And We're BACK!

And what a long, strange trip it's been.

We (Bigmouth, that is) are back in the United States. Finally. And it's good to be back. Our first night back in the city we went to the Phoenix, saw two people we've slept with, had a few $2 pints, and pimped our roommate out to someone nearly twice his age.

Not much to say because we figure most of you are out of the office by now, but we came across this article about gay reparations in Spain, which we think you should read because it's interesting and gives you some insight into what's going on with gays in the country where we have been living.

More next week, when we have more time. But expect big things from your friends at Fagats in the New Year. After all, we expect a lot from YOU.

We Could Do Things Like "Go For a Run" or "Read a Book," But Doing Less Productive Things and Then Making Lists About It Seems Much More Fun...

In case you were curious, here's what we've been doing during the past 36 hours here in the "First in Flight" state:

1. Watched 4 back-to-back episodes of The Dog Whisperer.

2. Listened to our entire 28 song-long "melancholy" playlist while staring at the ceiling.

3. Made a power point presentation with pictures of all the people we know (slash stalk) at school next to pictures of who is playing them in the movie musical that LL and I are writing.

4. Read about the gay serial rapist in Texas.

5. Had half a slice of pizza and 2 quarts of sweet tea for lunch.

6. Spent three hours at the movie theater staring at Matt Damon and wishing we were in Skull and Bones so we too could mud wrestle nekkid.

7. Performed "One Night Only" (Both the Effie and Disco versions) and "I Am Changing" on the second floor ledge overlooking the living room when no one was home.

8. Rearranged our "featured friends" on friendster no less than 9 times.

9. IMed with FHC explaining to him why he was not a "featured friend."


Yes, we too are praying for Bigmouth's safe return.

Do Those Civil War Re-enactments Still Happen? Maybe We Can Dress Up And Take Advantage of the Pre Don't Ask Don't Tell Days...

Sorry for the week off, but Christmas can be a busy time, even for us pagans and idol worshippers.

We're headed to our parents' new home in the North Carolina today. Yes people, the SOUTH. We're taking about a town where "So what church do y'all go to" is the first question your new neighbors ask when they bring you a pie. (We mean, at least they bring you a pie, all we got when we moved to the Upper East Side was a request to not sing so loud and questions like "why did your sister move to Chelsea and you move here?" as they eyed our Paul Smith shoes).

Our mom asked us to figure out some things to do over the next nine days so we aren't bored to tears. Drag our sister to the gay bar(s)? Engage in a door-to-door goodwill tour trying to bridge the blue state-red state divide? Change our friendster location and attempt to date the local(s)? Find John Edwards and tell him to stop mass e-mailing us?

The answer is unclear, but at least we have 90210 season one on DVD to keep us occupied for the next 36 hours. So expect another pointless post around the time Andrea uncomfortably offers herself to Brandon as a going away gift. (Yeah we tried that too once, it REALLY doesn't work). Also, if anyone has heard from Bigmouth, please let us know.

It's A World Of Laughter, A World Of Tears. It's a World Of Hopes And A World Of Queers.

So on Sunday night we went to OverKitsch at the Queen in Paris. It's a big gay party with lots of soul-crushing-but-heavenly music like the dance remix of "Beautiful" by Christina Aguilera. We showed up with two friends, and then shortly afterward someone we we have slept once or twice with made an appearance. This was not so surprising, as this boy lives in Paris.

But THEN, a boy who we once tried to sleep with from the United States randomly showed up. On the arm of a boy who used to sleep with FHC.

We know the gays always talk about how it's a small world. So we won't go on and on. Except to say that if any of you start getting an itchy brown rash on your neck, even though this whole year you've only slept with that one-eyed Jew from Madagascar, it might still be our fault.

And In Other News, The FAGAT Guide's 'Person of the Year' is a tie between Britney's Vag and The Arizona Voter...

For the first time since the tradition started in 1927, a homosexual has been named Time Magazine's Person of the Year. (Unless Hitler and the Ayatollah Khomeini were gay. Were they?).

Time's Person of the Year for 2006 is you.

The magazine has put a mirror on the cover of its "Person of the Year" issue, released on Monday, "because it literally reflects the idea that you, not us, are transforming the Information Age."

We just read about the Time - Warner merger for our corporations class (someone please help us) and how Time sought a partner that would allow it to "keep its journalistic integrity." Looks like that didn't work out too well.

They Forget To Tell Us How Many Hours Of The Year We Spend Blogging About Really Important Issues...

So the Census Bureau released its 2007 statistical abstract, telling us that Americans spend a lot of time in front of the TV (64 days of the year) (um...we are still on season 1 of grey's on netflix), poop a lot (about 4.4 pounds per day, up from 3.7 pounds in 1980) (that sounds about right), and are getting fatter ("the fattest inhabitants of the planet") (that was way harsh Tai). But at least we are getting taller.

Also, "for the first time, the abstract quantifies same-sex sexual contacts." Apparently, 6 percent of men and 11.2 percent of women say they have had these "contacts." Whether this means a drunk game of Twister or a drunk game of making eyes at each other on the dance floor, going home together, and then having a lifetime of awkward encounters around Manhattan, we don't know, but we can say that we have not seen any members of the 6% in the last few days as they rarely make it to this corner of the law library.

We also like how in 1970, 79 percent of college freshman said their goal was "developing a meaningful philosophy of life," as opposed to in 2005, where 75 percent said "their primary objective was to be financially very well off." Sounds like the kids are getting better at being able to say coherent and logical things despite being incredibly, incredibly stoned.

Shame, Regret and More Than A Little Bit Of Wonder About The Absurd Person We Used To Be.

Not much time to blog today, but did anybody else notice that the Republicans are going after Mass. Govervor Mitt Romney for not being anti-gay ENOUGH? This is a guy who has not shut up about the Mass. Supreme Court ruling for one week in the last few months. And the rightest side of the GOP is saying he isn´t hardline enough to make it through the presidential primaries.

We´re not banking on the fact that these people have any sense of self-reflection, but in 20 years if they are still alive, we don´t know how they will be able to look back on all the superfluous intolerance they promoted in these years. How will they be able to defend their so-called spiritual and emotional reactions to this issue?

We imagine they will feel sort of the way we do when we think of the profound emotional response that used to be inspired in us by The World of David the Gnome.

People In The Library Can See Us Searching The Internet For Soft Porn Right Now and It Is Really Embarrassing. Oh The Things We Do For You People...

No time to blog today since we have to "study," but LL told us that we don't post enough pictures of near naked men anymore, so here goes.

Forget about whether a woman or black man will become the next prez for a minute, and instead focus on this very important election. We will be campaigning for this young man:


It's mostly because of that Hindi script tattooed on his right arm. It translates roughly as, "condoms made according to international sizes don't fit me either, so I just use this guitar instead."

And As Joan Yelled To Christina, "THIS IS JUST WONDERFUL!!!"

Not only are we a transfer at this school and so already presumptively sub-par, but now this:

A survey of more than 1,000 men in India has concluded that condoms made according to international sizes are too large for a majority of Indian men.

What we lack in size we make up for in knowledge about Dell computers. And we never try and overcompensate for our lack of size with humor.

We're Already Starting Production On The Made For TV Movie Based On This, Starring Richard Dreyfus, Camryn Manheim, And Rosie...

VP: Get your hand off my daughter's ass Martina, this is the WHITE HOUSE.

Mary: Her name is Heather, Dad.

VP: Yeah, whatever, let's get this shit show press conference started. God damn lessies gettin' preggers. HOW DOES THAT EVEN WORK?? Don't even tell me there were turkey basters involved.

Heather: We are not disclosing the identity of the father of this child, or how Mary became preggers. Besides, I believe....

VP: Oh pipe down Billie Jean. AND GET YOUR HAND OFF HER ASS before I shoot you in the face. I've done it before people, let's remember that.

Mary: Dad!

VP: I can only say thank the good Lord you didn't announce this thing before the midterms, we might have lost.

Heather: You did lose, Dick.

VP: For the love of God Ellen, do you want me to have another heart attack? THIS IS THE WHITE HOUSE. I will ship your Indigo Girl sized ass off to Gitmo, I swear.

Heather: Also, maybe we shouldn't go out there all wearing the same exact thing, especially since our body types are so similar...

VP: "Looking forward with eager anticipation to the arrival of our sixth..." Who in holy hell wrote this crap? Wait, I have 5 grandkids?

Mary: Dad, can we talk about what kind of controversy we can expect over this, considering we live in Virginia where no rights are granted to same sex couples or their kids, and that our party supports writing discrimination against us into the Constitution?

VP: You didn't seem to mind all this when you were campaigning for BUSH/CHENEY 2004, the BEST GOD DAMN CAMPAIGN EVER! WHOO HOO WE WON! THE TERRORISTS LOST!!

Mary: But I did mind, you convinced me to stay with the campaign for other important national reasons.

