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omen

What can it mean when you come home to find a switchblade
ominously perched at your threshold?



(a free knife for me, that's what.)

pump up the ...uh...jam?

Mommy, I'm scared.

via

thought for the day

Gay history

1851 Horacio and Lionel:          Broke up after Lionel broke Horacio's second favorite Sevres epergne in a pique of rage. 

1861: Nathaniel and Ezra:         Broke up over the issue of slavery and states' rights (and Ezra's jungle fever )

1870: Edgar and Thomas:          Broke up over the heated case of bustles and postiches. 

1885: George and William and Marcus and John:          Broke up to become George and John and William and Marcus.

1890: Aaron and Jed:         Broke up when Jed became a vegan.

1919: Lloyd and Calvin and Jonathan: Broke up when Jonathan married Alice

1945: Peter and Glenn:        Broke up after one too many alcoholic rages

1950: Robert and Bud:      Broke up at 5 a.m. when Bud woke up.

thought for the day

via

The NIHG Wishbook 2012 is here!

From our Men's Fashions Department:

776. "One step beyond" Starflash lame ensemble, gold or silver  $19.95.  777.  Chocolate Velvet lounge set $35.00

From our Ladies' department:

212. Blackeyed Susan Swimsuit with accessories.  $50.99 (plus an extra twenty on the nightstand)

                                   From our toy department:

24. Bearbie doll $15.99

666. The Inflatable Unicorn horn. For Cats.  $5.99 (cat not included)

345. Hand crocheted penis Chap Stik holder. $2.00

40. The Dolly doll  $38.24



From our Housewares Department:

13. Anal rape pencil sharpener  $19.99

177. Stylish Grape cluster hanging lamp $50.00

96. Sophisticated Erotica phone $69.69

Place your orders now.  Supplies are limited.  

Watch and learn

thought for the day

reminder

I got hit on.

Ok, so I didn't really.  I just like saying that. 

The other night a friend of mine from out of state was in town.
We had dinner. He wanted to go out for a drink afterward.
I grudgingly agreed. I'm the world's worst tour guide, especially when it comes to bars, and I didn't feel like trying to park downtown, so I took him to St. Joe's, uptown...which is ever so collegiate and straight.

But it has a lovely kinda Royal-Pavilion-at-Brighton-on-a-budget themed courtyard.

With Chinese lanterns!  I'm a sucker for a Chinese lantern.

It was packed with college and post-college sorts....and us.

We got drinks. He continued pontificating about philosophy and literature. He's really tall and good looking, so he can get away with that shit, you know.

A few minutes into a rerun of his spiel about Muriel Spark, we were interrupted by a blonde grad-school looking gal.

             "Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look like Joe Manganiello?" she asked.

She asked my friend, that is. Not me. I mean no one has ever been that drunk.

              "Huh?" he asked. "I don't know who that is," he told her curtly.

 She tried to explain, but he didn't much care. Didn't stop her, however. God bless her.

Next thing I know he's insulting her taste in books.
Then she turned her attention to me. "Jeez, he's kind of an asshole, isn't he, your friend there?" she nodded flirtatiously at him....and touched my knee.
            "Yeah," I agreed. 
           "But you're not. You're nice. I like you better anyway,"  she went on.

He roared out a hearty laugh.
The three of us continued to talk. Somewhere, about twenty minutes into the conversation, with no moves being made on our parts, she sobered up a bit and asked the obvious:

"Wait, you two aren't gay, are you?"
"Sorry," we smiled.
"Oh damn. What the hell!" she sighed.
But she didn't leave.
We kept talking. Bought her a drink. Her friends at the other table kept giggling.
God bless her.

Turned out she was on vacation, from DC, some kind of intern or something. Hated it there and hated the midwest too. where she was from originally.
She hadn't seen anything of the city but what her friends had dragged her to. We got out a cocktail napkin and made a list of places for her to go, outside of the quarter, places where she could meet some straight and not fratty guys, hopefully. She thanked us and went back to her friends.

