March 18, 2008

The Other Bowlin' Gurl

A good friend said the following to me the other day:

"I think joining a gay bowling league would be good for you."

What the hell?

I only bowl like once every five years. And I enjoy it, sure, but a league? Is it the way I walk?

My initial reaction was to knee him in the groin. Then I thought, he's older and wiser (and Jewish), maybe he's prepping me for the next phase of my life. He knows we're supposed to do this once we gays enter our mid-late thirties, right? We bowl. We join leagues. We join GAY leagues. We GAY bond. "We connect, when we're together it's so per-fect." Right?

I guess it's the natural progression of a homosexual's life path. I mean, I've covered a lot of the gay basics (aka gaysics) in my 20's and early 30's -- y'know, pretended to be straight, moved to a gayborhood, came out, went through a slut phase, went through a clubbing phasE, endured the token psycho boyfriend, held Oscar parties, bought a pair of G-Star Jeans, went on a gay cruise, questioned my religious upbringing, successfully completed a stint in rehab, bought a condo and renovated it with straight lines, muted colors and ubatuba, and settled down with another dude -- I think that's most of the gaysics. Now, at this age, my elders are leading me into the gay league phase -- which, I have to say, is way better than the other phase some have selected in their thirties, and y'all know what I'm talkin' about: whether or not to use steroids phase.

I'm totally considering it -- joining a gay league, that is. Steroids will only lead to anger issues and moobs in your 40's and who wants that? Apparently some do. And we do know, big boy. No judgments, of course. "Just sayin'". Smooch.

I still have a lot of time before adhering to all the customs of our gay 40's (adopting a Vietnamese or Guatemalan baby, buying a convertible, getting gender-reassignment surgery*, regularly attending tuxedo-only fundraisers for gay rights organizations, becoming a "foodie") and our gay 50's (singing in a choir, international bath housing, using hankies, making that big move to Lauderdale or P-town, and, for the husky guys, blossoming into a hot daddy and/or going through leatherpause). Simply exhausting. We really need to respect our elders.

Of course none of this is set in stone. Gay societal life rules are much more fluid than heterosexual rules, thanks to neoteny and whether or not you were influenced by talented homosexual role-models, like Rip Taylor, C3PO and Jo from The Facts of Life. Basically some of us behave a lot younger than we really are, which keeps us interesting and even, some might say, fierce. Others might say annoying and douchebaggy. We ignore those people.

Joining a gay league would be about regaining that camaraderie we all once shared bar-hopping. It makes sense, now that most of us lead hectic adult lives in the straight world and rarely get to bond with others who enjoy banging the same-sex. I'm all about it -- especially the thought of patting the other players on the butt when they get a ssssstrike and, of course, the post-game locker room action.

Sadly, becoming less judgmental toward others and more secure with ourselves doesn't occur on the gay life continuum for most of us until we enter our late 60's -- unless you're Mr. Blackwell. But luckily for all of us homos, as I said, it's fluid.

But bowling?

*if applicable

Posted by durban bud at 11:05 PM | Comments (26)

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 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)

November 26, 2007

America's Next Top Power Bottom

Posted by durban bud at 10:13 PM | Comments (16)

November 09, 2007

Johnny is a Pig

Check out this sweet hilarity. Johnny channels Miss Piggy to wish his boyfriend a happy birthday. Awwww, I'm impressed! And slightly disturbed he owns a Miss Piggy head, but whatever, that can be overlooked cuz he's sex-ay.

Ask yourself this today, would your boyfriend do a muppet impression for you and post it on YouTube? If not, then perhaps he's just not that into you.

Posted by durban bud at 10:07 AM | Comments (8)

October 30, 2007

Honoring Our Heroes

Y'all know what today is, right? Lest we forget.

Take a little time today to pay tribute.

Posted by durban bud at 08:58 AM | Comments (11)

August 28, 2007

Tap Twice to Teabag

I swear, I learn more about kinky gay sex rituals from married Republicans than I do from Geekslut.

So there is a toe tapping mating call? Has anyone heard of this before? Anyone?

When rumors about Ms. Craig's affection for lavatory lewdness at Union Station were revealed last year, I took a photo of the restroom he frequented. I was with my mom at the time, and she's like, "What in the hell (pronounced: hail) are you a-doin'? I raised you better than that." I said, "I'm educating the masses." Now she understands.

First off - if I can tell someone is taking a dump in a stall, I move as far away from the stall as possible or leave. It makes me very uncomfortable. And all I wanna do is urinate. Who shits next to each other? Oh yeah - Republicans.

Secondly - how is it even remotely sexy to fuck around in a public bathroom? E-coli is everywhere! And there are no pillows!

Having anonymous sex is so not a turn-on for me. I need passion! Or, I need to have at least seen your work in a Raging Stallion film.

If mug shots are any indication, I'm not missing out on anything.

Makes you kinda wonder what George and Laura do for kinks. Okay, maybe not -- but think about it anyway.

Posted by durban bud at 05:14 PM | Comments (16)

August 27, 2007

Blue Velvet

I dated a guy back in 1995 who told me he "loves" to give massages. I thought for sure I had won the lottery: cute, smart, funny, and he loves to rub my sore, tender, tight muscles. Let's get gay married!

That myth lasted a couple months. I'm convinced he just said that so he could ease me into sodomy. And it totally worked.

Anyway - even though I'm still not getting massages from him - we did celebrate our latest anniversary this past weekend. Apparently there's more to relationships than just back rubs.

Last week I watched a movie called Disturbia on DVD. About halfway through the movie, I thought to myself, what is in a Red Velvet cake that makes it red? So I googled it. Turns out it's just red food coloring.

I have an idea! I'll change it up and make a Blue Velvet cake in honor of our impending analversary.

So I did my best Homer and baked a cake. Truthfully I don't recall ever eating a Red Velvet cake, so I had no idea what to expect. At first, the batter was vomit green. So I alternated putting purple, pink and blue food coloring into it, and I finally got it to turn blue(ish).

We went back to the restaurant where we had our first date, Cafe Luna (which used to be a nice, cozy and clean place - not sure what the hell happened), for half-price pizza night. It's relatively cheap. And I was always a cheap date. Still am. However, if you take me out for some high-priced quality sushi AND give me a massage, I will totally patty-cake your prostate.

Afterwards, we sampled my smurf cake. Rob said, "I think cakes are supposed to be moist." So we have plenty left over if you want some.

Ugh.

Posted by durban bud at 06:18 PM | Comments (24)

August 14, 2007

Sloppy Mistake

I rented a few adult DVDs of the homosexual persuasion yesterday. I returned them today (on time!).

Until...

I received a phone call from The Video Rack.

"One of the DVDs doesn't have the DVD in the case."

Ugh. So I checked my DVD player.

"I don't see it here. What's the name?"

He whispers, "Ummm. It's a Treasure Island video."

"Okay, but what's the name?"

There was a lot of noise in the background. I heard a baby crying. Softly, he says, "Cummmm shoppy buuuu hoes."

"I'm sorry - I couldn't hear you."

Ever so delicately, "Cummm shoppy buuuu hoes."

"I'm sorry. I can't understand you. It's too loud in your store. What's the name again?"

"CUM SLOPPY BUTTHOLES!!!" It got very quiet in the background.

"Ahhh yes, the Merchant-Ivory flick. I see it. I'll return it tomorrow. Sorry about that."

Classy.

Posted by durban bud at 12:23 AM | Comments (20)

August 10, 2007

LGBT

I watched the presidential debate on Logo. Not sure what Peppermint Patty is doing these days, but Marcie is apparently a moderator.

Who came up with the ridiculous title Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender? It's eleven syllables and cringe-worthy. Lesbian is Gay - is it not? Bisexual is kinda gay. Let's condense it, or come up with a term that we all can fit under, like Misfits or Hobbits or The Brooding.

And LGBT is just a BLT with gouda. Mmmmm...I'm totally gonna make myself an LGBT for lunch.

Posted by durban bud at 01:21 PM | Comments (19)

August 08, 2007

Super Catastrophic Fragmentation

In celebration of bear week, I've been eating lots of salmon and shopping for bear toilet paper holders. It's exhausting being a bear. Although I'm not really a bear; I'm more of a meerkat. But there are no Moonlight Madness Parties at Holiday Inns for meerkats. So I'm a bear. But not really. I'm also a liar and a thief.

Jamy pointed out a link to Big Bear Cafe -- which is only about 16 blocks from me. I'm intrigued. I think I'll stop by. I would love to get my paws on a cup of pennyroyal tea. Plus, they have wireless!

While sipping my tea at Big Bear Cafe, I'll probably read through a copy of A Bear's Life. The tag line for that magazine is "Celebrating The Masculine Community." I have no comment.

And I'm a young bear, cuz according to the Real Age Calculator (found via Sarah, who is not a bear), I'm only 22. So I guess I'm a cub.

What type of animal I'm labeled will be irrelevant, though, once a large asteroid hits our planet. And it will happen, eventually. And we'll have to start all over again.

Posted by durban bud at 06:03 PM | Comments (19)

May 02, 2007

The Perfect Wedding Gift

I don't usually buy wedding presents. That's probably why I'm rarely invited to such events. The fact that I'm wearing a suit is a present in itself, I think. Wedding gifts should be given with a probationary period of time rule. If the marriage lasts for five years, then you can keep the Crate and Barrel gift card. If not, you must return it immediately when your divorce is finalized.

But that's now going to change.

A delicious dessert spotted by the blog blog via Dan Savage will be my customary wedding gift from now on. Nothing says congratulations on your lifetime commitment better than a chocolate anus. It's memorable, original and appropriate.

It's too late to get this for the wedding I'm attending on Saturday -- the store says they are not taking any more orders until October -- but I'm told I have a year from the wedding date to get them their present.

I'm bummed I didn't think of this idea first. I suppose I could still do my own variation and call it Butt Munch. I could add a creamy caramel center, or maybe some crushed nuts along the delicate folds, or maybe some tiny fruit balls to simulate hemmorhoids or something. The possibilities are endless!

