does not respect a fool, Captain Durby!" -- but then I remembered that I was at a Scott Bakula cabaret show. It's all relative, innit?
Scott's in great shape. He's short, muscular and has a beautiful bubble butt. Jimbo insisted he is 63-years-old. I wasn't buying it. I told him I would Google it when I got home, but there is no way he's 63 with a butt like that. It's a well-known fact that a man's bubble butt (if he has one) "pops" when he reaches 58. Air starts to slowly release from the glutes when a man turns 32, but is kept in check if he frequently runs or does squats, but at 58...it just pops, like a reverse hymen. It's true. And you know it.
We had a nice time and Mr. Bakula was impressive, but after intermission, we got the hell out of there. Our Great American Songbook threshold is apparently quite low. Still, kudos to Scotty for keeping up with appearances and bein' all talented and shit.
For the record, Scott Bakula is 53. He still has 5 more years of hot bubbleness before the inevitable pop.
Posted by durban bud at 05:21 PM | Comments (11)
January 18, 2008
The Leathermen Are Coming! The Leathermen Are Coming!
These hornets demonstrate what happens during Leather Weekend when the leather dudes take over the bars, clubs, hotels, alleys and restaurants here in DC:
And I'm all alone this weekend. I'm so scurred...
Anyway, Brett posted this interesting link that gives a lot of information about the zip code you live in.
Here are some of my neighborhood stats:
Land area: 1.4 sq. mi. Population density: 31013 people per square mile Males: 24,421 (52.4%) Females: 22,140 (47.6%) Jimbo: 1 (0.0000001%)
White population: 23,014
Black population: 14,813
American Indian population: 218
Asian population: 1,870
Native Hawaiian and Other Pacific Islander population: 30
Bears: 349
Some other race population: 4,747
Two or more races population: 1,869
Estimated median house/condo value in 2005: $537,158
20009 $537,158 (OMG!)
District of Columbia: $384,400
Median resident age: 32.5 years
District of Columbia median age: 34.6 years
Percentage of family housholds:
This zip code: 27.2%
Whole state: 46.0%
Percentage of households with unmarried partners:
This zip code: 8.8%
Whole state: 6.0%
Percentage of households with thruples:
This zip code: 0.02%
Whole state: 0.01%
Likely homosexual households (counted as self-reported same-sex unmarried-partner households)
Lesbian couples: 0.6% of all households
Gay men: 3.1% of all households
3.1%? That's it?!?! This is supposedly a gay neighborhood. C'mon, that can't be right. Is it?
That info was interesting and all but what immediately caught my attention was the link that said "22 registered sex offenders living in 20009 zip code in early 2007." [GULP] Naturally I had to check it out to see if I recognized any ex-boyfriends. Suprisingly, I didn't. It's interesting that they post photos and addresses of sex offenders but not thieves, assaulters, home invaders, kidnappers, and murderers. I would like to be aware of those douchebags, too. Cuz I would totally give him a dirty look.
btw - the Cloverfield monster has finally been revealed. If you want to see the scary monster, I posted the poster pic with the monster below. [warning: spoilers!]
It's a pissed-off Happy Hour Bear seeking revenge for being displaced!!! I knew it! So so scary!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Posted by durban bud at 06:34 PM | Comments (5)
January 14, 2008
I Don't Need This
After a 3-week hiatus, Clyde was returned to us yesterday. Naturally all Dog Whisperer techiques we managed to train him with are now missing. If that show is so popular, why am I the only one "PSSHHT"-ing his dog? No one else PSSHHTs around here. So I PSSHHT him as softly as I can, so I don't get judged. Then I think, maybe I'm PSSHHT-ing him incorrectly, maybe it's "PSSSSK". It's so hard to tell with Cesar's accent. But PSSSSK isn't working either.
Following Cesar's advice, I kept him by my side on his walk last night. He basically walked me, which is so demeaning. So I PSSHHT-ed him with vigor.
He's great with people, but is a sassy dominant top with other dogs. I'm pretty sure if Clyde had a blog, it would be called The Neighbors Will Hear and he would sign his name CLYDE.
We've already received the ire of the dog park clique, following an unfortunate vulgar display of alpha-maleness one afternoon. So when I see another dog, I hold tightly on the leash and move quickly by and/or move to the other side of the street.
As we were approaching the end of our walk, an ederly woman with a large dog was in front of our home. Let's call her Dorothy Zbornak. I grabbed Clyde's leash and stopped walking. Dorothy Zbornak saw me and said, "My dog's friendly." "Mine's unpredictable. I live right there, so you can go on ahead. We'll wait." Dorothy Zbornak stood there, frozen. Again, I added, "He's not always good with other dogs." She stood there, smiling. Ooooookay, I'll hold my Big Muscle dog and TRY to walk around you peacefully, Dorothy Zbornak. I pulled him back and casually walked by them. The dogs immediately sniffed each other, but Clyde wasn't barking; that was a good sign.
Then he mounted her dog.