VP: SUCKER!!!! Heh heh heh.

Heather: Oh Christ, I'm out of here.

Mary: Dad, did you tell the President about this? What did he say?

VP: He asked if you two were going to get married before the child was born. You know, so it ain't, what are they calling it these days, "illegitimate."

Mary: (blank stare)

VP: What?

Whatever Happened To The Days When A Breakup Merely Involved You, A Bottle Of Vodka, Tissues, And Endless 30-Second Preview Clips Of Internet Porn?

An interesting email just crossed our inbox, forwarded from a friend. It was a breakup announcement.

It came in the form of an attachment, and was designed like a "Save The Date" notice. It included a jpeg of the unhappy couple in pleasanter times, and the text:

"Mssrs. [Redacted] and [Redacted]

Regretfully announce their

Disassociation.


Following eight years of life shared together
the gentlemen have severed the bonds
of their previous relationship and
presently live separate and apart."

The email included their new mailing addresses, which we assume was the purpose of the notice. Is this what's expected now? Can we no longer dump the bastard without having to buy stationary? Are we wrong to think this is ridiculous?

We can only imagine what's next. The Breakup Announcement with the letter insert, like your mom insisted upon including with your family Christmas cards in the mid-nineties. Except instead of "Chad made high honors and is applying to Northwestern!" we'll be treated to chipper notes in Verdana font telling us, "If it wasn't for the staph infection, we may have made it a few more months. But when we both got tested and only he had chlamydia, then we knew it was the end. :-) "

Oh, Chad. We always knew it would end this way...

Have You Ever Noticed How Balthazar Is Always Painted Behind The Others? We Wonder If He Had To Ride At The Rear Of The King Caravan, As Well...

We know, dear readers, that ever since we departed from Spain you have been unable to sleep at night from worry and loss. We can just picture you tossing and turning in your blue plaid Banana Republic pajama bottoms, kicking loose the sweaty Nautica duvet cover you bought from Bed Bath & Beyond with the gift certificate your parents got you for Christmas for two years ago. Occasionally, you might accidentally wake up the barista you took home that night, the one with black hair and blue eyes whose arms looked so good making your Pumpkin Spice Latte. Because neither of you can sleep, you reach around and start…

Oh, sorry. We got a little carried away.

What we meant to say is, we will return to America just before the New Year, after which you can expect more frequent (and less extraneous) posts. Until then, we will do our best. We are doing a lot of traveling between now and January and may have difficult giving your something catty and inappropriate every day. We apologize in advance.

And for now we leave you with a Christmas joke from Fagats co-worker-slash-joke-supplier-in-chief, Hugh, in honor of this holy season. It’s not actually that funny, but it helps if you remember that in Spain, the Reyes Magos are wizard kings who bring children presents, instead of Santa Claus, which we think is SUPER:

The three wizard kings came to visit Jesus in the manger in Bethlehem a few days after his birth, having followed a great shining star. The manger was lit only by a few candles, and the glow of the great star above piercing its thatched roof. As Balthazar, Melchior and Gaspar stooped to see the child, Balthazar slammed his turbaned head into a support beam.

“Jesus Christ!” he yelped.

“Write that down,” Mary said to Joseph, quickly. “It’s better than Derek.”

This Post Is Serious Y'all!

We can't do fancy screen captures or anything, but has anyone else noticed that on the "Inside NYTimes.com" bar on the NYTimes homepage where they highlight articles with a row of square pictures, there is the (rather sad and scary) article from this Sunday's regular Magazine about gays being persecuted and attacked in Egypt and other Arab counties, but that above the picture of gays being rounded up, blindfolded, and led to jail so that they can be tortured, the Times people have put the "T: Style" link to the Style Magazine instead of the regular "Magazine" link, making it seem as if the article was in fact in the T: Style magazine? We often joke about how all things gay at the Times go into the paper's styles sections regardless of seriousness of issue, but this may be taking things too far.

But you know what pisses us off A LOT more than perhaps a careless error like this by the Times? Maybe the fact that gays are violently persecuted in Arab countries, less for religious or cultural reasons and more for political gain and sheer personal benefit. As backward as America sometimes is, and as often as gays are used for political gain, we still do have plenty of reasons to cry when "Proud to be an American" comes on the radio.

We Really Hope These People Aren't Waiting Around Forevs Cause A Strapless Vera Wang On Saggy T*ts Is Not Good For Anyone...

First it was Charlize Theron and Stuart Townsend, then Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, and now, brace yourselves, Mary Lunetta and Max Hartman have joined the "we'll wait until the gays can marry" movement that is growing among celebs and college couples across the nation.

But seriously folks, this is a nice article about gayllies and alliesbians who are outspoken and committed to delaying the walk down the aisle to the chupa until everyone who wants to join the institution of marriage is legally able to do so. This is a serious choice, given that they're giving up such things as 1,138 federal rights and a registry at Crate & Barrel, just so they can point out the fact that other loving couples are legally barred from similar things. Also, getting profiled in an article in the Sunday Styles is way cooler than having your announcement in the back, even though, let's be truthful, the prospect of that announcement is really what keeps us engaged in the fight for marriage rights.

Many of the couples want to be vocal about their choice to hold off on marriage, and since not all of them can make a statement to US Weekly like Brad and Ange, they do it in other ways.

Referring to each other as “partner” usually helps avoid the misperception, but that can be tricky, too. When Ms. Augusto, the sociology graduate student, speaks of her partner, people ask if she’s a lesbian.

This reminds us of the time our college a cappella group was in New Zealand and we were invited to some nice homes, including the home of a super duper hottie with an adorable Kiwi accent who said, "My paaart-nur and I would love to host you all" at which point half of the all male group (yes, only half believe it or not) started jumping up and down uncontrollably giggling, only to start crying upon realizing that people in other parts of the world don't limit the term "partner" to the gays. So if this word picks up momentum, watch out people. Watch out.

This Is Why We Are So Glad That Doogie Came Out.

Because otherwise, daytime television would never get this astronomically gay.

(Thanks to our beloved LA Fagats correspondent for this clip...)

As For Rehoboth Beach, Though, Is It Possible To Be Up-And-Coming and Aging-And-Sun-Damaged At The Same Time?

The website www.gayghettos.com (who knew?) has come up with a list of up-and-coming new, well, gay ghettos. Obviously the founders of the site are cleverly just trying to corner the luxury online real estate ad market. After all, who wouldn´t want to target a wealthy minority as they peruse the web looking for places to overspend on up-and-coming neighborhoods? But who knows, it might be accurate.

The list is interesting for a few reasons, not the least of which because it includes Andersonville, the Chicago neighborhood where official Straight Fagat Brother, Bald Knob, lives with his girlfriend. (And, oddly, the South End in Boston, the former home of our mom´s ex boyfriend. Like we ever had a chance.)

But we must object to the inclusion of Hell´s Kitchen. Sure, some bargain-hunting gays live there, and yes, Therapy is nearby. But if HK is the future of gay life in the city, we may just move to South Second, WI. We´re no experts, but this is a neighborhood best known for its cramped sublets with fake walls, framed posters, second-hand futons, fake plants, and mismatching Ikea furniture. From what we can tell, the gays that live there are a bunch of double-denim-wearing, TKTS-stub-clutching, DEP-gel-using, Instinct-subscribing, chin-pube-sporting, RENT-soundtrack-(still)-singing, triple-finger-snapping members of Dolphin Fitness. Who couldn´t even get their shit together to live in the East Village.

If this is what´s up-and-coming in New York, we might as well be up and going.

Apologies To Towleroad For The Complete Ripoff Post

But as born-and-raised Mainers, we really didn't think Canadians were capable of sarcasm. We thought the pinnacle of their civilization was the day they learned to combine coconut oil and banana hammocks, and drive across the border. But hey, we're all about learning new things...

Their Eyes Were Watching Boys...

Some random Tuesday musings on the gay-gaze:

You know when you stare into the eyes of a cute straight man walking towards you a little too long, and in his head he thinks maybe he is supposed to know you ("cause why else would this person be staring at me so freakishly"), so he does that straight boy head nod thing as he finally passes you? Well this happened to us twice today with a boy in the libes who carries around a motorcycle helmet. It is very embarrassing slash one of the best parts of being a 'mo. It also constantly happens to us with another boy at school, whose profile we found on facebook (obvi) and accidentally had open one time as he walked passed us, so not only did we stare at him uncomfortably, but we had his shirtless pics from Spring Break 2005 in full view on our screen. The worst is when you finally get introduced to these people through some friend or event, and then you have to pretend that you don't know who they are but secretly you both know that some serious stare-stalking has occurred. This one boy has actually caught on that LL and us stare at him in the libes and when we walk by (it really isn't that hard to catch on, trust us - maybe the fact that we look at each other after we pass him and giggle uncontrollably gives it away), and now he gives us both a disapproving nod every time it happens.

