Thursday, April 27, 2006

Animal Watch, OUT / Metro Weekly Watch, IN

- As some of my loyal readers from way back in the day remember, every Thursday I would do a piece called "Animal Watch". It was basically a biting social commentary on the "Animal Police Blotter" that the Washington Post did every Thursday. Well since I can no longer steal my neighbor's WaPo because he has threatened me with bodily harm, I have decided to do "METRO WEEKLY WATCH". Depending on how many bumps of meth you have snorted off of an erect penis in Cobalt's bathroom, having your pic in Metro Weekly is either "Fucking Sweet Gurl" or "Oh shit, my life is over". I fall into the latter category. The day you see my face in metro weekly is the day I commit hari-kari with my Williams-Sonoma breadknife (with natural walnut handle). So without further ramblings, I present METRO WEEKLY WATCH!!!

(These pictures were taken at Cherry, which I am guessing is a really gay farmer's market)

- Presenting the "GAYEST GAYS EVER"

- (This guy's internal monologue) "Flags make me sexy, These flags are so sexy, Flags make me sexy, I just wish I didn't eat my emotions".

- "Tristan opted for a tasteful metallic silver mesh veil for his 17th street commitment ceremony to Ryan, a man he met 25 minutes earlier at an all night orgy held in the basement of a local middle school. The groom also chose to accessorize with a silver Universal Gear nut sling. The co-groom wore a syringe in his arm and raved danced down the isle to a "Totally Snotty" remix of Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics. The couple is registered at Velvet.

Monday, April 24, 2006

I just finished crying...

- Not to be Debbie Downer, but about a week ago, one of my old professors asked me if I would come and speak to her Sociology of Gender class today about the relationship between politics and the queer community. I was flattered and accepted. What I didn't know was that today, some of her students were going to be presenting their group projects on the causes and consequence of gender. After I gave my little speech about queer rights (or the lack of) and how the left tends to influence media while the right, in this current administration, tends to influence (and control) the political system, she called a group up to present their project. How appropriate that their topic was popular culture and gender. The project was great, good powerpoint, excellent research, and an honest presentation of the dilemma that many sexual minorities and women face every day. What I was not prepared for was the ending of their project. They decided to play "Dear Mr. President" by PINK. Now I had heard about this song and how great, super-fantastic blah blah blah it was, but I had never heard it or seen the video of it before. Well lets just say, that PINK's honesty, combined with the lyrics and just thinking about the message behind the song had me crying like a little baby. Momma was sobbing like a mo-fo. The crying became contagious and by the end of the video, 75% of the class was misty eyed. It just makes me realize that as easily as these students (myself included) were touched by this song, we still have a long way to go. I can only hope that people who see this video are touched as much as I was and decide to stand up against inequality, not only in queer related issue, but in all facets of life and try to let the current administration and the country that we are all people, not political buzz clips to be used to unite one day and divide the next. Just something to chew on...Damn I am such a baby.

- Here's the video:

Weekend recap...

- Friday: Party at International Student House (above) in DuPont for my loverly English intern, Ele. Ohhh lordy lordy. Coco drank a jug of wine before leaving, braved the metro, drank 3 gasoline strength V&T's then half a milk jug of sangria (made by actual, real live Spaniards!!) I met a bunch of great people and it makes me want to get the spork out of DC ASAP. Now some people might have no idea that there is a GIANT dorm full of international students right on the edge of 17th street. This place is better than Jesus. I am totally partying there from now on. Hot Dutch guys, strong drinks, conversations about "Little Britain". I was in heaven. After the party, 2 of my co-workers and a friend from London stumbled over to Fox and Hounds. LORDY LORDY. I was a hot mess. Not only did I get totally molested by a random gay boy in front of said co-workers, but I held a conversation with an Irish man in Korean. I was like an alcoholic mobile UN. After Fox and Hounds, I managed to crawl home and into my comfy bed.