I wonder whose hole was molded to create the design. I could probably get plaster casts from some popular bloggers to help drive my sales. You could choose a hole to your liking: the Copperred hole, the Bob Mould hole, the Homer hole, and, of course, the Jimbo hole -- although one bite into that chocolate produces a burst of bitter flavors, yet still very tasty. Sales would go through the roof!

If any venture capitalists are interested, please email me.

Posted by durban bud at 12:49 AM | Comments (19)

March 29, 2007

Open Thread Thursday

What are you masturbating to these days?

Posted by durban bud at 12:38 AM | Comments (31)

January 20, 2007

Tight Holes and BitterBears

I was supposed to go to the Baltimore Aquarium with some sexy bears today, but then I realized I don't have a car to get there. They offered to pick me up, but that's like way out of the way for them, and I really didn't want to feel like Miss Daisy.

Then I considered going out to some gay bars tonight to act all slutty and shit, but then I realized I'm a pussy, cuz it's too fucking cold to leave my home, now that winter has finally hit DC -- I'm supposed to be hibernating anyway. I probably won't show my face again until my birthday next month. I'll walk out, do a quick wave, and run back in -- and I'm cool with that.

So instead, I watched a marathon of "To Catch a Predator" on MSNBC. I'm still not sure how I feel about that show. The only reason, really, people watch is to see the humiliation when the men get caught. It's a lot like American Idol in some ways, innit?

After that nonsense, I searched the men of Big Muscle Bears looking for new mandies in the area, and seeing if I recognized any holes. I did notice a few acquaintances of mine. One of these guys had a profile informing us that he has a "tight hole." I didn't really need to know that, but I suppose it's good to know he doesn't have to wear diapers. But really, who doesn't have a tight hole? I mean, isn't that fairly standard? It's kinda like saying, I have really wet saliva. I would hope your hole is tight. If not, I would expect you to use a colostomy bag, and mention that in your profile.

There are some really sexy men on that site. Not everyone is hot like a porn star, but at least they have the guts to put themselves out there, especially if they're looking for a date. And some guys have some really well-written profiles.

Other guys bitch too much on their profiles, listing a bunch of things they don't like about guys or complaining about some guy who did them wrong, and then wondering why they can't meet anyone of quality. Um, I know a few reasons, and one of them is cuz you're a BitterBear (new word!).

A BitterBear is a furry, athletic, gay man ranging in age from his late 20's to mid 50's, who believes the world now owes him something, since he has finally gotten into moderate to great shape, after years of neglect -- and if he feels these accolades are not bestowed upon him, he throws hissy fits and constantly bitches. He thinks he is the shit now, but his maturity level has been at a standstill since high school. Steroid users, guys who came out late in life, and aging club kids tend to be BitterBears.

And I think we all know a few of those.

Please add it to your vocabulary. Remember, I'm here to educate.

Posted by durban bud at 09:51 PM | Comments (11)

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 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 03:02 PM | Comments (7)

December 08, 2006

Morning View

Posted by durban bud at 01:11 PM | Comments (20)

December 07, 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)

November 10, 2006

The Joy of Poppers

There is a relatively new gay bookstore down the street from me. It's sandwiched between quaint, little restaurants and boutique shops. There's a tacky billboard in front of the store with cut-out photos of half naked men from porn magazines.

The man who owns and runs the store is Asian, and speaks very broken English.

I went in tonight to buy a book. The store is littered with new and used books, magazines, DVDs, dildos and lube. It is the size of my kitchen, and extremely uncomfortable if more than two people are in there at the same time.

As he was ringing up my purchase, I noticed a clear, rather large dildo on the counter. "What's that?" I asked. "Iz a dildo." "I know, but is that glass?" "Yes, iza made uh glass. It feels uh vedy good." Ew. "Is that safe?" "Yes, vedy safe. I think you would like it." Huh? Why would you think that? "No, thanks." The idea of broken glass up my ass is not all that appealing.

There was also a DVD on the counter with Jake Dakota on the cover. Naturally, I said, "I met him." "Oh, he uh so hot. He get fucked so hod." He then became very animated, demonstrating how Jake gets fucked. Then, he says:

"You uh have a porn star look."

What does that mean? "You're crazy." Wait a second, "Do I look slutty or something?"

"Not really." Huh??? "But you uh look like trouble, like uh bad boys." I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted by all of this. "I know uh Michael Brandons. I give him your name."

"That's funny. I don't think so."

"I write down your info in case you change mind. What's your uh name?"

"Um, my name is Jimbo, but I'm not interested. At all. Thanks though."

I pay for my Aidan Shaw autobiography. He puts it in a bag along with a small bottle. "I give you for free." I pull it out; it's a small bottle of poppers. One of the bonuses of going to this store is the free shit he gives us.

He informs me that he has gotten a better quality version of Jungle Juice in stock. He pulls it out, opens the bottle, shoves it under my nose, and says, "Try it! Iz so strong. I think you would like."

I push his hand away. "Noooooo! I'm not sniffing that. I'll get all flushed and naseous. Plus, aren't I supposed to be engaged in sexual activity when doing that?" Geez.

He's a nice guy, but a pushy salesman. I put the free sample bottle in my pocket. As I leave, he says, "Bye, Jimbos."

I get to my building, open the front door, and take my key out to check my mail. As I pull the key out, the bottle of poppers decides to come out as well. It falls to the floor. I freak out. Luckily, it didn't shatter, but I notice liquid coming down the outer protective plastic. Oh, shit. I instantly become flushed and naseous.

The foyer of our building has now become the backroom at the Eagle. I throw the bottle in my bag and make a mad dash for my apartment. As I'm running down the hall, I can hear the two college chicks who live upstairs coming down the stairs. I open my door, and quickly close it.

I peer out the peephole to watch them. They're blabbing away to one another, when one of them says, "OMG, what is that smell?" The other one says, "OMG, that's terrible! What is that?" College Chick #1 puts her sweatshirt up over her nose and mutters, "I think I'm gonna be sick. What the fuck is it? Smells like paint thinner or something." Indeed.

As they open the front door to the foyer, the freshly poppered air hits them hard. I hear screaming and gagging.

This happened about four hours ago. And the hallway still smells awful. I can only imagine what the foyer smells like. I feel bad for the straight couple who live in the front of the building.

Almost every gay boy has a popper horror story, and I guess this is mine.

Damn gay bookstore salesman.

Posted by durban bud at 01:08 AM | Comments (14)

October 30, 2006

Power Bottom Appreciation Day!

Some people refer to the day before Halloween as Halloween Eve, but it also happens to be Power Bottom Appreciation Day! I had no idea.

It's the one day of the year that we recognize those power bottoms who continue to astonish us with their mad skillz. This is not to be confused with Bubble Butt Bonanza Day, which occurs on the last Friday of April.

In case you've been living under a rock, a power bottom is a man who enthusiastically takes it up the butt. He enjoys it, never winces, is an aggressive participant, and usually begs for more. They are a treasure and must be showered with admiration. Take the poll at the bottom (har, har) to let us know what you enjoy the most.

PBs set themselves apart from lazy bottoms (yawn), dirty bottoms (ew), and tops masquerading as bottoms (stop, it hurts).

We're supposed to treat PBs with the utmost respect on this day. Flowers, meals and easily digestible chocolates are in store for them.

Do you have a special power bottom in your life, perhaps a friend or a lover or a co-worker or a parent? Be sure to wish him a "Happy Power Bottom Appreciation Day!" and tell them how impressed you are by who they are. They deserve it! Pamper them!

Unfortunately, 1-800-Flowers doesn't seem to have this special day listed among their holiday bouquet offerings; so I believe this would fall under the "thank you" category. I'm including the link for easy access (har har), so here you go: Happy Power Bottom Appreciation Day!

Ironically, today is also National Candy Corn Day.

And don't forget: Friday is Take Your Top to Work Day!!! It's a wonderful week to celebrate all the amazing men in our lives!

So it seems apropos to have this month's catty online poll cover this intriguing topic:

My preferred position is:
	Top
	Versatile
	Bottom
	Ew, I don't do that!
	I'm straight
	I'm a woman

Posted by durban bud at 12:11 AM | Comments (13)

October 19, 2006

Clerk of the House

We spoke with this guy during Folsom weekend last month. He just testified for more than four hours before the House Ethics Committee in the Mark Foley matter. He was the House Clerk from 1999-2005.

We were working out at the big gay Gold's Gym in San Fran when Rob recognized him. He didn't look familiar to me; I'm pretty clueless with faces. Rob said he works out at our gym here in DC, and that I've met him before. Since 80% of people at our gym work in the government, it means nothing to me.

We struck up a conversation with him and his partner, who is HOT by the way (at least, I assume it was his partner). I didn't chat for long as I was too busy scoping out the place for porn stars. For the record, I noticed three.

Once the whole scandal broke, we knew he would have to testify.

He was an out republican during his years in government. I'm starting to believe there are more gay repubs than any other party.

And the majority of those in government are raunchy motherfuckers, apparently. It makes sense since Manhunt is more popular than Google here in DC.

It is now apparent that I can never work in the government. My ass would get dragged up on Capitol Hill regularly to testify. I know too many things. ;-)

Posted by durban bud at 05:01 PM | Comments (16)

October 18, 2006

Michael's Thing

This NYC bar rag was recently found in Rob's deceased great uncle's belongings. It's from 1975. I guess it's similar to Metro Weekly here in DC or HX in NYC, only it cost 75 cents.

That cover shot is so sex-ay, and proves that gayface existed back then as well.

I have the utmost respect for people who were out in the 70's and even the 80's; and people out before the 70's deserve to have their own star on the Stonewall Walk of Fame.

Living in my own contemporary secluded gay world, it's hard to imagine what life was like during that time. Judging from the documentaries and movies I've seen, it still was a good time; but the homophobia must have been even more difficult to deal with than it is now-a-days.

