We Have Really Put Our Deductive Reasoning Skills To Good Use Today...

We don't listen to the radio much, but were driving to Newark the other day (don't ask) and had on Z-100 as we sat in the Holland Tunnel for about an hour. Did you even know you could listen to the radio in the tunnel? Science is amazing. Good thing, or we may not have heard the new single from Mario Vasquez. Who, you ask? Remember that guy who quit American Idol cause...um...he had issues with the contract or something? Well he has an album now and sings about girls and stuff with such graceful lyrics as,

And girl you're just way too fine
Gotta be treated as one of a kind
Girl use your mind
Don't be just another dime

That being said, the song does talk about art, and we all know that art is gay.

I can't take Seeing you with him
Cuz I know exactly what you'll be
In his gallery
It's just not fair
And it's tearing me apart
You're just another priceless work of art
In his gallery
In his gallery

And as you can see, the song talks about a gallery, and there are a lot of galleries in Chelsea, which is really gay. AND, we were in Chelsea on Wednesday, and walked by a Mario Vasquez poster on 10th Avenue, on which he looked really, really gay. So we guess that settles it then. As we said, science is amazing.

I Guess We Lied When We Said We Don't Encounter Celebrities, Cause We Are On A Roll. We Just Need To Hone Our Interview Skills...Or Just Talk To Them

We are very sorry people - we would have had a celebrity interview to post today, but unfortunately it didn't work out. After a Project Runway viewing at LL's apartment, we were on the E train heading to the east side when MALAN (Auf'd because of that gross evening gown) got on board scarfing down some pizza and wearing pleather pants. We were all ready to ask him his thoughts on the episode and fashion week, (in addition to channeling his mother and throwing his pizza to the ground and saying "NEVER eat this again!"), but the last stop in Manhattan came up and we were NOT willing to follow him to Queens. Maybe if it had been Keith or Kayne or Alison we would have ventured into the outer boroughs...

We won't give anything away to you people who have Tivo or DVR or whatever the kids have these days, but will say that we are really tired of Collier Strong's (consulting make up artist for L'Oreal Paris) smokey eyes demo. What the people really need to know is what kind of make up boys can wear to make themselves look better in very, very, very dark lighting.

Also, we've noticed that the top 4 designers this year don't include two crazy homosexuals as they did the last two seasons. Rather, there's one crazy straight man with a frightening tattoo and outlook on life, and one ambiguous man who says things like "fierce" and "sultry" and designs clothes for a living. Are we losing at our own game?

Fortunately, The Language Of Sausage Is Universal. And It Comes Easily On The Basque Tongues.

So traveling around Spain alone has been very fun, but not very gay. We just got back to Madrid from a tour of the Basque Country, spending a few nights in Bilbao and San Sebastian, and eating and drinking as much as possible everywhere in between. But the only flirty gay we ever encountered (for sure) was a very hot guy at the beach gym in San Sebastian. We were doing a good job of making eye contact with him, until we walked face first into a sharp metal support beam (which was hold up, of all things, one of those big, safe, inflated exercise balls) and began bleeding from our forehead.

We’ve found ourselves comically doing things alone that we’ve never done before. We’ve made dinner and lunch reservations for one, we’ve gone to bars by ourselves, and we’ve made countless other tourists take pictures of only us in front of interesting sights. And it’s been great.

One night, we were walking home from downtown San Sebastian along the boardwalk, after a crazed night out in the city’s Parte Vieja. We hadn’t heard English in a long time and were just realizing that fact when a pair of drunk American dudes walking beside us began talking loudly about the “totally sweet” dinner they just had. We struck up a funny conversation with them as we walked, and then they left to go down to the sand to be by the water.

We continued down the boardwalk towards our hotel, but turned back for a moment, just in time to catch their shadowy forms as they took off their clothes and went running together into the Atlantic. As they hit the first waves, one splashed up to the other and jumped into his arms. They clung together, and then fell into the water.

And there, as we stood in the shadows of a shuttered beachside café so they couldn’t see us watching, for the very first time we actually felt alone.