- Saturday: Went to look at a few apartments in the AdMo area (still drunk) and was SORELY disappointed. One room was, no lie, 6 feet by 8 feet. The former tenant told me it "used to be a closet but the landlord wanted to make some extra money so he put a light fixture in it and decided to call it a bedroom". The clincher is, the landlord wanted to rent it out for $800 a month!!! I was like fuck that, peace out crazy. After the apartment let-down, I headed over to Ben's and proceeded to get drunk with him, mind you, this is all before noon. So we get tipsy, and I start home. Who do I run into, MY EX, the jailbird lobbyist. Not only do I do the morally right thing and not kick towards his testicles, or take a dump on his Benz. But I totally forgave him. I mean, I was the best thing going for him, he's practically elderly, I actually liked him, and he fucked me over, I offered him absolution, I win, he loses.

- Sunday: Looked at another apartment in "AdMo" which was actually located in Shaw. These retards are trying to say that "Howard University Adjacent" is AdMo, bitches please. The closest thing to Adams Morgan that the neighborhood had was the homeless man named Adam drinking a bottle of Capt. Morgan on the stoop of the building. Needless to say, walked down Columbia and ran into a guy I used to fuck, Damn he looks like shite. Unintentionally ducked into the ATM booth and took out money I shouldn't had just to avoid talking to him. If that wasn't the baby vomit on my diarrhea cake, as I was walking into Starbucks, who do I see, the EX from the day before. and get this...He was wearing BUGLE BOY JEANS!!!! hahahahaha. I almost shat myself. So I called him out, stole the metro section from his Washington Post, took 2 of his ciggs and totally flicked him the bird and walked away. Oh it was a very Chaka Khan "I'm Every Woman" moment. But I wonder if this negates my "high road" approach from the day before. Oh well, It's all in meeeeee.

- I am officially broke this week because my parents went on vay-cay and forgot to send me my allowance check, so if anyone wants to take me out for a drink, or come over and share a jug of wine (your treat of course) I will let you hit my roommate with a wiffle ball bat while she sleeps.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Room-mate-ing Rituals

- I knew it was going to be a fabulous day when I stepped onto the platform at the foggy bottom metro station and saw a midget, wearing a black leather blaze, with his full sized girlfriend. Jesus was like, "God Bless you Cornelius, here's hoping you have a splendid day". Besides the sight on the platform, when I get home from class, I have an email from a potential roommate asking me to tell her a little more about myself. Well this was interesting, apparently I am not applying for a room in her "Spacious Adams Morgan Rowhouse", but rather for a date. She sent me a fucking questionnaire with random questions and I filled it out and sent it off. Below are her questions, my "I would be a great roommate" bullshit answers I sent to her / what my real answers are that I didn't send to her (hoe would think I am crazy). Doesn't this bitch know that everyone she sent this out to is going to lie to look good. Oh well...

LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO: "Touch the Sky" - Kanye West / "Sweet Sixteen" - Hillary Duff

UNIQUE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: I was born on a farm that has been in my family for over 200 years / I have eaten a dove

GREATEST ACCOMPLISHMENT: Seeing my niece being born / Getting a blowjob on the metro...During rush hour

JOB: Full time student and part time hill intern / Professional masturbator and George Foreman grill operator

PRIZED POSSESSION: Laptop / my crotch tattoo

WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO VISIT YOU HERE: My friend Christy / My friend Christy, and we will probably be drinking, and that means we will most likely be somewhat naked, but not sexually, we just are close friends like that, nothing to freak out about.

LAST CONCERT SEEN: The Go! Team / Homeless man singing Kelly Clarkson at the metro station

FAVORITE MEAL TO MAKE: Tandori Chicken Salad / Coffee and a lit cigg

FAVORITE PLACE IN DC: Embassy Row / The alley behind Cobalt

Here's hoping that she likes me!

The real reason I skip class...