Then we got our drinks, said our goodbyes...and went to a gay bar...where, of course, no one hit on us at all.

just cuz

I know I'm taking notes.  All I need is a big yellow bedsheet
and a buttload of bugle beads. Halston, I'm guessing?

thought for the day

via

Swantegic advertising

Every other time I visit facebook, their ever omniscient robots keep posting this ad just for me, so I can't miss it.
_______________________________________________________

Cosmetic Surgery for Men

New and improved procedures provide men the means to look and feel their best

Are you worried about getting passed over for a promotion because you look tired or aged? Is your body just not responding to diet and exercise the way it used to? Cosmetic procedures are a great option for men who want to feel confident about their appearance at work and at play. The Swan Center for Plastic Surgery has a team of dedicated surgeons who offer a number of procedures to solve common problems

• - removing unwanted fat
• - rejuvenating the face
• - tightening and trimming the waistline
• - reshaping the nose
• - gynecomastia correction

 ______________________________________________________

OMG, nothing will ruin a day like an early morning ad for "gynecomastia correction".

Clearly the internet gods are trying to tell me something.
 
ahem

Of course I can't help but wonder if it's the same prestigious Swan Center for Low Self Esteem that we all remember so fondly:





Frankly, I wish I could get ads fromThe Miss Swan Center. How come those robots can't figure that out?

Thought for the day

Programming note:
I just happened to find a butt-load of comments that were "awaiting" approval. 
I had no idea!
I guess when I changed the comment settings to keep our relentless Chinese Internet Overloards from spamming me
to death (and others...sorry dear Norma!) I must have changed some setting or another. 
Sorry :(
But most importantly thank you all!

International Lame

So today, cleaning out some trash, I found this old copy of International Male.
Alert the Smithsonian!
Remember back in the ancient of days when this had to suffice for gay porn?
Oh, the pity of it all.
The pity of it all.

Anyway, let's take a look, shall we?

The appliqued black shirt.  Sadly the cover looks like the "classiest" thing about the whole catalog.

Striped bellbottoms. In the 90s. Let that just sink in, will you.

One detail too many on each of these. Ok, maybe twelve details too many.

Who doesn't need a sleeveless linen shirt? Or pukka shells.

The ubiquitous extra long 90s suit. Now seen only on black men d'un certain âge. In lemon.

The classic leather trench coat. It's a "staple" Isn't this what they wore at Columbine?

Two of the most hideous shirts I've ever seen. In lemon.

How many Orlons had to die for this?

And, of course, the classic linen overalls. You know you need them

The worst part of it was that by '97 all the underwear pictures were close cropped without heads or pecs and smoothed out by photoshop. Without the models in high cut thong bikinis, there really is no reason for IM at all, is there?

Rest stop Exodus

Well, I could bore you all with an epic bitchfest of Biblical proportions about my long exodus, wandering the desert of rural Louisiana while plunged into darkness, without electricity for a full freaking week...in August...in New Orleans...but I won't.

For now.

I will say this much, however, I am always reminded by my sojourns in the Kuntry exactly why meth seems to have such a sweet siren's song.

Anyway, in lieu of bitching, here are a few random pictures from my cellphone of some of the many rest stop bathrooms I found myself in along the way.

You're welcome.

Fairies on the gas station men's room's wall.  
Fairies on the wall, but not one glory hole. What is this world coming to????

Chocolate vending machine next to mens room in the tourist center

Condom and "Horny Goat Weed" vending machine in truck stop men's room. 
Chocolate or Horny Goat Weed? Hmmm....tough decision.

Handy dandy toilet stall scale, to weigh yourself after you've... um... lost a few pounds, I guess.

Rough approximation of hot redneck  
(who would have surely killed me if I 
had dared take a photo of him) washing his best camo 
t-shirt in the men's room sink. Bless his heart.