Friday, March 31, 2006

"Twin'it to Win'it"

I rock, You sock

"Cuss Out Tourist Month"

The pic above may be of a cartoonish sort, but bitches do exist. So I am declaring APRIL as "CUSS OUT A TOURIST" month. I may have started early as evident from my previous post, but I used the words "Bitch", "Cunt", and " Wichita" 3 times today!!!! So If you are a native Washintonian, then cuss out the nearest fanny pack, "FBI" shirt wearing, "Me heart cherry blossom", standing on the left side of the metro escalator bitch you see...And tell them that the closest metro station to the White House is Navy Yard, on the green line.

Post all your tourist cuss-outs in my comment sections!

Thursday, March 30, 2006

8th and Addiction...

- Oh my God! It's worse than crack...If you haven't watched "8th and Ocean" then let me introduce you to my new BFF's!!!

NAME: Irene Marie
MY NICKNAME: Franken-Tranny/Guy Smiley
SHORT BIO: Traveled the world sucking in her cheeks
on some of the most fasionable runways. Turned 16,
realized she was yesterday's coat hanger. Gets off telling
pretty people they have bad skin and are too skinny.
FUCKABILITY: Not even with your dick.

NAME: Tracie
SHORT BIO: Originally born a sloth, Missionaries in the
Amazon noticed how well she worked the tree branches.
They decided to slap some gloss on her lips, teach her basic
english and send her to Irene to model.
FUCKABILITY: Sloth thanks

NAME: Vinci
MY NICKNAME: "Weren't you in my Fraternity" Guy
SHORT BIO: Born and raised in Ocean Township, NJ,
John had trouble getting the ladies. So he moves to Miami,
changes his name, takes on a F.O.B. accent and becomes a "Six figure model".
FUCKABILITY: Yes, only if I can call him "Papi John"

NAME: Teddy
MY NICKNAME: "Eyeball Twin"
SHORT BIO: Born Theodora to a trailer dwelling family in Des Moines.
Theodora knew she was pretty but never got that much work.
That was until she cut her hair, started injecting testosterone and
changed her name to Teddy. Now regarded as one of the "Prettiest"
male models in South Beach.

NAME: Sabrina
MY NICKNAME: "The Cunty One"
SHORT BIO: While in the womb, Sabrina smeared placenta all
over her twin's face, therefore causing the skin problems her
twin still suffers with today. Secretly enjoys doping her sister
up and selling her to Cubans for drugs.
FUCKABILITY: Hell this bitch would prolly fuck me

NAME: Sean
MY NICKNAME: "Smooth Operator"
SHORT BIO: Beatiful as a child, his parents forced him into
the cruel world of modeling as a way to justify them selling
their soul to satan for their son's perfect skin. Currently has
sex with everything in Miami, including some very feminine
looking art-deco buildings.

NAME: Talesha
MY NICKNAME: "Eat a Sammich" girl
SHORT BIO: Sassy, Lovely, can see her heart beating through
her ribcage. What is not to love?
FUCKABILITY: I think I would break her, plus vagina...eww.

NAME: Britt
MY NICKNAME: Brooke Shields: Da Remixx
SHORT BIO: Spawn of the "Suddenly Susan" diva and a Bible.
Lil' Britt is the picture of chastity, too bad her daddy used to
touch her in her danger zone, hence her aversion to the male sex.
FUCKABILITY: Gimme 3 Corona's and a blindfold.

NAME: Adrian
SHORT BIO: With shitty skin and a hairless body,
Sally was destined to be a male model. Secretly
gets off by looking into a mirror while masturbating.
FUCKABILITY: Eww Vagina...and nasty skin

NAME: Kelly
MY NICKNAME: "Noxema Jackson"
SHORT BIO: Because of her pre-birth abuse at the hands
of her sister, she has always played second fiddle. Is resigned
to becoming a trophy wife and picking up an addiction.
FUCKABILITY: Maybe if she got a facial the day before...SNAP!

NAME: Brianna
SHORT BIO: Born on the windswept steppes of Mongolia,
she was spotted by Irene while shaving a Yak. Slightly "Downinsh"
due to her massive forehead, but makes up for it in wet kisses.
FUCKABILITY: What the hell...sure, but she has to wear a helmet.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

The Ex, Rave Dancing, Cherry Blossom Tourists and other Stupid Things

- So as some of you all may know, St. Cornelius day is coming up. Planning on getting wasted, getting laid (hopefully by a stranger) and wallowing in my gold-leaf birthday cake vomit. So if you see me out on Sunday night with a big ass goofy gold crown on my head, buy me a shot, touch my gentle berries, and wish me a happy St. Cornelius day.

