Give a gay a muffin…
And he’ll spend the rest of the day bitching about how he feels as fat as a moose.
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If These Wrappers Could Talk.
Dear burger, fries, and milkshake from last night,
Tell no one what happened between us after I left the bar. Especially not my gut nor my wallet. Okay? Thanks…
Callmethisweekend!
PG-I’m not 13 anymore.
When I was on the school basketball team in 8th grade, we were all mortified to wear the mandated short shorts that were part of our decades old uniform. Most of us spent more time tugging awkwardly at the hem than we did paying attention to anything else that was happening on the court. Nowagays, however, I would KILL – or at least maim another queen – for those radically retro polyester hot pants.
Such crimes of fassion might be an exaggeration. But like many a homosexual, I leap at any chance I get to flaunt the gams and glutes I weight train so hard to maintain. Thus, in the anticipation of attending my first big gay pool party next weekend, I treated myself to a new, West Hollywood worthy (read: NC-17) swimsuit.
A far cry of “Heeey girl!” from the board shorts I brought with me when I moved to Los Angeles from the Midwest, two years ago.
Unfortunately, I will once again have to drown my sensuality in that excess of water-repellent fabric when I head home to my family’s lakeside compound later this summer. They all love me and support my lifestyle; but regardless of sexual orientation, most anyone is sure to balk at the omnipresent sight of their kin’s bubble butt cheeks, the bottoms of mine which can NOT be contained by my recently acquired second skin.
Well, I guess it could. But only at the expense of exposing my crack. And that – would just be plain distasteful.
You know how everyone else knows I’m gay, now? 1:2
I’m still at the gym 30 minutes before I need to leave for a party on a Saturday night. Damn us gays and our high expectations for one another’s fitness. It might amp up our sex lives, but it really cuts into our public debauchery.
At least we’re more likely to live longer, healthier lives. I guess we can be thankful for that. And maybe our people will become less judgmental the closer we get to being able to retire to a life of leisure in Palm Springs.
Although, for many – that maybe is likely to be as thin as the head to toe linen in which we are all sure to bedizen ourselves.
You know how everyone else knows I’m gay, now? 1:1
Why shower it off? I was going to get sweaty anyways. Just a shame it was via a less intimate Downward-Facing Dog than I’d hoped to be doing the morning after hitting West Hollywood’s favored Friday night dance event.
