I would happily take a civil union any day; so long as it afforded me EQUAL rights. I don’t give two shits about calling my partnership a “marriage” vs. calling it a “civil union”; so long as we are treated equally under the law of our government. I personally think that should be more of the focus, as this issue will always be used as more of a wedge than anything, and no person in their right mind is going to go up against the juggernaut that is the Christian church.
How appropriate that I finally discovered common ground with Duane just hours before Halloween.
Finally, someone has the courage to stand up against the oppression of good manners. Duane's not afraid to go there; he's sick and tired of holding doors open for ungrateful bitches, and he's not going to take it anymore.
He's right: politeness requires so much time and energy it's hardly worth it. And as our intrepid crusader points out, no one holds doors open for him. Gah!
Some of Duane's acolytes suggest the practice is nothing more than an insidious attempt by straight men to stare at women's butts. But what of gay men, who have no such interest?
I figure that this behavior started by guys trying to woo gals. Since I’m not trying to woo any women, I don’t find it necessary to hold doors open for them.
I agree. I mean, if there's no possibility of me getting laid, why should I be nice to anyone?
Hopefully Duane's just getting started. Someone needs to tell those old hags to cross the street on their own -- it's not like anyone wants to sleep with them.
I know ya'll have been waiting to hear about my weekend with Chris Crocker. I would've told you sooner, but I've been home crying all week. My life's a mess because I dared fall in love.
Not only that, I've lost all faith in celebrities. I dreamed of dating one, or at least being friends with one, but now I wonder: are they all assholes?
So I arrive at the airport, in my AMAZING O-Town T-shirt, waiting for Chris to pick me up (as we had planned). And I waited. Then waited some more. I called him on his cell. No answer. I was getting really worried. I was in Salt Lake City, ya'll. Everyone was looking at me like I was the only gay person in the airport. Those Mormons may look nice on the outside, but I could feel their thoughts. Every one of them was calling me "fag." I couldn't hear them, but I knew that's what they were thinking.
Feeling alone and vulnerable, I searched for some comfort. After spending two hours and $80 at Chili's, Chris called. "Now who are you again?" "I thought I was your new boyfriend, but I guess I was wrong!" He sighed and giggled and acted like he was joking. Said he couldn't be at the airport because he was being interviewed by someone from Out magazine. Take a cab, he said.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe in us. So I took a cab; it cost me like $120. He lived with his grandmother in the middle of nowhere in some poopy trailer.
This mean old woman answered the door. I told her I was here to see Chris. She screamed for him. No answer. After a few minutes she invited me in and pointed me to his bedroom.
"Better knock first," she said.
So I did. And I knocked again. No answer. Finally, I cracked open the door. And there was Chris masturbating on a Web cam. When I announced my presence, he didn't stop. He kept on until well, you know. I didn't know what to do.
His walls were covered with Britney and Ashley Angel posters, so I felt a little better. When he finally turned around he told me I looked fatter than I do in my pictures.
I was speechless. Bravely, I opened my mouth. "What did you say?" "You're fat!"
How could he be so mean? How could I have ever fallen for someone with such little regard for my feelings? Then he told me, "you can stay here, but I don't want to see you naked." Don't worry, asshole!
I needed to escape. But I was in the middle of the desert in some trailer. He said he was going to an orgy later that night and that I could come but would have to sit in the car.
I just wanted to go home. "Take me to the airport ... now!" I demanded. He was like, yeah, that's probably a good idea.
We listened to Britney's new CD the whole way there. Fortunately her beautiful voice drowned out my tears. That asshole didn't even care. He was too busy singing along, looking at himself in the rearview mirror every five seconds. When we got to the airport, he said nothing but "have a nice trip."
I was numb. Before I could tell him how I felt he sped away. And I had to spend the night in the airport because I couldn't catch a flight until early the next morning. By the time I left Utah I had spent $120 on a cab and $257 at Chili's. I felt so sad. Maybe it was the cheese fries. More likely it was my broken heart.
I gave up everything for him -- I'm still on leave from my job at Initech, and they're like in no hurry for me to come back. I've never felt so alone.
If you have an hour to spare (and a box of Kleenex handy, in case he stops by), check out Duane's coming out story. Rosa Parks has nothing on him.