My first gay experience happened in 1991. I put a personal ad in one of these types of bar rags in Rochester, NY. I remember that day specifically cuz Terminator 2 was just opening, and I was all excited about it.

I made a date with some guy who answered my ad. I was not out so I was extremely nervous. I agreed to meet him in the parking lot of a McDonald's. That should have been a foreshadowing of what was to come.

I drove into the lot to find a really skinny guy who resembled Alan Jackson, complete with a mullet. I was mortified. He certainly was no Happy Meal. Ba-da-boom.

I was such a scared little closet case; I wouldn't get out of the car. I noticed he had an earring! This was certain to identify him as gay, and me by association. I told him to get in my car, and we would decide what to do as we drove around. I knew I would not be seen in public with this guy, for fear of being discovered.

We drove and drove and drove. Poor guy. He suggested a number of places to go, but I wouldn't budge.

Despite not being attracted to him, I wanted to experience being with another guy. I drove to a secluded golf course parking lot. We talked for a long time, and got along very well.

It was getting dark, so I had to make my move. I drove down an even more secluded dirt road by the golf course, way, way back near the woods. That's where we messed around. For the record, the experience was very vanilla; there were no butts involved.

As we finished the deal, I noticed some flashing lights in the rear view mirror. Oh. My. God! Here we are in the middle of nowhere, and a fucking cop car is pulling up behind us. This does not look good.

The cop shines the light in the car, obviously looking for drugs. "What's going on here?" "Um, we're just talking." "Well, you're not supposed to be back here. Find somewhere else to talk." "Yes, sir. Sorry." Ugh. I was shaking.

The cop left, and we followed him. I drove fast, and dumped Alan Jackson off at the McDonald's.

Being in the closet sucks, and luckily I came out not too much longer after this incident, and graduated from dirty sex in cars.

Anyway, this bar rag got me thinking about all that. It's definitely a collector's item. The ads are priceless. Check out the price for this meal in 1975:

Posted by durban bud at 08:48 AM | Comments (11)

October 02, 2006

Thruples Are The New Black

We met a nice guy on the plane coming back from San Fran. We chit-chatted with him as we were waiting for our rides to pick us up from the airport. He told us his partner was coming to pick him up. Our ride showed up; we said goodbye and left.

The other evening we attended a lovely party hosted by a couple we have become good friends with. There were several cute mandies in attendance. As we were mingling with some of them, the guy we met at the airport enters with two other guys. We say:

"Hey, how are you? Good to see you again."

"Hi. This is my partner."

"Hi, nice to meet you."

"And this is my other partner."

"Oh hi, nice to meet you too."

I had never met a thruple before, at least, in person. My brief knowledge of thruples usually involved the dissolution of friendships, bitterness, rage, and in one case profiled on Forensic Files, murder. So naturally I asked:

"How long have you all been together?"

"Five years."

Wow, that's like 15 in gay years, and 30 since three are involved.

Color me fascinated. I need to read up on this shit. I wanted to ask several questions, but didn't think that would be quite appropriate. Yet.

Full disclosure: I was almost involved in thrupledom, although no labels were ever attached to it. My pathetic experience resulted in me having a breakdown and entering rehab.

How ever do they do it...successfully?

I could never do it; I require too much attention. Why do you think I have a blog? I need more than one person to hear me out. Actually, that sounds like I do need to have more than one mate, but, you get my point.

Sexual threesomes or foursomes are difficult enough, but at least you have the luxury of sending the individual(s) on their way when all is said and done. And I have very limited experience in this area as well, cuz again, I require full attention. So I usually spent my time waving and saying, "Hey, I'm over here. Don't forget about me or I'm gonna throw a hissy fit," which is always so very attractive.

And all of these experiences occurred while I was heavily intoxicated. Since I no longer indulge like that, you will need to be far more creative to get me in the sack, unless, of course you are Jake Dakota; then all you need to do is show up and squat.

Anyway...

As we were getting ready to leave the party, we say our goodbyes to the hosts. One half of the couple introduces me to another of their friends and adds, "We're dating him."

I look at Rob who is smiling. The only thing I could think to say was, "Am I on Candid Camera?" No response. Realizing he was not kidding, I say, "Nice to meet you."

So there you have it. One party. Two thruples.

I say to Rob, "Why didn't they tell me earlier?"

"They probably didn't want you to mention it on your blog."

"As if!"

Posted by durban bud at 12:37 PM | Comments (17)

September 06, 2006

Trick

We all have our share of bad hook up stories. I have tons of them. I've erased most of them from my memory, but one memory resurfaced the other day when I went to a party to see a bunch of friends I hadn't seen in a long time. I was introduced to one of those awful tricks I had a one night stand with a long time ago. A really bad one night stand. Ew.

I met this guy when I first moved to DC at some trashy bar called the Frat House. I have since learned that Men + Frat House = Automatic Booty Tang. At the time, I was all, "I don't have one night stands. I need to get to know the person first before we engage in any sexual activty." I was, after all, severely naive with like moral values and shit.

For some reason, he's always been kind of a dick to me since our original evening of doom. I'm really not sure why. Was he expecting more? Did I somehow offend him? Is his penis still bleeding? Who knows. All I know is the sex was horrific. I think he wanted anal, but this was in my innocent pre-anal days, so maybe he was really bored.

Whenever I would see him in a bar thereafter, he would ignore me, give me dirty looks, or throw napkins at me. Fuh Reek.

I noticed him early on in the evening at the party. I was caught by surprise cuz I had never seen my friends hanging out with him before. He looked awful. He definitely has let himself go. I thought he was hot when I tricked with him. Then again, I was probably wasted. Another reason to stop drinking! Anyway, he is now troll-like.

One of my friends introduced me to a number of guys. Rumpelstiltskin was one of them. My friend is like, "Do you know TJ?" He said, "Nope." I'm like, "Uh, yeah ya do. Your tongue was up my mangina* for like half an hour, lie bag!" But I didn't say that. Instead I said nothing and shook his troll hand. This was followed by an uncomfortable silence. I excused myself from the group and vomited in the kitchen sink.

Maybe I was totally forgettable to him, or maybe he considers me a troll too. I don't care.

One night stands aren't really one-night stands anymore. They always rear their ugly heads one more time in your life. Eventually.

* Gay Glossary

Posted by durban bud at 01:01 PM | Comments (8)

August 28, 2006

I Am Not My Back Hair

There are so many subcategories in life.

Human Beings > Men > Gay Men > Furry Gay Men & Their Admirers > Furry Gay Men & Their Admirers Who Write About Their Lives On The Internet > Furry Gay Men & Their Admirers Who Write About Their Lives On The Internet & Want To Float On A Tube On The Potomac.

That last category is the one Jimbo & I assembled on Saturday. Actually there were more non-bloggers that came along, but you get the point.

Knowing that I would be shirtless on this excursion, I faced the dilemma that all gay men and women face when exposing their torso to the world, "Should I shave my back hair?"

I don't have much back hair at all, but there is a small tuft of it, mostly on my upper back. Oddly, it's becoming more blonde as I age through my thirties.

When I used to go clubbing on a regular basis, I would always present myself as freshly manscaped without a hint of fur in unsavory places. Those days are over; I have accepted my furriness, and I am at peace with that.

Anyway, a fine group of handsome men came along for the tubing trip. I had a blast. The two hour ride ended up taking four hours. The day was absolutely beautiful. Pics are here.

It's amazing how comforting it is to be amongst your fellow "subcategories".

Posted by durban bud at 09:39 AM | Comments (16)

August 02, 2006

Jewel's Teeth

I could never be an escort. I don't know how those guys do it. I walked by a man yesterday who was taking out his trash. He had his shirt off, and I remember thinking, I totally could not have sex with that guy.

I need to be able to see the person well before I would engage in any kind of intimate contact, and a simple photo won't do. I did manage to seal the deal with some scurry guys back in my slut phase, but I was always piss drunk. Always. But if I were an escort, I couldn't be piss drunk, so how do they do it? I'd like to think I could, so I could make a few bucks on the side, but it's just not in my nature. I would dry heave uncontrollably, and that might be seen as a turn-off to some paying customers.

When I first moved to DC, I answered a personal ad (this was well before Manhunt or gay.com or BMB or bravotv.com). I chatted on the phone with this guy for a couple hours. He seemed pretty cool. He lived close by so I invited him over to hang out. He kept saying he was good looking, but "good looking" is relative, isn't it?

I opened the door to find a decent looking man, but not exactly my type. One of my many faults is my shallow tendency to focus on specific details in a person, and this is not always a good thing. As he entered my little studio apartment, he put on a big smile, and that's when my focusing skillz went into overdrive. He had teeth like Jewel. Exactly like Jewel, in fact. My earlier meal of spaghetti-o's quickly returned to my throat. A few spaghetti-o's made it into my mouth. I nervously smiled back at him, and forced the spaghetti-o's back into my belly.

I offered him a beer. He accepted, and as I walked to the fridge, I said to myself, "Who will say-eee-ave your soul if you won't save your own."

What do you do when you've invited someone over to your place and you find out you're not attracted to him? Ugh, I don't know. You make the best of it, I guess, but I certainly wasn't about to get all naked with this dude. I was hoping he felt the same about me.

I turned on the TV. That's a good way to avoid uncomfortable silence. We were sitting on the couch watching Saturday Night Live and eating cheesy poofs. The cheesy poofs were a bad idea cuz they got all stuck in his snaggleteef. I did my best to avoid staring at it. At one point, I think he became aware of my dilemma. He started speaking with a mumble, so as to avoid fully opening his mouth.

He put his arm around me. Ew. And then he climbed on top of me. Double ew. He was a big guy, very muscular. I couldn't breathe. I kept thinking, Oh my god, I'm gonna be featured on Forensic Files. He's going to kill me with his dagger toofs cuz I'm not attracted to him.

He kissed my neck and looked directly down on me. We were face to face. It got very quiet. He looked me in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Time was standing still. As I stared into his eyes, all I could think was, "My hands are small I know, but their my hands, not yours." I swallowed another gulp of spaghetti-o's. He seemed to read my mind, and raised up off of me. Relief. Maybe it was his intuition.

