« April 2008 | Main | June 2008 »
May 30, 2008
Baby Blue
My mom is retiring today. Congratulations, Mom!
Don't worry -- she doesn't read this site. She knows about it, but has never asked for the link. I did warn her a few years ago that she probably wouldn't appreciate my potty mouth. I thought she still might be curious...but no...she's really not. I mentioned that she might enjoy something I wrote a few months ago, but she said, "I have no interest in reading your opinion on certain discussions." And by certain, I think she was implying anal. As if I would ever discuss that nonsense here. Gross.
Anyway, I rushed to order her flowers today. 1-800-Flowers doesn't have a category for retirement flowers, so I searched around. I'm not so knowledgeable about floral arrangements. However, I do know that carnations are a big no-no for any occasion. I only know a few types of flowers by name. Gerbers are my fave! So I mainly go by pretty colors.
I tried to steer clear of the typical flower colors I've gotten her before, like pink, red, orange and yellow. I stumbled upon an arrangement called baby boy blue or something. Hmm...baby boy blue sounds like a cool retirement color. It included some white and purple flowers as well and came with a keepsake. Even better! I tacked on a balloon that said congratulations and placed my order.
I went back to the site a couple hours later to check the status of my same-day delivery order. The thumbnail of the flowers I ordered looked pretty; I assumed the keepsake was the pretty vase it came with. I wanted to see exactly what her co-workers would witness as my mom was flushed with admiration and they were thinking, wow -- what an awesome and caring son she has, so I clicked to see a larger photo version of the flowers I ordered for her.
Uh. Oh.
Hidden within all the beautiful flowers was a little frame with a photo of a boy...a baby boy. And the keepsake? It was a baby rattle.
fffffffuck!
My mission to look like the doting son who had flowers delivered to his mom AT HER OFFICE on her last day was completely in jeopardy. Instead, I would be seen as the mildly retarded son who ordered his 60-year-old mother "congratulations on the birth of your newborn baby boy" flowers -- with a fucking rattle...on her RETIREMENT day.
Shut up -- I was in a hurry! And it was grouped with all the other same-day delivery flowers. How was I to know?
Exasperated and crying, I called 1-800-Flowers and explained the situation. Luckily, the order had not yet been sent to the local florist. A pleasant woman offered to correct the mistake, once she stopped laughing in my ear for about a minute. Ha ha -- sooooo funny. She easily swapped out the baby boy flowers with some more appropriate non-baby purple flowers -- with no rattles. Whew. Heart attack avoided. I will not be made a fool of -- again!
My parents have sold my childhood home in Rochester, NY and are moving to Bristol, Tennessee in August to begin their retirement years. And no, Bristol is nowhere near Nashville. I looked it up. It borders Virginia.
It's an odd choice considering they don't really know anyone in Tennessee. My mom's brother has a vacation home there, but that's it. I guess Bristol is a vacation hot spot!
I've never been to Tennessee. When they first told me they were moving there, I instantly thought of this. I mean, what I'ma 'spose ta do when I visit? Then I remembered that Chris Crocker is from Tennessee. He said the following about his home state:
"We don't have pride and rainbows here. We have MySpace. We don't have bathhouses. We have outhouses."
Sadly there are no major airports close by. So I guess I will be taking a hot air balloon to visit. That will be nice and relaxing. I'll wave to you when I pass over your town.
In her sweet, Southern accent, my mom said:
"I caint wait fer y'all to visit! We can take a road trip to Dollywood!"
I reckon this next chapter in our lives will surely be innerestin'.
Posted by durban bud at 11:12 AM | Comments (20)
May 27, 2008
Making Cream Pies with Bonobos
Memorial Day is a wonderful day to pay tribute to those who gave their lives to our country. Many people observe this holiday by visiting cemeteries and memorials. Others travel to Rehoboth Beach and pay respects in their own unique ways.
If you visit Aqua Grill in Rehoboth this summer, you can thank me for the Purell sanitizer dispensers now placed throughout the venue. You're welcome.
