Oh, What A Night!

RSVP Cruises, the gay cruise line (not to be confused with Rosie O’Donnell’s “R” Family Cruises – this one really is a drifting orgy), is floating rumors that Christina Aguilera or Mariah Carey will perform on their Caribbean trip.

While this may be the most stupendous selling point ever, we’re wondering what’s going to happen when the inevitable letdown occurs: 2,000 fags ain’t gonna be happy when they find their Xtina has been secretly switched for the American University a cappella group, “Treble in Paradise.”

We wonder if it’s possible to cheerfully snap when your fist is stuck up your own ass?

We Will Officially Never Get Any Work Done Ever Again, For The Rest Of Our Lives.

Google Idol has launched “Google Idol: Gay.”

There is only one mediocre entry so far, but we anticipate a lot of specialness to be generated by this site. The wonder that is GIdol:Gay, though, is even surpassed by “Google Idol: Kids.” I mean, what will they think of next? Creatine-infused Vodka?

The best entry is the Australian entry of “GIdol:kids” of the Dixie Chicks’ “Earl,” in which “Katy, Nanna and Poppy” enact the revenge murder of a wife-beating hillbilly. Nanna and Poppy appear to be grandparents. Katy seems to be about eight.

Clearly, much like Kylie Minogue, some things are just too gay to be American.

Why We Can Never Quit Our Job

We were recently on the phone with a very famous pre-op tranny hooker who runs an escort service in the square states. The highlights of our hourlong conversations were her side chats with a John who was trying to find his way to her house. ("NO HONEY, YOU TAKE A LEFT ON MACDOUGAL!") Once he arrived, she said she would call back in twenty minutes ("TIME ME, I DARE YOU!").

Sure enough, nineteen minutes later she called us back. ("HONEY, I'M A PROFESSIONAL.")

But our favorite part of the chat came earlier, when we overheard her giving her client directions.

"Oh, baby," she said, as an afterthought, "I will SWALLOW if you stop by a Starbucks and bring me a grande latte."

God Bless Fucking America.

Ex, hex, schmgex.

In light of recent events in our lives, we think it’s time for another FAGAT Guide Rule.

See, we’ve had a lot of ex boyfriend issues in the past couple of weeks. Last week, we re-connected with our most recent ex for the first time in months, because he has our toolbox, and we needed it back (that is not a euphemism, surprisingly). Then, on Friday night, we received a text telling us that our first ex boyfriend met our second ex boyfriend at a party, and were introduced by an even more recent paramour. That’s a chilling bit of information to receive in 160 characters or fewer.

And then on Sunday, our most recent ex’s CURRENT boyfriend appeared, picture and all, in the New York Times Sunday Styles. Granted, the coverage was mocking, but still.

Obviously, this gives us a lot to talk about. So we’ve been violating a basic rule of gaydom, which is to not talk about your exes incessantly. In an effort to help others, and ourselves, we’ve decided that our third FAGAT Guide rule is this:

Talk of ex-boyfriends, husbands, or lovers, is strictly banned until the fourth date with someone new.

The third date barrier is an important one. After that, you’re technically required to explain that you don’t want to see a boy anymore – before that, you can simply stop calling. Also, the third date is traditionally the one where the clothes come off, but let’s face it, that rule is a vestigial heterosexual construct. So it makes sense that on the fourth date, when everyone is on more solid footing, you can bring up your dating history.

You don’t want to wait for too long, but you want to be at a place where you can laugh about the fact that the guy you’re seeing has an ex nicknamed “JumboJet.” After all, you have one with the Spooneristic sobriquet “Dino Rick.” Hahahaha. Life is so funny. Thank God we got that conversation over with.

Waiter, can we have another glass of Pinot Grigio, please?

There Was Music, And Wonderful Roses

We went to the opening night of “The Threepenny Opera” at Studio 54 last night. Yikes.

First of all, we sat next to “Uncle Jesse” himself, John Stamos, who had himself pranced that stage as the MC in “Cabaret” a couple of years ago. He kept fidgeting, sending text messages, looking around, waving to people in the audience, TALKING, and acting like an all-around cokehead eight-year-old in Sunday School. Maybe he learned it from watching Mary Kate.

Second of all, the play is really a trip. It stars Alan Cumming, Cyndi Lauper, Jim Doyle, Ana Gasteyer, and Nellie McKay. We know the last girl was once a pop star, but we can’t remember what one hit was her wonder. (“I’m Like a Bird?” “What If God Was One Of Us?” “I’m A Bitch?” Who fucking knows?) Things we noticed about the performance: Alan Cumming’s package was uncomfortable shoved down the right leg of his tights the whole time, Madonna’s babydaddy Carlos Leon can’t act, pre-op tranny penises shouldn’t be shown on stage, and sometimes, Cyndi Lauper doesn’t really just wanna have fun.