We chatted a little more, and he said he needed to get going. Great! Thanks for your order, please drive through. You weren't meant for me, and I wasn't meant for you.

I felt kinda bad after, but I shouldn't have. I never suggested we would hook up, but then again, I was pretty naive.

We all have our little quirks and turn-offs. I just think it's best to know exactly what you're in for before you decide to fool around with someone. Attraction is key. You can't force it.

I still don't know how escorts do it. How can you fake attraction?

Posted by durban bud at 08:08 AM | Comments (8)

July 14, 2006

Webster's Gay Edition

So about 100 new words are being entered in the 2006 version of the Merriam-Webster's Collegiate® Dictionary. Some of them are gay-oriented: drama queen, polyamory, soul patch and, of course, unibrow.

There are a number of gay terms that I believe should also be added. Let this serve as a guide for my straight readers.

Top
A man who enjoys placing his penis in another man's bum.

Bottom
A man who enjoys receiving a man's penis in his bum.

Versatile
A man who enjoys receiving a man's penis in his bum.

The Crew Club
A "gym" where men are allowed to pair up and make love

Manhunt
An online version of the Crew Club

PnP
A term used by a person who will be entering rehab in about 2 years

Thruple
A couple that invite a third into their relationship, usually followed by the dissolution of the relationship

Uh Wrong Ansa
Means "wrong answer". If your boss gives you a project at 3:00pm to finish by 5:00pm on a Friday, you simply reply, "Uh wrong ansssssa." Or, if one of your tricks tries to place his penis in your bum after you've eaten Thai food for dinner, you simply reply, "Uh wrong ansssssa."

Mangina
A man's anus

Skidmarks
A straight man

June Bugs
A new term for lesbians

Ann Coulter
A botched male to female transsexual operation

Bears
Big, burly hairy gay men that Stephen Colbert is frequently afraid of.

Twinks
Thin, hairless, young gay men

Musclebears
Men who should call me

Susser
A feminine gay man who uses a lot of s's when he sssspeaks. Twinks are usually good examples, and Michael Moloney from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.

Sussin' Susser
A really feminine gay man who overuses a lot of s's when he sssspeaks. Michael Kors from Project Runway would be an example of a sussin' susser.

Ira
A term applied to an individual who packs their entire wardrobe and toiletries for a relatively short vacation

Am I missing any?

And...

This baby is a metaphor for the world:

Posted by durban bud at 10:41 AM | Comments (7)

July 07, 2006

How to Make a Straight Guy Squirm

I had a meeting last night with a couple straight guys. They are very affable, and I do not judge them by their lifestyle choice. I treat everyone equally.

One of the guys asked me, "So how is your, uh, your, um, your, you know, boyfriend? I don't know the correct term."

"I prefer butt buddy, thanks," I said, which was followed by some uncomfortable silence.

So what is the correct term?

Boyfriend applies to someone you have been dating for a relatively short period of time. After about a year or so, you need to refer to them with another term.

Life partner and Longtime Companion sound too clinical, or too forced.

Lover sounds too 1970's. If you use that term, you are probably over 50 and really gay.

Significant Other sounds like you're trying to hide something. Plus, it's pretty vague.

My Bitch or My Fudge are just kinda rude.

Husband or Fiance don't apply.

Special Friend makes us sound retarded.

I prefer the term partner, for now, even though it makes us seem like we're lawyers or something.

At the 'hab, Rob and I participated in a group counseling session with a number of other couples, all heterosexual. We were asked to stand up and introduce our mates.

I introduced Rob as my partner. One of the other participants later told me his wife thought it was very nice of me to bring my business partner to such an occasion. As if! He told her we were gay. She said, "No, they're business partners; he introduced him as his partner. They're not gay." She did not believe it until we were forced to sit in opposing chairs in front of the entire group, and talk about our "feelings" for one another. Ugh, talk about uncomfortable. That was just one of the more surreal experiences of my life.

The first couple that sat in the hot seats were a poster couple for toxicity and divorce. They yelled at each other the entire time, and claimed the only reason they had not divorced was because they're Catholic and have six children. Then the wife dropped the G-Bomb. "And HE has issues because one of our sons is GAY!" Oh shit. And we have to follow this? Calgon, take me away.

Anyway...

It's all relative. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really matter what we're called. But it does matter.

Posted by durban bud at 08:21 AM | Comments (7)

June 20, 2006

The Fireman

Last night at dinner, while Manhattan Furball and Suitcase Sally were discussing whether Pam Cooking Spray could be substituted for Crisco for a certain naughty sexual practice, I was still dreaming about the firemen I had seen the previous evening.

I went to Maggie Moo's in Adams Morgan to satisfy my latest addiction. As I was waiting in line, a firetruck pulled up in front of the building. A number of very attractive firemen entered and stood behind me. I was giddy. I could swear at least one of them was family.

The hottest one actually spoke to me. He said, "What flavor is the blue one?" I said, "Cotton Candy." My heart melted as he undressed me with his eyes.

Many people have asked me throughout the years when I knew I was gay, or more specifically, when I knew I liked guys' butts. I always say, when I was five.

I don't remember a whole lot during my really young years, but I do remember this. Lightning had struck a tree at our neighbors across the street. The tree had fallen onto their house. Nobody was home. A fire truck arrived at the scene. A few minutes later, a fireman knocked on our door and asked to use our phone. I didn't know who he had to call or why he couldn't just use his own radio transmission, but it didn't matter, he came into our home, and I was happy.

He used our phone in the hallway. I remember just staring at him for a long time. He was very handsome, or at least, what I considered handsome at five-years-old. I seem to recall he looked like Eddie Cibrian from Third Watch. I wanted him to take me into his firetruck, hold me on his lap, and read me some Aesop's Fables. I wanted him to take care of me.

The next morning I was at the church nursery while my parents were taking their Bible class. I played with a toy phone, pretending to be talking to the fireman. I don't remember what the hell I was saying on the phone, but I do recall the nursery "teacher" giving me weird looks, and telling me to play with other toys. Leave me alone bitch, I'm talking to my boyfriend. That's when I knew.

I got my ice cream and sat on a stool by the window. The firemen stood in front of their truck to eat theirs. I watched and watched as they took long licks. I looked to see if they had wedding rings on; they didn't. Each bite of my cotton candy ice cream got sweeter and sweeter. They were putting on a show for me; I just knew it.

The one who was undressing me with his eyes looked my way each time he took a long, slow lick. He was teasing me with his cold cream. I teased back, using both my lips to suck the cream into my mouth. He flexed his bicep as he lifted his arm to take another lick. My hot breath was causing the cotton candy to melt all over my lips. I lovingly scooped it all up with my tongue, making sure I didn't let any go to waste. I wanted to taste every drop. My ice cream was just about gone, so I slowed the pace of my licks, savoring every moment while keeping my eyes on the fireman. My heart was racing. My jaw was numb. It was inevitable, I climaxed. There was nothing left to lick. I took a deep breath and exhaled. The fireman, too, had finished. He looked flushed and sweaty. I imagined Eddie Cibrian winking at me as he boarded the truck. His job was done here. He was going to put out someone else's fire.

I wonder what happened to the fireman who made me gay. I wish I could call him. We could reminisce about the old days, and maybe share some Maggie Moo's.

Firemen will always hold a special place in my heart. *sigh*

Posted by durban bud at 06:22 AM | Comments (9)

June 12, 2006

LGBT Agnostic Chickens

It was a beautiful weekend here in DC. Perfect weather. Perfect company. Perfect fun.

That said, I thought the parade was kinda lame this year:

The Running For DC Mayor Parade was disguised as the Pride Parade.

There were very few drag queens; usually we see Miss Gay Virginia or Miss Gay Thomas Circle or Miss Gay Church St. in Between 17th and 18th, but not this year. Where were they?

There was also a huge lull between some of the marchers, and none of the floats were all that unique. The parade is sadly in need of a durban bud float. Next year, baby. :)

We still had a great time. Our buds, Tim & Donn, came into town, so we grabbed a bite and headed to Blowoff. I was exhausted but still had fun. I don't think I've ever been to a club and had iced coffee as my main beverage. Times are definitely a-changin' for this big geek.

I did my "one, two, tap my foot, shift weight to the other leg, one, two, tap my foot" dance. It was all well and good for about one song. Then my dance changed to "one, two, tap my foot, inhale smoke, shift my weight to other leg, one, two, rub my burning eyes from insensitive out-of-town otter boy blowing smoke in my face." I can't wait until January when that shit is banned from these establishments.

The weather couldn't have been better for the festival. It was sunny and warm with NO humidity. That is a first in the 10+ years that I have been going. We saw lots of friends, but Tim & Donn appeared to run into a lot more people than we did, and they're from like, the Baltimore area.

Me: How do you know all these guys?
Donn: Manhunt.

At the Pride festival, there is a booth for every type of cause and company. HGTV had their own booth. I believe it was right next to the LGBT Agnostic Chickens booth. HGTV is Rob's favorite station. It was okay to watch the first few months after 9/11, but now I'm so sick of it. Watching people shopping for a new home or renovating one of their rooms is either incredibly boring or very stressful. I start to feel envious or annoyed like, "Why didn't we do that when we were renovating?" Rob would remind me, "Cuz we ran out of money." Oh, yeah. I wish they had a Gay Court TV booth instead. I could be the new narrator for Forensssssic Filessssss.

I think I have enough Pride to last me until next year.

Posted by durban bud at 02:06 PM | Comments (3)

June 09, 2006

Hello Frissssssco

Happy Pride! The gayest weekend of them all is upon us here in DC, and the neighborhood is all a-flutter with flags and streamers. Woo-hoo.

I actually like Pride. It's fun and silly and just a good time. I used to be one of those "the parade is over the top and makes us look bad to the straight world" people, but I ain't like that anymore. It's cool being around all my peeps, and not taking life too seriously.

