Saturday, February 14, 2004

What the Fuck's a "RUSH"?!?

Thursday night I stayed home alone. I thought about writing but decided against it as 'Solaris' was on. I was told by NN that it was a great movie. I decided to watch it. A painstakingly long 18 hours later it ended. I have decided that it is crap. NN, what the hell were you thinking? I hated that movie. It just went on and on and on and on and on like a Celine Dion song. You always think it will be over soon, but it never is. Actually, it is probably still on right now. The plot was practically nonexistent and other than seeing George Clooney's ass, there was nothing appealing about it. He has a cute ass even if he isn't my type. When it ended, I just said to myself, "Huh." Normally, after watching a movie I feel something. This one was just sort of a feeling of "I do not remember anything for the past hour and a half. Was I abducted?" In a word, the movie was shit. In 26 words, the movie was quite possibly the worst thing with the least plot that I have ever seen in my life, excluding only 'American Pie' and 'Dude, Where's My Car?'. Enough about that.

So last night I stayed over at Triple B's apartment. I hate calling him Triple B. His new name is Sweet Boy. That is what I have started calling him. He is too damned sweet. I think I am in the early stages of swooning over Sweet Boy. Have you noticed that I kind of get attached to people easily? I need to work on that. Sweet Boy and I have not yet had the sex. Actually, other than a peck on the mouth or cheek, we have not yet had the kiss. He wants to take things slowly. Eghad! Did not know that the queers ever took things slowly. Very exciting discovery for me.

OH YEA! He introduced me to his ex, Rush, last night. Can anyone tell me what the hell kind of a name "RUSH" is? I kept calling him Ross or Russ just to piss him off. I think he hates me. Oh well, life's a bitch so I became one. Anyway, "RUSH" is a 19 year old ex-Gap model or something. That is not to be confused with the Abercrombie models. Abercromblie=instantaneous ejaculation. Gap=he has a head and a pulse. Was not impressed to say the least. I have mentioned those guys who stand for all that I am against. "RUSHHHH" is the embodiment of them all. He is like their Dahli Lama or the Anti-Christ...however you want to view it. And I am not being an ass to/about him just because he is Sweet Boy's ex. I despised him before meeting him because when he and Sweet Boy were together, he cheated on him, slapped him in the face habitually, and made him sit outside a car in the cold and rain without a coat for an hour before letting him into the car because he wanted to talk to him and degrade him. Don't know if that last one made sense the way I typed it but I understand it. I am sorry, but I do not stomach that type of behavior very well. I especially do not handle it well when I know to whom it is happening and know that he is as nice of a guy as Sweet Boy is. No ma'am! Not having it. We need to get that shit straight NOW! Sorry, slipped into Shaquita mode. The other reason I despise the little "RUSH" fucker is because of his attitude. I swear to the gods that that boy has his head shoved so far up his own ass that he can lick the back of his own throat from the inside. I hate a conceited bitch. Well, let me rephrase. I hate a COCKY bitch. And that he was. Other than calling him Ross and Russ, I had nothing to say to him. Mainly, I stood grinding my teeth and trying to smile. UGH! I hate that pigfucker. Anyway, moving on.

Tonight is the night for the Mississippi Hearts Against AIDS art auction. I am thrilled to see how much my piece goes for. I do not know if I wrote about it in here. It is 36"X48" collage of sorts entitled Mississippi Queen. It is the embodiment of my feelings toward the southern fag. I'll post a picture on here as soon as I get one. Actually, I should be getting ready for it right now. I just had to type.

Why should it not be okay for two gay guys to wait to have sex? Breeders wait until marriage all the time. Why then is it so difficult to keep one's dick in his pants. It will make it alot better in the long run. I do wish that I could get a kiss though. Although I know how suave I am. If I were to give him a kiss, he'd be pregnant by morning. Heh heh heh. I don't know. It does not bother me to wait for the sex. I mean I have plenty of porn and two hands if I need them. If I get tired of my hands I could always go next door and ask my neighbor to dismount the goat so I can have a turn. Heh heh heh. Blatant vulgarity is so much fun! I can wait for him. He seems to be worth it. My Sweet Boy.

Oh yea. Happy VD.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

Beet Root Juice! Beet Root Juice! Beet Root Juice!

Last night I went and stayed with a guy that I met Saturday night at this place that pretends to be a club. He is MOST DEFINITELY a guy. Not that I went over there and went to whoring or anything, but I do know for sure that he does, in fact, have a penis. I guess that he could have just had a dildo in his pants. If it was a dildo and he turns out to be a chick, fuck it! I'll just go with it.

