HAPPY PRIDE BITCHES!

This weekend was such a blur, a fun blur, but a blur just the same. First off...I kicked off the weekend with an HIV test (didn't see THAT coming did you?); I wasn't worried, I play safe and I'm not that much of a whore. Still, I try to get tested every 6 months or so. Many, many thanks to the fine people at the Center on Halstead! They made the 30 minutes both informative and stress-free (I freak the fuck OUT when I'm waiting for test results). But good news...NEGATIVE! Can I get a WOOT or what? WOOT!

Sooo. PRIDE! Yes, was so much fun. My buddy had a backpack full of booze, and we drank, oh, WE DRANK. Although I was not able to meet up with various friends because of the insane crowds, we still had a lot of fun. Here's some pics...

Afterwards, my friend's friend invited us to a pool party; you ever see those generic looking high rises in Lincoln Park? The ones with the pool deck above the parking garages? Well, this was like that. For $10 I got a wristband that allowed me to rape the shit out of a keg of beer. The only downside was that the winds whipping off the lake were so fierce, that the beer was literally flying out from my cup.

And then we went to the beach! You people on the left and right coasts are missing out on the awesome-ness that is Lake Michigan. To be able to frolic in one of the largest bodies of fresh water anywhere, is a joy second to none. It kicks ASS.

Meanwhile, I need to rid my place of sand! WOOT! Cheers folks!

A MONDAY LIKE NONE OTHER

Yesterday, one of my bestest/awesomest/greatest friends was in town, and despite the fact that she just went to both Phish shows up at Alpine Valley, we FUCKING RAGED last night (as a pre-condition to stay at my place, I stated she had better still be wearing her party hat once she got here).

The night began innocuously enough; a few beers in my hot-as-shit apartment (seriously, it's dark right now and still 90 degrees) and off to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner. And drinks. Lots of them. In fact, we decided to split a pitcher of margaritas, which came with 2 glasses already filled.

Needless to say, on the walk back to my place [ED NOTE: I was wearing Jorts] I stated my intention to puke in my kitchen sink. Thankfully, that did not happen. And I put on a proper pair of jeans, and off we went to seek trouble...

...which we almost ensured after ingesting some pure MDMA (aka "Molly"). Guh. I have not done hard drugs in some time. Oh man, if you got a random text from me last night saying "IM ROLLIN MY NUTS OFF", well, now you know why.

Our second destination of the night, was, regrettably Hydrate. This is the kind of $1 drink/smoke machine/2 guys blowing each other in the bathroom kind of place. In my/our defense, we were so fucked up when we choose this place. However, it was fun. For a bit.

[Side note: within 5 minutes of being there, my friend found located the textbook definition of a twink, whose name I asked, and responded by dry humping me at the bar and sticking his tongue in my mouth. That's Klassy. With a K!]

But the DJ's were horrible and despite my increasingly drug addled state, I found the drinks to be weak. We left soon thereafter, although, not before consuming more MDMA in the alley. My. God.

[If you're getting tired of these side notes, sorry. But I should mention that although I was hesitant to do poppers with a stranger a few weeks ago, I was with a friend that has never steered me wrong/given me bad shit. Plus...drugs are fun! Sometimes!]

We end up at the most baddest ass place to RAWK with one's Cock out in Chicago on a Monday night, Boom Boom Room. Holy shit. I doubted stories I've heard about this place in the past, but they have posthumously gained credibility.

Despite it being a mixed club (by that I mean it attracts nearly equal numbers of straight and gay people) I felt like I was trapped in an episode of Queer as Folk. Go-Go-Dancer Boys, Lasers trying to kill me, and such.

Oh, speaking of those lasers, around 2am I peaked and while staring at said lasers, I tried to explain to anyone that would listen, how "I CAN SEE THE LIGHT(S)!" Which meant I could literally see tiny pulses of light particles emanating from said lasers. Seriously. Like, for real.

After getting some much needed air/a smoke, I got a drink at the bar and felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, thinking it was my friend dancing, but in fact, it was a Go-Go-Boy who thought it a good idea to wrap his legs around my arms. FUCK! It kinda freaked me out, to say the least.