Re: National Coming Out Day -- honesty is always preferable. I certainly recommend it. Coming out wasn't easy for me, having been raised in a religious household (in a less tolerant time). But at a certain point I grew up and accepted reality. It became a matter-of-fact declaration; I wasn't proud, I just was.
If you'd rather live a lie, that's your business, unless you're profiting from persecuting gays, or passing homophobic legislation. Then you should be forced out. Otherwise, I'll mind my business and you mind yours.
*Note to the Petty Queer Establishment: having actor TR Knight appear in a PSA for National Coming Out Day is a tad ironic, considering he was dragged out by a bigoted colleague. Maybe they should've hired Isaiah Washington instead.
Consider that Knight was 33 at the time he was "exposed." He knew he was gay; he just didn't want the world to know for fear his career would suffer. Understandable, perhaps, but that doesn't make him a poster child.
Hey, ya'll. I know it's been awhile, but for a change life's been good. AMAZING, even.
I've fallen in love. And no, I haven't gone back to Rand-O. After what he did to me at the beach, I couldn't go back. Fortunately, I found Chris Crocker, Britney's famous YouTube defender, otherwise known as my soulmate.
I sent him an e-mail thanking him for speaking for me in his video, and then we started chatting online. It was like talking to myself. I asked him who he liked better, 'N Sync or Backstreet (a trick question). Chris didn't bite -- he answered O-Town, which is my favorite band EVER. And yes, we both adore Ashley Angel. Randy was always the ying to my yang. With Chris, it's nothing but yang. On top of everything else, he's famous. I always dreamed of being friends with a celebrity; I can't believe I might actually swap bodily fluids with one.
Neither of us are afraid to cry. We love Britney, of course. And we're very sensitive about people calling us sensitive.
Face it, haters, we're meant to be. The first time we chatted on the phone, we cried. Then we talked about how much we admire Harvey Fierstein. Then we cried some more. Then we sent each other our fave Ashley pics. Then we ... well, you can guess the rest.
I'm flying out to visit him at his grandmother's house this weekend. I'm soooo excited! I've taken a leave of absence from my job as diversity coordinator at Initech. Chris and I are talking about starting our own Web site, a celeb-friendly version of Perez Hilton. And we hope to find out where Britney is, so we can send her a message of love and support.
I half-expected our reliably fragile and irrational friend to stand with the Columbia Queer Alliance by offering his own weak rationalizations for Ahmadinejad's brutal regime (something along the lines of, it's Bush's fault that the Iranian president can be poopy sometimes). No dice, but Duane did manage to provide his usual sober analysis of the Bush Adminstration and its foreign policy missteps.
It is becoming more and more obvious that America has turned into that total bitch from high school who everyone hates and talks shit about behind her back, but she still walks around shoving her finger in people’s faces, and acting like her shit doesn’t stink; all the while, creating more people that hate her. Hello Regina George!!! But in all seriousness, it is no wonder (to anyone with a progressive bone in their body) that more and more people are expressing hatred over America. At this point, I think the best thing we can do is distance ourselves from this man, and show the rest of the planet that he does not represent what all of us think. Gah. Also, it would be REALLY NICE if we could actually practice all of the “human rights standards” that we are constantly calling the rest of the world out on.
I mean, gah! Could it be more obvious?
I imagine we would've gotten that defense of Ahmadinejad if Duane just had the time. Not only does he have to catch up on all the new fall TV programming, but he and his signficant other are squabbling over money.
The reviews are in for Britney Spears' "comeback" performance Sunday night, and they're universally negative:
A reviewer from American entertainment magazine EW said: "Britney gallumphed around like a zombie," adding she performed like a "tentative, confused-looking girl who could barely muster the energy to mouth along with the backing track."
The Washington Post concurred, describing the act as "disjointed, underwhelming... and plain boring," adding "out-of-shape Spears moved tentatively around the stage, getting totally outgrooved by her back-up dancers."
I honestly think that Britney is back. I have been listening to the song she performed tonight, “Gimme More”, ever since it leaked on the net, and I have to say, that I was glad to see that Britney was not only prepared to “bring it”, but she totally nailed it with this song. The song is great, and it is pop at its best. Exactly what we want from Britney… a pop princess; albeit a redneck one, is back to claim her throne.