Beware Of The Trolls: Potbellied Edition

Oh, what an evening. I'm rather worked up at the moment. And not in the good way.

The night started off with a speedy workout at the gym. So far so good.

Woods and I attended DRRRAMA!! at The Standard's Purple Lounge in the breeder section of West Hollywood (a/k/a The Sunset Strip). Going well so far.

Got to see my Dragstrip girlfriend Esmeralda hosting the door with my occasional homegirl Maxine. Visually feasted on trannies, club kids, and freaks galore. Happiness consumes me while watching two childrens from the House of Xtravaganza work the floor - Jason was literally serving it & Hector werked the gold velvet VIP rope like no other. Good. Good. Good.

Post 2am, Woods and I dip our wicks at Vaseline Alley. Getting better.

Woods runs off with Latino sidedish while I ended up watching (insert Generic West Hollywood White Bread "Bro" Type here) getting sucked off by (insert VA-regular Greedy Latino Cockpig) - all while my jeans happened to be pushed down to my ankles. I was "keeping myself busy". Ahem. Not bad.

Four post-bar attendees get into the voyeurism action as well. I find one of them attractive, the others... eh, pass. Possibility of this scene going south: huge. Worries begin.

Generic West Hollywood White Bread "Bro" type totally flipped the script and was all up in my business. I guess she liked big Latin cock because she moved away from VA-regular Greedy Latino Cockpig and dropped to her knees in front of me. Color me surprised. Nice.

This is where the events turned ugly.

Three of the four watchers (the three I didn't fancy of course) turned the mood ring from a horned-up-in-public green to a i'm-going-to-kick-you-in-the-muthafuckin'-teeth red. BFD-staple Loud Mouth'd Butterball, Dark Grandpa In Hat, & Asian Business Wear Man broke out in a fever over all of the shenanigans that they began to cause commotions in efforts to gobble up Generic West Hollywood White Bread "Bro" Type's cock. So not cool. Peoples where pushed, hands were shushed away, and vibes were broken. Bad, bad, bad.

I pulled up my pants and quite obviously motioned "let's go somewhere else" with my eyes to Generic West Hollywood White Bred "Bro" Type, but that bitch got spooked. And rightfully so. I don't blame her as I was unnerved my damn self. She got in her (insert economic & environmentally safe vehicle) and called it a night. I walked back up the street in order to regain my thoughts. I know that if I hadn't, I would have found those three turds and put a hurt on all of them.

Moments later, Woods appearing with that familiar calming look on his face. Mmmhmmm.

Woods and I hung out in a dark corner for a while as I scanned the remains. I plotted my revenge on one said little pudgy scene stealer - BFD-staple Loud Mouth'd Butterball. He was the real culprit in destroying what could have been a good situation. That asshole. With his small meaty fingers. And that horrible carnivorous mouth - nothing splendid comes out of that thing. Nothing. And from what I could tell, nothing other than food goes in it.

While entertaining the thought what it would be like to truly show him pain, Woods and I were cruised quite heavily by a drunken couple of Generic West Hollywood White Bread "Bro" Types Who Are Actually Quite Effeminate - one of them should be listed as Generic West Hollywood White Bread "Bro" Types Who Are Actually Quite Effeminate (Smoker). They lingered around us at this point and that point, playing with their junk, showing their assets. But again, that hefty roll of a man crashed the party. Sigh.

The boys went to their cars and high-tailed it. Woods and I followed suit. But at least the boys grabbed our packages as they walked by to their car. From the looks on their faces, they seemed happily shocked. BFD-staple Loud Mouth'd Butterball was just steps behind them. Upon passing, that queen had the gall to attempt a grab of his own by copping a feel onto Woods' significant bulge... only to be swatted by Woods. Of course that didn't phase Donut Thighs (oh, that's a new one!), because she went right back just seconds later. That greedy aggressive oompa-loompa. Yuck.