(Recent phone conversation with Alex, a girl in my Stat class study group)

"Ring Ring Ring"
Me: Herrrooo?
Alex: Where have you been??
Me: Hu?
Alex: You missed the study group, for the exam last Friday.
Me: Oh shit, Um, I was in New York
Alex: Why, what were you up to, besides skipping class.
Me: Business
Alex: Oh (laughter) just what type of "Business" were you up to?
Me: Ummm, It's complicated.
Alex: What, Why is it complicated, are you a drug dealer or something (laughter)
Me: I am an gay adult film star, I fly to New York every other weekend to work.
Alex: (audible silence) Umm, ok. Are you fucking with me?
Me: No not really, but I feel bad not coming to the study group so I thought you should know that I wasn't blowing you off.
Alex: oh ok
Me: Yeah, I mean I am not ashamed, but it's something that alot of people, especially people in school know about.
Alex:'s, it's fine.
Me: Yeah, I mean i kind of got into it to put me through school.
Alex: uhhh ok
Me: So what did I miss from the study group? Did we go over Hypergeometric factorials?

- I am such a bad person

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Another story from my youth...

- So I am thinking that I am going to turn this blog into some type of cathartic journal and divulge fucked up stories of my youth that have shaped me into the sassy, sex machine / honor student that Cornelius is today. I was actually surprised at the amount of responses from my last story, so here is another one. If you feel sorry for me, please remember that I am a regular at JR's on 17th Street and would appreciate any free beverages (V&T) in return for these classic yarns I spin on this blog.

- So as the majority of the readers of this blog are gay men or sassy female friends of gay men, we have all gone through our youth and teen and even early twenties (because I have no friends over 29) wondering who we are. We try on different roles as we grow. One day we are a jock, the next a prep, and every Saturday we turn into club sluts that on Monday will have to explain the multiple hickies we received from a Mexican guy named Taco who lives with his invalid Aunt (don't ask). So as a young man, I embraced the different roles that I explored and relished "make-believing" that I was something other than whom I really was. Growing up on a farm with no neighbors for mile and only my two brothers to spend my free time with, I naturally became addicted to TV. The thing is, my parents are education nuts and would not let me watch anything on TV besides news and public broadcasting. That's right bitches, I was a die hard channel 22, 26, and 32 fan. I loved Marty Stouffer's WILD AMERICA (even though he baited animals into attacking each other in front of the cameras), but I LIVED for the BBC, or BritComs as they are commonly known in certain anglophile circles. So Britcoms, what they were (at least on public broadcasting) were British shows from the late 70's and early 80's that made no sense to normal Americans, but to sassy little gay boys...They were scripture. From the time I was 13 until 18, I was all about "Are You Being Served", "Keeping Up Appearances", and "To The Manor Born". Bitches, I had that shit on lockdown. So naturally watching these shows for 40 hours a week coupled with my 5 year identity crisis naturally made me feel that I could pull of an English accent in Southern Maryland. Oh Madge had nothing on my ass, I would do different dialects, a Leeds one inspired by Mr. Humphries, Brixton one courtesy of Ms. Brahms, and my favorite, a posh Cumbrian accent for my baby's momma, Mrs. Audrey FForbes-Hamilton. So on my daily outings to school, the market, soccer practice, I would employ my English accent. People were not amused. Nay-Nay fucking beat the shit out of me whenever she would look over my homework and I had put an extra "U" in my words. Life was great, I would drink tea, insist on reading English magazines and generally be a giant fag, much to the dismay of my family. But unlike the whole "I am a witch" phase, this English obsession has not faded. As any of my friends can tell you, I am all about England. I currently am watching "Little Britain" and have just finished a ham, cheese and HP sauce sandwich. But I choose not to use the accent anymore...Unless I am trying to score free drinks, or get laid, or fuck with tourists, or harass my intern. But besides that, I am totally normal.
Sir Cornelius of Foggy Bottom

p.s. OHHH gurl, there is hateration up in my Foggy Bottom danceria. My roommate's boyfriend (who is a 30 year old lawyer that thinks he's all thug life) threatened to beat me up and "cut me". So needless to say, I will be pissing in her face wash and looking for a new apartment, if anyone knows of anything in the Adams Morgan or Dupont area...Drop me a line.