- And on to my ex/dead/missing/in prison boyfriend. So as you all know, I had been dating a slightly older man (9 years younger than my parents). All was going great, it was all dinner at Zengo and fundraisers for diabetic retarded children of bisexual artists with the Von Opstrums. About three weeks ago I awoke in the morning got dressed and the boyfriend took me to brunch. I got the granola (umm, fiber), he got the scotch eggs. He dropped me off at my place and told me to give him a call later in the day so we could walk our dog. Yes my one love, the pup. So I give him a call around dusk so we could go to the dog park on 26th. No answer. It was no big deal, I headed off to the gym and gave him a ring when I got home. No answer again. 3 weeks and 5 unreturned phonecalls later, I believe that I am single by default. The audacity of some people. Honestly, you take me out for brunch, we kiss goodbye and then you go join the cast of LOST? As I mentioned in an earlier post, he was kind of in a little trouble with the government because of some financial largesse that he had taken in part of. Well a week after him going missing, I read a Washington Post article about his records being subpoenaed. Methinks he might be in prison, or at least that's what my ever chipper, slightly delusional, vicodin are breath mints ego wants to believe. Fuck him, I want my dog back.

- So on the theme of "Whoa, Cornelius should wear a helmet he is so stupid". I was talking with my good bud Ben the other day about the closing of a DC (mental) institution, NATIONS, or as I call it, GAYTIONS. I started going to that death-trap back when I was 16. It was BUZZ every Friday night. Then as I slowly realized that I was interested in bumping baby junk with other guys my age, I used to be a faithful attendee of VELVET. From the scabies filled foam parties with Miss Christy to really inappropriate behavior behind the DJ booth, It was my constant. A place where I could kick off the shackles of an upper-middle class suburban existence and get a blowjob by a Brazilian sailor while his girlfriend takes pictures. I feel that many of you readers share my sepia tinged feelings.
As I reminisced, I remember back to the day. Then I realized, holy shit I must have looked like a total tard back in the day. I used to dance with glow-sticks. I tried to rave dance. I fell off boxes. I got my car impounded one too many times for parking illegally. I told total strangers P.L.U.R. and felt love. And everyone out there can sympathize, whether it was NATIONS, BADLANDS, or whatever queer bar you first went to in your podunk town. The memories from your first same sex dance are burned in your gray matter like a cigg butt in a tranny's arm. I just hope that DC will get its act together and allow another club to open where all the little oversexed, under aged, whores for free vodka before 11pm, gay boys and their sassy girl friends and the creepy old DC politicos that prey on them can gyrate their glitter lotioned chests off. Kudos NATIONS!

- Last stupid observation of the day. Cherry blossom tourists + Metro = Me cussing out a Principal from the Mid-west. Listen asshole. I know you are in charge of 40 little shit-stains and you feel the need to cram every one of their fucking cystic acne filled faces on the same metro car. I understand that you are not used to "big city life" or underground horseless carriages, or even common sense. But please for the love of all that is holy, If you want to keep your pride intact in front of your students don't rush onto a car when the door first opens while people are trying to get off. You may think you are pretty smart by pushing the kids in front of you so no one will say shit to you, but you are dead wrong. As you witnessed today, an incredibly attractive gay man tired of helmet cases like you will tell you and your kids to "Back the fuck up cunts". Yes you heard it right when it first came out of my mouth and yes that was a slight applause you heard afterwards. Next time, stay above ground. All the sights in DC are walkable.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Quick recap...

- Sorry I haven't posted for a while, but you bitches can suck my man-heat, I have been busier than a Planned Parenthood clinic the day after prom. So here's what the dealio is.

- I went home for my Grandfather's 80's b-day. It was a surprise party and he was wheeling my incredibly invalid great aunt into the clubroom and when we yelled surprise, my senile old aunt thought it was her b-day and started crying and thanking all of us. Tiddle bit awkward. My sassy gay uncle broke the news to her and she demanded to be wheeled out to the car, where she sat for the majority of the party...Alone...In freezing weather. God-bless crotchety old ladies that smell like menthol drops and gin.

- Saw The Go! Team at the Black Cat. This group/band/wetdream rocks my nuts hard. I first started listening to them when one of my interns from Leeds Uni in Britain gave me their cd. The are soooo the new Fannypack. Infectious beats, soaring samples, and a sassy frontlady named NINJA made me and all of the jaded 14th street dwelling pseudo-hipsters DANCE LIKE RETARDS. I swear I made up this new dance, it's called "Touch of the Downs". All you do is pretend you have a touch of the Downs syndrome. Presto, you rock. BEST CONCERT IN A LONG TIME. It is really a great feeling leaving a venue and feeling so fucking pumped. Ninja is the real deal, shaking her ass, pretending to be a slutty lolita cheer-leader, Here is what a dutch newspaper had to say about her..."As Fuzzy Felt letters slowly spell out their name, Ninja - probably the greatest frontwoman in the business - storms the stage and launches into "Panther Dash" with an infectious energy which never lets up until curfew. There's nothing she can't do: she sings, she breakdances, she plays recorder, she raps, and gets the audience chanting along like it's carnival time." Yes bitches, you read it right, GURL PLAYS THE RECORDER!!!! Download them now.