I don't have anything against dance artists but it would be nice to get some big name rock musicians to perform once in awhile at the festival. It'd be cool to get Elton, Rufus, or Indigo Girls for a change, or even homo-friendly Green Day. I guess the venue is way too small for them, but a boy can dream.

Instead we'll get to see Thelma Houston (again!) perform her one hit, "Don't Leave Me This Way" (again!). And I can't wait to hear CeCe Peniston sing "Finally" for the umpteenth time. Whatever, it's nice of them to sign on to this event (again!), so I'll keep my bitching to a minimum. I'd prefer Pet Shop Boys or Erasure as the dance artists though.

I think next year I should have a durban bud float, complete with my DC blogger buds; it would be so rad! Did I just say rad? It would go sumthin' like this:

Tos would be our go-go boy and shake his thang like he used to do on the blocks at Nation. Bob and Rich would DJ. Carl, Crisafer, and Sean would dance shirtless in front of the DJ booth while wearing their leather chaps. Bubula & Mumi would perform their colorguard routine in their jockstraps. Dumbek and Dinger would throw candy, beads, Dixie Chicks CDs and anti-Scientology pamphlets to the crowd. Mr. Bartender would serve drinks and perform karaoke to Ani Defranco songs as he collected tips from everyone. Jimbo would hold up large cardboard cut-outs of Ben Cohen. Anger Hangover would recite her blog entries from a Live Journal megaphone. Tom would dress in drag as Ann Colter while the men in chaps flog her. Autoerratic would pull the float in one of his fancy new cars. And Sarah would photograph the whole event wearing only her teddy.

What do you think? Rad, huh? I think it could work! We would easily win best float, hands down.

In the meantime, I'll be hittin' the parade, Blowoff and the festival. See you there!

It would be nice if this guy could be there this weekend, but I doubt his wife would let him go. Whatever.

Posted by durban bud at 12:45 PM | Comments (6)

May 05, 2006

Cubs

The whole muscle bear/cub culture fascinates me. I would like to think I'm more of a cub. I notice a lot of older men refer to themselves as cubs but can you really say that when you're, like, 45? Haven't you graduated to beardom by then? I guess if you're cuddly you can be. And then there's otters. I'm not an otter and I'm definitely not a big bear. Perhaps I'm a platypus.

Warm weather and sun makes me happy.

Posted by durban bud at 12:30 PM | Comments (6)

October 10, 2005

Days of Rain

It was a late night and it poured the rain but it was still crazy fun. Rob and I went to a BAR Friday evening before the show. Yes, an actual bar in DC. Seeing us at a bar in DC is similar to seeing the Loch Ness Monster or, perhaps, Big Foot, or, perhaps, George Bush saying something intelligent. It just never happens. It did happen though. And we had a blast.

Got to meet the handsome Dumbek and Dinger couple. Those are some good people (plus they have a hot tub and a pool). Maybe someday they will let us use it. I promise to keep my clothes on. Lots of fun. Also hung out with Joe and infamous hot-tubbers, Tim & Donn. Dumbek has a good rundown of the evening and all those bloggers in attendance so I won't give you a double dose. Met lots of nice guys. If there are any photos of the evening, please destroy them. Thanks.

Apparently, Bob's show was being filmed for a DVD. Sometimes I forgot I was at a Bob Mould show. I mean he does have a ton of straight fans. I hope they weren't offended by my accidental bear hugs and kisses to those that came into my vicinity. Despite my earlier post to the contrary, I was much more in a huggy type of mood that evening. And I was only drinking light beers. So if there are any crowd shots on the DVD and I am seen kissing someone, it is probably not me.

A great show so go see it! Bob is heading out to the west coast so all you west coast boys need to go see him at these places:

Oct 11: Neumo's - Seattle, WA
Oct 12: Doug Fir - Portland, OR
Oct 14: The Fillmore - San Francisco, CA
Oct 15: The El Rey - Los Angeles, CA

All the newspapers and magazines have been raving about his shows and his band's performance but a few have complained that he did not invite me on stage to play the triangle on one of his songs during his DC set. Whatever. I bet Liz Phair will. The media will appreciate that. And someday, he will play "Can't Fight It" for me. Someday.

Update 11/30: Yeah, well maybe I didn't get to show off my triangle skillz but I do believe I coaxed you into performing "Can't Fight It" at the past 2 shows AND "Days of Rain." And, did both audiences show their giddy appreciation for hearing both those songs; why yes, they did. Tell Ms. Phair I am also available if she needs some setlist tips. I rock. Ding. Ding.

Posted by durban bud at 10:23 AM | Comments (8)

October 05, 2005

Birds and Hugging Etiquette

This past weekend was gorgeous in DC. Sunny and 70's the whole time. I decided to take advantage of the outdoors since I didn't have much to do. I went to the Circle on Saturday to people watch. I brought my little blanket, a magazine and some music. I laid down in an area by a tree that had a good view of all the people walking through the park. I noticed right next to me a few booths set-up in which people were offering to give "Stress Tests" to unsuspecting passer-byers (e.g. poor people and tourists). I was surprised how many people fell for it. It's a great marketing tool for those scientologists. People sat down, were asked a few questions and then that Diuretics book (or whatever it's called) was shoved in their faces to purchase. I wanted to warn those that actually stopped for a "stress test" what they were really all about. But I was too relaxed in the sun to move. People need to learn on their own.

As I was enjoying the serenity of the afternoon some fuckhead decided to throw bread crumbs in front of my blanket. The man appeared to be homeless so I cut him some slack. I still gave him a dirty look. Not really sure what that would accomplish but it made me feel better. If he has no money, shouldn't he be eating those crumbs? After the 100 or so pigeons descended by my resting place, another fuckhead (who did not appear homeless) threw some crumbs on top of the other ones. Hi, I'll take "Rude Motherfuckers" for $200, Alex. Suddenly, I was Tippi Hedren in The Birds. I started swatting them with my magazine and screaming. I was looking for the nearest telephone booth. If you must feed the birds there are plenty of other spots in the park to do this. Do people not know how disgusting birds are? I mean anyone who would care for filthy birds has to have a few screws loose.

My buddy David joined me at the park. After watching this 22 year-old drunk boy stumble all over the park at 2:00 in the afternoon, we decided to leave.

As we walked down the street I saw a bunch of guys I had not seen in awhile. These were people I knew but never really hung out with. I felt this immediate uncomfortable feeling us gay guys sometimes get when we're not sure what form of affectionate acknowledgement to give. Should I hug them, hug them with a kiss on the cheek, shake hands, or just nod and say, Hey? It's always so odd for me. I'm usually just a hand shaker and, once in awhile, a hugger. Some people I hardly know kiss me on the cheek or, if they're drunk (or I am), on the mouth. Some people I know really well just wave and say hi. Gay guys have a whole unique way of greeting each other. I find the hugging thing very sweet even though I don't always practice it. I wish more people would do this. It's just weird when you don't really know the person so you're not sure what their level of comfort is yet. And it never fails when I give a gay guy a hug and THINK he probably is the kissing type I move in to plant him a kiss on the cheek only to realize he just wants to hug, starts to pull away and I end up kissing his ear. Ew. I end up having that bitter taste in my mouth for the next hour.

Straight guys used to be easier to greet. It was always a handshake which I have no problem with. In fact, I usually prefer it that way. Now it has turned into that rapper bump-chest hug like thing. I still don't know how to do it correctly. There should be classes on it. This one straight guy I'm friends with does this with me whenever I see him. He approaches me. I get nervous. I reach my hand out, he grabs it, pulls me in, we bump shoulders and I instinctively put my arm around him and pat his back as if to say, "There, there, ol' straight boy." Never fails. I can't help it. It's in my nature. Most people usually release after the shoulder bump. However, I don't. Whatever.

I should add, though, that I am a sucker for BIG BEAR HUGS for those that I know and, of course, really cute guys. Eddie Cibrian, Matthew Fox and Dean Coulter (see below) can give me a bear hug whenever they want. I will even kiss their ears.

Posted by durban bud at 11:22 AM | Comments (10)

September 16, 2005

Shake Your Love

I am so gay. I didn't realize how gay I was until I went to see Debbie Gibson in a free concert on our trip. Actually, now that I think about it, there were guys there who were way gayer than me. Some guy yelled to Debbie, "Gurrrrrl, I get lost in YOUR eyes, mmm'kay?" and then he sa-shayed away.

She performed a bunch of Broadway tunes for about an hour. I guess she's been doing pretty well in the theatre scene and wants to establish herself as a serious performer. Whatever. It totally put me to sleep. All the queens in the audience seemed to know all these songs. They kept clapping when she started the lyric. I really can't handle those types of songs. Sorry, I did not get that gay gene. I hate show tunes.

I am kind of a sucker for eighties trivia and crappy music though. If they come out with a Trivial Pursuit version focusing on eighties music, I will totally beat you.

She left the stage and put on some jeans, came back, and did all her 80's hits. It must be weird being, like, 35 and singing and dancing to "Electric Youth." I can't even imagine reading things I wrote 20 years ago, much less reciting them. It would be very strange. She seemed to be having a great time and was very friendly. She came into the crowd a number of times and danced with people (aka gay men).

Anyway, a few weeks earlier, Mike, our spin/cycling instructor at the gym (who I have an itty bitty crush on and he knows it) played a Debbie Gibson song during class. He usually plays one 80's song each session. This time it was Debbie's turn. Some woman chimed in rather loudly after hearing the song, "Well, if we didn't know you were gay before, we sure do now." Everyone laughed. It was kinda funny. I could tell he was somewhat embarrassed. I felt bad for him but he did play it off well. After class, she kept going off on him for playing Debbie Gibson. It was weird, though, to try and get motivated hearing one of her songs. "Shake your love; I just can't shake your love..." Um, no. That is not going to make me spin faster.