I yanked Clyde back. Dorothy Zbornak stopped smiling and said, "I don't need this!" Really, Dorothy Zbornak? Cuz I need this. Let's meet again tomorrow, 'kay? Bring Rose. She added, "If your dog's not friendly, I don't need this." I responded, "PSSHHT!" She grabbed her freshly humped dog and moved on. OMG, it works with people!
I've found it also works with boyfriends.
So if anyone gets lippy with you, just give 'em a PSSHHT. Works wonders. Do it today!
Posted by durban bud at 02:39 PM | Comments (19)
January 09, 2008
I Got Some Change
Rumor has it, America wants change. They're really jonezin' for some change. They gots to have some change. You like that change, don'tcha? That change make you feel real, real good, don't it? Ch-ch-ch-change. "We need change!" "Oh God, give me change!"
Well, I got some change. And I wanna give you some change. Take my change. Take my goddamn change. Go ahead, take it! Take my goddamn CHANGE.
Now shut your piehole.
They call me the prophet of change and I approved this message of change.
Posted by durban bud at 11:09 AM | Comments (17)
January 06, 2008
The Happy Hour Bears
A very exasperated Jimbo just called my cell. I answered:
"Hello?"
"Ahhhhhhhhhh! OMG! OMG! Oh. My. God!"
"Jimbo? What's wrong?"
"The bears! The bears! Oooooooh. We...no place...it's ovah."
"What? Slow down. I can't understand you."
"IT'S THE BEARS! [inaudible] closed! Nowhere to go. [inaudible]...oh God...Wrangler Jeans...hurts so bad."
"You're not making sense. Slow down. Grab hold of yourself."
"But...[whimpering]...but...oooooh....Jessssus, Mary and Josssseph....whyyyy?"
"Jimbo, smack yourself in the face."
"What?"
"Smack yourself in the face, hard. You need to snap out of this. Pretend your smackin' Carl's Swedish ass."
"Okay. Hold on." PSSHT! "Ow."
"Now take a deep breath. Just breathe. Breathe like Anna Nalick. Raise your hands to heaven...and just breathe. Now, again, slowly -- what did you say?"
"Ooooooh, God...it's the bears. The bears. We...we have no place to go for happy hour on Friday. No...where! Titan closed without warning! No more Woof! It's created chaos in our community. Chaos! The bears are moping aimlessly down the street, like furbots, mumbling to themselves, slowly walking in circles, drooling all over their beards. Their faces are blank, no emotion, just...empty. It's gotten ugly. Some displaced bears and otters are protesting the closure in front of the Just For Men aisle at CVS; and the polar bears are holding a candlelight vigil at the all-you-can-eat buffet at the Sizzler in Sterling. Some are even...shaving, while repeating, 'It's over, man. Game over.' It's madness! Poor li'l Clickboo was found in the fetal position in a booth at Annie's, dry heaving and threatening to put cologne on if a new bear happy hour location was not announced immediately. Dr. Phil was flown in to negotiate. It's spinning out of control. I'm so...so...so...worried about the future of our bear community. Oh dear God. Why? Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"
"Jimbo, I'm sure you all can find another place to congregate. How 'bout the Applebee's in Silver Spring?"
"That's not even fucking funny. It's all a big joke to you, isn't it? Well it's not funny to us, the Happy Hour Bears. These tears are real. This pain in my heart is real. This empty mug of Miller Genuine Draft is real. The fur on my taint is real, okay? I am 100% bear beef with feelings. It affects so....many....bears like me. Don't you get it? I'm sorry, I just can't even talk about this right now. It's much...too painful."
"Simmer down now and stop crying. It will all work itself out. The bears are a resilient group. You will find another Woof."
"TJ?"
"Yes."
"Do you think this is our Stonewall?"
"Um, yes, Jimbo. As a matter of fact, I do."
"TJ?"
"Yes."
"Do you think Danny Pintauro from 'Who's the Boss' reads my blog?"
"Uhhhhh, I have no idea."
"OMG, I know! I should start a Happy Hour Bear group on Facebook! We could meet there in the interim, maybe use webcams to show ourselves drinking drafts of Miller Lite, checking for ticks, and saying "Woof" to each other as we gently poke one another online! Are you on Facebook yet? OMG, are you? You must join! So many widgets, so many ways to connect with other Happy Hour Bears. It's our future! I must go to Facebook now and start the revolution! OMG, I'm totally a hairy Rosa Parks! We Happy Hour Bears will NOT be left behind, ever!
"Oh, and don't forget to come to our benefit tonight. Bob Mould is performing in front of Titan at the corner of 14th and Rhode Island to raise awareness of its demise. He's gonna debut a song he wrote about it called, 'Sound the Alarm, Bro -- It's a Fur-mergency.' Get it? Can't wait! Make sure you wear flannel for solidarity. Well, I'm off to Facebook now. Dilemma solved...Bear Power on Facebook! Vive le Résistance! BIG BAD BEAR SNAPS TO ME! K, thanks. Bye."