As I drove back down the street afterwards, I looked hard for BFD-staple Loud Mouth'd Butterball/Donut Thighs. I so wanted to run him down with the car, but I began to reach a state of tranquility - thank you Depeche Mode's soothing single "Peace". There would be no manslaughter tonight. But if I ever set eyes on that annoyingly swollen head of his again, I will have to hold myself back as I have a feeling my right fist will find it's way to his face.

Or at the very least, a nasty little read worthy to be from the lips of a bitter drag queen. Ahem.

I'm Good, I'm Gone... Yes, You Are Blanche

I'm a little disappointed right now due to the fact that I got to the Lykke Li show on the late side and missed the song I wanted to hear. To be honest, I know that it's not anything of significant importance. I'm just feeling a bit low. It doesn't help as I tend to over analyzed these types of situations.

I was looking forward to the concert this evening as the past few times she has come through LA I wasn't able to obtain tickets due to the numerous sold out statuses. So this time was to be different. The tickets were got weeks in advance and for mere duckets at that - only $5 (before fees) thanks to CitiBank.

Now today was one of those types of days that nothing went as planned so I can't be too surprised that I ended up somewhat bummed out - and for tardiness (but not really). See Woods and I have been doing much better arriving to shows "on time" (before the headlining performer) so tonight's situation threw me off. Lady Li was on at 9:40pm. The usual time for headliners to hit the stage at The Wiltern have been about 10pm and beyond. So by us getting there at about 9:55pm was going to be good. Wrong.

I just wish the venues would post the set times like the Troubadour does. I hate how the promoters hide shit like this. Why can't you say, "Doors at..." with a "Show at..." and stick to it. Not some generic time that actually means "Doors at...", but have you thinking "Show at...". What I mean is when you have tickets that say (insert headlining act's name, 8pm). No door info, nothing. But you come to find out when you get there, 8pm means "Doors at..." with the show at 9pm or so. Bastards.

It's all about alcohol sales. I get it. But Woods and I avoid all of that bullshit of hanging out until who we want to see by arriving closer to the headlining act's time. And it avoids me having to deal with the douchebags surrounding us when we go to these shows, because those d-bags love them show live shows. Oh the times I have almost gotten into fights. Sigh.

I'm over it. I'll have to catch her next time she rolls through. But I'll make sure I'm up to speed on my lezbot hipster wear, because damn, it was total Booby Trap in that bitch tonight. Love it.

Hangover Central

The room is spinning right now. I'm on the verge of a vomit session. Oh, the magic of alcohol.

I wish I could say that last night was a complete memory loss, but I can't. I remember just about all of it. Not that it is bad to recall what happened last evening/this morning, but I am severely paying for it today.

Woods and I decided to head out to Rock N Roll Drag Bar at legendary lesbo bar The Palms. Not knowing what the night had in store for us, Woods decided it would be a good idea to begin the night with a round of Patron shots. Ok, ok, it was MY idea, but he went along with it.

You know what? The mere detailing of last night's events are quite headaching. Let me give you the Cliffs Notes version...

3 Patron shots
2 Coronas
Drunken chit chat with bartender
Wounds healed with Double H
Drunken chats with "the cool kids"
Underwear Afterparty
Street clothes hit the floor
3 or 4 MGDs
More drunken chats
Make-out sessions
Grinding
Hands down underwear
Bathroom antics
Blow Jobs
Nudity
Rimming
Floppiness
Re-dress
Driving home (memory fades)
Waking up next morning (ahem, afternoon) with one extra person in bed

Now that is how you do it! But the end result is, shall we say, not so cute. Me nursing a hangover is not pretty. And neither is spewing chunks onto a laptop so I'm heading back to bed. Oy.

"I'm never drinking again!"

NO MA'AM

It's crap like this that makes me happy I'm a flaming homosexual...

From the Yahoo home page:

Dating Tips: 9 Simple Things Women Want

Besides the meaning of life and the ingredients of hot dogs, many a man has questioned, "What exactly do women want?" We're not playing coy here, we know we're complex creatures. And, true, we operate on a different wavelength than men.