So because of this whole little Debbie Gibson controversy during class, I thought it a perfect time to get my secret boyfriend spin instructor an autographed picture of her. It is something I would NEVER do for myself but I thought it would be funny to get it for Mike since he seemed to be a fan (even though he's, like, 41 years old).

So we stand in this huge gay line to meet her after the show just to get a little gag gift for a guy we have become friendly with but still hardly know. I suddenly felt like a 12 year old girl. They are selling T-shirts and CDs and pictures of her. I didn't realize I had to buy something so she could sign it. I thought she could just sign my receipt I got from an ATM earlier in the day. My little gag was becoming pricey. I decided to buy the cheapest thing they had, a postcard. It was about 7 bucks. Nice.

It was now our turn to say hi to her. It was very awkward. There were lots of people around us taking pictures. The guys before us were saying things to her like, "You were so amazing tonight" and "You meant a lot to me when I was growing up. Your music helped me get through some difficult times." I'm thinking, "Only in My Dreams" was therapeutic for you? It never really spoke to me quite like that. A couple bong hits usually did the trick.

I could care less about celebrity, any form of it (A-list, D-list, whatever). It just doesn't appeal to me. We're all just people. Well, at least most of us are.

I didn't know what to say after what those guys so passionately said, so I looked at her and just said, "My friend Pam has a nose similar to yours." She tilted her head as if confused and said, "Oh, that poor thing." "No, no, no. Your nose looks great. They just look similar." Okay, this has now gotten beyond weird.

I handed her the postcard and said, "Can you make this out to Mike?" "Of course," she says sweetly. She begins writing. We take a photo with her. She hands me the signed postcard. We walk away.

I read what she wrote. "Mike, so glad we met, Deborah Gibson." Um, no, Miss Debbie. I am not Mike. You did not meet Mike. You totally fucked up my gag gift Debbie Gibson. I'm really pissed at you right now Debbie Gibson. I thought about going back so she could cross that out and write something else, but realized I had already invested too much time in this silly li'l souvenir. I will just let it go. So I did. It's the thought that counts. Got it?

I have yet to give it to Mike. He better freakin' appreciate it.

What the hell am I doing here? Please kill me.

Posted by durban bud at 07:15 AM | Comments (7)

September 11, 2005

Cruising

*Sigh*

I never thought I would ever enjoy a cruise, but I have to say it was pretty fucking awesome. I will definitely do another one.

I have tons of stories but, for now, here is what I know:

* Villefrance, Sorrento and, of course, Mykonos were beautiful and my favorites. Must spend more time at each one. Sitges is still one of my faves though. I would also like to have a beach house at either one of these locations. I need a sugar daddy to make this dream happen. Please apply for this position at this address sugardaddy@durbanbud.com. Thanks.

* We did not do one single excursion. Instead, we took our own transporation (trains, boats, walking, etc) and explored. So amazing.

* A party called "Mega Woof" was happening in Barcelona while we were in Sitges, so all these muscle bears were at the beach. It was a pleasant (and HOT) surprise. Our trip got off to a great start.

* Our friend Ira (aka Suitcase Sally) went with us on the entire trip. I have so many stories to tell about him. I could not stop laughing. He is the best traveling companion. We did not fight or bicker once. Total riot.

* We met so many people from all over the world. Guys from Chicago. Guys from LA. Guys from Indianapolis. Guys from Boston. And even some guys from Washington, DC! Seriously, we also met some Brits, a German, a Russian, a few Australians, a few Spaniards, etc.

* Capri pants were everywhere. I did not get the memo about this. I even saw some jean capri pants. That´s just wrong.

* The color orange is the hot color in the Mediterranean. Lime green is next. I am ahead of the curve on that one. ;-)

* The majority of European women are gorgeous.

* On the plane ride over we sat by this really cool Spanish woman. I couldn't help but notice that she spoke just like Charo. I also couldn't help but notice that her nipple was sticking out of her blouse. She didn't seem to mind though. She kept chatting away Charo-style. It was hard to have a conversation with this huge areola staring at me. I wanted to giggle. But I didn't.

* The Queer Eye culture guy, Jai Rodriguez, was on board for the entire trip. He said that 2 of the "straight" guys who got made over on the show have since come out. That´s pretty funny. And sad.

* Naples, Italy? Um, ew. I'll take my pizza to go, please. Thanks.

* Spanish guys are hot.

* If you want to piss off an Australian, keep asking him what part of England he is from. Works every time.

* There were 2000 people on the boat. 41 were women.

* The Brits like to par-tay. Hard.

* Greek guys are hot.

* For some strange reason, we kept hearing Lionel Richie songs all over the Mediterranean. It was very odd.

* Canadians are horny.

* My legs and butt look great from all the walking, but I seem to have accumulated a big belly. That buffet on the boat is pure evil. I prolly gained 10 pounds. Must go to gym. A lot.

* The smoking situation needs to seriously stop.

* We only were exposed to one anti-American comment on our whole trip. I was expecting a lot more. Not sure where this guy was from but it was on our first day of traveling over there and he accused us of cutting in front of him while boarding the plane. He called us "typical Americans." We told him to calm down, and kindly step in front of us if he was so bothered by it. So he did. We were in line to get on the plane. You know, when everyone rushes ahead and is everywhere. The funny thing is we got to sit directly behind him on the plane. I swear I didn't kick his seat.

* I realize wearing a baseball cap immediately identifies me as American (or maybe British or Canadian). I didn't wear one the first couple days cuz I just wanted to "blend" in, but a couple people approached me and asked if I was from America or Britain. I can't win, and I am at peace with that.

* I also totally learned from a Spanish guy that, like, saying the words, "totally" and "like" a lot also identify you as an American. Who, like, knew.

* Italian guys are hot.

* That Kelly Clarkson song, "Since You've Been Gone," is huge over there. Also, I kept hearing that song that goes, "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me. Don't you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me...." It was quite humorous watching the gays dance suggestively to that song. Guys were thrusting hard everytime she said "freak." Ew.

* We met this really funny cab driver in Barcelona who barely spoke a word of English. However, as soon as he found out we were American he went on this tirade against Bush. "Boosh is muy mal y muy stupido. Blech!" And then he would spit. It was hysterical. We told him we agreed and assured him not all Americans support the turd.

* I had a moment of sheer terror. It lasted about 8 minutes. When we finished the cruise and went to the airport to head to Madrid, we did a passport check. Mine was missing. I turned white and felt like throwing up. My passport, credit cards and driver's license were all missing. What the hell was I going to do? It was a Saturday. Then, as if we saw the baby jesus right before our eyes, our friendly Spanish cab driver came walking towards us in the airport (in slow motion), waving my passport in his hands. I'm pretty good about keeping my wallet in my front pocket. However, I had worn the same baggy shorts for about 3 days in a row so the pocket was pretty worn open, so it fell out in the cab when I got out. We hugged the man and praised him, and jumped up and down with him, and assured him that we still are not fans of Bush. This seemed to make him very giddy and exhuberant. "Gracias, senor."

* I prefer Europe's version of Diet Coke (Coca-Cola Light) compared to our version. We should import that.

* Debbie Gibson, I'm sorry, I mean Deborah Gibson was the special guest entertainment. I know, I rolled my eyes too. But I have to say she was pretty good and can poke fun of her former teeny bopper star status. She was "lovely" (as the Brits would say).

* If I hear that "Cha-Cha Heels" song one more time, I'm gonna pull a Michael Douglas from the movie, "Falling Down." I'm not kidding. Let's move on, people.

* I was disappointed to see how many toupees were on the boat. Gay guys should know better than this. Let Trent Lott and Tom Delay represent that faux pas. Let's embrace our baldness or get something realistic done. Seriously.

* I will definitely do this again. It was a blast. I highly recommend it.

* My lips are chapped.

I am exhausted. Will write more later and post some pics.

For now,
Must. Get. Rest.

Posted by durban bud at 09:09 AM | Comments (13)

August 22, 2005

Mango Was There

Went to the beach one last time this summer. We're gonna be gone for a long time starting this weekend so we wanted one last hoorah there.

Stayed at Tim & Donn's beautiful house in town. They are wonderful hosts and great guys.

Saturday morning we spent on the beach. Perfect weather. The water was nice. There were finally big waves we could play with. Spent about 4 hours out there.

We all left back to the house for a pre-happy hour party (or to take naps and shower). When we arrived back at the house we noticed a few more gentleman had joined us. I did not know them. Most of the men staying at the house were older and had facial hair (I guess it's a requirement to stay there) but there was one person who stuck out like a sore thumb and that, my friends, was Mango from Saturday Night Live (or, at least, that's who he resembled). Now, I don't care if you're nelly or twink-like. I don't care if you're masculine and brute-like. I DO care if you're ignorant. So if you are nelly AND ignorant, I WILL make fun of you.

Most people congregated in the kitchen while chatting so I went into the living room to start a new discussion area. It worked as a few people followed me. Rob immediately joined me when he found out Mango's boyfriend was an extreme-right wing republican. My partner is extremely knowledgeable regarding politics and history. If you debate him about any political/history issue, he will shoot you down and make you look foolish in front of your friends. And it will be funny. Go ahead and try it if you want. I'm always up for a good laugh. However, because he is thoughtful, he decided to just remove himself from the situation.

Again, I don't care what political party you belong to but if you are ignorant (e.g. extreme right AND gay), I will make fun of you.

Anyway, we were chatting with this other guy we had met. He seemed nice, very intelligent and articulate on political issues. Normally, when drinking is involved, I stay away from politics and religion. I've learned my lesson in the past. He began discussing his days in the military and how he killed someone. Thanks for the buzz kill, buddy. What do you say to something like that? I said, I think I need another drink(s). Excuse me for a moment.

I chugged about 3 beers and decided I could handle the conversation now so I went back. They were discussing how China will be the new super power in 10-20 years. I'm like, "Yeah, but has anyone seen the new Green Day video?"

