Monday, August 23, 2010

Uncut Memories, and other Tribulations

I was talking to a dude on the Internet last night (god forbid I ever go out) when he asked if I lived alone.
"No," I said. "I have roommates."
"Are they gay?"
"Are they hot?"
"Lol! No."
"How old are they?"
"Oh, fine. I live with my parents."

I wasn't technically LYING. I mean, I live with two other people who are not hot or gay. It's not until I mention that they're 50 that things get confusing to people.

One of my roommates is chill and likes to drink with me. The other one hasn't spoken to me since Thursday because we got in a fight, the kind where things were said that hurt so bad that we're going to stay mad forever, until we forget why we're mad in the first place.


My computer was acting up the other day, so while waiting for it to reboot I walked into my brother's old room. He has some of my DVD's in there and I was wondering if there was any I could re-watch.

When I was 18, my gay friend turned nemesis, Gaysian, bought me a porno. "You don't want to know what I had to do to get this," he said, and I imagined it involved some kind of disgusting sexual favor. While I'm actually not a fan of gay porn and find most of it very squicky and uncomfortable, this movie was European and had very high production quality. I mean, the plot was sort of questionable (five attractive dudes sit in a living room together and share stories of sexual exploits before engaging in group sex), but the overall, erm, action, is pretty good, and since I was a late bloomer about discovering sexuality due to my adolescent years spent on the Paxil Train, I imagine that when I was 18 I reached the promised land to that DVD about 30 times.

When I moved back from New York, it was no longer in its hiding spot, and I assumed my mother found it and rightfully threw it away. I never thought of it again.

The other night, I'm in my brother's room, rifling through DVD's, AND THERE IT IS. In completely plain view. I shuddered. Had my brother known it was there the whole time? Did my mother know it was there? What if relatives came over wanting to look at Dane's old room? Surely somebody had seen the DVD of "Uncut Memories"! What if they thought maybe Dane was secretly gay, too? The thoughts were too much to bear. It is currently hiding in my desk drawer, and I will probably get drunk this weekend and watch my favorite scenes. Before you think I'm a pervert, for me the money shot is when the dude's shirt comes off. I'm weird, I know.


I love Twitter, both with friends, celebrities and fake celebrities. Right now I've been Tweeting JonnytheUnit, who is The Situation's personal trainer or something? Last night I found out there's ANOTHER little gay boy Tweeting him, and this boy is totally cuter than me. Even in the fake quasi-famousphere, I am inadequate.

I also stopped following porn stars Alana and Chris Evans after they started going off against the mosque in New York City. I was torn about it. I think it's great that people have opinions on national affairs, despite what they do for a living. But when you say "I have done my research and the mosque is nothing more than a 9/11 triumph site" and "We have to defend ourselves against neighbors", well, um ... your research is wrong. I'll go back to getting drunk and DM'ing Lee Roy Meyers (a genius director, and I think I'm even going to buy "The Human Sexipede" when it comes out) and telling Rocco Reed to enjoy his weekend.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

On Rules

1. When you're dancing with a cute boy at The Gay '90s to Britney Spears' "...Baby One More Time", and you make awkward small talk and explain that you had this song on single when you could go to Best Buy and get CD's for 99 cents, and his response is an adorable "Yeah, I was seven when this came out", that's when you need to step away.

Here's the thing: I barely know this kid. He is not going to be a good friend of mine. But now we are Facebook friends, and because I am constantly obsessed with other peoples' lives, especially the Minneapolis gays and what I have perceived to be the Minneapolis gAy-list, some imaginary social echelon that I have decided I will never be part of and can't even decide if I want to be or not, I cannot turn away from the whole thing, but I refuse to be one of those gross gay dudes all up on his wall like "youre so cuuuuttttttee" and "call meeeeeeeeeeeee" ...

Also, if you describe yourself as a "down to earth hot gay guy", well, I won't dispute you're gay. But if you are truly down to earth, you do not know you are down to earth. If you are truly hot, you do not need to describe yourself as hot. That's like me telling people that I'm pale. Like, no, really?

Why do I care? I need to not. This is me not caring. I think.

P.S. Cute 19-year-old: I mean, I know you have a boyfriend and everyting and there's like 5,000 other twentysomething gay dudes all up on your grill, but um, if you want to come over and, like watch, Step Up, let me know. But give me a date so I can make sure my parents aren't home and maybe I can convince you that it's my house.