I'm Not Your Guilded Boy (fauxpow) wrote in gayboys,
I'm Not Your Guilded Boy

Fucked stupid? Only slightly different than fucked, stupid.

You see, the latter implies a pre-existing condition (another reason to deny us health care; someone call Michael Moore!)

Has anyone here ever been fucked stupid? You know, like when afterward it takes you a long time to remember your own name and you stumble a lot like your channeling Anna Nichole Smith (God bless her drugged-out soul).

"Do you looooove me? What's your name? Sugar-pie, SHUT-UP!"

I have the feeling this may be epidemic in the gay community and, unfortunately, the top slapped the bottom on the back right afterward and they're stuck like that for life. It would explain my BFF for, like, two months five years ago and all his tremor-y behavior... well... that and cocaine.

"Cocaine's a helluva drug!" When Rick James is right, he's... well... sober? Hell, I dunno.

Oh! And what the hell is the appeal of public men's room sex? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? I'm gay, but not to an insane degree. I mean, God, the smell alone; urinal cake technology has advanced only so far.

And, I'm sorry Senator, but the "wide stance" angle doesn't make any rational sense. You have to do the splits to drop a Cosby at the public pool? What the fuck are you, a sumo wrestler?

Now women's rooms... I once accidentally (yes, I'm telling the truth, damnit) walked into one at a restaurant in Jersey -- Jersey: my God, the beautiful Italian boys: greasy enough to wipe their foreheads, wring out the wrag and fry chicken (just like I love 'em) -- and there was a fucking loveseat! A fucking antique loveseat in the bathroom and it was GORGEOUS! Frankly, I'm shocked that there isn't a non-stop lesbian orgy in those places all day, everyday.

So, you may want to know why I ask these thing and the answer is simple to me and probably complicated to everyone else. I drum to the march of a different beater -- wait, that's not right! Oh well, you know what I mean. Long story short, I'm working on my second book, Southern, Fried, which is to be an odd mix of a non-linear memoir, a self-help parody, and a comedic look a politics and western culture and I want to make sure I'm not talking out of my ass here: something I wouldn't be surprised if one of you could do literally!

Oh and boys, I feel like a dick -- but don't I always? -- for asking, but there is an implied copyright to all of this as it will be going in my book, in some form or another. That being said, I don't care if you re-post, but please give credit were credit is due. *curtsy*
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