Then the power went out. Apparently, the baby jesus was listening to our conversation and punished us. It was bad timing because Tim & Donn were getting ready to make a huge meal. The house music in the background was now gone. You could here a pin drop. Mango appeared sad because Deborah Cox and Kristine W. ceased to over sing their fierce anthems! Dear god, what was Mango to do! The worst part, however, was that Mango's voice was now audible from where I was sitting. Ironically, Mango's drink of choice was (or is it were) Mango-tini's. For the record, I did not have one single mixed drink during this "pre-happy hour" party. I learned my lesson the last time I was there. One mixed drink at their place is really equal to about 7 and a half normal sized mixed drinks one might find at, oh, let's say, the Olive Garden.

I heard discussions of rimming, vaginas, scat, queefing, more vaginas and then I heard Mango say the following, "I do not want to turn 30. When you turn 30, your life is over!" And then I think he smacked his own sassy 28-inch waif waist ass and snapped his fingers. It got deathly quiet.

Oh really, Mango? Please remember everybody in the room was over 30, if not 40. This queen is 27. 30 is just around the corner, bitch. Luckily, I was on the other side of the room (and I was at somebody else's house) so I kept my mouth shut and tried to be somewhat respectful. However, were I at a different place, I would have snapped his skimpy li'l Flashdance leotard and said,"You LIVE in Richmond, Virginia and are a dating a far-right republican, YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD!"

Mango left soon after. Whew! People started clapping from across the street. Angels wept. Marc, Tom and Tony began square-dancing. The power came back on. The sun came back out. A mini-marching high school band passed by our block playing Celine Dion's, "A New Day Has Come." It was all very surreal but cathartic. I guess the baby jesus didn't like Mango either.

We had a wonderful dinner and met some of Tim & Donn's awesome friends. Apparently, they didn't know Mango either. He was a friend of a friend or something.

We met Tim & Donn while naked in a hot tub. You can meet some real quality people this way I am learning. We sure did. You should try it sometime.

Posted by durban bud at 08:19 AM | Comments (6)

August 11, 2005

Take Me Out

We went to a play last night called "Take Me Out." Everyone has been raving about it. Hmmm. It was okay. It was about 7 hours too long. And it was about baseball.

There were lots of naked penises. I wasn't expecting that (especially since I was in the second row). It sorta made for some awkward moments.

I couldn't help but notice that a few of the guys looked very familiar. Perhaps, I tricked with them in my slutty days? I don't know. Not even sure they were gay. These guys were quite, um, large. I give them lots of credit for getting up there under the hot lights and showing off their bodies. Of course, they were flawless so I'm sure that helps. I wonder if any of the actors' parents were in the auditorium.

Not quite sure what the message of the play was supposed to be. There were some strange relationships between some of the characters that never seemed to be explained. Then again, I'm not the sharpest tool in the drawer so maybe the message was clear.

On a completely separate subject, I've been getting a lot of Christian themed spam lately. That seems very sinful and morally wrong to me.

Posted by durban bud at 10:46 AM | Comments (8)

July 20, 2005

Making Out

I like to make out. I enjoy it. Some people do not. I don't get this. I would rather kiss you than play with your manly cooter. I know that may seem odd. But I am odd.

Just for shits and giggles, I asked Rob if he wanted to make out this morning. He laughed at me. That wasn't very nice. I was kinda serious though. I would have done it if he seemed somewhat interested. Whatever, his loss. I give good tongue.

When we first started dating, that's all we would do. I remember listening to the Tears For Fears Greatest Hits CD TWICE while we were still doing the spit-swap. My jaw hurt so bad the next day.

I would not give up my cherry until I knew he was "the one" for me. I had given that up too many times before and to way too many trolls. Now that I think about it I do believe I made out with Rumpelstiltskin. Ugh, I wish there was a rewind button.

I was good and I was patient. It was well worth the wait. Every time Rob would try to cop a feel, I would put up my cock-block. I just wanted to be held and loved. Is that asking too much? I was such a dirty, little cock-tease. I still am. Whatever, it prevents scabies crabs.

We still kiss a lot but it's usually followed by sweaty, naughty, hot man sex. Sometimes, I just want some tongue action though. So, if you're at the Blue Moon in Rehoboth, I might accidentally kiss you. Please do not get mad at me. I just like it.

Posted by durban bud at 09:52 AM | Comments (8)

July 06, 2005

Halloween

My friend Matt has an unhealthy obsession with the movie "Halloween." I don't know what the hell is wrong with him. It's very strange and unnatural. Here's the funny part, I have the same obsession. And we're both very non-violent people.

We both can quote lines from the movie verbatim. When I was little, I used a tape recorder to tape the movie when it premiered on network TV. No video, just sound. I would play it over and over for my relatives and friends to listen to while I explained what was happening. They must have been so annoyed. The more I think about my childhood, the more I realize how, um, different I was. I now own the soundtrack. I have 2 DVD versions of the film. I have the vinyl of the sequel music.

My dad took me to see it when I was 8 years old. (I think that's a little odd too). However, I think Matt knows the film even better than me.

Anyway, Matt just spent the last two days with us. He is a wonderful guest. If you are low maintenance, you are welcome to stay with us. If you desire a lot of attention and need assistance to visit museums and clubs, please move on. I hear Marla has a sofa bed and a cool pair of pussies to hang with so you can call her to be your tour guide.

I met Matt back in 1999 through Todd (who you all know if you are a regular reader of my silly blog). We were big flirts but never became good friends until a couple years ago. He finally found a great guy. He dated for a long time but never settled (which is admirable cuz he could have).

Sometimes it is harder for a couple to be friends with a single person (especially if that person wants to go out to bars a lot of the time like Matt did at the time ;-). I just really can't do that much anymore. Not a big fan of the bar scene (and all the smoke). We will go out once in a great while (mostly at the beach) but it's usually for a purpose (e.g. someone's b-day get together). I think luck and timing play a huge role in how we end up with our lifetime partner. But then, I guess it's all relative.

The first guy I met/dated/fucked around with I met through a personal ad in a newspaper way back in 1991. I said I was bisexual in the ad. Please stop laughing. He actually introduced me to DC so if I had never placed that ad I wouldn't be here in DC and my life would have taken a completely different direction.

Anyway, Matt and I totally bonded. He's become a great friend and we love him very much.

I would like to add, however, that he purchased a DVD of Culture Club videos and made me watch them. That wasn't very nice. "War, war is stupid and people are stupid..."

Rob, Matt, me

Matt and me gettin' crazy

Matt & Rob are very photogenic. I am not. There is nothing I can do about it. Some people look great in pictures. Some do not. And that is me. Such is life.

Posted by durban bud at 11:33 PM | Comments (5)

June 13, 2005

Rip Taylor Throws Confetti

And gets paid for it. What an interesting way to make a living. Whatever works for ya. I'd do it. Maybe that's my new calling. Fuck this web shit. I'm gonna start skipping down 17th Street and throw confetti. I'll be different though. I'll also hand out Dutch cookies and condoms. And I'll wear a baseball cap. Look out boysssss. Here I come....

The big gay holiday has come and gone. We had a small BBQ on Saturday with my new favorite lesbian couple, Deb & Greer. The Tos man and his new "friend" also joined us.

To prepare, we thought it best to have some Pride accoutrements so we went to Lambda Rising to shop. They were mostly out of everything. A woman took us to the back of the store and opened a drawer unveiling a few gay flags. She took one out that is probably 2 x 3 feet. We grabbed it. We saw another one with a paw print so we had to have that as well. We also got one of those things that blow in the wind. We went to check out. The cashier rings it up and says, "That will be $128.24." You have to be fucking kidding me. Happy Pride!

We went down to the festival on Sunday. Mr. Taylor was among the many acts performing there. It was approximately 145 degrees out with 100% humidity. Why do I live here again? It was so hot I turned down having a beer. It was so hot Mr. Taylor's toupee curled. Ba-da-boom.

Bob Mould gave the festival a much needed jolt of energy. It was just him and his electric guitar and he tore it up. It was very impressive (especially considering how hot it was). He was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. I would imagine he was very moist.

We saw quite a few people we know (of the non-blogging orientation). I have to admit I'm not sure what a lot of the local bloggers look like. I hear there were quite a few there. We did see Clickboo during Bob's set.

We left after that cuz I began to melt. Also, a drag queen wearing an American flag dress started screeching the national anthem. My ears hurt so bad I needed a Vicodin. Ba-da-boom.

Here is my hand holding proof, people. Try not to stare too long at that woman's boobies.

Seriously, stop looking. Pig.

Posted by durban bud at 08:54 AM | Comments (4)

June 09, 2005

Hold My Hand Day

So this weekend is Gay Pride here in DC or, as Rob likes to call it, the One Day Out of the Year That He Will Hold My Hand in Public Day. I'm just not a big hand holder. I think it goes along with my fear of being held down. I just don't like not being able to move about freely. I would make a terrible Siamese Twin. Okay, maybe that's a lame excuse. Maybe I'm really afraid of some truck driver from Laurel throwing a rock at me. I don't know. Just not big on the PDA (unless, of course, someone serves me some blue "kool-aid." Then I will most likely make love to you in front of everyone).

I do hold his hand from time to time. It's just kinda rare (like spotting Big Foot or the Loch Ness Monster. You may need a picture to prove it). Doesn't mean I'm not affectionate. I am. Just not in public so much. I'm a teddy bear behind closed doors. ;-)

Of course, when we first started dating I would hold his hand. That adreneline rush numbs any inhibitions. I think a lot of people do this initially to say to their friends and neighbors, "Look what I bagged. Not bad, huh?"

We all get giddy in the beginning of a budding romance. Sometimes too giddy (yeah, I'm talking to you, Mr. Cruise). It is a great feeling though when you really like someone and your excited and nervous to be around them and you have no idea what the future holds.

I met Rob about a year before we started dating. He was a co-worker of the anti-christ a guy that I was dating at the time. Rob was also in a relationship. With a woman! Stop laughing. No really, stop. Shortly thereafter, Rob came out of the closet. I remember thinking, "Wow, he's really cute and seems very nice. I wish I could show him the ropes of the gay world (like I was any expert) instead of Satan my boyfriend." Not that my ex was a bad person 666 is the number of the beast, I just felt that he might make the gay world look slightly less appealing. Luckily, we broke up. Ugh, that was a bad time and really bad year.