Anyway --
We had a lovely time over the holiday weekend in The Land of Lesbians and their Labs, courtesy of the wonderful hospitality of generous men named Tim & Donn. Sadly Donn was away at some car show in Atlanta, but his spirit was still felt by many.
Their home was full of delicious men who all educated me on the wonders of the world.
The beach was surprisingly less crowded than in years past. Was this due to the recession and gas prices? I do believe it was. There were far fewer families there. Most gay men are immune from this, obviously. The homo quotient was still fabulously high.
The beach was littered with attractive men, sporting fauxhawks and six-pack abs. What I find odd for such a looks-obsessed community is, why would men deliberately spritz on the oil and bake themselves for hours, knowing full-well they are enhancing the aging process? I mean, your idol Madonna would never do that. I guess it comes down to our own intense needs for superficial self-gratification, however limited the desired effects last. Plus, most white men bake themselves cuz they secretly want to be Latino -- at least for the summer. Mmmm, papitos!
I took refuge under my umbrella ella ella eh eh eh. I wonder if I'll ever stop channeling Rihanna when using that word. I doubt it. I applied vigorous amounts of an SPF 30 spray all over my body. The sprays are great, but y'all need to be more careful when applying it. First off, it smells like bug spray. Secondly, it tastes like bug spray. So when you're hosing down your partner and giving everyone a li'l show, the seabreeze has a tendency to take the spritz particles you are emitting and apply them ever-so-gently to my turkey and low-fat cheese sandwich I'm eating. Please don't do that.
We put a half-tank of gas in our rented car for the trek home. A half-tank of regular gas cost $36. Ouch. I do not envy those that have to fill up often. Actually, I do not envy those with vehicles, period. Let's all ride bikes from now on, okay?
I showed off my spankin' new secretworm T-shirt, designed by the talented Sean Show. Have you purchased your own yet? They're all the rage this summer. Don't be left behind.
Here I am, lounging in my new secretworm T after an exhausting day on the beach. This is what the kids call chillaxin'.
Please note the baby fan I travel with. Isn't he adorable? His name is Mariah -- for obvious reasons. I can't sleep unless I'm getting blown by a fan.
Speaking of, I met a handsome gentleman who reads this site. He went from a reader to a Facebook friend to my BFF. We're totally gonna go on an Atlantis Cruises together, trade Body for Life recipes, and support each other as we inch closer to our Big Muscle Bears photo shoot. That's right, durban bud is the new Friendster and Bear411, all in one. Yay! He was accompanied by a hunky, hirsute hulkster who taught me how to make cream pies. Yum! Those Jersey Boys make the best batch of cream pies.
In turn, I taught them the new way we greet friends with fur in DC. It's pretty easy to do. You just rub your facial fur together, mano y mano. There is no kissing necessary or even hugging, yet. Just rub your cheeky man-fur into the other dude's and the message is clear: we welcome you as you are; you may now proceed. Me and Jimbo are trying to have this technique patented. It works with Lesbians, too.
We ran into Clickboo and Dr. Jeff, again. Those boys are everywhere -- except on their blogs. I taught them the new greeting and they seemed to dig it, as their facial fur became erect like porcupine quills. Just be careful, though. My voracious greeting sometimes made Clickboo do this. So go easy at first rub.
I continue to be amazed at the wonderful friends and acquaintances that I am lucky enough to have in my life. I would say I'm blessed, but that would suggest a belief in God, and that she's up there, singling me out and sprinkling hairy dust all up on my behind. So I'll just say I'm fortunate. And to all of them, I give a cheeky fur rub. Please pay this new greeting forward. Start with your co-workers. But let's figure out a name first. Fur + Rub = Fub -- so maybe a cheeky fub? Hmm.
Posted by durban bud at 1:21 PM | Comments (17)
May 25, 2008
Weezer featuring Chris Crocker, Kelly and Miss Teen South Carolina
The video for Pork & Beans.
Love it.
Posted by durban bud at 10:52 PM | Comments (8)
May 19, 2008
Wrestling a Cajun Crocodile
Oh, lawd...I'm tarred.