Soon thereafter, we closed the place out, and mercifully got a cab to take our wasted asses home. End of story!

PS - I lied. I awoke this morning totally naked, clothes all over the damn place...and decided to eat leftover deep dish pizza (with a few beers).

PPS - This might be further evidence that humans are indeed quite resilient (I actually feel great right now).

FUCK HEALTH INSURANCE, MY ROOMIE IS PRE-MED

When I thankfully was relieved of a job that I fucking hated last fall (FUCK - it's been that long?) I was generously graced with a extension of my health benefits for a solid month. Assholes. Still, I took full advantage of that shit. I got my teeth cleaned, had a physical performed and my eyes checked. Everything checked out. WORD.

But since that time so long ago, I have been without access to proper health care. That's where my Super-Awesome-Roommate comes in. I don't really have "allergies" per se, but the weather has been so fucked up here lately, that I am exhibiting signs of having a latent allergy to severe, and sudden changes in the weather. Thus, when I awoke this morning, my head produced an astonishing array of substances that I will not disclose here.

INT. VINTAGE CHICAGO APARTMENT (DAY)

ME: "Ugh, I can't fucking breathe out of my nose."

ROOMIE: "Oh, that sucks...hang on [rustles through a bag in his room]...here try this, it's called Nasonex".

ME: "Oh, well, um, I usually don't use shit like that, but what the hell [SNORTSQUEEZESNORT]...WOOOOOOO! It's like...my nose works again!"

ROOMIE: "Yeah, that's good shit."

No shit! There was a recent instance in which we both regretted not having each other around for our mutual benefit. After my ride got jacked, I rented Nissan Sentra from Enterprise. This particular vehicle had an unintended option in the form of a jagged piece of metal jutting from the door frame. When I went to close the door *SLICE* went 2 of my fingers. Holy shit. I haven't bled like that since...since I don't remember when.

The next day he inquired about the abortion in our bathroom trash can and asked "did you slice your throat last night?" I explained about my then immobile fingers, and after showing the wounds, he got pissed...because he needs to practice his stitching technique. It's like my own private ER, which for a randomly, injury-prone moron like myself, is rather comforting.

Despite this reassuring presence in my immediate vicinity, I have chosed not to play softball this summer; I know it's a sport for lazy drunks like myself, but fuck if I'm going to break something and pay through the (newly freed) nose to get it fixed, this shall be known as the SUMMER OF LEAST RESISTENCE!

MY FAVORITE NYC BAR

When I went to New York City a year and a half ago, it was my first visit as an adult; my buddies there took it upon themselves to take me to a wide variety of bars, from fancy joints in Hell's Kitchen like Vlada, to tiny, odd places like Barracuda in Chelsea, and many others in between. But my favorite bar, by far, is a shit hole in the East Village, appropriately named Nowhere Bar.

Actually, compared to some of the bars I like in Chicago, it's not that much of a dump. Overall, I most enjoy bars that are just that, BARS. Here's my formula for the perfect bar: the room is dark with faint hints of unfocused red lighting, a large, burly and bald bartender, a pool table and a jukebox. That's it. Nothing more (see image below).

Themes/karaoke/a million fucking flat screens do not, a bar make. In fact, I'll argue that they distract from the simplicity of a true bar. I mean, really, all I really want/need out of bar is a stool to park my ass on, super-cold cans of PBR and/or Bud and generous shots of Jameson. Oh, and some man-candy to eye-fuck. And that my friends, is Nowhere Bar in a nutshell.

When I went last Sunday night, they had $2 cans of PBR, a free pool table, a bartender that force fed me at least 5 shots of Jameson (for free, natch) and an array of entertaining (and attractive) boys and girls with which to chat. It's my favorite spot on that island. And although I'm not into souvenirs, they did still have a fishbowl of NYC condoms* in the bathroom!

Old shit-hole dive bars seem to be a dying breed, a trend that troubles me deeply. I despise bars that have a dress code, or that charge a cover (like the bar I work in) or that have stupid names like G Lounge (oh! I get it! It's a gay bar! HOW FUCKING CLEVER).