Perhaps these people need a seminar to teach them the art of "I know you are staring at me, but I will pretend that I don't see and also pretend that my friend just said something funny because then you will think I am hotter" that gay men have learned to master. We'd be willing to teach this class since, although we are still waiting for an opportunity to practice this move, we have been around numerous times when Bigmouth has spontaneously thrown his head back laughing and touched our shoulder saying "Gosh, FW, that is so funny!" when in fact we had only been complaining about the club soda being flat.

Aren't You So Glad We Didn't Give You A Post Of Things We Are Thankful For on Thanksgiving?

Good. Because we're giving it to you the Monday afterward. We were drunk all day on the actual holiday. We'll make it fast.

Gay Things We Are Thankful For This 2006: The fact that we now have more television characters to represent us than just the queens on the Real World... Men who trim, but do not shave, their pubic hair... The fact that it's been nearly eight years since we have come face to face with a vagina... Our low personal moral threshold... Zara... The low moral threshold of oher gays... The fact that cute sneakers have replaced chunky brown shoes in the gay uniform... The way you can tell whether a boy is gay based on the way his t-shirt sleeve circles his arm... Halle Berry's boyfriend... The fact that we can wear a cute polo to any gay function at any level of formality... Gays who remember to work out muscles below their bellybuttons... We actually mean MUSCLES, you asshats... Who's Viewed Me... Casual sarcasm... You Tube... Dude Tube... Gays who still wear sleeveless tees... How else would we know which ones to avoid? ... Gays with naturally hairless asses... Any combination of Whitney Houston and Junior Vasquez... Hot subletters... Drunk fag hags... Queer animals... Getting cruised on the L train... Fangoria ... Boys who whimper... Fake glasses... The fact that we don't need real ones... Hot cops... Gay Jews... Scary Trannies... Calvin Klein cotton trunks... Ugly gays who overcompensate with humor and Prada... Gaysians who think muscles will actually make them masculine... Neil Patrick Harris and TR Knight... iPod shame... Ribbed For Her Pleasure... Merino crewnecks... The fact that we can again start playing Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" on repeat... Dykefinder.com... Friends' summer homes... The Only Broadway CD You'll Ever Need... The fact that everybody wants a gay at their wedding... One, by U2 and Mary J. Blige... The way the short ones are sometimes the best hung... The fact that no one ever suspects that the gay guy is the one who let rip that nasty fart...

We could go on and on, but we shouldn't forget the best one of all... our faithful faggy readers! May you never actually have anything to do at work!

Related: If You Are Still In The Closet Make Sure You Don't Download Sexy Back and Barbra's Duets...

In our effort to procrastinate even more than we normally do, we have taken to judging people based on their music collection. Whereas in the olden days this involved inviting yourself to a person's holiday party to actually see his CD collection, now we can judge from the comfort of our own seat in the law library. The Itunes "share my library on my local network" option allows us to judge judge judge. Not only can we see the entirety of said person's music library, but we can also see their "Top 25" and "Top Rated" lists. When the boy sitting across from you says he dates girls, it's nice to know your suspicion that he likes c*ck is right when you see "Gotta Get Through This" by Daniel Beddingfield as number one on his Top 25 list.

This activity gave us hours of joy (not to mention that we discovered some amazing Christina Aguilera songs we had never heard before), until we undertook some introspection and realized what we were listening to on a daily basis. When JoJo, a cappella, and songs from the Original Cast Recording of Les Miz are near the top of your recently played list, maybe it's time to go into Itunes hiding and unclick the "share option."

The lesson? We can still judge others without being judged ourselves. By still keeping the "look for shared libraries" option checked, we can laugh out loud at the boy next to us for his extensive electronica collection, knowing that he will never see just how many Dixie Chicks albums we have. We need to write a letter to Friendster about making the "whose viewed me" option more like this. It's the American way.

We Try To Be Our Gayest Self At All Times To Avoid Confusion, But Winter Coats And Cold Wind Messing Up Our Hair Sometimes Makes It Hard...

No time to do our usually meaningful and substantive post today, but we will leave you with a brief encounter we had last night at 1am as we were walking home from the subway stop with our coat collar popped and singing along to Mariah #1s (Vision of Love).

Two banker type men and a hot, sort of slutty, banker type blonde woman: Hey, do you know where Scores is?
FW: We're sorry, wha?
Them: Scores. Any idea where it is?
FW: No. But L'Occitane is one block that way. Great hand creme.

And Thus Arises The Age-Old Question: ...So Now Do We Have To Sleep With Him?

Amazing news. Our Spanish roommate came out to us! So you can understand the sequence of events in all their excruciating glory, here below is a transcript of what happened (This conversation was held in English. Normally we speak only in Spanish. This is important to note):

SPANISH ROOMMATE: So, Bigmouth, can I ask you a personal question?
BIGMOUTH: Of course (translation: Sweet. This is going to be good.)
SR: Do you think I am gay?
BM: (long pause) ...Yes?
SR: Okay.
BM: Why?
SR: Because I didn´t think you knew.
BM: (pause for shock) Oh, I knew. (translation: Obviously we had no clue.)
SR: Because I told you like four times and I didn´t think you understood.
BM: No, I did. (translation: DAMN YOU INADEQUATE LANGUAGE SKILLS!)
SR: Okay.

We can only imagine the conversations that took place when he tried to tell us before (because, obviously, we don´t know when they took place). They probably went something like this:

SR: (in Spanish) Bigmouth, I have something important to tell you. I don´t tell a lot of people but we´ve become close and I respect you so I want to trust you. You should know that I´m gay, and I´m just starting to become comfortable with it. Phew! What a relief to tell someone!
BM: (in Spanish) Oh! I´m so glad you said something! I thought I was the only person in the apartment. So you think the kitchen smells funny too?
SR: .... (silent tears of loneliness)

This Is Not To Say That Gala Dinners Are Not, In Themselves, A Service To Gays. We Do, After All, Cruise Best In Formal Attire.

Like many of you, we have always wondered what the Human Rights Campaign actually does with our money. Sure, we´ve been to the dinners (sometimes CELEBRITIES even go!), and we know they fund candidates. But what do they actually do (there are apparently 150 staffers) on, say, a Tuesday? Other than eat a pricey low-carb lunch on our dime, we mean.

But this article in the Washington Blade is a bit encouraging. You should all give it a read, if you have an HRC sticker anywhere in your house or on your car. Turns out they didn't to do that much in the past, really, but they're getting better. This paragraph in particular makes us hopeful:

"HRC IS ALSO beginning to show that it understands how to make alliances with other organizations. Examples are its work with Montana League of Rural Voters and Montana Conservation Voters and the joint efforts with Michigan Citizen Action, NOW and Planned Parenthood of Michigan. "

We think it's very smart for gay groups to ally with others whenever possible - and to engage in activities and charity projects that are not just motivated by self-interest. Queer Eye started the trend by sending out the message that gay people like to help other, less fortunate folk. As stupid as the show is, that was one positive thing it achieved (well, that and making us feel less stupid for having self-painted canvases as decoration in our bedroom).

We've always liked the HRC logo, because we hate rainbows, and it gets the point across very well. Equality is all we want, and deserve. Maybe by working with more local groups, they can make it more than just a symbol. Maybe, one day, when are driving on the highway and we see an HRC bumper sticker on a Jeep, we will feel pride and gratitude.

As opposed to now, when we just speed up to see if the dude driving it is a hottie.

We Hope Bigmouth Writes About Us When We Graduate From This Blog Or Our Name Will Never Appear In Boldface...

We got our college alumni magazine the other day and of course immediately turned to the class notes to see who is having more success in life than we are and is therefore deserving of being talked about incessantly behind his or her back. We almost barfed when we saw that 7 out of 9 paragraphs were about marriage or babies (um...if you haven't noticed we can't even take care of this blog, so...how are these people having children?). Instead of re-reading about the same marriages we already read about at some point in the Sunday Styles section, we decided to skip our class notes and look through older classes' notes to see by what age we had to actually be a productive member of society or in the alternative, a partner at a law firm.

But it was mostly more weddings, which we guess is really what these class notes are for. We were about to give up on life altogether, when we finally came across one announcement we kind of liked:

Liam C writes, "I had the happy honor of being a guest at Scott C's wedding - the UK government had a different term for it, 'civil partnership,' but wedding pretty much covers it - to Alex K, May 28, in what proved to be a particularly jolly old England. The government's official registrar tried to stay very official, but was moved to tears by the end of the event....Mr. C and Mr. K live in a lovely village/suburb of London in a lovely house (complete with a lovely garden cottage) and do things with computers that, to a novelist, at least, sound wildly complicated. Not so their happiness, which was plainly evident to all of us."