Afterward, we chatted up the cast. Ana Gasteyer told us all about how boring her life is now that she has to spend three quarters of it warming up (“Wicked” was harder, she says). Alan told us about a movie where he’s playing a straight guy in love with Heather Graham, who is playing a lesbian. Woah. And Cyndi, who we confronted about being at Starlight over the weekend, blamed everything on Alan.

They had all gone to our friend Bianca’s birthday party a few weekend’s ago, where the theme was “Rock and Roll Circus.” Alan told us that they all had a great time, but as they were walking in the door, Cyndi turned to him and whispered:

“Can you imagine going to a birthday party where you’ve lived through the theme?”

We will never forgive our parents for having us during, instead of before, the 1980s.

She’s Not So Unusual, After All

Last Saturday we stopped by our neighborhood gay bar, Starlight, and were treated by a pair of celebrity sightings. First, we spotted Alan Cumming in the back room, sporting his “Threepenny Opera” mohawk. As usual, he was surrounded by boys.

But what was more surprising was the appearance of the 52-year-old Cyndi Lauper, who made her way slowly through the crowd to the back, making eye contact with as many gays as possible – as if to say “Yes, this IS Cyndi Lauper that you’re looking at.” Either that or “I see your true colors.” It was subtle.

We remarked to our drinking companions that it reminded us of the scene in “Soapdish” when the Sally Field character goes to the mall in Pyramus, NJ, when she’s feeling down and out, because all of the housewives over there still adore her. If you were an aging diva having an off night, wouldn’t YOU go to a gay bar, the last place you were still loved, where you would be showered with unmitigated adulation?

It’s kind of like when Ricky Martin plays in Canada. Or when George Bush appears on Fox News.

And He Bought A One Way Ticket Back To The Life He Once Knew

Have we told you about one of our favorite weekly web visits yet? Models.com picks a new tweenage catalogue star every week and featured him or her. Our favorites are normally the ESL 16 year-olds from Eastern Europe, who say things like “My favorite thing about America is Whitney Houston. And astronaut ice cream!” But this week we take exception for American born-and-raised, cornfed whiteboy Trevor Davis. Why? Check out his Q & A:

Favorite things: Playing sports, animals and hanging with his best friend.
Favorite food: Pizza
Favorite music/band: Outkast
Hobbies: Sports and working out
If you could bring one thing to NY from home it would be: My best friend Nick

Ah, Trevor. You’ll like having Nick around at first. But then the work days at Rent-A-Waiter will get longer, nights will get later, and pretty soon you’ll be stumbling home from Fabian Basabe’s house at 6 am with a new coke habit, $1,500 in your wallet and eurotrash manstink in your every crevice.

And then good old Nick, who seemed like all you ever wanted when the two of you would play Frogger at Ol’ Uncle Winkie’s Pizza Parlor in Yardley, Pennsylvania, is going to be waiting for you at home, angry, overweight, and unfabulous. And then the fighting will begin, and the rending of ironic t-shirts, and the gnashing of veneers.

Welcome to the big city, kid.

This Is Perhaps A Little Personal.

Check out this craigslist link – written by a woman trying to get a man to like her. What’s amazing about it is that not only is this woman describing traits that most gay men would enjoy (“I can wake-up, shower and leave the house in 30 minutes flat. And I still look cute and kissable,” “I love sex … but I’m not going to jump in the sack with you because you have a penis. Still, please have a penis.”) – but also, the man she is seeking, the masculine, straight-acting, steak-eating, hiking, no fuss man’s man, is secretly the guy we all want in our beds.

So here’s the question: If so many of us want to be the easygoing, fun guy to who lures in the sporty, macho, low-key guy… then why do we fake-tan, avoid sports, gunk up our hair, spend hours making sure our trendy jeans hit our cute sneakers at just the right angle, pluck our eyebrows, purchase superfluous belts, worry about the way polo shirts hang at our waists, carefully manage lower belly hair, use multiple facial products, and avoid baseball caps like the plague?

The woman in this craig’s list post is doing her best to accommodate the guy she wants to date. We have the unique ability to be exactly LIKE the man that we think would be perfect for each of us.

So why do we all look the same?

It Was Really Only A Matter Of Time Before This Happened.

Gay rights opponents have started PFOX, a group that mimics the group P-Flag (Parents And Friends Of Lesbians And Gays). PFOX, which stands for Parents and Friends of Ex-Gays, is a group for people who believe that homosexuality can be cured, and who feel that they can best support their gay loved ones by trying to get them to kick the habit. It’s like they took members of our team, put bad makeup on them, and made them cheer for the other side.

But, see, what the Misfits don’t realize is that the Holograms will always win in the end, no matter what twist the episode takes, and no matter what happens to Jerrica.

And that’s all we have to say on the subject.

Unsurprisingly, Lesbian Badminton Players Are Often Offered Special K.