Thank G-d for international hotel television. Nothing says “We’re all in this together” like hearing Joey say “WÖ-ACH” in German on “Blossom.”

Sometimes We Look To The Internet To Entertain Us When We Are Bored...And Sometimes It Works...

A friend of ours in Bologna (that's in Italy people) writes in that the derogatory word for gay man there is "finocchio," which incidentally is also the same word for fennel. Of course, this was posted on Urban Dictionary two years ago, but we were not blogging back then, so it's irrelevant.

Anyway, we did a quick google search to get some info on fennel since it's not used too often in chicken jalfrezi and naan, the only dish we can cook, and what we found made us realize why gay men and fennel are so similar. Be sure to take this info with you next time you head to Chelsea Market or Barracuda.

In your market you will likely find the bulbs. They range from the size of a tennis ball to that of a soft ball (5-10 cm in diameter), and can be either spherical or taper towards the fronds; though there isn't much of a difference in flavor between the two I find that the spherical ones yield more. In any case, when you select fennel pick bulbs that are firm and blemish free; if they have brownish streaks or the outer layer looks somewhat deflated they are likely old or have suffered in transport.

And just for the record, the spherical ones definitely yield more.

It Has Only Been Two Weeks And We Have Already Run Out Of Things To Say...

On Saturday we went to Vlada for the first time (late, we know) which we thought was super fun, until the next morning when we had a massive headache and almost threw up dill, garlic, ginger and coriander infused vodkas. (Really, what were we thinking.) Anyway, we realized that since we now live on the Upper East Side (sad, but true), that we are going to have to hang out above 14th Street a little more, and so we are making the effort. Yes, the crowd is a little older than the East Village, but maybe this is a good think since 22 year olds are scary people and should never be trusted. While we miss being able to walk home in quiet despair from such cultural institutions as Boys Room and Phoenix, and we hate how our doorman now witnesses and judges this (now cab driven) quiet despair, we are hoping that proximity to Citarella and Hampton Jitney stops is going to provide a nice balance. We'll keep you posted.

And To Think, We're Missing All Those Great Conversations We Used To Have With Strangers In Bars

Hello from Madrid.

Tonight is our first big night out in Chueca, Madrid’s gay neighborhood. We’re already armed with the necessary basic vocabulary (“activo” = “top”; “pasivo” = “bottom”; “vodka y seltzer” = “vodka soda”; “Quiero alimentarte yeyo y mirarte cuando te haces una paja” = “I want to feed you blow and watch you jerk off.”) and we have a variety of small bills, so if this is anything like the East Village, we should be okay in an emergency.

Except we’re not exactly sure how, in Spain, one gay convinces another gay to go home with him. Not that we can take anybody home – we sleep on a squeaky single bed in a walk-through with a roommate who keeps the intervening door open because he “likes to hear us sleep.” But we’d like to know just in case someone makes the moves on us. Clearly, merely standing near someone and bouncing your shoulders to “SexyBack” while occasionally making fleeting eye contact (which was the foreplay mode du jour in NYC when we left) isn’t going to cut the mustardo here in España. And, probably, our go-to story about the time Adrian Grenier bought us a margarita at Starlight is going to lose a little in translation. So what’s a skinny gay expat to do?

We guess we’ll do what Hemingway always did: use small words, get drunk, and, if there are any complaints later in the game, assure them you’re only just using the “the tip of the iceberg.”

This Is Probably What the Boys At Stonewall Felt Like When Judy Died And The Popo Tried to F*ck With Them...

So last night was the Inter-Law School OUTLaw Mixer at Pieces Bar on Christopher Street. Last time we were at Pieces for our own Intra-school OUTLaw Mixer, we got so drunk we sang karaoke versions of SWV and Journey ("Weak" followed by "Open Arms") at 3:45am and tried to force ourselves on the cute owner who refused (hard to believe, but true). But at least he sent us on our way with a Pieces VIP free drink card.