The best part? They are THIRTEEN YEARS older than we are. Based on the number of profile views we get a month, thirteen years from now 156 people will have viewed us on Friendster. If a husband, house and garden cottage don't emerge out of that pool, well, we guess there's always that productive member of society thing.

Hypothetical High Five!

We sort of really like the simplicity of this article by Miami Herald columnist Leonard Pitts, Jr. The thrust of his point is here:

"This all raises two questions. One: Between this [Ted Haggard], the late gay-bashing former Spokane mayor, James West, Pat Robertson biographer Mel White, and Michael Bussee and Gary Cooper, leaders in the "curing homosexuality" movement until they fell in love with one another, can't we now safely assume that any conservative who rants about the homosexual agenda is a lying hypocrite gayer than a Castro Street bar? And, two: Wouldn't you much rather be Neil Patrick Harris than Ted Haggard just now? In other words, wouldn't you rather be a content gay man living life to the fullest, than a gay hypocrite living lies to the fullest?"

We think the answer is pretty obvious. Because as you can see from above, Doogie's boyfriend is a HOTTIE.

And Then There Were Five.

Well, then. We were talking with a gay activist today about the conservative protest against the gay marriage law in Spain. It's in front of the country's Constitutional Tribunal (like our Supreme Court) right now. Here, the right wing Partido Popular wants to take the word "marriage" away from the gays, but leave them all the rights in a different law, outside of the constitution.

The man with whom we were speaking was Pedro Zerolo, the writer of Spain's equal marriage law, a government minister, and the man widely credited for making equality a reality here. On the suit in front of the Constitutional Tribunal, he said.

"There's a word for what they want. Separate rules for separate people. The word is: Apartheid."

Probably just the right word to be throwing out today:

NYTIMES - South African Parliament Approves Gay Marriages

This Is Definitely A Case For The Hardy Boys. Well, We Can Probably Figure It Out On Our Own. But We’ve Always Wanted To Hang Out With Them.

And by “Hang Out With,” clearly we mean “Get Two-Timed By.”

Following up on the theme of last week’s post about homoconfusion, we have something to discuss. It’s very important in our daily life, and we know you will find it extremely interesting.

We think our Spanish roommate is gay.

It’s been driving us and our two female roommates crazy for months. It’s like the fucking Westing Game - there are red herrings everywhere. On the one hand, he wears skimpy, aggressively colored underpants. On the other hand, he doesn’t own deodorant. He doesn’t have a girlfriend (super rare here), but he also doesn’t like pop music. And worst of all, he has neither tried to hook up with his hot single female roommate, Ashley H, nor his hot single male roommate, Big M. And yesterday, we saw that his computer desktop is a black and white picture of a shirtless male model. Wet.

And the thing is, we really shouldn’t care. But it’s just been forever since we’ve known someone very well and still not been sure whether he was gay or not. We’re riveted. Each new clue is discussed with rapt enthusiasm by the rest of us. He grabbed a girl’s boob! He grabbed a guy’s boob!! HE BOUGHT A HAIR PRODUCT FROM AMERICAN CREW.

We can just imagine, when gay literature becomes more mainstream, the adolescent mystery novels this exact issue will spawn. We spent so much time in our early teens obsessing over it. We’re imagining Edward Gorey cover illustrations, and a John Bellairs suspense plot inside. We can see it now… “The House With The Cock In Its Walls.”

Oh, har!

Massholes Do The Right Thing. Pretty Much.

We're at a little bit of a loss as to how to contemplate this story. The Massachusetts legislature dodged the question of whether to put gay marriage on the ballot yesterday, delaying to the point where it probably won't be able to get onto the 2008 ballots. Gay activists greeted this decision with cheers and tears of joy, and we completely understand that emotion. Committed gay couples will continue to be married if they so choose, and that's what we want in the end.

But by sidestepping the issue, the Legislature has left room for arch-conservatives like exiting Governor Mitt Romney to cloak their homophobia in constitutional rhetoric. "Today, by effectively avoiding the constitutionally required vote on same-sex marriage, 109 legislators disgraced their oath of office," Romney said. Read: "I don't like gay people and I never have, but now I have the perfect excuse to complain about gay marriage without being politically incorrect."

Still, we're not above a little sleight-of-hand when it comes to getting what we want in the end, and here's why: As this article eloquently points out, the more time that gay marriage is legal, the more good examples will exist of why it should be. Gay marriage is not like abortion, which will be argued over forever because of the way it was legalized in Roe v. Wade. As positive as our abortion policies may be, you'll never see a physical example of why abortion SHOULD be legal - by nature it's regulation that hinges on what is not there. But as time goes by in Massachusetts, we will have more and more evidence that it isn't harmful, and that it in fact helps people. Then, when the time comes that it does go on the ballot (and it will, despite how many Massachusetts gay activists were rejoicing yesterday), more people will have gay families living next door, or in play group, or on the PTA. There's no way, then, that they will get enough votes to make a change. Perhaps then, too, the examples created in Massachusetts will help neighboring states realize that gay marriage isn't so apocalyptic after all.

Regardless, conservative lawmakers in Massachusetts and around the country received rejections this week they won't soon forget. To them we say, hey, it could be worse. You could be Kevin Federline.

Nothing Like An Outed RNC Chair To Cause A Walk Down Memory Lane

Well. We don’t know what to think about Ken Mehlman. In the end, we sort of decided that he wasn’t gay, after he told us so. But here comes Bill Maher, ready to tell us we were all wrong. Isn’t it usually the straight guys who assume everyone is straight, and the gays who assume the opposite? Funny. (Our secret suspicion is that Maher knows Mehlman won't sue him for libel, so he's safe even if the guy is straight)

But anyway, as a celebration of whether or not Kenny is about to be outed, we thought we’d take a walk down memory lane, and recall our favorite moments of sexual confusion:

1) One of the best had to be during Senior year in college, on Halloween, when we unexpectedly found ourselves in the bed of a boy who had been straight throughout college (he had even just dumped a girlfriend the day before, and would reunite with her the day after). We were so surprised by the situation that we didn’t realize how drunk we were, and halfway through the evening’s activities, we left his room, claiming to have to go to the bathroom. Instead, though, we walked home, without shoes, socks, jacket, wallet or shirt. When we arrived, we barfed for hours.

2) Very high up on the list would also have to be, despite his protestations that he wasn’t gay, the time we kissed Fishwatch in a basement squash court. While we got in trouble for it at the time, it was one of the best things we ever did.

3) Then there’s the time when, as a camp counselor we got drunk (are we noticing a pattern here?) while leading a hiking trip of ten nine-year-olds on the Appalachian trail. While sleeping in a lean-to with the campers and some random thru-hikers, we were very surprised when the straight, Scottish head counselor deemed it necessary to perform a hypothermia drill with us in our sleeping bag.

4) And who could forget the time when Kevin Spacey told an ex of ours, confusing his reticence to hook up for actual heterosexuality, that “You don’t have to be a waterskier to waterski”?

5) And the best one would have to be the time that we, before thousands of television viewers would ask the same question, wondered whether this guy was gay. He was the first boy we hit on at college, and it went so poorly that soon after we hooked up with his female best friend as penance.

This could go on for pages. Anyone else have stories to share?

Breaking: Men Who Get Paid To Be Photographed With No Clothes On Are Usually Good Looking And Date Celebrities...

Thursday Styles has profiled Jamie Dornan today, Calvin Klein hottie and Kiera Knightly ex, and what we learn is:

“He’s like the male Kate Moss...His proportions are a little off. He has a slight build. He’s on the small side for male models. But his torso is long, and so he looks taller, and he brings a relaxed quality to modeling. He knows what he’s there for, but unlike a lot of people he’s not trying to be a male model. He is not modeling.”

That's so meta.

Do you think by "unlike a lot of people" they are referring to the NYC Gays who think they are male models because they have nice hair, a David Barton membership, and layer well? If so, y'all should take some advice and stop trying so hard. For example:



and,


See? Just being completely normal.

If The Day After Election Day Was A Holiday, We Feel Like The Traditional Drink Should Be Champagne.

We've been checking the web all day to monitor what's been happening in election, but our favorite moment so far was when we showed up at our tutor's house for Spanish class. Turns out Montana had elected a Democrat to the senate while we were in the subway, and our tutor greeted us at the door saying "The Democrats are going to win the Senate! The Democrats are going to win the Senate!" He was born and raised in Madrid. It's days like these, when Spanish people you see say "Congratulations" on the street that you remember people do believe in America, just not President Bush.

While we were encouraged by the Democratic success today, we were sad to see gay marriage struck down in so many states. But an encouraging thing, we thought, was that Arizona was the first state to refuse to enact a ban. Arizona Together, a very dedicated and well-funded pro-equal rights group, is to thank for that. They directed a great campaign focused on putting a face on the issue. Their ads all begin with sentences like "Meet Bob. If you vote for this amendment, this is what he will lose." They even encouraged gay people to have explanation parties, where they would invite friends and neighbors to ask questions about being gay. They reasoned if every gay person could convince two more people to vote against the ban, the ban would fail. And it did.