An interesting thing happened to us last night during our league bowling tournament.

Every week we and other teams from publications across the city gather at Leisure Time, the bowling alley in the Port Authority, and compete, drink beer, and compare ironic t-shirts. Leisure Time is really amazing, because not only do they give you unlimited towers full of beer, but they also have this cheesy announcer who asks trivia questions. He wanders the alley with a microphone, wearing tight black jeans and a blazer with the sleeves rolled up, and he offers up free hours of bowling and other prizes for those who pay attention.

Yesterday, in addition to $1 Kamikaze shots, he offered our team Crystal Meth.

It was very subtle. He passed by our team (and admittedly, we do have a few fags on the roster) and was making some announcement about the cheap shots. Then he pulled the mic away from his lips, looked at us and another gay member of our team, and added “and perhaps a teeny pinch of Crystal Meth?”

There was a sparkle in his eye. We were stunned, to say the least.

We later investigated, and it turned out that other bowlers were surreptitiously offered cocaine – but only the GAYS were offered Crystal.

There’s a social message in here somewhere, but we’ve been having marathon unprotected sex with multiple anonymous partners since after bowling, so we can’t be bothered to find it. See you on Casual Encounters!

Gay Bloggers Just Want Nice, Rich Lawyer Boyfriends.

Recently, Vividblurry made the controversial point that “All cute gays are secret psychos.”

We’re not sure what to make of this hard and fast rule. It made us think. We certainly know several men who live up to the standard…

But it inspired us to come up with our own list of offensive gay truisms that we’ve heard over the years. Some we agree with, some we don’t – but all of them have some basis, somewhere, in real experiences. Here goes:

1) Unnattractive gays are the most likely to believe that straight men are hitting on them.

2) Short gays are more muscley and try harder in bed.

3) English boys are pudgier. Irish boys are punchier.

4) Good karaoke singers are good bottoms.

5) Approximately 50% more gays say they are models than actually are.

6) German boys are serious and aggressive in bed. French ones are just slutty.

7) Minority gays don’t like to date members of their own race/religious group. This does not apply to Asians.

8) For most gays, intelligence isn’t a factor when choosing a mate. Hair is.

9) Europeans are more likely to rim on the first date.

10) Stage actor queens are bottoms. Film actor queens are tops.

11) Black gays are notorious liars.

12) Gay men over 40 can only date gay men under 30.

13) New Yorkers will fuck on the first date. Texans will masturbate next to you.

14) New Englanders give good cuddle. Californians give good head.

This one, though, is our favorite:

15) You’re only as hot as your last fuck.


Discuss?

Well, It IS Better Than Cybersex, Because At Least You Can Text With Just One Hand.

So we’ve been receiving a hefty amount of dirty text messages on our cellphone lately.

We do not solicit said dirty text messages, in fact, we don’t even think we’re the kind of person who particularly LIKES dirty text messages. But here’s a sampling of some of the ones we’ve received recently, all from different sources. NOTE – none of these people are our boyfriends, nor are they even people that we are actively dating.

From last night, a string of three from a random drunk acquaintance we ran into at a party:

“I would love to get in the sack with you as I am as good as they say.” “I could be a falcon star.” “I am a good top and bottom.”

Mmmm. Ok. We’ll take your word for it. Over the weekend, this ones popped up, from a friend from out of town: “Just had a rain shower… dripping naked.”

Not so dirty? How about this one we got last week, from a boy we met during the Republican National Convention in 2004: “Hey, remember me? I am coming to NYC soon. Wanna get together? BTW, how hung r u?”

Um, what?

Or this, from another out-of towner, which we received out of the blue while in the car with our mom: “Are you hard right now?” When we texted back “wtf?” he replied “Well, I was thinking about fucking ur tight asshole just then.”

Oh, of course.

In recent months, we have received dozens of dirty text messages. From friends, acquaintances, lovers, strangers. Is dirty texting the phone sex of the 21st century? Or is this just one final nail driven into the coffin of intimacy?

And, more importantly, are we freaks that the use of textspeak like “u” and “r” immediately makes us lose an erection?

Queers! They’re Just Like Us!

200 gay families are scheduled to attend the White House Easter Egg Roll, wearing rainbow leis to identify themselves, but otherwise attempting to blend in with the rest of the “normal” parents.

We have to say, we’d like to see a lot more of this kind of political statement. It reminds us of Rosie O’Donnell’s documentary about her “R Family Cruises.” The doc, which was screened on Showtime this week, has been criticized for whitewashing the gay families depicted – for turning our sexuality, normally outrageous and spicy, into something vanilla. We disagree with this criticism. There are MORE THAN enough opportunities for us to show off our flare, and what makes us different. Gay pride parades, gay television, gay rallies, gay bars, the Barney’s Warehouse Sale, etc.