Thursday, April 13, 2006


- There is something about riding a $40 bus to NYC and having a $200 meal at Pastis with my baby's momma, my ex and his agent to forbode a great weekend. Off to the NYC for the weekend, have a great holiday bitches.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Los Siento...

- So I have been M.I.A. Between securing an extended visa for London next year, my b-day, and classes, I really haven't had that much free time to update this thing. So as an apology to y'all, my faithful readers, I decided to pony up with a tragically nutzo story from my youth in hopes of winning a place back in your hearts, and perhaps loins...

- It was 1996, I was in the 6th grade and still believed in the mildly retarded optimism of my youth. I saw a movie with my cousin called "The Craft". Now I don't know if you have seen it but the premise is, 4 girls in high school are actual witches, they use their dark arts to act out revenge on their enemies and they have a tendency to walk in slow motion through their high school's hallways to really cool, slightly dark music. So anyway, I see this movie and honestly believe that I am a witch also. I mean, cats love me, I had a lot of black clothes (because I was a svelte 350 lbs back then) and totally wanted to enlist Satan to help me make Kelly Gray's (who was a total bitch to me) hair fall out. So the next weekend, I begged my nanny Nay-Nay to take me to the public library so I could check out some books on witchcraft. Me being the nerd that I was, I was all about researching this shit fully before committing to my first spell. Well apparently my public library only had one book on witch-craft, and Nay-Nay (who was an ordained AME Pastor) was not about to let me check out this book of sin. So naturally, I stuffed it down my JNCO's and took it home. Oh how I loved that book, from "Love Spells" (which did not work on my crush David Canning) to its "Red Burn" spell (which may or may have not caused Patrick Hagner to get hit in the eye with a softball during gym class) I memorized that shit. Not only did I memorize that shit, but I also immersed myself in the whole witch-craft life. I was sneaking out at night to go to the slave graveyard in the corner of our farm to light fires and burn people's school pictures. I was purposely leaving food outside of my window at night to attract stray cats from the horse barns so that they would do my bidding. I WAS FUCKING NUTS. No wonder I couldn't find anyone to join my coven (even though I did make up a flyer and put it up in my school's cafeteria). So a few weeks progressed and my family began to catch on. Nay-Nay had found some burnt pictures of my classmates in an old Chivas Regal box that I kept under my bed and basically told my parents I was possessed by the devil. I wish!!!! My spells would have kicked ass then. So my parents, being the open minded people they were, told me that I was to attend service at Nay-Nay's church for the next few weeks until Nay-Nay was sure that I was not going to drain her blood from her plump body while she slept. Well lets just say that those months planted a seed that grew into my current obsession with militant black people...And soul food. Whereas before all I wanted to do before was look for sprites and fairies in the fields outside of my house, now I was OBSESSED with making it to Nay-Nay's church to watch hefty black women with fierce hats faint. Nay-Nay's grand-daughter and I used to make bets on which woman would pass out first. It was then that I came to an epiphany, see all this time I was trying to invoke the wrong types of spirits, while these people were invoking the right type of spirits, and it seems that they were having much more success. So that is when I decided to turn my life over to Christ...I mean stop practicing witchcraft. So I lost a fuckload of weight, transferred schools and started fucking popular girls, that is why I was voted homecoming king. THE END

Hope you enjoyed the story, I have loads more.

Monday, April 03, 2006

Happy Burfday to me!

- Yes chil'rens, It's my birthday. Another year older, and I have grown another inch, puberty be damned, I thought this shit was supposed to end when I was like 18 or something. But to recap this past weeks festivities...Went to Jr's to meet some friends, accidently took my remote control for the tele out instead of my cell phone, Had fun putting people on "mute" and turning them "on" and "off". I have the maturity of a 3 year old. Lost aforementioned remote, now I am doomed to watch TBS as it is the staion my tv is stuck on . Had my party here on Sat night. Gay, straight, bi, black, white, republican, democrat, all showed up for some serious drinking. Ended up drinking a whole bottle of Goldenschlager with Miss Christy and friends.

But today is a new day, I plan on spending it drinking this...

and eating some of these...

and hopefully not passing out in my Forensic evidence class.