One of the first things Brett said to me was, "You come across as more intelligent in person than you do on your blog."
What am I here -- Nell?
On Friday -- after I was apparently rescued, naked and muddy in the woods -- we met and bear-hugged in his hotel room. Then we forced him to participate in a cleansing ceremony in Dupont Circle. He had to burn a tennis effigy while chanting, "Hey hey, ho ho, tennis talk has got to go" and "I will not be a deuce this weekend." He cried a little, but disavowed all tennis references for 72 hours. Afterwards, we lit candles and sang "Amazing Grace."
The highlight of the weekend was biking around DC on a beautiful sunny day. Only two bikes were left to rent Saturday morning. One of them was a Pee-wee Herman-like bike, which Brett rode with pride and sass. Luckily he only mowed down a couple tourists, culminating in a collision with two beefy muscle dudes jogging in Georgetown. Thankfully they refused to press charges after hearing Brett's tearful plea for leniency. I think it also helped when he said after the crash, "Well, if that don’t just put some pepper in yer gumbo."
We took Brett to Plum Blossom to feast on sushi with Clickboo and Dr. Jeff. Brett ate his sushi like a champ and even commented, "It's good!" Mission accomplished.
I've said it before: Plum Blossom has some great Japanese food, but really needs some bodies to seat at their fine tables. The husband and wife owners are currently providing all table service. The wife doesn't speak very good English, so you need to be patient. Bring along some paper and pencils to draw some of your requests if necessary. These are just simple growing pains, but the food is worth it. Plus, the sushi chef is a dead ringer for Long Duk Dong. Love him.
By request, we took Brett to Blowoff. I hadn't been in months. Nice to see so many friends and meet some new ones. Sadly the Saliva Pit appears to have folded. I was hoping Jimbo would carry the torch during my absence, but like an Olympic torch running through China, it was extinguished.
Brett ALSO told me I look too mean in my photos. I don't see that; I see it as me coming to terms with my unphotogeniosity and adjusting accordingly. But to appease him, I give you....a smile.
Brett's a lot more than just tennis bravado and body exhibitionism; he's a charming, complicated man-boy, who would give you the Boiish shirt off his back if you needed it. At least he better! Oh, and he's also more intelligent and tighter than his blog leads you to believe.
I'm convinced if we lived near each other, we'd hang out and even swap baseball caps from time to time.
Both Brett and Jimbo have better rundowns of our exhausting weekend, complete with pretty photos.
Posted by durban bud at 1:20 PM | Comments (11)
May 15, 2008
Good Golly, Miss Dolly!
I know this is everywhere but whatever. Howard Stern spliced together audio clips of Dolly Parton quotes and twisted them into sounding like she was saying some awfully vulgar (and hilarious) things.
Dolly is furious about what he did. After listening to the clip, I don't see how anyone could think it was anything other than an audio gimmick.
Don't watch listen to this around the easily offended.
Posted by durban bud at 8:27 PM | Comments (8)
May 14, 2008
Bands Reunited
I think American Idol would be far more interesting if -- instead of mentoring and singing the songs by Neil Diamond, Mariah Carey and Dolly Parton -- Ryan Seacrest would say, "Ladies and Gentleman, tonight the contestants will receive words of wisdom and perform the nuanced hits of...The Thompson Twins!" I mean, how many more times do we have to hear Heart's "Alone" or all of the songs by Whitney Houston? A true test of someone's musical versatility is to reach outside the comfortable adult contemporary zone. Imagine hearing David Archuletta's rendition of Talk Talk's "Dum Dum Girl" or David Cook rocking out to Taco's "Puttin' on the Ritz" or Syesha Whatsername glammin' it up to Missing Person's "Mental Hopscotch." The lost bands of the '80's are a treasure trove of outrageous o-rings for the masses and sadly under-utilized.
Luckily some of these '80's bands are not always forgotten.
The Regeneration Tour is heading to the DC area this summer. It features a bevy of '80's bands who scored a handful of hits back in the day. Normally this would appeal to my inner cheese-geek, but when I checked out the fine print, I was disillusioned. It should be called "Belinda Carlisle & a Bunch of Lead Singers from '80's Groups."
