While a friend who may or may be my roommate lost both her half and whole virginity in a car, until last night I’d yet to even make out in a vehicle, stationary or otherwise.

“This is you?”
“This is me.”

Open, open.
Shut, shut.
Buckle up.

Glance over,
grin,
annnd -
we’re

“Two men kissing in West Hollywood,” Sid36 smirked as a lone civilian strolled past his Civic.

“Fancy boy that.” I ensnared his lips in mine once again.

Despite the ease in his groping of my bulge that satin dodgeball shorts indulged, the most titillating public display occurred on the way from the bar to his car.

Is he – I watched him begin to unzip his hoodie. Is he gonna give my his JACKET?

“You don’t have to do that.” He slipped the cozy cotton over my shoulders. “You’re only wearing a T-shirt, too.”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but I’m going to fuck you first.”

“Oh – that’s right.” I snuggled into his sweatshirt and the crook of his arm.

It may not have been a letterman’s jacket, and the pinning he had in mind for our future was more of a salacious innuendo than a traditional declaration of commitment, but in terms of referring to a state of mind so tangible it’s almost a physical destination – I was most certainly in Pleasantville.

And you can relax, mom, we’ve yet to penetrate the Bonertown border. That’s still a few dates up the thighway.

Filed Under: fucking and the lick, gay high school, mad rhymes yo, mortifying my momma, poetry of the penis, West Hollywood by JJ
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Ultimately, I decided

was more illustrative than

“…Sexy, [Worn Ebonized Beech on Alder hued], and statuesque is but one of my many preferred sex partner genres.”

Filed Under: by JJ
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Yesterday, less than 24 hours after House Democrats passed a landmark Senate bill on healthcare reform, a dodgeball to the head thrust my friend’s skull into a cement wall and, subsequently, the system.

“I am FREAKING out,” I stage whispered to my roommate. “Maybe not so much as Liana, but still -”

“Relax, dude.” My roommate’s calm did little to appease my malaise.

Green – not from inexperience with head trauma or the Emergency Room, but a different brand of Californian medicine – as we were, an awareness of my own mortality loomed large and magnified as we sat in wait outside of triage.

Oh my Gawd. Oh my Gawd. “Oh my GAWD,” luckily I remembered a recent revelation, a welcome distraction. “Can you believe that about Lyon?”

“Oh – oh – we’re – we’re gonna talk about this – now?” Snarkily, as is usual, my roommate caught herself up. “Oh – okay.”

“He is BEAUTIFUL!” I dropped my voice as she raised her eyebrows in warning. “Those arms in that tank top, tonight. That face! UH – oh!” I giggled. “Who would have thought, though, as rampantly productive as my romantic life has been, that’d I start crushin’ on a straight boy again?”

Who, but everyone.

Lusting after the unattainable is as basic a human emotion as healthcare is a need. Let us accept the facts and move forward as best we know we should. It was capitalist greed standing in the way of the recent bill and if we the people can rally together and conquer such a previously insurmountable force, then we the individuals can get out of our own ways and reform our interpersonal lives.

Serendipitously for Liana, she’s got a prescription for (trademarked brand) Vicodin to ease herself into the transition.

Filed Under: adult recess, Let's get political - political. by JJ
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The upwards-of-30 crowd seems to be as mad for me as t(w)eenage girls, closeted gays, and sexually repressed housewives are for Edward Cullen.

Sid36 wants to take me for a ride – on his motorcycle. The pouch of gold at the end of my foray into celebrating St. Patty’s Day in a raucous way is playing it cool, but the texts are still coming. Even my first and most dapper dabble into this age bracket has come back into my inbox, ’s in tow.

There was a point during my first year in Los Angeles in which I believed the apparent absence of appreciation by anyone else born during the Reagan administration implied a lack of physical desirability. I felt like the awkward girl in (gay high) school, the one whom the boys wouldn’t regret overlooking until they grew up and realized intelligence is sexy and nerds make the best people. Increased involvement with more of my homosexual peers and West Hollywood assmates has proven that to be a bit of a blanket statement, a reaction to the plague of low self-esteem for which we ourselves are almost solely responsible. No longer riddled with social small pox, blinded by the resulting corneal ulceration that is insecurity, I also see that, as my friend Megan recently texted me, “Gah, older men [really] r so sexy!!”

Even more alluring, though, is an ageless spirit. You’re only as young as you feel, not who you feel up. Despite the air of vapidity and the plasticine face perceived by many non-residents, an eternally youthful exterior is not what most Los Angelenos are after so much as enough time to fulfill our dreams.

Filed Under: dating, gay high school, Los Angeles, pursuit of *ME*, West Hollywood by JJ
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Don’t have it. Ever. Just don’t, or you WILL end up on People’s Court or the subject of a Lifetime Original Movie when you’re jilted baby mama or daddy sues you for alimony and/or butchers your second spouse or significant other with a pick axe after your shared mistake of a child expresses more affection for the replacement ‘rent than he or she biologically responsible for the mouthy little human pawn.

Gays, don’t think you’re homo free. Heterosexuals aren’t the only people crazy enough to puncture a condom. Plus, pregnancy is daunting, positive is deadly.

Just – say – NO, to the ho you already let go.

Filed Under: Wis(e ass)dom by JJ
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