Undeterred, the next day we spent about 5 hours drafting one of those perfectly constructed, witty, flirty emails you send to a crush in front of whom you were drunk and foolish - (“Hope our version of Weak wasn’t too weak” and “We usually have to pay for our Vodka Tonics before class each morning, but thanks to you now we won't have too!”), but didn’t get a response until 4 days later. FOUR DAYS! And it was one of those emails, of the “I am too nice to just ignore you” variety. You know of what we speak.

So we were a little hesitant about showing our faces there again, but who are we to refuse free drinks and potential husbands with potential future disposable income. Buuuuut...we drank too many Ruby Red and Sodas and again tried to sing 90s black female trio songs and make out with said cute owner. This time, however, not only were we were sent on our way, but we think our Pieces VIP card was confiscated too.

The saddest part? We are more disheartened about the lost free drinks. You can’t satisfy that craving on the internet.

We Bet The First Thanksgiving Got Pretty Hot With All That Corn...And Butter...And Feathers...

It's Wednesday, so time again for “Tales from the Casebook: Gay Gay Gay.” This week, we go back to a time of churning butter and clearing land...when Harvard was but a year old and still had Early Action...to discuss the history of Sodomy Laws.

Plymouth Colony
1637, August 6

John Alexander & Thomas Roberts were both examined and found guilty of lewd behavior and unclean carriage one with another, by often spending their seed on upon another, which was proved both by witness & their own confession...

That’s hot. And who was this “witness” by the way. Clearly if he’s telling on them, he has the 1637 version of Gay Shame.

It goes on:

...the said Alexander [was] found to have been formerly notoriously guilty that way, and seeking to allure others thereunto.

So...this guy goes around all day telling men to come over by him and then “spends his seed upon” them? We imagine the convo to have gone something like this:

Notorious John: Oh William! Come hither! I haveth something to show thee!”
William: Pray, I shall.
Notorious John: Isn’t this just divine? God hath not created a finer...O...M...G...UHHHH.
William: OH MY PURITAN LORD! MY EYE!!!

And it took until 2003 to get these laws overturned. America.

We Didn't Graduate With Any "Laudes" And We'll Probably Never Meet Mr. Right, And Yet We Have Already Written Our Entire Announcement...

Like many of you, we too cull through the Times Wedding Announcements on Sundays to see whose wedding we didn't get invited to and how ugly their new spouse is (sometimes SO ugly their photo is cut out). Also, we look hoping to find that couple that actually met on Friendster or Connexion or The Cock (nee The Hole) in order to keep our dreams alive.

Anyway, we were very moved by the Vows piece this weekend which profiled Adam and Steve, (that's not a joke), a cute gay couple who didn't know they were gay until Princess Di died (kind of like us).

We noticed that Steve was an associate at a firm in New York where we were interviewing today and we thought how nice it would be if we met him and could congratulate him in person. So you can imagine our excitement when the recruiter said that next we would be meeting with...you guessed it...Steve. YESSSSSSS.

Buuuut...sometimes we have trouble hiding our excitement when we meet people we know something about that they don't necessarily know we know. And today was no exception. Behold:

FW: OMG, OMG, we are SOOOOO thrilled to meet you! We were hoping all day that we would!
Steve: Um....
FW: We read the Vows section and noticed you worked here and what are the chances? Well...the chances are not THAT small since we asked to meet some gay attorneys and really, how many can there be here, but regardless, HI!!!!!!!
Steve: Um....
FW: SO...tell us...how has your life changed since Sunday? (We asked this one with the blog in mind).
Steve: Uuhhh...I have been getting a lot of emails from people.
FW: OH STEVE WE ARE SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!! MAZEL TOV!!!
Steve: Oh...well...I see that a client is calling, sorry to cut this short....

And that was that. Our first gay celebrity interview.