- Went out Sunday night with the guys to JR's. fucking packed tighter that a well you know. Got a lil tipsy, went to The Fastest Bartender in DC contest to cheer on a friend of a friend. Came home and passed out.

Monday, March 13, 2006

More cellophane noodle Mr. Larry???

- First if anyone gets that quote, I loves ya

- Secondly, it is so damn sexy outside today I just can't contain myself. With temps in the high 70's comes polo shirts, flip-flops and sunglasses. Apparently these three things, worn by me, turns me into a movie star from Asia...This morning, on the metro, I was just chillaxin', listening to my ipod, and reading a book about London. My home stop, Foggy Bottom, is usually packed with tourists because of its close proximity to the Watergate, Kennedy Center, State Dept. ect. So I normally try to get on a "mostly locals" metro car so I don't have to put up with fanny pack wearing retards from Tulsa or wherever. Anyway, while on my "mostly locals" car, I see a group of 3 Asian schoolgirl tourists with their whisper mode in full gear. They were staring at moi. Was my fly down, Did I have a booger, nope. This staring and whispering game went on until I transferred at Metro Center. The little Go-Go's followed me. While on the platform waiting to board the redline towards Glenmont, one of the girls came up to me and in broken English asked, "Can we take your picture?" Umm, What? She repeated, "Can we take your picture?" I had no idea what to do, the ironic part is these 3 were dead serious, I thought it was a joke or dare at first but as soon as I acquiesced, two of them, wrapped their arms around my waist and the third snapped away. Then they rotated, this went on until my train arrived. By this time a little crowd was gathering with people wondering who the fuck I was, so luckily the train came when it did. I told them "Arigato" which they totally loved (thank-you Battle Royale) and hopped on the metro and tried to look normal. Trying to play down this little paparazzi moment a lady came up to me and asked me who I was. I told her my name and she tried to play it off like she knew who I was. Ummm, I was 14 shades of crimson the whole way out to CP. WTF people, I am totally moving to Asia and exclusively riding public transportation.

Sunday, March 12, 2006

My red badge of courage

- Some of you that have had the great pleasure of seeing my in person might wonder, how did I cet that crazy dope scar on my forehead? Well this weekend, Miss Christy got some pictures developed from that fateful night and here they are. The story goes...Me, Mrs. Christy, and our friends Jim and Juan Carlos decided to partake in "Guerilla Queer Bar" about 4 months ago. It all started fine and dandy, we all had a few drinks, then we headed to Stetson's which sucked man-heat, had about 30 more drinks, and then decided to walk to JR's. Well I was feeling rather frisky and decided to try to wrestled my friend Jim, who btw is a professional clown. Well he didn't have as many drinks as I and ended up tossing me into the street, what fun that was. Well I got up, dusted my Diesels off and proceeded into JR's with my friend. What I didn't realize is that my head was gushing blood. People were all staring at me and not in that "Golly I want to hump you" kinda way that I am used to. Needless to say, the female barback jumped from behind the bar and yanked me in the back and put a bandage on my head that was the size of a small maxi-pad. For the rest of the evening, I enjoyed drinks gratis from sympathetic homos, and now have a permanent reminder of an evening out with friends.

Here are the pics...

Everything started ok..

My brain had an abortion...

Jim is all about hurting me...(notice huge maxi-pad on face)

- Hope everyone is enjoying the great weather...Peace

Monday, March 06, 2006


- After years of searching, I finally found my ALL TIME favorite SNL funny skit. DRUNK GIRL!!!! Although it seems the character may act far fetched, I challenge anyone to go into any frat-ish bar I.E. McFadden's, The Waterfront in G-town, Cornerstone ect. and not find this girl holding court either at the bar or on it. Whorish top from H & M soaked in Bacardi and diet, friends trying to console her and mascara a-runnin. These are the girls that make me glad me wrikey wienies...

Suck on my Oscar...

- Love me in a naughty way...

- She was ROBBED!!!!

- WTF?!??!??!!

- BTW, Ryan Seacrest is GAY. GAY like a glitter sundae.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Let it begin...

- So the theme has been chosen, Evites have been sent, and the decorations have been ordered (while I was drunk, $80 on balloons? WTF). So my one last task is to find a suitable piece of art to have the nice West African lady at the bakery to silkscreen onto my cake. The theme for this year's fete is 24 Karat GOLD!!! Think Gold Lame, Mardi Gras beads, bowls of cheap goldfish, Dynasty and leggings. So far I am aiming for this...

So now I need you, my crackheaded readers, to decide on what cake silkscreen design I should get, the nominees follow...


- Thank you for being a friend...

- The Solid Gold Dancers, A nod to the great 80's

- This is if I want to pretend I have class, but the 20 yards of stretch gold fabric I ordered has fucked that idea


- Do you remember the band DEE-LITE?

- Of course having my future wife on my cake is tempting...

- UMM...Tiddy balls anyone?

The most popular design from this vote will appear on my cake, or maybe it won't. It's my fucking birthday bitches. See everyone on the 1st!!