We're running out of time at this internet cafe in rainy Madrid, but for everyone who went out to vote yesterday, thanks. We're not the only ones over here who noticed.

Dems Win House, Pages Can Go Back to D.C. Feeling Safe and Secure...Except That The Terrorists Have Won.

The Election of 2006 Official Recap:

1. So the Dems have taken the House and maybe the Senate if Jim W can edge out the man who calls our people monkeys in Virginny. Also Rummy is dunzo. Nice job overall team. Nancy P managed to unplug herself from the wall socket to make an incomprehensible speech last night, but she could have been calling all minorities monkeys, we still would have been thrilled.

2. We also must confess that we are happy about the New York State Comptroller's race in which Alan H kept his position despite maybe not acting too Comptroller-ish by having state drivers drive around his wife. Our daddy took out the man's prostate a few years back, and obvi we got an internship out of it, so you can tell that we have strong convictions when it comes to State politics.

3. Arizona has (almost) rejected a same-sex marriage ban, and the margins on the 7 other states (though they passed) were smaller than expected. Though the first state of 28 that have voted on similar measures since 1998 to reject the ban, it is Arizona people, so give thanks. Maybe they realized straight people were doing enough damage to marriage as it is.

4. Deval P and Eliot S win their respective guvnor-ships, and both support marriage equality. If Eliot gets his way, we won't have to take the PATH train anymore to get whatever they're going to call it over there in Hoboken.

5. Most importantly, however, did Anderson stop eating? He looked really skinny last night. Maybe he has been hitting Equinox too often. (Call us Anderson!) Also, how he keeps a straight face when talking to Candy C is beyond us all. Ha ha. We just used "Anderson" and "straight" in the same sentence. (CALL US ANDERSON!)

We Do Have Gay Friends Here From America, France, Scotland and Uruguay. Just Not Spain. We’re Like The United Colors Of Fagetton.

Since we’ve come to Spain we’ve made a big effort to make Spanish friends. This has been slightly difficult, as since we entered prep school at the age of 14, we have never had to make a single new friend. It was all the same people from there to the Ivy League to New York. So we signed up on a website to start doing one-on-one language exchanges with Spaniards who wanted to practice their English. We in turn could practice our Spanish, and in the end, perhaps make new friends. And since we wanted to make gay pals who could show us all the fun Madrid places to go out, we put on our listing that we were gay, 25 and American.

Big mistake. We were immediately bombarded by emails from Spaniards of all ages. “How exciting,” we thought. “So many people want to practice their English and make new friends!” What we should have realized is that all foreign people know Americans are brain-dead sex maniacs. So when we said we wanted to practice our Spanish, they assumed that we wouldn’t be able to speak Spanish at all, and since we would have nothing to talk about, we’d be forced to go back to their parents’ place and wrap our ankles around their bedposts. (They all live with their parents, fyi.)

We’ve gone on exchange dates with six men so far. One of them lured us back to his place to have dinner and tried to dry hump us in the kitchen. One tried to get us drunk at lunch and take us back to his mom’s house for an afternoon quickie. And one, who was only 20 years old, took us salsa dancing and then proceeded to send us erotic text messages (in Spanish text-abbreviated slang) every day for a week.

This would be great if any of the guys were hot. But an inherent problem in the situation is that the type of guys who want to spend their free time practicing a foreign language with a stranger aren’t the type of guys who have hordes of potential boyfriends lined up. Present company excluded, of course.

So our next stop was to join, with a lesbian friend of ours (we have a LESBIAN FRIEND, PEOPLE), an expat gay social group. Of course, the group was made up entirely of elderly English and American gentlemen, waiting to prey on lonely younger boys. So that wasn’t working either.

So finally, we decided to try the oldest trick in the book. We got whored up, went to the gayest bar we could find, with the biggest cups, the most guys and the cheapest alcohol, and waited for people to talk to us. And they did. And what did we learn?

Spanish people are brain-dead sex maniacs, too.

If Only There Were Another Gay Star Who Is A Heartthrob On A Primetime Drama Who Could Come Out...

We know we’re a little late on this, but news travels slowly across the Atlantic (gay news especially, as it prefers to doggy paddle), and Doogie Howser isn’t that culturally important here to begin with (who knew?). But the recent coming out of Neil Patrick Harris provides a nice counterpoint to the crystal-meth-with-an-aging-hooker Ted Haggard mess.

Harris was one of New York’s gay characters that we loved to see around. Unlike a Graham Norton or Alan Cumming, who would show splashily up to any event with whatever young thing they were fucking at the time (or looking for the next one), Harris just went out occasionally with his friends. Or with his very cute, appropriately-aged boyfriend. Fishwatch and Bigmouth saw them together at a Christina Aguilera concert (though Fishwatch barely remembers because he met Tim Gunn at that party and since then life has all seemed a little black and white). We also remember sitting behind him and the boyfriend at Broadway Bares and watch them giggle at all the male strippers, along with the rest of us.

After we saw him at Broadway Bares, we teased him a little for being closeted. But it appears he never really did deny being gay, or at least not recently.

Obviously, a lot more stories like Haggard’s are going to make a lot bigger headlines than ones about slightly obscure sitcom stars (even if “How I Met Your Mother” is a genius show). But every one that there is to counterbalance gross, messy confusing ones like Haggard’s or Mark Foley’s is a step in the right direction. Because at the end of the day, Americans spend more time watching evening television, or listening to pop music, than they do worrying about the personal lives of politicians and religious leaders.

Over here in Spain, there are a lot of reasons why gay marriage has reached a 70% approval rating. But one of the factors that all of the activists we’ve interviewed have mentioned was the presence of gay characters on television. Popular soaps included gay storylines, and successful game show hosts came out of the closet. This made being gay seem a lot more normal and inoffensive for TV viewers.

We can only hope the US begins to follow in this tradition more (“Will and Grace’s” writers are crafting a new gay sitcom, we hear…). And not just for the cause of gay rights. Check out the host of the American version of “Deal or No Deal:”



Now check out Jesus Vasquez, the host of the Spanish version. He’s openly gay, and married:



Don’t try to think about it too much. It hurts.

We're Surprised This Isn't In the Thursday Styles Section...

The NYTimes DealBook has picked up on the gays on Wall Street thing, and found the perfect way to get the gays to read the post: posting a pic of a mysterious hottie. Apparently, he's the Credit Suisse "global equity derivatives and European equities head." Huh-huh. Head.

However, if we ran DealBook, we would have chosen other pictures to really emphasize the gay-ness. Maybe this one. Perhaps this is why we don't run DealBook. Also we have trouble with numbers, despite being of South Asian origin.

First one to date him wins a "Wall St. is the new Gay St." t-shirt. And free trips to Europe.

It Is Called Wall Street Because There Was Once A Big Wall There. That's Also How Gay Street Got Its Name...

We remember once a year or two ago when we were out with a friend who was meeting up with some of her college peeps downtown. They were all i-banker types, and among them was a gay we knew. We'd seen him out and about at the usual watering holes - duves, poops, hiro, boys room, star-star, beige - you name it, he was there, drunk as a skank in his sleeveless tees, sticking his tongue in every gay man's mouth south of 21st street. We noticed he was a little uneasy in the group, but thought maybe he just fell off the speaker he was dancing on the night before. But when we were leaving, we leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, and boyfriend turned away! SNAP! He dissed us! No mwah mwah's allowed when you were out with your fellow i-bankers apparently.

Our friend later told us that he wasn't really out to his co-workers. "I-banks are really homophobic," she said, "they talk about sports and say 'that's so gay.'" We were curious as to how people can stay in the closet when they show up to work day after day with their hands smelling like go-go boy crotch, but then again, we don't work in finance.

So we are glad to hear that Wall Street is starting to reach out to the gays, making it a better, more open place to work. Because we all know what a hostile working environment can lead you to do.

Though our first job wasn't in finance, it was a block from Wall Street, so we too were worried about how to come out to our co-workers, and how they might react. This anxiety was cured on the first day, when in the 10am staff meeting, a cockroach fell from the ceiling onto the conference table, and we let out a high pitched scream and ran to the other end of the room, yes, still screaming. The senior vice president in the department grabbed the cockroach with his hand and threw him out the window, but the touching of the bug with the hand caused us to scream even more. But then we realized that we no longer had to make up a boyfriend to say, "we and our boyfriend went away for the weekend" to out ourselves. From the beginning, no one ever talked to us about sports. Goldman and Merrill types, take note.

I Mean, We Can't Get Married, We Can't Adopt, And Now We Can't Work Because One Of Us Is In A Faggy Musical And The Other Is Celebrating Halloween

Fishwatch and Bigmouth are having a tough week. So for today, we'll defer to the (somewhat) witty (more crazy, really) writing of a popular Craigslist poster.