But women aren't exactly the great mystery that men often make us out to be. The proof? We polled the YourTango staff and compiled a list of 9 simple things women want. Note: you won't find diamond rings or other fancy things anywhere on this list. While many women really do want luxury goods from men, when you break it down they are just physical representations of some of the points on this list. We promise.

1. Respect. Show us through your actions that you respect our opinions, careers, interests, friends, bodies, and minds. You don't have to agree with all that we say or do, but try to honor our opinions as valuable contributions. Follow the golden rule and treat us as you would like to be treated: Be honest, fair, kind, and considerate.

2. Romance. It's another night on the couch with takeout and TiVo? Just because we're staying in doesn't mean the evening can't be romantic. Light a few candles and see where the night leads. Treat us like your girlfriend, even after we become your wife. Date nights, physical affection in the car, kissing like when we first started dating -- all of the things that made us fall in love with you don't have to stop just because now there are bills to pay, a house to be cleaned, and kids to be bathed. Bring home flowers for no reason. We're not talking $100 bouquets of roses here. Even the $10 bouquets from the supermarket are enough to make us smile.

3. Time. We understand relationships can't be all wine and roses; simply making the time to be with us and treating us like your top priority says "love" more than all the fancy gifts and lovely letters ever could. This includes helping around the house. The realities of a 21st-century relationship are that both partners probably work. If you happen to get home before we do, why not vacuum the living room or throw in a load of laundry? If you take the garbage out without being asked, chances are you'll be getting a big ole smooch when you come back.

4. Dinner. Of the homemade variety. You may not be good at cooking and you may not know how to boil water. But greeting us at the door after a long day with fish sticks (or whatever you can wrastle up) makes us swoon, because it shows that you've been thinking about us and our hectic day.

5. Communication. Women are vocal creatures. We know you love us, but it's nice to hear you say it, too. We can also be insecure. We wish we weren't, but the reality is that we often notice our wobbly thighs and forget about our gorgeous eyes. So let us know when you think we're hot. Tell us we're beautiful. It helps us feel good. Words of appreciation aren't half-bad either. Tell us you love the lasagna we made. Notice that we cleaned the bathtub. It doesn't have to be over the top, just let us know that you see the effort we put in, and you're grateful.

6. Consistency. This doesn't mean be boring and predictable. It means that we know you will (usually -- no one is perfect!) give us the love and support we need. Knowing that you're coming at this with the same desires and energy as we are goes a long way to making us feel secure.

7. Engagement. Of the mental kind, not the "I'm getting married in the morning" kind. You don't have to like everything we like (we might be a little concerned if you do), but showing interest in our passions, be it career-related, a sport, or a hobby, goes a long way. Listen when we talk to you. We're not speaking just so we can hear our own voice; we want to connect with you and this is one valuable way we do this. This also means paying attention to the little things. Whether it's the name of your best friend's husband or the fact that you hate Nicolas Cage movies, it's the little things you remember about us that's so endearing.

8. Humor and Humility. These two tend to go hand in hand. This doesn't mean that you have to crack jokes or entertain us, but just being able to laugh at yourself is enough. Guys who take themselves too seriously bring everyone down.

9. Challenge. Not the kind that makes a relationship constant work, but the good kind that surprises and motivates us to do, be, or achieve what we desire. Studies show that partners who prod each other to meet goals -- in other words, don't support lazy or bad habits -- are ultimately happier than those who don't hold each other accountable.

I'm not saying that all women are like this, or expect this kind of attention, but a good chunk of the female population do as I have been around women all my life - dating them (yes, I did swim in the hetero pool at one point), hanging with them, observing them and living with them. After reading this filth, I am very proud that I don't have to wine and dine to get some ass, lie about "love", or play the games associated with heterosexual courtship. The joys of being an old school gay. I wish the new school gays didn't want to be so heterosexual-like, because soon there will be articles like this one regaring the gay dating scene. Vomit.