I was talking to my shrink and he asked me to define my ideal "type" of guy. I said, "Rob." He asked, "Well, why don't you ask him out?" And I explained, "That would be impossible because he works with Lucifer my ex." He basically told me that was a silly excuse because we were no longer together. It didn't matter. I was too shy to do anything about it anyway. Plus, I found out Rob was dating someone.

That summer, I went to Amsterdam for school. (You can read all about that wild excursion in my Hash Pipe entry). When I returned, I ran into Rob at some bar. We spoke for a long time. He was telling me that he had just spent a lot of time in Amsterdam and his Dutch friend was coming into town to stay with him for a few weeks. Odd timing. He also told me that he was single again.

About a week later, I saw Rob, his Dutch friend Bas, and another friend walking down the street. I was walking back from getting my hair cut and looked fabulous! Good timing. They asked where I was going to be later. I told them I would be at my usual hang out and they should stop by later.

It was a restaurant/bar on 17th Street where you could usually find me sitting at the bar. I was very friendly with the bartender. Straight guy too. Very cute. I used to make mix tapes and he would always play them and give me free beer. Now that I think about it, I was like the gay Norm. Yikes. Anyway, it wasn't necessarily a gay bar but since it was on 17th Street it got quite a bit of traffic from the homosexuals.

About 11:30 that night, I got a visit from Rob and his 2 friends at the bar. I was so excited and surprised. I started bubbling in my panties. They pulled up a stool and we shot the shit for awhile. Rob excused himself to the bathroom and I asked his friend if he thought Rob might be interested in "joining me for coffee." Isn't that what everyone says? His friend gave me this look like, "Ohh, yeah" and he started to shake his head up and down. Score!

Rob came back and I made my move. "Would you like to join me for a spot o' tea or perhaps a quick shag?" I said in a British accent. Okay, I didn't really say that but it was something like that except for the shag part. He said, "Yes." Double score!

We exchanged numbers and Rob walked me back to my apartment. We went inside and just talked for about 20 more minutes. Seriously, that's all we did. It was about 3:00 am so I walked him outside and gave him a quick little peck and said goodbye. I watched him walk away until I couldn't see him anymore. I had this enormous feeling of giddiness. Then I realized I made a huge mistake.

I turned around and grabbed the front door handle. It was locked. Fuckin' A. It was 3 in the morning. I had no shoes on. There was no way I could get back in. The only other people with a key were the family upstairs and there was no way I was going to scare the shit out of them at 3 in the morning. I had already done that a few weeks earlier but that's a whole other story. I couldn't walk anywhere without shoes. Well, I probably could but I didn't want to start any stories about this night-time Jesus prowling the DC streets. Everything was closed anyway.

It didn't matter though. I was so happy. And exhilarated. Nothing could make me lose this feeling. I took a deep breath and laid down on the walkway by my apartment. Nothing else I could do. It was shaded by some bushes so no one could see me. I curled up in a ball and rested my head on the grass and fell asleep. I slept so well that night. And have ever since.*

So this weekend, the most joyous of all gay holidays, I will hold my little butt muffin's partner's hand proudly. And I will take a picture to prove it.

-
-
-

*Sometimes I do need an Ambien or two.

Posted by durban bud at 03:47 PM | Comments (10)

May 31, 2005

I Heart Ira

Rob and I don't usually go out and "par-tay" anymore. We went through our clubbing phase and what-not years ago. It was a fun time but it got old after awhile. Plus, it definitely takes its toll on the body. On weekends you can usually find the two of us at home, watching HGTV (not my choice but Rob won't watch 'Forensic Files' or as he calls them "death shows"), grooming each other's chest hair and going to bed by 9:00pm. This past holiday weekend we let loose at the beach like we were the Hilton Sisters or Tommy Lee or Lindsay Lohan or Todd Elmer. Luckily, we do not do this on a regular basis.

We drove up to Rehoboth Friday evening with the Debster. Since she is a lesbian and the vehicle was a large SUV, she drove. Saturday morning Rob and I realized we forgot to pack underwear. Great. We thought it was a good idea to buy some so as not to scare the kids. We go to one of those nice fancy-schmancy gay clothing stores. Rob buys a shirt. I get a baseball cap (of course) and we pick up a pair of boxer-briefs. It was a brand I had never heard of but I figure they're all the same. Get home. Shower. Put on my new pair of pretentious panties and realize they are awfully skimpy and...uh...tight. I'm not a fan of briefs and these kind of resembled them. Whatever. Nothing I can do. No one will see them anyway.

I noticed some sort of string with a loop attached to it in the front part inside the underwear. Hmmmm. What could this possibly be for? I thought maybe it was to hold your penis down if you wanted it to lay a particular way. I don't know. I'm not very bright. I show it to Rob who is suddenly an expert on naughtiness and he's like, "That's a cock ring." What? You've got to be kidding me. Rob informs me that guys like to use it so it makes their package look bigger. Wha-wha-what? Oh my god. I vomited. You mean I bought stripper underwear? Indeed, I had. Ew.

Besides the underwear drama, Saturday was pretty low-key. It was overcast so we did some shopping and walking around. Later in the evening we decided to hit the Blue Moon for some drinks and socializing and maybe a li'l flirting. Met tons of people. Some guy kept buying us shots (yes, it really did feel like we were 22 again). Had a crazy fun time.

Ira insisted on going to some "White Party" that night. Rob and I refused to go. He bought some fancy white clothes just for the event. I took a picture of him before he went which you can see below. You can also listen to Ira's welcome message.

Sunday we all went to the beach. Hung out there for a few hours. Gorgeous weather. Tons of people.

The night before we were given an invite to a Bear-like house party tea dance thingie. I thought, wow this has got to be interesting and dangerous. We all decided to go (me, Rob, Shawn, and Ricardo Montalban Ira).

We arrive. The house was huge and beautiful. Everyone is very friendly. People are scantily clad. Oh no. They are serving kool-aid like drinks. Oh no again. Like Maya Angelou always says, "When someone tells you to beware of the blue colored kool-aid drink cause it's very potent, believe them...the first time."

Two hours later we are naked in a hot tub. Dear god. I look around and realize I'm in the movie "Caligula." Oh no. Time to go.

We left and went to some bar (cuz apparently we had to have more to drink). Had a good time. Went back to the house and I tried to get Bob to perform Cher's "The Shoop Shoop Song" accapella but he refused. It would have been so punk rock. I would have even played the triangle but he still said no. Whatever. Next time. Buy his CD here. In fact, buy two.

Ira took some pictures at the party. Apparently, I like to kiss people when I am photographed. This is also evident in the first picture on my "About" page. Not sure why. I realize I kiss too much. I will work on this. I may post some of these pictures from the tea dance but there are some I can't for legal reasons. ;-)

For some reason Ira took about 20 pictures of me and the infamous Clickboo (who I finally met). Nothing scandalous. Normal pictures. Good guy.

It was a wonderful weekend with wonderful people and I cannot wait to go back. Ira is a gracious host and I love him. And next time I will not forget my underwear.

Click here to listen to Ira's welcome message (this is a wav file. doesn't always work, sorry. bad recording. piece of shit).

Posted by durban bud at 08:41 AM | Comments (11)

May 18, 2005

Hash Pipe

Wanna hear somethin' funny? I studied for a summer in Amsterdam and got college credit for it. AU offered a study abroad program through the University of Amsterdam called "Sexuality & Culture in Society." Are you still laughing?

I was walking aimlessly around campus one day, and saw this little brochure posted to a wall that mentioned the program. I thought, hmmmm, I could go to Europe for the first time (more importantly, Amsterdam), get credits towards my degree AND have my parents PAY for it? Where do I sign up!?!

I scheduled an appointment with the head of the anthropology department (who the program was really meant for) to express my interest. He was a nice guy. I knew he was gay so I tried to work it (so I put my thang down, flip it and reverse it). He made sure to mention that if my motives to attend were for fucking and getting high (his exact words) that I should just forget it; this was serious study. Of course, sir. I wouldn't think otherwise. I found out later (after we became friends and went to leather bars together) that he thought I was some obnoxious frat boy. I could understand the obnoxious part but a frat boy! That's funny. Must be those baseball caps I'm always wearing. Men who wear baseball caps are routinely misjudged. I'm gonna start an awareness organization. Anyway, I had to apply to get into the program. I did and a few weeks later got my acceptance notice.

It was kind of a scary experience for me once it sunk in that I was going. I had never been to Europe. I didn't know a single person in the program. I didn't speak a foreign language. I had no idea what to expect.

The whole drug thing wasn't a big lure for me. I really wasn't that into pot. I always ended up coughing my brains out. I couldn't figure out what the big deal was. I also still kinda felt the stigma of drugs as a big no-no. I used to be very anti-drug (stop laughing).

Fast forward, I get there, take the tram to my temporary apartment, meet the professors, meet the students, get my class silly-bus and let the games begin.

I felt kinda weird though; I was not an anthropology major and most of these people were graduate students, so I got a few "what does HE think he is doing here" stares. I was surprised there were only about 25 students in the whole program. They were also mostly from different schools (only a few of us were from AU) but it was nice to see some foreign students in the program as well.

It was crazy fun though. We did tons of field trips (sex change clinics, condom stores, gay history tours, etc) and heard from some of the most unique people (sex workers, transsexuals, women who refer to themselves as "boys," etc).

Some of the difficult class assignments involved comparing and contrasting sex shops. A couple classmates and I took our notebooks to the Red Light District to do some serious research. It was very interesting; this store has a lot of scat videos; this one does not. This one has a lot of woman on dog videos; this one does not. This one has sounds; so does this one!

Each school day would usually close with a party involving lots of beer. I remember stumbling through the streets of Amsterdam with a straight Italia