Halloween Isn't Always For Being A Whore - Sometimes It's For Being An Object Of Ridicule

So there's this eager intern in our office who asked the intern manager the other day if our workplace is one where people get dressed up for Halloween. The intern manager, knowing that this is exactly the opposite of that kind of place, said "…..sure."

Today we came into the office to find said intern decked out head to toe in drag, with a flawless Lucille Bluth costume. There was even a martini on the desk beside his keyboard.

Not a single other person in our open newsroom wore a costume, not even a funny hat.

And you know what? Contrary to what we expected, it kind of made the kid the coolest guy in the office. Nice.

Happy Power Bottom Appreciation Day!

One of our very favorite Power Bottoms (you know who you are! As do many, many Fagats readers!) forwarded us this blog post. It commemorates a day we should all recognize, honoring a group of gays that we here at Fagats hold very dear to our hearts.

It's the one day of the year that we recognize those power bottoms who continue to astonish us with their mad skillz. This is not to be confused with Bubble Butt Bonanza Day, which occurs on the last Friday of April. In case you've been living under a rock, a power bottom is a man who enthusiastically takes it up the butt. He enjoys it, never winces, is an aggressive participant, and usually begs for more. They are a treasure and must be showered with admiration. Take the poll at the bottom (har, har) to let us know what you enjoy the most. PBs set themselves apart from lazy bottoms (yawn), dirty bottoms (ew), and tops masquerading as bottoms (stop, it hurts).

Oh, Power Bottoms. Where would we be without you? In an uncomfortable position, that's where.

Someone At Details Slept With A Rich Gay Foreigner

For a long time, Details was our favorite magazine. We have no idea why – the writing is strange and neither relevant nor clever. The pictures of the boys are hot but they were often too fully-clothed. It must be something to do with the heavy, sexy feel of a fashion magazine, combined with the pages and pages of things that would make us look fabulous. Except we will never be rich enough to afford any of them, so that doesn't make sense either. But anyway, Details is finally catching up with every other magazine in the world and releasing some of their content on the web. Such as this story, about gay "sexpats," who are rich heirs who come to the US to live out their sexually free ways among the perverts in this Godforsaken land. "From Oscar Wilde's years in France to Paul Bowles' infamous forays into Morocco to Gore Vidal's legendary Amalfi hideaway, gay men have long gone into exile when their carnal desires clashed with cultural constraints," the mag writes. Oh, yeah. That's why we used to love Details so much. Because it's the most faggoty piece of crap on the newsstand.

Top Model + Jeopardy = Truly Awe Inspiring Television

We discovered an amazing new show last night. JJ, JS and I were enjoying a lovely dinner when all of a sudden we hear the voice of Ben Stein introducing a new reality show, "America's Most Smartest Model." Yes, that's right.

Fourteen models, (7 men, 7 women) all of whom think they could be the smartest in America, will live together as they compete to determine which of them has what it takes to be dubbed "America's Most Smartest Model" -- The perfect combination of Beauty and Brains.

Wow.

Let's face it, we would still watch the show if it included only 14 women, but the addition of 7 (HOT!) men makes this show a new staple of our Sunday Nights (or any night of the week since apparently it is on everyday). Behold:

I am not as hot when I smile since I have big teeth.


No, these are not photo-shopped in.

Last night the first challenge was a spelling bee (F-E-N-D-I), but the big challenge was the "walk and talk," where the models stood at the start of the runway, were given a category, and then had to list as many things in that category as they could, while SIMULTANEOUSLY doing a runway walk. This is hard stuff. Brett (above, top) was (shockingly) able to list numerous elements from the periodic table. VJ (above, bottom (ha)) thought that Memphis and Seattle were states. (States are hard, y'all!).

The best performance by far was that of Gaston, an Argentinian model who enjoyed sexually harassing the female models (one of whom said she felt "objectified"). His category was "things that smell bad." His list included "armpits, farts, feet, dirty underwear, dirty socks," and, of course, " dirty penis." When asked by Ben Stein if he actually said "dirty penis," he responded, "what, does it not smell bad?" So true, Gaston, so true.

Who farted? What? It wasn't me!

Off camera, Gaston then added, "if they don't like it, they can suck it." Whether he was referring to the dirty penis, his penis, or his dirty penis, we will never know. Sadly, Gaston got the boot.

Okay, We're Just Going To Say It.

Cody, the groom who we've been watching on the Today Show Wedding Special for weeks, is a HUGE FLAMER.


That's all.

Breaking: People Sometimes Repeatedly Sleep With People Whom They Are Not Interested In Dating!

In an enlightening expose of the underground world of “Friends With Benefits,” the Times reports that “research, conducted among Michigan State University students, confirmed previous findings that most college students report having had at least one such relationship.” NO WAY!

Also, “in addition to budding romances…the “friends” may also be former lovers who occasionally see each other or they may be people who hang out at the same places and now and then end up wrapped around each other, even though they are not really friends.” OMG! Please stop, this is too too shocking.

Luckily, the study makes no indication of whether the "125 young men and women" surveyed were gay or straight, so for now we are going to assume they are all straight, and that such things NEVER happen in our community...

It's Been So Long That If This Site Wasn't Bookmarked We Would Have Had A Hard Time Finding It...

Well well well. Fancy seeing us here. We apologize (especially to Bigmouth) for our prolonged absence from the internets. We have no new job, and no other blogs that required our attention. Really, we only have entire seasons of shows on DVD, facebook.com, and the new Fall lineup to blame for our amazing display of laziness. But now that we actually do have craploads to do, we thought we would avoid doing it and once again start commenting on all things gay. To begin our reentry into the blogosphere, we want to recap our cab experience on Saturday, circa 3:22am. The below is not made up.

The scene is 8th Avenue and 52nd Street. FW runs to the street corner and flails arms in hopes of catching a taxi cab, (hopefully one without GPS as FW feels as if he might puke all over it and then feel bad that the cab driver spent all this money out of his own pocket to install it after that whole strike thing did not work out). A cab pulls over and FW enters.

FW: Hi. [Redacted] street and [Redacted] Avenue please.
Cabbie: Excuse me, can I ask you something?
FW (slurring): Sure.
Cabbie: Are you gay?
FW (still slurring): Um…yes.
Cabbie: I thought so. I have all these gay in my cab, and they ask me to take them to the club, but I only know this “Splash” place so I take them there.
FW (stops slurring): Huh. You should stop. That place is terrible.
Cabbie: So where I should take them, man?
FW: Tuesdays, take them to Bowery Bar, Wednesday the Phoenix, Thursday at Pop Rocks, and the weekends at Mr. Blacks or Hells Kitchen bars. Mondays they should take the night off.
Cabbie: Wow, you know all the places!! Here, I have my gay friend on phone, please talk to him. (Hands FW his Bluetooth).
FW (back to slurring): Um…hello?
Friend: Hey dude. You gay?
FW: Um…yes.
Friend: You going to Splash tonight?
FW: Not so much. It’s 3:30am.
Friend: Well I’m getting ready to go, man. You should come, man!
FW: Great. Have fun. (Hands Bluetooth back to Cabbie).
FW (to Cabbie): You’re not going to Splash?
Cabbie: No way man! I like pussy!
FW (holding back puke): Riiiiight. Have fun. Mwah mwah!

And to think we almost gave up taxis recently...