Oh, and hot bartenders annoy this shit out of me; I tend to think of them as glorified strippers. I like my bartenders like I like my musicians: ugly, balding and with a husky voice (imagine Tom Waits pouring you shots...[staring into space]...man, that would be fucking sweet).

*I'll stick with my Magnums, thank you very much.

AN OPEN LETTER TO A DRAG QUEEN

This post addresses what I could/should have said when I verbally harassed over the course of several hours by a drag queen while on Fire Island. Her comments began innocuously enough, accusing me of "not being gay" then devolved into "I'm getting a straight vibe off of you" to her going out of her way to tell other random people that "he says he's gay but he's not". Needless to say, I was less than amused, and at one point seriously pissed the fuck off. I held back because I generally shy away from confrontation when drunk, as that usually precludes a productive conversation. Anyways, here goes... 

Dear Drag Queen,

First off, you're shoes are fucking ugly. Did they come with the dress you picked up at TJ Maxx? Could have fooled me. Also, I was not previously aware that they manufacture lace up pumps in a size 13. Oh, and you have bad, bad blow job hair.  

But enough with the childish behavior (although after you made fun of what I was wearing I feel justified in making fun of your appearance, but I won't go there, well except for when I just did). I have a question for you, Oh Holy Overload of all that is Gay; do you see this flag below? 

That's a gay pride flag, a symbol I would have to assume that you have seen before at least once if not more. Now, I know I'm not a "stereotypical" homosexual man, and I wouldn't presume to know which exact "color" I am...but there are a lot of colors on that flag, and I'm certain one of them represents me. See, the gay community is like, diverse and shit. That might come as a shock to you, or perhaps you just needed a fucking clue. Consider this it. 

You know, usually when people criticize me, it's "helpful" criticism, which I consider a gift of sorts. I don't pretend to know all the answers and I take well meaning comments to heart. You, however, seem content to be a spiteful human being with little or no redeeming qualities, one whom "gets off" on putting other people down. Thus, you have no purpose on this earth, let alone in the greater gay community. 

Furthermore, do you have any idea how much effort it has taken me to come to this point in life? I know some people come out fairly easily, that was not the case with me. It took a LOT of fucking pain, tears and blowjobs to get where I am today, so please forgive me for being offended at your backhanded remarks. You fucking bitch. 

Sincerely, 

Justin

PS - You SUCK at life.  

I hope that didn't come off as too bitter, but the bullshit noise that person was making really bothered me, which seemed to be the intent. Before I came out I thought the gay community was all about inclusiveness, and I still believe/hope it is. But when I encounter someone who should be open-minded, but acts in a fashion to suggest anything but, I feel the need to call that person on their shit.  

POPPERS? NO THANKS...

One of the more colorful stories/experiences from this past weekends' jaunt to Fire Island (aka, the gayest place on earth) involved me making out with the oldest, sorry, most "mature" man I have ever taken the pants off of. 

At the start of the night, my friend and I were waiting for a water taxi to take us to the Pines, when I struck up a conversation with a handsome guy, probably in his late 40's/early 50's. Nice guy....we talked about how this was my first time to the island, and the weather and blah, blah, blah. 

After my friend and her friends checked out this cabaret show, we took the last water taxi back to Cherry Grove (where we were staying). Handsome Guy was also waiting for the boat, and inquired about each other's evenings...

While on the rocky boat ride back, he did little things, like touch my thigh to empathize a point he was trying to make. Since I was drunk as hell I didn't mind, and I also, since I was drunk, I was being my charming self. 

Once we got back to the Grove, my friends and her friend went out for (more) drinks. Once they were tired I decided...WELL, WHY THE FUCK NOT? and knocked on Handsome Guy's door [NOTE: I'm not a stalker...earlier in the day I noticed his place was directly across from the place I was staying at]. 

He peeked through the curtains, and looked surprised, to say the least, to see me standing on his porch. Eagerly, he let me in, and after, um, 30 seconds of small talk we were making out on his bed. Pants came off and we were having fun...

...until, that is, he suggested we do some Poppers...to have "more fun". I was having plenty of fun as is, and didn't feel the need to add shady drugs into the mix. But he was insistent, and although drunk as all hell, I held my ground, got up, and put my pants on and walked the fuck out of that scene. 