And just in case you were wondering, we DO in fact ask to meet gay attorneys at the firms where we interview, mostly because of our J.D./Mrs. program. But we've noticed that EVERY one we have met through this process has a ring on his finger and picture of a hottie on his desk. "Chad/Brad/Wade doesn't really work, so he comes to ALL the firm events and everyone just LOVES him." We're sure they do. Or, "Rusty/Dusty/Klaus and I have the summer associates out to Fire Island EVERY July and everyone just LOVES him." No really, we get it.

Perhaps we need to be more explicit with the recruiters who set up the interview days when they ask, "Are there any specific lawyers with whom you wish to meet?" "Yes," we should say. "The unhappy ones."

Maybe You Could Talk About This Issue Next Time You Are On The Phone With The Guy From Dell With the Accent...

It must be international week at Fagats (the UN is in session people) but today we were taken by the news about the campaign in India to eliminate Section 377 of the Penal Code which outlaws “carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal.” Famous Indian writers, artists, activists and Bollywood stars, led by author Vikram Seth, sent an open letter to the government calling for the "archaic and brutal law" to be struck down. The law has been routinely used by cops to blackmail gay couples caught in the act and stop HIV prevention work, and doesn’t help to put an end the rampant homophobia that exists nationwide. And this from the country that inspired “Bride and Prejudice” and “mango frooti.”

If our mom is any indication, we think Indian mothers might be the perfect group of people to get on board with this campaign. Their letter could read something like this:

Dear Government of India,

We don’t care who our son marries, as long as this person is a DOCTOR.

Love,
All Indian Mothers.

The Answer Was Right In Front Of Our Face The Whole Time! And, Sometimes, On Top Of Us, Or Behind Us, Or Inside Us...

Not only is Spain one of the only countries in the world to allow gay marriage, but its military also allows gays to serve. And, recently, they've begun to allow gays to get married in official military ceremonies. The first such marriage between two servicemen just happened in Seville.

It's not that the situation is without controversy or attention - the couple was chased around the city by the media after the celebration. Two low-level infantrymen were brave enough (or, probably, loved each other enough) to bear the brunt of the attention and go through with it.

But it wasn't even a question of bravery. The government realized they were denying some citizens rights that were granted to others, and rectified the situation before there were court cases. It wasn't that one gay couple pushed the policy through, as was the case in the Massachusetts gay marriage ruling. The Socialist Spanish governing party beat them to the punch. The couple that got married was just the first one to take advantage of the situation.

It makes you almost laugh to imagine what it would be like if the United States government had such an attitude. We don't begrudge the fact that that our democratic legislative and judicial processes are such a quagmire - radical change should be difficult, yet not impossible, to achieve. But these issues just aren't a wedge for Spanish voters, so the government can make small, positive changes without rocking the boat a crazy amount.

We just don't understand how this hasn't come up yet in the US. From what we've gleaned through extensive video and internet research, the military is just overflowing with incessant gay sex: in the showers, in the commisary, on the ships, on the pool table, in the officers quarters, in the barracks, in the woods - sometimes six, seven or eight men at a time! Let these people get married already! Then they'll stop all the sex, like all newlyweds, and start focusing on work for a change. No wonder Iraq is such a fucking disaster...

We Can't Wait For the Oprah Episode Where She Yells at Him and His Publisher For Making Up This Whole "Memoir."

Governor Gay's Oprah interview and book launch don't happen til Tuesday, but he's already getting a lot of sh*t for f-ing while his daughter was from her mother's womb untimely ripped.

As Andrea Peyser of The Post writes,

THERE are several words in the English language that can better describe Jim McGreevey than his chosen title, "gay American."

One word would be "whore."

We're sorry...is there a difference?

You Should Get This Book For Your Cousin in High School Who Likes Musical Theater and The Dixie Chics...

The Thursday Styles Section does not disappoint today with yet another article that has little to do with Fashion and Style and a lot to do with Gay.