Anyway. So yeah, I'm on Facebook now. I have no idea why, but Jimbo raves about it. I'm also on MySpace, Friendster, Manhunt, and Connexion. I rarely use any of them unless someone sends me a message. Plus, I have this blog. Do I really need to belong to another online social networking craze? I mean, at some point, I should interact with real live people in person, right? Y'know, someone I can actually poke?
I do think Facebook is much more attractive and user-friendly than that awful MySpace design. And there are no spam sluts harrassing me as of yet. Plus, it has the wackiest widgets to waste your time with. Someone tipped me off to an application that lets people compare your friends with each other. For example, it shows pictures of two of your friends and asks, who's smarter or who's hotter or who's more trustworthy? It's so mean! Download it now! By the way, which one of you "friends" felt I was unworthy to be trapped alone with on a desert island? Hmmm?
I was just hanging out with my friend G. He doesn't like Facebook. He doesn't think people over 30 should be playing on these sites. I reminded him that we homosexuals are suffering from neoteny, so we're given a waiver to engage in childish trends when we're older. So it's totally okay. He also thinks it's dangerous to put a lot of personal info out there for anyone to access (full name, employer, neighborhood, where you currently are, what you are doing, etc.). He may be right. I'm pretty careful not to divulge too much information. I use my blog name for most of these sites. He doesn't understand blogs either. He said he read my blog a couple times and thought, "Why would he take the time to write about this and then make it available for everyone to see?" Hmm, good point. I'm not sure. But I have met some really cool people from all over on these sites. And some people even send me unsolicited photos of themselves in various states of undress! That alone is reason to continue, no?
So when G left, I did a search for his name on Facebook. I found his profile.
Posted by durban bud at 01:18 AM | Comments (20)
January 03, 2008
Unsexy
The Phoenix put together a list of the Unsexiest Men of 2007. It was done earlier in the year, but I hadn't heard about it. And since the women are always the subject of these mean lists I think it's only fair to bring some attention to the men.
A lot of these guys deserve to be on this list -- not because they're unsexy, necessarily -- but because they're egomaniacal assholes.
I mean, how can you not enjoy a list that calls out fitness freak John Basedow, Jessica and Ashlee Simpson's creepy dad Joe, fashion guru Pope Benedict XVI, Nickelback singer Chad Kroeger, basketball star Larry Bird, robot Mitt Romney, founder of eHarmony Neil Clark Warren, Flavor Flav, Karl Rove, Perez Hilton, #1 finalist Donald Trump AND über-skank Ann Coulter?!?
Here's a sample. Click the image to view the entire list:
Speaking of unsexy, my New Year's resolution is to grow my goatee really bushy. That's all.
Posted by durban bud at 10:36 PM | Comments (9)
January 02, 2008
GaySpace
Whenever I travel I realize how un-gay the world really is. During my entire trip I saw maybe five homos (outside of the token gay neighborhoods). And I have awesome gaydar. I should work at a state fair guessing people's sexual orientation instead of their weight.
Granted, we did hit a lot of "family" touristy spots, but if we are truly 10% of the population, I would expect to have seen that represented by -- at least -- a couple men or a couple women traveling together.
We made sure to get one night of GaySpace away from the family. It's healthy. Seriously, I live in such a gay bubble that when I deviate from it for a few days, I get the chills, tremble, and cough up blood.
So we got a hotel in Amsterdam for a night. We spent the majority of that evening hanging out with some Dutch friends of ours. They're straight, but they don't get all pissy or freaked out when I talk about buttsex, like my parents do. So very refreshing.
I was surprised and disappointed the hotel didn't have any gay porn channels. They, of course, did have two channels of straight porn -- so -- in a moment of extreme weakness, curiosity, and the need to see some mullet meat -- we ordered a movie.
Gross. Never doing that again.
Straight porn hasn't changed since I last watched it in my closeted days. So, so contrived. It's not the man/woman thing that skeeves me out so much; it's the huge fake tits, man mullets and totally fake lesbian action that make it unwatchable. Those poor women/girls do not want to be gnawing on each other's ginger roots. It's so obvious. If a woman resembles a baby tasting a lemon for the first time, she's just not that into your vagina.
We also managed to score some GaySpace during our last day in Paris. We explored the gayborhoods. The first sign we were in the right area was when we spotted the Bears' Den. It was like The Ssssecret was in effect and offering me a reward! The entire place was decked out in the bear flag colors. They describe themselves as "A honey pot in the center of Marais." I love that! Each town should have a honey pot for traveling bears.
Because we took advantage of our GaySpace, we got along swimmingly with the whole family the entire trip. No arguments, no resentments, no annoyances -- just shiny, happy, straight and gay people.
The next time we go back, we will hit Germany as our side trip. My honey pot is looking forward to that, based on my search of German bears on dudesnude dot com. I will enjoy lots of GaySpace there. MmmmMmmm Mmmm.
Posted by durban bud at 12:57 PM | Comments (7)