FUCK THAT NOISE.  

POM-STER #1 & #2

Last night my buddy and I were just hanging out at my kitchen table, having drinks and such...when we began to discuss the bottle of POM juice in front of us. Or at least I talked about it while my friend skecthed this guy...

The ability to draw has always eluded me; when people can DRAW something within the space of 3 minutes, even a simple sketch like these 2 above, I'm always more than slightly amazed. And this is nothing for my friend (this is like creative masturbation for him). 

If anyone is interested in seeing more of my buddies work, click HERE. 

THIS SONG DEFINES ME

Every so often a song comes along that gets so stuck in my mind that I like to think it was written for yours truely. At the least, this should have been written for me. Also, I want to RAWK THE SHIT out of Jarvis Cocker's world.  

I love your body 'cause I've lost my mind

If you want someone to talk to, you're wasting your time

If you want someone to share your life, you need someone who is alive

And if every relationship is a two-way street, I have been screwing in the back whilst you drive

I never said I was deep, but I am profoundly shallow

My lack of knowledge is vast, and my horizons are narrow

I never said I was big, I never said that I was clever

And if you're waiting to find what's going on in my mind, you could be waiting forever

Forever and ever

I can dance you to the end of the night 'cause I'm afraid of the dark

I have to confess I'm out of my depth

You're going over my head and straight through my heart

Some girls like to play it dirty, some girls want to be your mum

Me, I disrespected you whilst we were waiting for the taxi to come

My morality is shabby, my behaviour unacceptable

No, I'm not looking for a relationship, just a willy receptacle

I never said I was

I never said I was

I never said I was

I never said I was deep, but I am profoundly shallow

My lack of knowledge is vast, and my horizons are narrow

I never said I was big, I never said that I was clever

And if you're waiting to find what's going on in my mind, you could be waiting forever

Forever and ever

I never said I was deep, but I am profoundly shallow

My lack of knowledge is vast, and my horizons are narrow

I never said I was deep 

NEW YORK, NEW YORK, BITCHES

At 6AM I'll hit up a bus, then a train, then a plane to get the FUCK OUT OF DODGE! "Dodge" not really meaning Chicago, but more my apartment; after months of dealing with shit upon shit, this mini-break should be a welcome diversion. 

Catch ya'll in a week!

I MAY HAVE LOCATED THE LARGEST DICK IN THE CHICAGOLAND AREA

Sooo...last night my friend asked me to accompany her to a "ladies night" thing at a local bar. I went and assumed I would bear witness to my hot friend (seriously, she's smokin') hitting on the ladies. Maybe, I thought there would be a few cute guys there to look at. 

And there was one in particular. Total was hottie there with 2 women; he felt excluded since his female friends were mackin' on my female friend. I was all "OMG!" hottie talking to me, right? I mean, we're talking Soap Opera quality ass here. But you know what? After a 1 minute conversation, I deemed this "dreamboat" a dud. I politely excused myself to duck out for a smoke....

...and while smoking outside, I started talking to this cute, kinda preppy, tall as SHIT guy. Turns out it was his birthday. 1 jello shot (ugh) turned into 8, or 9, I don't know, but next thing I DO know, I was making out with this guy at the bar, and the lesbians around us were burning holes through us with their eyes. 

And then....WE DANCED! I fucking hate dancing. I'd almost rather get a cavity drilled (sans Novocaine) than dance in public, but I did. Fuck it. I was having (drunk) fun so I figured why not?

Well, the end of the night came, we exchanged digits, but then I suggested (more like slurred) let's watch a movie! Which we did. Kinda. About 3 minutes into "Y tu mama tambien" our pants were off...and right there...stood before me...THE BIGGEST COCK I HAVE EVER SEEN. Holy bullshit, I mean, imagine a tallboy can of beer...yeah. Like that. It caught me so off guard I reflexively stated "no way is that ever going inside of me". 

We didn't even have "sex-sex", instead we just made out and got each other off until the sun came up. I'm in mild shock, hungover (or maybe still drunk from the Jello shots) and now I have to help a friend move furniture. FUCK. 

But it's cool...cuz I got a movie date tomorrow night! WOOT.