But if we’re going to make a stink about how we want the same rights to have families as everyone else, at some point we have to start reaching out to the people we’re trying to convince and show them: “Hey, while we are proud of what makes us different, our families are going to show the SAME kind of love and support that yours do.” If we want our families to be like theirs (legal marriage, legal adoption, legal inheritance), it’s really important to prove to them (and to ourselves for that matter) that these traditional forms make sense for us. So thanks, Rosie, we hope more people will follow in your footsteps.

And as for the Egg Roll, we don’t know why gay families didn’t think of this earlier. Looking for sparkly candy and rainbow dyed eggs in the midst of a well manicured Rose Garden? Those little gaybies have been training for this moment since they were born!*

*By “since they were born,” of course, we mean, “since their $20,00 hand-selected Ivy League donor egg was inseminated in a tube with the mixed semen of their two dads and injected in the uterus of a $5,000-a-month surrogate.”

And After The Spanking, The Oral Sex!

Okay, okay. We realize we’ve been terrible about posting this week. You may punish us now, as much as you please. Preferably by spanking.

But to earn back your trust and love, here are some lovely blind items for you to chew over for the weekend:

What macho-dumb star of a super-popular teen franchise has a reason to keep quiet about his love life? The sexy sidekick has been surprisingly successful at keeping his long-term boyfriend out of the public eye?

What matinee idol should be more careful about who he takes home after a night at Bungalow 8? One of these days word is going to get back to his (married!) action star boyfriend.

Which primetime drama star was perhaps a foot too far out of the closet when his new show hit the big time? Tabloids are inching closer to breaking his gay identity…

Which super popular ensemble drama features a closeted gay star? He’d have better luck if he dated more low-profile hunks…

Which aging A-lister would have better luck keeping his homosexuality private if he stopped hitting on cute young reporters? The gropey glad-hander can’t keep his paws to himself, even at public events!

Which rising star, who is the son of a Hollywood heavy hitter, is telling everyone who will listen that he’s “just looking for a nice boyfriend”? Is he being brave, or just trying to get attention?

Which pop star pulls male models from the audience for backstage dalliances? His story may be old news, but he can still pull fresh meat…

Which powerful hip hopper is hiding more than just insecurity behind his sultry spouse? Rumor has it they both turn blind eyes to each other wandering ones…

Well It's About Tittyfucking Time

A potential candidate in the 2008 presidential election has come out in support of gay marriage. Russ Feingold’s Legislative Assistants are probably already sending their resumes to HillPAC, but we think this is a bold, and necessary move. Will it rule him out as a winner? Probably. Will it draw fire from other Democratic candidates that foes will try to bog down with hotbutton issues like Iraq and abortion? Definitely. And that, for better or for worse, is a good thing.

But what’s more important is that Feingold is a serious candidate for president who will make a lot of news, and who will break ground for future presidential candidates. We don’t expect the next president to push through the legalization of gay marriage, or even the president after that, really. But we DO foresee a situation in which candidates who take this stand won’t have to make it the main issue of their platform. If Feingold follows through on this, chances are the media will bill him as the “gay marriage” candidate, no matter what spin he tries to put on it. Certainly Fox News will. But after him, citizens of the US will have a hard time getting so worked up about it because they’ll be more used to the idea.

PLUS, did you know he’s single? And Jewish?? Hags, start your engines!

The Gays Won't Even Pretend To Read It For The Articles.

So Hugh Hefner just announced that he’s thinking of extending the Playboy brand to include gay publications and merchandise, using Britain as a test marketplace.

We think this is a great plan. Not because the world could use any more gay porn (well, it COULD, but we’d rather focus our hopes on getting more of things like “equal rights” and “2-for-1 happy hours”). But because the boys in the UK just don’t care about their bodies.

We went to see “Mama Mia!” with an ex in the West End last year, and we were aghast at the fact that all of the shirtless male dancers DIDN’T HAVE VISIBLE ABS. We were agog. Flummoxed. Bewildered. They didn’t even wax their chests!

This obviously violated a cardinal United States rule: If you appear on screen or on stage without a shirt, you must have a great body. Hello! Remember that scene with the naked Bob Hoskins in “Mrs. Henderson Presents”? That would NEVER happen in an American film.

So go ahead, Hef. Inundate those Brits with centerfolds of dudes with shaved assholes. Give ‘em an extra channel of all sixpacks, all the time. Maybe then, one day, years from now, when we visit the thumping mecca that is the G-A-Y nightclub in London, we will be confronted by the beautiful, perfectly sculpted, tanktop wearing, techno-loving, ‘roid abusing, Abercrombie sporting masses.

And on that day, we will grab our vodka soda in its plastic cup, huddle by the bar in alienation and intimidation, cover our ears from the blasting house music, roll our eyes, and think to ourselves. “At last! A place that feels like home!”