A Word On Gay Hostels.

So for the first time in our life, we have elected to stay at a queer hospitality establishment. We have long boycotted such places, mostly because of the banner ads on gay blogs that talk about “Clothing Optional” resorts in Key West. To us, “Clothing Optional” means “You are going to have geriatric pubes all over your continental breakfast.”

But the last hostel we stayed in here in Spain was terrifying, so we thought we’d take a chance when we came here to Barcelona. After all, we knew the gays would at least run a safe, clean place with plenty of light and furniture that is designed to lean back.

And boy did we hit a home run. Not only is this place charming, but the hosts are lovely, and there is always a hot Greek guy running around in his Aussie Bums. There are people here from France, Spain, Portugal and even some places we can’t identify, but whose language seems to involve a lot of hocking loogies. (Armenia, perhaps?)

We sort of hilariously imagined when we came here that it would be like a prep school dorm, but better, with nubile young boys popping in at all hours of the night to get a little slap and tickle, and the sounds of enthusiastic buggering echoing down the quaint old mid-century hallways. The kind of place where innocent young American travelers wind up speared in both ends, rotating slowly between two well-hung foreigners, like a suckling pig over an open flame.

Ridiculous, we know. But then, we didn’t expect to be right about the comeback of denim shorts, either. Guess we’re two for two.

When Our Mom Helped Us Move She Found Our Wigs From Past Halloweens and Immediately Started to Cry...

Some people have told us we were way too serious on Wednesday, so we will go back to being our superficial selves, posting only about self-deprication and husband hunting, and leaving the serious "issue" posts to Bigmouth. Any by "issues" we mean both the struggle for full equality and deformed genetalia.

At this point, however, we have nothing to say, except to wish you all a very fun pre-Halloween weekend. It seems like Saturday night is the big night of choice for dressing as slut-ily as possible and calling it a costume. We haven't been to the gym since June, so can't really recreate the Adam, Eve & Steve or Michael Phelps costumes of past years, both of which involved painful waxing experiences and a subsequent rash. We will, however, be entering the following costume contest on bloggingprojectrunway, but won't tell you what our idea is since you f*ckers will probably steal it and thus our year's supply of tresemme hair products. OK fine, we will give you a hint: she was a "celebrity" judge one episode this season. And those quotes might as well have given it away.

We are a little worried that no one outside our world is going to know who we are, and that we will spend most of the night explaining ourselves to the straight people LL is making us hang out with tomorrow night. We can't even blame straight people though, since at a firm's gay recruiting drinks last night, we shared our idea and even they were clueless. Never a good sign.

Two Posts! Either Today Is A V. Special Day Or We Are Just Bored To Tears In the Libes...

The State Supreme Court in New Jersey decided its gay marriage case today, saying that though there is not a fundamental right of same-sex couples to marry in NJ, a denial of equal benefits to same sex couples would violate the state's equal protection clause. What this status is called, however, is left to the legislature.

First, we will say that a gain in civil rights is a gain in civil rights, so we applaud the New Jersey Court for doing something, unlike our own Court of Appeals. We also think it is great that the 4-3 decision was not 4 in favor of equality and 3 for no equality, rather 4 for full benefits for gay couples, and 3 for full benefits along with the title of marriage, acknowledging that the gays do in fact have that fundamental right to the institution.

But like the concurrence/dissent, we don't really understand what the big deal about the letting the gays use the term "marriage" is. Actually, we don’t really know why the state is involved in the institution of marriage at all. But being that there is a "long history and tradition" of marriage and recognition of it by the state, we are a little disappointed that the majority didn't go so far as to say that we gays DO have a fundamental right to it, or that the equal protection clause of the state constitution requires access to the term “marriage” as well.

What we have a fundamental right to based on liberty is really a social or judicial construction that evolves over time, usually based on how broadly or narrowly you ask the question: in 1987, the U.S. Supreme Court found that there was no fundamental right to “homosexual sodomy” in the U.S. Constitution, but in 2003, the Court said that there was a fundamental right to privacy in the bedroom. Here, the majority asks is there a fundamental right for same-sex couples to marry based on the NJ Constitution (No), while the concurrence/dissent asks if there is a fundamental right or liberty interest in state-sanctioned marriage, which everyone agrees on, and if there are individuals being denied access to that liberty interest (Yes). We like the former question(s) better, but not the current answer.

While full benefits are great, as Chief Judge Poritz said, “What we ‘name’ things matters, language matters.” Since the state has decided to sanction marriages, and people have associations with the word and what it means for their family, the state can’t deny individuals access to marriage based on whom they want to marry.

Overall though, this is a much more interesting debate to have than rights v. no rights. The real question, however, is if this means we now have to hang out in Hoboken.

Our GQ and Details Subscriptions Ran Out So We Have No Idea What To Wear Anymore...

We have been noticing a strange thing recently. Men in headbands. More specifically, STRAIGHT men in headbands. We're not talking about bandanas or sweatbands or those patagonia ones that keep your ears warm. We are talking the horseshoe shaped headbands my sister used to wear in 1993 or those bra strap all the way around the head thingies that my friends in high school wore in 1999. Friends who were GIRLS, obviously, since we are talking about high school.

Two (2) straight boys at this school wear the bra strap ones on a regular basis, and I saw a man in a black thin bedazzled plastic horseshoe shaped one last night on the subway kissing a girl. Yes, all of these men have fabulous, thick, longish hair, and kind of looked hot in their headbands. But I wonder, if a gay man came to school wearing a headband of any sort, we would probably brush him off as a ridiculous human being who wears a headband, and laugh in his face. In fact, when Bigmouth had longish hair and used one to hold his hair back when tanning two summers ago in the privacy of the home of the people in the hamptons we were mooching off of, we pointed and laughed for the whole afternoon, and got our friends to do the same. But put one on a straight man, and all of a sudden it is not only socially acceptable, but it sort of looks hot. Are we homophobic? Do we suffer from gay shame? Are straight men trendier than we are? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?!? WE THOUGHT THE GAY MAFIA GOT RID OF THE METROSEXUALS!!!

But I guess there are tradeoffs. Straight men actually have to deal with bras, so maybe they deserve to wear the straps around their head. In fact, we're not even sure we could identify a bra strap. Also, headbands go much better with sports jerseys and pleated pants. Carry on then straight men, carry on.

Christmas Is Going To Be Extra Special This Year!

Sorry for our silence kids, but it’s that time of year when the work piles up, and our sense of humor diminishes with the waning sunlight. But our mood changed when we learned today that...

Jesus supports gay rights, say S.African Anglicans

YAY! Thank you Jesus!

South African Anglicans are talking a different talk about the gays than most Anglicans in Africa, who haven’t been too happy ever since the Episcopals in America consecrated a gay priest. Female priests make them mad too.

We actually ran into Archbishop Desmond Tutu in the hall yesterday at school (we're serious), and though we weren't able to get a comment, we were sure to give him a big smile, since we always like a religious figure who, according to a new biography, says he was "'ashamed to be Anglican' when the church rejected proposals to reform its stance on gay clergy in 1998," and who has compared homophobia to apartheid.

South Africa, whose top court told parliament to legalize gay marriage last December, attributes its more liberal view to the fact that its people were forced to “deeply think through fundamental issues” based on the “length and intensity of the struggle for liberation.” We think that's great, since we like rights too.

Contrast this to other African Anglicans, like Archbishop Peter Akinola, who said "I cannot think of how a man in his senses would be having a sexual relationship with another man.”

Um...we have never really claimed be in our senses.

“It is so unnatural, so unscriptural. Even in the world of animals, dogs, cows, lions, we don't hear of such things."

So not true! Someone needs to get himself to Oslo.

We Realized It's Been A Long Time Since The Dialogue Here Has Been Elevated

Ok, apropos of nothing in particular, we’ve decided that it’s time at the FAGAT Guide that we talked about a pressing contemporary issue. It’s one that everybody knows about, but nobody talks about. And quite frankly, we’re tired of having to deal with it in silence.

That’s right. We’re talking about penises with strange shapes.

Don’t pretend you don’t know what we mean. You’ve been there. You only ever discover a strangely-shaped wang when it’s too late – after a long night of drinking, or, even worse, after several very nice dates. You go home to someone’s apartment under the pretense of “watching Laguna Beach on DVR,” you wind up in the bedroom, you pull off the American Apparel undies, and gasp! …where there should be a DingDong, there’s a SnoBall.

We’re not talking about small penises, or huge ones, or even curvy ones. That we can handle. We’re talking about schlongs that defy classification. While many penises have straightforward nicknames like “The General,” or “Iron Mike,” these are more likely to be called something like “The Zipper,” or "Grimace."