Artists on this tour:
The Human League
ABC
Belinda Carlisle
Dead or Alive
Naked Eyes
A Flock of Seagulls
Sounds like fun, no?
A more accurate line-up would read:
The League
A
Belinda Carlisle
Dead
Naked
Of Seagulls
None of these groups feature the full band these days, or even one or two members of the original line-ups. LIES! I expect this deceit from Guns N' Roses, but from Naked Eyes, c'mon!
Naked Eyes was always a duo. The other half of that duo died a few years ago. :( That's like a Donnie & Marie tour without Donnie! Or worse, the Thompson Twins without Alannah!
VH1 had a great show on a few years ago called Bands Reunited. Some guy ran across continents trying to track down the original members of '80's bands to get them to agree to one more concert. He was usually successful, with groups like The Motels, Berlin, Kajagoogoo, Romeo Void, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Klymaxx and A Flock of Seagulls participating despite all their internal issues. It was riveting television filled with the necessary drama. Sadly after two seasons, the show was not renewed. I guess, as a music network, VH1 felt Flavor of Love, I Love New York and The Surreal Life fit better within their mission statement? I dunno.
It would be great to see the original line-up of A Flock of Seagulls again. But if it's just the lead singer, Mike Score, performing under the branded name, I have no interest in seeing "them". He is a douche, as witnessed on Bands Reunited. I'm pretty sure if Kelsey Grammer and a Crate & Barrel ottoman had a child, it would look like him.
My interest in attending might be piqued if Dead or Alive (aka Dead aka Pete Burns) were on the bill in DC, but she is not. I want surprises!
Still, if I scored free tickets and a ride to the traffic nightmare known as Wolf Trap, I would consider getting my Chess King wear out of storage one more time, to show solidarity amongst my fellow kids in the hall.
Posted by durban bud at 10:44 AM | Comments (17)
May 9, 2008
The Evolution of Duck Dick
Scientists have been baffled recently by the ever-increasing size of the duck penis. It is usually the size of a rice grain during the off-season, but as soon as spring rolls around -- yummm...spring rolls -- it grows to about 8 inches or longer, and is shaped like a spaghetti corkscrew. So hot. Scientists wondered, why the hell was this happening to duck penises?
It took a female scientist to ask, "Hey, have any you brainiac science dudes looked inside the lady duck's vadge?" To which they all replied, "Uhhhh...no."
Sure enough, as she put a female duck in stirrups, she discovered the oviduct has gotten much more complex. It has evolved into a cavernous maze of twisty tributaries and hot pockets, thus making it more difficult for a duck dick to get "up in thurr" to complete copulation.
The reason for this?
Male ducks are notoriously promiscuous -- proving once again, men are pigs regardless of sexual orientation or feet webbing. So to prevent Joey Buttafuoco ducks from "just sticking it in" when a female duck is screaming, "Get the fuck off me, you nasty quackhead!" -- he must work harder for the money -- and, more importantly -- have a willing partner. There are no quickies when it comes to duck sex. She must consent in order for him to perform the crazy gymnastics necessary to fully access her warm puzzle of love.
On the rare occasion a female is subjected to what scientists refer to as "forced-mating" -- and what I refer to as "duck rape" -- she can block the sperm from reaching its intended target. Using her oviduct muscles, she forces his duck sauce into one of her hot pockets for brief storage until she pisses the rubbish out -- the ultimate piss off!
Female ducks have advanced beyond humans when it comes to curbing unwarranted sexual advances. They are the Anita Hills of the animal kingdom, rising up and taking names. Rewiring a fundamental truth held for thousands of years in duck biology, and "twisting" it into their favor is truly remarkable and worthy of an award of merit from NOW's duck chapter.
Will humans evolve in the same manner? Remains to be seen. We've all seen some twisty, curvy dick, but nothing that would suggest a pattern -- at least not yet.
Sadly, human evolution appears to be at an impasse.