I have decided that I am losing my faggot super powers from lack of exposure. That is the only logical explanation for why I could not tell that Miranda was not a Martin. Still a bit thrown off by that whole thing.

So the guy I saw last night, his name will be beer bottle boy or Triple B, is extremely sweet. Not swooning over him by any means, but he has alot of potential. I found out last night that he is actually very intelligent for a hung, 21 year old, southern queer. Pleasant surprise. Less of a pleasant surprise, more of a complete shock. I told him how I feel about Mississippi gay men. All plastic drug addicted sex queens. He sort of laughed and said something like, "Obviously not all are. I mean, I met you." It was kind of a Dawson's Creekie type moment. Kept waiting on some chick to climb through his window or something. Dawson's Creek...who the hell still makes references to that show? I do, BITCH!

Anyway, he is a nice guy. Compliments me too much though. I hate being complimented. I do not know why. Well, yes I think I do know why, but that is neither here nor there. I just hate compliments. I don't take them well. Oh and if you read my entry Jaded Mandarin (How the hell do I link this shit!?), you will see some of the qualities which I am trying to find in a potential mate. Mate...? Making it sound like I am in a documentary on Animal Planet or something. Maybe have that crocodile hunter guy following my ass around saying shit like, "Let's watch the majestic Preston Faggie as he tries to lure a mate. Note the showoffy dance he does while rustling his Banana Republican plummage. Now let's see what happens when i shove my whole head up his arse and sing 'God Save the Queen.'" Mate?! I mean really! If you read Jaded Mandarin, you will see some qualities I am looking for in a potential boyfriend. One of them is the ability to talk to him for 26 hours straight without ever getting bored. We stayed up until 6:30 or 7 this morning talking. He had to work at 2, otherwise, we would have continued our conversation.

So to all of my hundreds of millions of regular readers out there who are wondering about military boy, here is the deal. Basically, he told me up front that he does not believe in monogomy in gay relationships. His words were, "Hey, we are gay men afterall. We have needs. I don't mind my boyfriend fucking around on me as long as it is not behind my back. When it is behind my back, that is when the problem starts." I am the exact opposite. I believe that it is supposed to be two people. Not two people, and two of their friends, and two of THEIR friends, and the guy who runs the register at the Dairy Queen. No ma'am. So that was sort of a strike against him. Plus, he kind of made it clear that we would be nothing more than "friends with benefits." As I am not into casual sex, this was another strike. Then, there is the fact that in five to seven months, he will be moving to Kansas or maybe Kentucky. Strike three. He's out. Still swooning? Hell yes. Actually have a date with him tonight. I have to make sure we don't kiss. If we do, it is over for me. He is sooo damned passionate.

Flaws that Triple B has are his age. Granted, I am 22 and he is 21, but as I am "sick" the yungins sometimes freak out about it. Although, I did tell him when I met him Saturday night. And he did call ME back on Sunday instead of me having to call him. I guess his age is only a flaw because it will take some time to get used to a 21 year old poofter having a mind of his own. His other flaw is that he JUST got out of a four month relationship (that is equal to about 14 years in Hetero Standard Time) like last Wednesday. I do not want to be a rebound. Thought about taking things short bus slow with him so as to let him get thru the 'I need a rebound' phase without me falling victim. Plus, once out of it, we will be so close that we will end up together and make babies which we can turn around and sell on Ebay. Both of us can quit our fulltime jobs and we will live happily evruh afta...or some such shit. I don't know Triple B is pretty cool. Not to be confused with "kewl." I hate seeing it written like that.

Now for today's aimless rant.

As I was washing my right ass cheek a couple of hours ago, it hit me. Why the hell do I want to smell like Kiwi Mango Tropical Breeze Fruit Punch Misty Hawaiian Grapefruit Pear Body Scrub? What is the deal with wanting to smell like a goddamned piece of fruit? I don't get it. I mean, if I worked in an orchard or something, yes, let me smell like an orange. I mean one cannot help it in that instance. But why would anyone want to smell like Peachy Apple Melon? Also if you are crushing grapes in a vineyard you have a reason to smell like fruit. Otherwise, there is no reason to smell like your food fetish took control of you, and you could not help but fuck a banana while pouring orange juice over your head. Don't get me wrong, I do use them and I do think they smell great, but who the hell decided that it is great to smell like a Vanilla Pumpkin? And since I mentioned it, why vanilla? Why not just go to the kitchen and pour vanilla and fruit salad into your bath and wallow around in that? And where does it end? Personally I think that fried chicken smells good. Will Herbal Essence come out with a new line of shampoo or body wash. I don't know Fried Fantasies. Yes you too can smell like...Sensual Spam. Or Liver and Onion s Lagoon. Perhaps Bologna Breeze is for you. They always have some shit thrown in there too that makes no sense with it. Like Arctic Cactus Flower. Jamaican Green Tea Honeydew. Sundried Moonbeam Sweet Nipple Nectar Passions. Victoria, what the fuck is the goddamned secret behind these names? Are they supposed to mean something? Is it a secret form of communication used by the US government? Misty Cabbage Nectar.