For example, one of the first ones we ever encountered was shaped, roughly, like an apple that had been stabbed by a pencil. That can be very damaging for an eleven year-old to experience! (Okay, maybe we were more like 22) Since then we’ve found ones shaped like a beer can, a walnut, and even a softball. And these are always the hardest to deal with. The good ol’ “yank on it until it either breaks, or something comes out,” strategy doesn’t apply with weird dicks. Instead, it’s always “you do this twisty thing while I pull on it from behind,” or “put your face here, I’ll do the rest,” or, like, “just shove it all the way down your throat, and start humming ‘If I Had A Hammer,’ okay?”

And frankly, we’re tired of it. That is not what Peter, Paul, OR Mary had in mind when they wrote that song. We recognize that it must be very difficult to be hung like a marble rye, but there’s a common courtesy that should be involved, we think. 1) Potential bedfellows should be warned in advance, especially if there are special rules involved, like “never touch that spot” or “don’t make it mad, it bites.” 2) The owner should be responsible for ensuring his own pleasure, at least at first. It’s hard enough to figure out how the various regular ones work, so you have to give us time. When we’re in a loving committed relationship, then you can ask us to do “that thing with our ear.” And 3), be gentle. As wrong as it is to shove anyone’s body parts into your own various orifices, it’s doubly wrong if that body part is shaped like Truman Capote.

As YouTube Has Already Begun Its Decline, Purging Videos That Are Too Violent Or Japanese, We're Blogging Them While We Can

Translation: we don't have time to blog today, but this vintage Tony clip is really bigger, better, and bottomy-er than anything we could ever hope to write.

Ignored In All This, Of Course, Is The Fact That The Founder Of Mitt Romney's Religion Pacticed and Preached Bigamy. Defending Marriage, What?

Just was flipping through the internets today and came upon this essay in the Boston Herald about gay marriage. It makes a good point - gubernatorial candidates in Massachusetts should be asked whether they would support a referendum on gay marriage, or some sort of ballot question addressing the 2004 court ruling. But then it makes a detour into Crazytown.

While defending Republican governor Mitt Romney's choice to attend a religious rally against gay marriage, the author Joe Fitzgerald has this to say: "Critics say Romney trashed Massachusetts. Please. When it comes to homosexual matrimony, Massachusetts deserves trashing. That’s like saying Martin Luther King trashed Alabama. On the issues of his day, it needed trashing, too."

Um.... Huh. A comparison between America's strongest fighter for equal rights, and a man who is doing his best to remove rights already given to a previously unprotected minority. You're losing us.

Fitzgerald then goes on to say that gays are uniformly against a referendum, without quoting a single gay person, publication, or poll: "This community that once pleaded for tolerance has become the most intolerant of all, especially now that it’s been emboldened by four anarchical judges, answerable to no one."

Um... Huh. It's funny, because a lot of gays DO want a referendum, especially since many straight Bay Staters have seen that the legalization wasn't the apocalypse at all. More people than ever live near, or know, committed gay couples. Sure, the court case was a bonus, but we really want to have our unions legitimized by everyone, not judges. So actually, the ball's back in your court, Fitzgerald. You can try the old Republican trick of spinning the word "tolerance" to your benefit, but lately, that old card is working less and less. So don't make assumptions about the opinions of a community you clearly know nothing about.

To paraphrase something another loudmouthed old white Republican once taught us, "When you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME."

Somehow we can also imagine President Bush attempting to make that joke. And screwing up the punchline.

If "irony is coolest when it’s worn as an invisible undergarment" then we are golden since we never wear underwear anyway...

You may be wondering why Bigmouth wrote in two days in a row. The truth is that we went to see Hell House on Friday night at St. Ann's in DUMBO, a real evangelical "chamber of horrors" used to incite fear in teens about raves, abortion, and same-sex attraction, performed non-ironically by a theater company here in NYC for the sake of irony. Overall, quite the theatrical experience. But what scared us the most was the scene in which our friend KMZ was whisked away to hell for blogging about evangelicals. WE DID THIS ONLY HOURS EARLIER THAT SAME DAY! Also, the gays dying of AIDS and being damned to hell forever wasn't too helpful either. So realizing that we had two major strikes against us, we thought we would give our soul some time to rest.

Actually, we found it fairly easy to laugh at the spectacle before us. But the obvious question in everyone's mind is how things like this possibly get put up for realz, and what exactly is happening in the minds of young impressionable boys (who like other boys) after they see a man dying of AIDS in a hospital bed with Satan standing above him saying, "What kind of idiot believes that you are born this way." Pretty scary stuff.

Also we like how the doctor was wearing a kippah.

If Only Mark Foley Had Applied For Membership In This Organization.

Two weeks ago our dear friend Alex R. came to visit us in Madrid, along with Bates G. and EB K. As we had a cup of coffee by the pond in Retiro Park, Alex suggested to us that instead of adopting children when we get older, we should consider joining the Older Gay Club.

We have always sort of known that such an organization exists, but we weren’t sure if it was as deeply entrenched as, say, the noble and storied Hot Boy Posse. Apparently, instead of spending their money on children, the OGC spends it on travel, food, and interior design. Since most gay couples have two full incomes at their disposal, and lots of taste, it can be a very lovely lifestyle, we’ve heard.

And this weekend in Lisbon, we were exposed to a little bit of it. Even though this group was young and still upwardly mobile, they already were reaping the benefits of not having children. People were able to drop everything and come to Portugal to eat and drink for a few days, and not have to worry about babysitters, spouses, school, or Fat Upper Pussy Areas. Even though much of the crowd was divided between Paris and Washington, DC, this mobility allowed them to remain close. And they all had great skin.

We’ve always thought we’d end up buying two mixed-race toddlers at the Gay Baby Store (you may know it by it’s Russian name, “Kazakhstan”) and living in a duplex in the West Village. We’d have a home office and become addicted to pornography, while our husband would work all day, get a potbelly, and sexually harass the custodial workers. To us, this life seemed like the height of human sophistication. But now we’re beginning to ponder the other option. Maybe it might not be so bad to keep getting richer as we grow old, and still be able to travel and eat out whenever we want. Instead of paying $120,000 for our 18 year-old to be a student at NYU in the Village, we could pay only $300 to take an 18-year-old NYU student to dinner in the Village – and have sex with him afterward. One night of stained sheets versus over a decade of ruined imported Egyptian carpeting.

Anti-gay marriage activists would have a lot more success, we think, if they changed their argument. Instead of targeting straight people and howling “THINK ABOUT THE CHILDREN,” they should just put up some ads in Chelsea that say “THINK ABOUT THE PHILIPPE STARCK FURNITURE!”

What Happens In Lisbon, Stays In Lisbon... Except A Sore, Overworked Jaw, Which Sometimes Takes a Few Days To Shake Off.

We are writing this post from a crowded Western Union in Lisbon. We're just finishing up a fantastic long weekend here, where we helped to celebrate the birthday of SP, a charming man who we didn't know before Friday. FHC invited us along because he was a little bit worried that we were lonely in Madrid and needed some gay company. He was afraid that we might have a difficult expat experience, similar to his when he first moved to America, but we've yet to find ourselves high on hashish with our ankles tied behind our heads in the dorm hallway of a Catholic seminary.

Anyway, we've had a wonderful time in Portugal, and the capital city is very gorgeous. We've had a lot of pastries and port, and have met many new international gays (mostly skinny Frenchmen). It was all very charming and included several nights of clubbing and a bus tour.

Which leads us to the question of today's post: What is it about traveling that makes gay people so goddamn horny? From our account, there were five new hookups in our weekend group of 20 people. We'll leave unaccounted how many of those were our very own. And there many more attempted ones, and probably ones that we don't know about.

When traveling to a foreign place, like Madrid, or Rhode Island, we find that gays are generally more touchy feely, more uninhibited, and less selective. Is it because everything feels so much more anonymous, as opposed to the cliquey "everyone will know what you did in the morning" atmosphere of New York or Washington? Or is it more related to the fact that being around so many exotic one-of-a-kind artisinal home furnishing boutiques just really sets our loins on fire?

Either way, after this weekend, we are very excited to return home to Madrid with some port, a few nice hand-painted wall tiles, and a whole new neighborhood of Paris to avoid next time we go to visit.

We Took A WHOLE Class About This In College and It Counted For Our Science Requirement....

The Oslo Natural History Museum has opened an exhibit about homosexuality in the animal kingdom, showing "gay or lesbian behavior among giraffes, penguins, parrots, beetles, whales and dozens of other creatures," including such fun things as a photograph showing "two giant erect penises flailing above the water as two male right whales rub together." We saw that once happen in the wild. Or was it in P-town?

But hell knows no fury like an evangelical called for a comment on an exhibition on gay animals in a museum 4400 miles away.

To better compare Norwegian Curators' views on this issue with those of American Evangelicals - we have created a nice color-coded comparative chart:

That took us a really long time to make.

We Don't Really Feel Homesick That Often. Until We See Something Like This.