But faced with insurmountable odds as we continue to poison our world, prepping it for the next impending ice age, evolution never rests. The strong will survive, along with the most favorable traits, and the garbage will be eradicated.
We have to be patient.
Posted by durban bud at 10:10 AM | Comments (13)
May 6, 2008
Pay it Forward: Xobni
If you use Outlook and have major issues with organization, I have good news for you.
While most of my emails are stored in various folders, I often have trouble trying to locate a particular one. Sometimes there are hundreds of emails to sort through and Outlook takes forever to perform a simple search; sometimes things get misfiled; sometimes I get that not-so-fresh feeling.
The solution to this madness is Xobni.
It's a magical tool you can download for FREE to enhance your life. It archives all your emails and makes searches happen in less than a second. It also keeps track of email conversations. Best of all, it counts the number of emails sent by a particular person and ranks them with a number! Once again, the gays love rankings and charts. This is particularly helpful to determine which one of your friends or co-workers annoys you the most.
It's simple to download and install. It doesn't mess with your current Outlook layout. It affixes itself to a small, unobtrusive area within Outlook and sits there patiently until you need it -- kinda like a house boy.
I was tipped off to this by a friend in my little Facebook community. He posted a link to a New York Times article about the software. Since he's cute, I knew it must be worthy of a read. And I was right.
So I'm just passing this info along to you as a gesture of my love. That's what I do. I give back. I'm a giver who likes to pay it forward...unless you're an Apple user. Then you're just shit out of luck.
Posted by durban bud at 3:59 PM | Comments (22)
May 5, 2008
What's Up With This Unhealthy Obsession with Pomegranates All of the Sudden?
I bought the most recent issue of Men's Health with Matthew Fox on the cover (not pictured here, but the covers are all similar). Every time I see this magazine I roll my eyes because they deliberately put words like "Flat-Belly," "Abs," "Gut," "Get Rich" and "Sex" in big, fat letters on every single cover to lure the lame. I'm on to your sneaky marketing gimmick, MH!
So I buy it.
Every couple of years some ancient plant or tree root originally discovered thousands of years ago for its medicinal purposes by cavemen -- usually used in those days for treating ailments like cholera, liver disease, Tyrannosaurus bite wounds, Neanderthal incontinence, and, of course, laugh lines -- gets hyped and marketed as a new healthy cure-all for the masses. The marketplace then becomes saturated with all kinds of products hocking the miracle substance. Green Tea, Echinacea, Hoodia, Omega-3 fatty acids, St. John's Wort and David Archuleta are just a few recent examples. Naturally when I read in Men's Health that aronia -- also known as the chokeberry -- is the next superfood, OMG -- I HAD to add it to my protein shakes.
I looked for it at both Harris Teeter and 'Hole 'Tudes. Neither carried it, nor knew what the hell I was talking about when I asked. I'm like, "It's the berry of the fucking future!" I also asked a young Harris Teeter employee where the edamame was located. He said he didn't know, but loudly asked a co-worker, "You know where we keep enemas?" That was lovely.
Then I read aronia is one of the ingredients in a drink -- with other fantastic anti-aging antioxidants -- called Oki (pronounced "oak eye" -- just telling you so you will not be ridiculed by the herb elite). Apparently Oki is only sold in black market health food stores in San Francisco and Portland (probably found in the skunk weed aisle). Hey Matty, Moby, Huntington, John, Tonka, and Rodger -- help a brother out. Send the east coast a couple cases of this magical life-saving energy drink, so we can thrive as well as you do. Thanks.
The same issue of Men's Health includes another silly Best American Cities list. As a gay man, I am programmed at birth to love charts that rank things -- Casey Kasem was like a second father to millions of confused boys who regularly read Billboard magazine, along with our Encyclopedia Brown books. Anyway, the subject of the latest list is "Most Sexually Satisfied Cities."
And what is the most sexually active city, you ask?
Well it's...
....drum roll please...
Indianapolis
But, of course!