And what in the fucking shit hell is a goddamned Cucumber Melon?!?

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Fiddle Dee Dee

Tonight, in a very cracked out moment at work, I gave this chick (whom I LURV) my journal address. Well, normally, I would not mind. However, she does not know about some of the things in my life that are discussed in this journal. OH she KNOWS I am a big ole gay bastard. She also knows I am a fucking freak. She does not, however, know about the topic of discussion for my entry entitled Apparent Lepper. I would link it, but I do not know how. Well, Hooker, now ya know. I will have to make it a point to speak to her in the morning. Not that I MIND if she finds out. I do think she is a fabulously wonderful individual. I would have rather told her myself, though. Ya know? Moving on.

So last night, I watched "Gone with the Wind" for the first time since I was a little laddie. I have decided that I love that movie. If you have never heard of it, it is about this guy named Preston who kicked your retard ass for living under a rock your entire life. I mean, what the hell? Who has NOT heard of some fucking "Gone with the Wind"?!? Anyway, I decided that Rett Butler is an ugly, ugly little man. He bares a striking resemblence to Gomez Addams in the '90's "Addams Family" films. This just proves my point that that man is a vampire who has been making movies since the 1600's or something and who stages his own death every few years. And yes, I meant to say the 1600's.

I also decided that I want to have sex with Scarlet O'Hara when she is in that red dress, one eyebrow cocked, being a sassy bitch at Ashley Wilkes' birthday party. Granted, I can not do that as she is dead and the red dress probably no longer exists. I still thought that she was pretty damned hot in that. Although I also want to get with young Jimmy Stewart. Freakish? I think not. I like his alcoholic/perpetually stoned voice.

Enough about having sex with the dead. I spoke to military boy last night and again tonight. Sweet bippy! The things that man can do with his vocal chords! I need to see him.

OH YEA!!! Fuck me! Damn near forgot what I was going to write about tonight what with all the shananigans and goings on. SOOOoooooo.....BASICALLY, what had happened was I went out to one of the ultra-exclusive, ultra-hip, ultra-tragic queer watering holes Saturday night. So I go in, and considering I know all 14 gay people in this state, I thought I'd know everyone. Well, I got there too early. There was a full house, but I did not know anyone. Nor did I see anyone I wanted to "know." So I went and bought my AmberBock and sat down by my lonesome.

"You used to date Armand, right?" a man's voice said from over me.
I was thinking to myself, "What the HELL? I have not been with or seen Armand in three years."
So I said, "What the HELL? I have not been with or seen Armand in three years." Heh heh.
"Well, I am...(Now at this point, I sort of stopped listening to him.)...probably too old...( I have a tendency to not pay any attention to people.)...still cute...(It is not me being rude it is just my way of. Hmm? I don't know. I just do it.)...back to my place and snuggle tonight?"
"Excuse me?" the fuck did I just miss?!?
"I said do you want to come back to my place with me tonight and JUST snuggle?"
Okay, so I could have been a really rude bitch upon his request, but I chose a different path. "No thank you. I would rather not 'snuggle' with anyone right now. You see, I just got out of a year and a half long relationship. It was good for about...(At this point, he stopped paying attention.)...talked about his drug problem...(And he started scanning the room. I did vaguely remember him, and he wasn't the type to walk away midway through my story.)...permanent scar on my stomach...(I know I took advantage of his character, but he just wanted to fuck me. Plus, I don't know him well enough to care about his feelings.) he left when the cops did."
"Oh my friend just walked in, I'll talk to you later, Preston."
"Okay it was good seeing you again," I completely missed what he had said his name is.

Well, at some point during one of the stories, the most attractive little boy I have seen in recent months walked in. He looked like he was 16, but due to the EXTREMELY strict doorman, I knew he had to be at least 21. He was petite, big pecs, blond, just gorgeous. So I decided to approach him. I mean if I got turned down, it is not like anyone that I knew was going to see it. An hour and a half after walking up to him, we are still talking. GREAT personality.