We were very sad not to see our alma matter among the schools with the top "Gay Point Averages" in The Advocate College Guide for LGBT Students. With 20 being the top score, the results were as follows:

20: University of Pennsylvania; University of Southern California

19: American University; Ohio State University; Princeton; Pennsylvania State University; University of California, Berkeley; University of California, Los Angeles; University of Minnesota, Twin Cities; University of Oregon; University of Puget Sound

18: Duke; Indiana University; Oberlin College; Stanford; Tufts University; University of California, Santa Cruz; University of Michigan

17: New York University; University of Massachusetts, Amherst

We are quite curious how a school with more than 14 a cappella groups and 12 secret societies doesn't have a "gay point average" of at least 26. Other evidence for fuzzy math involved in this study is the fact that OHIO STATE and DUKE got more points than NYU. Have these people ever BEEN to Heaven's 18+ night? Did they ever try and get a drink at Pop Rocks' open bar back when that party happened? Is this "gay point average" based on how many hot athletes you can drug and lure back to your dorm with promises of straight porn?

When reviewing colleges, the guide "also has a 'Fun Queer Stuff to Know' box that includes information like 'best LGBT-cool athletic sport' and 'best LGBT-accepting religious/spiritual organization.'"

We think it would be far more useful to know things like "best room in the gym to find the closeted boys on the crew team making out" and "best way to clean the blood off the sheets after you take someone's virginity." Also "best mints to use to freshen your breath after puking in the middle of a hook up when you are not ready to go home yet" would have come in handy one or two times.

We Thought We Had To Leave the Bullsh*t Fluff Classes Behind After That “Homoeroticism In Abercrombie Ads” Paper In College...Boy Were We Wrong...

On Wednesdays, we have a seminar called "Sexuality and the Law." (This class is a requirement for our joint J.D./Mrs. program.) Since the reading for the class is filled with dirty, dirty things that we spend all day sharing with people on IM, we thought we might as well start a new Wednesday series called "This Is The Reason They Ban Books In the Midwest: Choice Quotes From A Gay-Ass Casebook."

This week we were lucky enough to read about Lesbian Sex. Marilyn Frye writes,

"[A recent study] found that lesbian couples have sex far less frequently than any other type of couple....In their sample, only about one third of lesbians in relationships of two years or longer 'had sex' once a week or more; 47% of lesbians in long term relationships 'had sex' once a month or less, while among heterosexual married couples only 15% had sex once a month or less."

And now that The View is syndicated, these numbers are only going to get worse. She goes on:

"It was brought to [Park Slope's] attention during our ruminations on this that what 85% of long-term heterosexual married couples do more than once a month takes on the average 8 minutes to do....I know from my own experience, that what we do that, on average, we do considerably less frequently, takes on the average, considerably more than 8 minutes to do. Maybe about 30 minutes at the least. Sometimes maybe about an hour."

An HOUR? Is she kidding? Don't these people have back episodes of Grey's Anatomy and Lost to get through?

"And it is not uncommon that among these relatively uncommon occurences, an entire afternoon or evening is given over to activities organized around doing it."

Now this is too much.

Gay men, sadly, feature nowhere in the article, mostly because we are usually blackout drunk and can't possibly remember how long it took. But some would argue that we too organize entire evenings around "doing it," except our evenings don't involve candles and batteries, rather, plastic bottles of vodka, cab fares, and a deep sense of regret.

The best part of the reading, however, is this little blow to all those straight women out there:

"I'm willing to draw the conclusion that heterosexual women don't 'have sex' either, that what they report is the frequency with which their partners 'had sex.'"

OH SNAP! And all you ladies get from it is 9 months of hemorrhoids and a lifetime of stretch marks...

We Try To Make Ourselves Understood, But "I Need Constant Attention And Positive Feedback" Doesn´t Translate Through Gestures And Facial Expressions

Hola amigos!

We´ve been in Madrid for three days (the older, crustier Fagat, that is) and boy are our wrists tired (that´s a handjob joke). The city is great, the people are lovable, and of course, we generally have no idea what is going on.