We're not sure if this video is on TV yet in the US, as we only get two channels here in Madrid, and they only play ridiculous game shows that involve coconuts, small amounts of money, and a lot of dancing. So if you've seen it, forgive us the redundant post. It just sort of seems like this video is everything this blog stands for.

Man, These Posts Are Getting Long. Between Us And The Back Pages Of HX, This May Be More Reading Than You've Done Since 'Misty Of Chincoteague.'

Not long before we left for Spain, we attended a cocktail party on the verandah of a neighbor’s porch in Maine. There are about 30 homes in our little park, and summer people probably own 15 of them. Since it’s such a small community, obviously there is lots of gossip. For example, only certain people were invited to the party. Others, like the family with the $5 million home on the hill who cut down all the trees on communal property to improve their ocean view, were not invited.

A few years ago, a gay couple moved into the neighborhood, and caused quite a stir. They bought a tiny cottage on a high rocky perch and built a huge, gorgeous, purple house. The buzz increased to a fever pitch when one of the men, presumably the breadwinner, mysteriously died. Nobody was saying anything bad, that we heard, but they couldn’t stop talking about the GAY couple – or speculating about what happened.

Since summer houses on the Maine coast often change hands, there are always new families or couples coming and going from our neighborhood. In fact, the cocktail party was being thrown to honor a family from Brooklyn Heights who had just moved in. And, as we chatted with our gin and tonics, someone mentioned to us that a new older couple had bought another giant house on a bluff by the water. A few people nearby turned to say they had met them, and their plans for the house had been very lovely. Our dear mother had even brought over some chutney to them, and said hello.

As we walked home from the party, still carrying our drinks, we asked our mom about the newest couple.

“Oh, they’re very nice,” she said. “One of them is a doctor, and the other guy owns a gallery.”
“Wait, what? They ‘other guy’? It’s a gay couple?” we asked.
“Oh, yeah,” my mother said.
“No one even mentioned that they were gay, once, at the party,” we said.
“Oh. Well, they are,” said my mom. And then we gave her a hug.

A recent poll came out stating that seven out of ten Americans know a gay person. This is great news. Opinion polls on equal rights issues don’t reflect this exposure, sadly. But we still harbor hope that for every new neighbor out there who is gay, there will also be a cocktail party where people forget to mention it.

She Was Right, There IS Always Someone Younger And Hungrier Coming Down The Stairs After You....Or Was It Up The Escalator...

We had yet another missed celebrity encounter on Friday night. We were at the Chelsea movie theater on line for “The Queen,” (YAAAAY!!! PUNS!!!) when we looked ahead of us and spotted Jessie Spano herself (Ms. Elizabeth Berkley) taking photos with some overbearing gays. We have seen her out and about before, but not since we got our Bayside Tigers T-shirt. Ever since we got it, we have dreamed about running into her again and getting her to sign it and perhaps pose for a camera-phone picture.

The G*ds must have been on our side that night, because we suddenly realized that under our long-sleeve Gap Kids T-shirt and Marmot Fleece, we had thrown on said Bayside Tigers shirt!!! We quickly dumped our bags on our companion, and started chasing Ms. Berkley who had already finished with the “too old to have really been into Saved By The Bell” Queens (YAAAY!!!! PUNS!!!), and was on her way up the escalator.

As we said before, we sometimes lose all sense of self-control around celebrities, and so we starting yelling her name on the escalator as we were pulling off our top two layers. Obvi, our Bayside Tigers shirt got caught in the fray and it appeared to everyone around us that we were chasing her while ripping off our clothes. She ran. We ran. We lost our vision as the shirts came over our head, fell, and by the time we got up, not only were we shirtless and scrawny looking, surrounded by gym freaks, but we had lost one of the greatest opportunities of our life.

This was especially painful to us, as we know all the words and dance moves to Hot Sundae’s “Put Your Mind To It,” and have been known to recreate the pivotal “I’m So Excited” scene of her career at dinner parties.

But we’ll live. At least The Queen was good. Ms. Berkley wasn’t inside though. She would have been easy to spot, as had she been there, she would have been the ONLY female in the ENTIRE THEATER. Seriously. When HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh said “Elton John,” the ground literally shook.

In other news, the JAG protests went well – we were personally chosen to lead the “DOOO ask DOOOO tell” chant as the recruiters left the interview rooms and walked past us. A fellow OUTLaw noticed that they kept going to the bathroom together.

We were struck, however, by our non-OUTLaw classmates who were reluctant to wear rainbow ribbons when we were passing them out, our guess being because they thought it would lead people to believe they were gay. We suffered from this back in college before Bigmouth dragged us out of the closet, but we were curious if actual straight people who go to school in the West Village with oodles of ‘mos really worry about being perceived as gay. We’re not talking about people who support Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, but people who clearly oppose discrimination, and probably have a gay friend or two, but still would feel “weird” wearing a rainbow ribbon. Is the symbol of “pride” too tied to “coming out” and “identity” to be worn by allies? When we still had ours on later that evening, even we thought that people would see it and automatically think that we were gay, not question whether we were actually gay or just an ally. Or maybe we felt that way because we were seeing The Queen...in Chelsea...wearing a Bayside Tigers shirt.

JAGS NEED FAGS!!! 2...4...6..8...JAG SHOULD NOT DISCRIMINATE....HEY HEY, HO HO, DA/DT HAS GOT TO GO...BRING IT ON BEE-ATCHES!!!!!!!

Tomorrow is when JAG comes on campus to recruit in violation of the Law School's anti-discrimination policy. You may remember that the Law Schools lost in the Supreme Court 9-zip when they challenged the Solomon Amendment, the law that allows the Guv'ment to deny entire universities funding if their law schools don't let the military on campus, but we're still going to bring it. (FYI, Yale Law School is fighting separately since they are smarter than all of us combined times 3, and their case is still ongoing).

JAG did something really smart this year though. They scheduled their interviews at 8:30am on a Friday, when most gays are getting out of bed to pee, pop more Tylenol, and wash the Duvet stamp off their hand before getting back into bed for 4-5 more hours. This is good military strategery.

But it won't work! We're going to show up, bright and early with our rainbow ribbons, tight ARMY t-shirts, massive headaches, and deep sense of anger at this outdated rule that serves no one, especially not an over-extended military in dire need of people. Don't Ask Don't Tell is not about national security, cohesive units, maintaining order, or improving military effectiveness. It is about bare discrimination and a desire to silence people, and it prevents people from one day (maybe not at the beginning, but one day) returning home after a tour of duty and saying, "I served with ______; he's gay and he's an awesome American. And he looks great naked."

Last year, this school's OUTLaws were put on "the list" of bad Americans, so I wonder if we'll be met by any counter-intel. If so, I expect our camouflage thongs will help us keep our cover.

Being Abroad Makes You Miss Very Important Things. We Only Found Out YESTERDAY That Eva Longoria Broke Up With Tony Parker!

This is bad news.

Former Congressman Mark Foley, who basically threw a hand grenade into the campaign heart of the Republican National Committee when all of this disgusting emails and IMs were revealed, has screwed the gays even as he finally admits that he is one.

Foley said yesterday, through his lawyer, that he was molested as a child by a priest, and that this may have contributed to the impulses that led him to become a sexual predator himself. This has become a re-play of what happened with Jim McGreevey. When the former governor of New Jersey held his “Gay American” speech, “Regular Americans” learned that gays are a) liars, b) corrupt and c) sexually aggressive against unwilling partners.

Now, Foley, by conceding that he is gay at the same time as revealing this childhood abuse, has taught to the same “Regular Americans” that gays are a) liars, b) sexual predators, c) twisted into their current, sick form by childhood sexual abuse.

Foley’s lawyer did say that Foley "does not blame the trauma he sustained as a young adolescent for his totally inappropriate e-mails and IMs [instant messages]. He continues to offer no excuse whatsoever for his conduct." But will anyone hear that? By announcing these messages at the same time, he’s making a pretty easy connect-the-dots picture for bigoted Americans who only want to hear that gay people are sick, or abnormal.

This amplifies a point made yesterday by Fishwatch. It doesn’t help that he’s in “rehab” and trying to combat a mysterious bout of alcoholism that none of his friends or cohorts ever noticed before. The amount of times that “treatment,” “recovery,” and “getting better” are used in the rhetoric of the scandal just add another link. “There’s something wrong with gay people,” Fox News viewers will hear. “They need to be fixed.”

The concept that a close-minded society is the cause of scandalous aberrations like Jim McGreevey and Mark Foley, rather than their innate homosexuality, is just too complicated to expect gay rights foes to grasp. Many of these people are the ones who think the world was created in seven days, remember. They like to keep it simple.

However, the most important question, we think, is this: can we get a picture of the fucking page, please? Come on bloggers, you have no journalistic integrity. Screw the kid’s right to privacy. With all this dirty talk, we need a visual!