Well, at about the 2 hour mark of the conversation, a blue wigged GAYsha eyed dragqueen that resembled a rodeo clown marched up to us.

"Preston! OH MY GOD!"
"It's me, Matthew!"
What in the fucking shit hell was Matthew thinking? Matthew is a dragqueen friend of mine who makes a gorgeous woman. I damn near broke out the holy water. Jesus Christ. You have never seen a bigger glittered mess than that. Looked kind of like a Japanese Smurf with Down Syndrome. Not being mean, being honest.
"You look GREEEEEAAAAAT, Matthew! I was just thinking to myself, 'Self, who the FUCK is that?' Wow, now I know." BIG forced smile. Big half scared eyes.
"Well, I love it. I decided to try something new," he screeched.
I just smiled and nodded. NO Ma'am. We never, EVER go out into the public looking like that. I mean NEVER. Not even on a Sunday. He was a hot mess.
"So have you met my friend?" as he motioned towards the blond with whom I had been conversing.
I responded through the big fake smile full of gnashed teeth, "Yes, we have met. Although in all the time we have been speaking, I don't think I caught your name?"
Matthew introduced us, "Preston, I'd like you to meet my close friend Miranda."

That's right, MIRANDA! I had been spilling my mack juice all over a fucking lesbian all night. That is my luck. I meet a cute guy with a great personality and he has no dick.

Welcome to my life.

Sunday, February 08, 2004


I am always referring to myself as an aspiring writer. I am perpetually "starting on my first novel." I do usually start writing one, but then, think of something totally different that I want to write. So I am constantly starting novels, but never doing anything with them once started. Lately, I haven't even been starting them. I have been doing a hell of a lot of aspiring but not as much writing. It kind of sucks.

I have been writing in this journal on a regular basis. I think it is because I can get one pointlessly random idea out and be done with it. I do not have to ever come back to this writing again if I so choose. I suck at doing stuff that takes any length of time. Like I paint abstract paintings only. I do this partly because I absolutely love abstracts. Mostly, I only do abstracts because I can do them within a few hours. I start them and finish them and can move on. There is no having to wait for a week or even a day for paint to dry soas to go in and add detail. It is just hoocha, hoocha, hoocha...LOBSTER. I love that.

Ellen DeGeneres did a stand up comedy thing a couple of years ago on HBO called "The Beginning." In it, she said, "I know I have ADD because I do not have the patience to go and see if I have ADD." Well, it was something very close to that at any rate. I think she is a comedic genius. Anyway, I feel the same way about the ADD. I feel like I probably do have ADD, but do not have the patience to go and have myself tested. Okay perfect example. I just forgot what I was doing. I saw my new cell phone out of the corner of my eye and thought, while typing, "I wonder what games my new cell phone has on it." I then proceeded to play pinball for several minutes. Usually all my posts on here are 4 hours off. It shows when I started one, but what it does not show is how long it takes me to actually get through one. Damn it! I just started to grab my cell phone and play pinball again. Perhaps I am insane. Well I know I am. I just need to get a crazy check now. Is that what it is actually called? A "Crazy Check?" I guess I could find out. Wouldn't want to offend any of you crazy fuckers. What was I talking about?

So yea, I am constantly starting things that I never finish. If you have been to any of my links, namely Rabid Chinchilla Productions, you may notice that there is a "Temporarily Shitty" notice on there. Yea, I stuck that on there like 7 or 8 months ago. Still haven't tried to fix the problem. Oh and don't hold your breath for any of the coming attractions on there. I update that thing every 6 months or so. It is just my personal site, so it doesn't really matter I guess. Not like I am being paid or anything. Get off my back!

That new chick at work looks like a garden gnome who has had a rough life in the garden. Seriously, she looks like a herd of rabid little people gnawed on her face. I wouldn't normally talk about her (Well, yes, I probably would), but I do not like her. She has a voice that would drive Fran Drescher to suicide. Not only does she have an obnoxious voice and a BMW (Body Made Wrong for all you honky crackers out there), but she also has the mental capacity of somewhere between Rain Man and Forest Gump. This is the woman who will be working with me from now on. I work 7 days, 12 hours a day, and am then off for 7 days. She will be working the same rotation I do. WOOHOO! Her voice is like the mom from the '90s cartoon Bobby's World mixed with Drescher and a pinch of Gilbert Gottfried for added irritation. Maybe I am being too harsh. No, I am just being honest.

God likes honesty.