But, here are some quick things we´ve learned about Madrid (we don´t know how to make fancy bullet points like New Fagat, so bear with us):

1) It is cool here to wear capri pants
2) It is also cool to have a mullet
3) The coolest thing, however, is to wear trashy American slogan tees.
4) Everyone here, basically, looks pretty faggy
5) Nopody really works after 2 pm. Instead, like the graceful manatee, they eat, rest, and then look for more food to eat.
6) Things that they don´t eat include vegetables. Mostly it´s just bread, booze, cheese, sausage, and cigarettes.
7) Naturally, we love it here.

Yesterday, we had a martini and some tapas at a streetside cafe. Except we accidentally ordered an entire plate of serrano ham. Though we are going to die approx. 5 years sooner because of it, we don´t regret it. It was the best thing that´s ever happened to us.

The best part is, Americans are super popular at gay bars. You don´t even need to speak Spanish. Just having blue eyes, or blonde hair, or freckles, is enough to get you as much "culo" as you want. (For those of you who are not native speakers, that´s Spanish for "boygina.")

We miss you already! Just kidding!

Our Father Told Us We Were Bad At Sports Because We Lacked "Mental Toughness." That's Also What Our Eyebrow Threader Tells Us When We Cry In Pain.

We have been suffering from withdrawal the past 2 days, and it's far worse than the last K hole we were in. This withdrawal is not something you expect from a gay, since it has to do with...(gasp)...SPORTS!

Our withdrawal stems from the fact that the U.S. Open is dunzo. We watched it pretty religiously, and even resorted to backstabbing friends and family to get tickets for Andre's last win EVER. But we've been questioning why the gays choose Grand Slam Tennis, along with Olympic Swimming, Diving and Figure Skating as the only sports we really care about. Here are some thoughts:

• These events only happen once a year, or once every four years, for only about two weeks. Since we have short attention spans and can't commit, we choose to care about sports we don't have to deal with for a whole season, after which we can go back to Beige having only missed two weeks.
  

• These sports are individual, and don't bring back memories of taking the bus back to school after the soccer game against Friends Academy when everyone on the team starts yelling at you and throwing things at you and calling you names since you accidentally scored on your own goal. (I WAS HIT IN THE HEAD WITH THE BALL AND WAS DISORIENTED YOU F*CKERS).

• Players of these sports are incredibly, incredibly hot.

• Players of these sports are incredibly, incredibly gay.
  

• Related, how can you not love a sport that renames its national hub in honor of a big, giant lesbian?

• And lastly, not only can we enjoy watching these sports, but we can enjoy playing these sports as well, since they allow us to freely wear our massive collections of tight shorts, speedos, and swan costumes.

You Survived Without Martha and Lil' Kim For a Few Months, You Can Surely Make it Through This...

Welcome to The FAGAT Guide: Guest 'Mo Edition. We hope this is less tramautic than the time Kelly and Jessie mysteriously disappeared from Bayside High and leather-clad, motorcycle riding, pole and the hole liking Tori was there instead.

We are very happy to be here, and hope we can live up to your expectations during our stint as guest-blogger. Please keep a few things in mind:

1. Unlike Bigmouth, we are productive members of society, and therefore we apologize in advance if we miss a day or two. And since we are productive members of society, we don’t really interact with “celebrities,” so don’t expect any exclusive interviews with any of them. Well, maybe the occasional star-f*cker photo will show up, but VERY rarely.

2. Unlike Bigmouth, we don’t “go out” or “date” or "get dirty texts” or even “get messaged” on “friendster.” We sit and read in a library all day. Hence, we have an even more cynical view of the world, if you thought it possible. Sometimes this may come across as bitter. And it is.

3. Unlike Bigmouth, we are the children of immigrants, and thus don’t speak or write English too good. Grammar and syntax are not priorities when you only have rice and fishpaste to eat, and spend all day praying for Sally Struthers to come over.

4. Finally, in the interest of full disclosure, we just want to say that Bigmouth is the reason we are gay, since he forced himself upon us in a squash court stairwell sophomore year of college, back when we liked girls. That and the a cappella, of course.