Here is the rest of the top 10:
2. Columbus, OH
3. Fort Wayne, IN
4. Cincinnati, OH
5. Salt Lake City, UT
6. San Antonio, TX
7. Denver, CO
8. Austin, TX
9. Boise City, ID
10. Chicago, IL
One can infer that the mid-west (especially Indiana!) is full of smiling men with chafed penises. It should be noted that San Antonio, Austin and Denver were also featured in the top 10 of Drunkest Cities -- with Denver getting the coveted top spot. Hmm.
Sadly, the least sexually satisfied cities are:
100. Lexington, KY
99. Birmingham, AL
98. Manchester, NH
97. Yonkers, NY
96. Montgomery, AL
95. Newark, NJ
94. Providence, RI
93. Jersey City, NJ
92. Greensboro, NC
91. Jacksonville, FL
One can infer that men in these cities are irritable and more likely to snap at others -- but I don't judge. Someone help these boys out and scratch that itch.
Not sure how accurate the list is for gay men, though -- mainly because they factor birth rates into the tally, and not Manhunt user-sessions or Leona Lewis downloads. But they also include porn shop sales and condom purchases, so it must be right-on to some extent.
Washington, DC ranked 13th -- right outside the top 10 with a bullet! Not only are we livable, we're also very satisfied. Come visit!
Posted by durban bud at 12:25 AM | Comments (14)
May 2, 2008
I Eat My Candy with the Pork & Beans
Yesterday, I ran into a guy I had a one night stand with when I first moved to DC. That was awkward. I was walking down 17th, listening to Weezer's new song (download "Pork & Beans" today!) and just rockin' out and bein' all gen-ex, when this figure walked in front of me and stopped. With a large grin on his face he's all, "Heyyyyyyy!" I hardly recognized him outside of the 69 position. I took my earpieces off, "Oh, hiiiiiiii." GULP. He asked, "How's it going?" "Oh you know...good." "Would you like to get together for lunch and catch up?" "That'd be...good."
Luckily we didn't have anal back in the day, cuz that would have made it even more awkward. Call me old-fashioned, but I have to know a guy at least a couple days before getting intimately acquainted with his rectum. Know what I mean? I'm just kidding. I'm a total slut on the first date!
Truthfully, he's one of the nicest one night stands I've ever had. I've seen him on the streets or in the porn shops throughout the years and he's always been super friendly to both me and Rob. We've just never hung out since our last...encounter.
One night stands are rarely one night stands. You will run into them again.
If I remember correctly, the sex was pretty lame -- which was totally my fault. I was a newly out young gun and had no idea how it all went down. I just remember he was very verbal, which was hot. It's always the nice guys who have the filthiest mouths. Seriously. Look around your office and focus on the nice guy. Now picture him saying, "Suck daddy's dick, you goddamn hairy whore" -- cuz I'm sure that's what he says when he thinks no one is watching.
Have you ever been having really hot sex and you're dirty talkin' and bein' all nasty, but you somehow screw up the delivery of your words and ruin the moment? For instance, "Yeah, ya like that ass in your dick, don'tcha?" Ruh-roh. Just curious, never happened to me.
Did you know there's a whole anti-anal faction of the homosexual community? I mean, I know there are some guys who don't do it, but I didn't know there was such revulsion that it prompted some to start an alliance and write NSFW articles about it. It's like an anti-anal fight club. I discovered a NSFW link to this society on some guy's Big Muscle Bear profile. They advocate frottage (which is dry humping) and dis the buttsex with statements like this:
"You know, if you look at all the guys who have sex with other guys -- and that's a lotta guys dude -- most of em never go near anal.
"They don't like the shit, they don't like the disease, and they don't wanna be nobody's bitch.
"And they don't wanna make some other guy into their bitch neither.
"Cause if they want coochie -- they're gonna go for a girl -- not another guy."
Hmm. Don't dis the man coochie, dude.
Some wonderful words of wisdom from our dear Alexyss Tylor about male hygiene. (via Jimbo)
Oh, and here she is talking about the topic at hand. Watch and LEARN!
Posted by durban bud at 9:28 AM | Comments (17)