Bigmouth, we wish you the best of luck in Spain, and please, BE SAFE. Last time we were there, we lost our friend at a gay foam party only to find that he had slipped on the stairs and was under the chest-high foam for 2.6 minutes. He was OK, but surfaced with a bruised hip and syphilis. And be sure to figure out how to say “We don’t want to go to the back room with you” before you get there. Unfortunately, they didn’t teach that to us in Spanish Club.

Change Is Difficult. But So Is Shaving Your Testicles, And You've Gotten Quite Good At That, We Must Say - So This Should Be Fine.

As you may have heard, your friendly neighborhood Big Mouth is leaving the country on Saturday.

He is headed to Madrid to live with the gays and study their mating habits for the next four months. He will miss all of you, and hopes that you will miss him.

But never fear! Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, we will be born anew! Actually, rather than a phoenix, it's more like that time on "Roseanne" when they got the new Becky and nobody pretended it wasn't ridiculous.

While Bigmouth will be posting updates of his wacky international misadventures, we have asked a very important friend if he would take over the day to day writing of the blog. He has not said yes yet, so those of you who know him, please peer pressure him into it.

If he does accept, we hope you will give him a grand welcoming like you did Katie Couric.

And then, of course, talk shit about his outfits behind his back.

And Yes, It Was Embarrassing For Everyone Involved

We experienced something new for the first time this weekend: surrogate relationship hysteria.

We took a road trip to Maine with four of our very best, closest, truest friends. Scheduled to come on our trip was one long-term boyfriend of a posse member - but shortly before the trip, the two of them broke up.

And the ex came anyway.

We're not sure why one would decide to go on a long weekend road trip with one's recent ex and his four best friends, but there it was.

And something interesting happened: because our friend (LL) and his ex (FHC) were so zen about their breakup (they still "love" each other and "talk" to each other and "respect" each other and even "spoon" each other), the rest of us were driven to insanity.

If LL would go to the bathroom, we'd turn on FHC as a group. "WHY CAN'T YOU GET BACK TOGETHER?!" we'd shriek. "DON'T YOU REALIZE WE'LL NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN IF YOU DON'T?!" When FHC would not immediately agree, our hysteria would only deepen. "YOU LOVE EACH OTHER!" we'd wail. "CAN'T WE JUST WORK IT OUT? CAN'T WE JUST TRY HARDER?! JUST TELL US WHAT TO CHANGE AND WE'LL CHANGE IT!!!"

It was very embarrassing. And it only got worse if FHC would step out of the room for a moment. "ll," we'd whisper in hushed tones. "you're never going to do better than fhc. you had better get back together with him or you'll always be alone. aloooooooooonnnnnneeeeeee....."

By the end of the weekend, it had gotten so bad that we would talk openly about it their sex life, as a group. "If you guys don't get back together, you're fucked for the rest of your lives," one of us would serve up over lunch in a diner. "That was the problem in the first place!" another would drive home, making it very awkward for our pre-teen waitress.

There's not really a moral of the story, except for the fact that those of us who are in stable relationships, or are desperately seeking them, don't understand why people who have them can just let them slip away. It's like having a free trainer at David Barton Gym, and deciding you'd rather just go home and smoke a cigarette instead. It boggles the mind.

But whatever, throw away your happiness, see if we care. It's your loss.

Anyway, you'll come crawling back. And when you do, we'll be at the bar.

If You Couldn't Guess, We're Not Posting On Monday, Either

Sometimes when we have nothing to write about we just Google News the word “gay” to see what’s been going on in the world. Today we merely Googled “gay,” and noticed that when you do so, the only sponsored ad banner that pops up at the top of the Google page is for “PositiveSingles.com.” The banner reads: “Date Singles with STDs.”

Obviously, we immediately clicked on it, and were completely unsurprised to find that it is a treasure trove of amusements.

We were going to write a whole post about how hilarious it is that people with STDs might be sitting around poring over online profiles of other people with STDs, but in the end we thought it would be tasteless. It would be like making fun of gay people who are fat. Sure, it’s their fault, but it’s really more sad than funny.

So instead, here’s a cartoon we liked: