WATCH: RACHEL MADDOW LOOKS AT RNC'S VISIT TO 'LESBIAN' STRIP CLUB

Rachel Maddow takes a look at the GOP expense reports detailing a Republican consultant's trip to the strip club Voyeur, where women put on 'lesbian' bondage sex acts, and the party's pushback that chairman Michael Steele didn't personally attend the show.
I love how she sticks it to 'em. Ms. Maddow breaks it down here so eloquently. The RNCC chair is plainly retarded.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Ricky Martin Comes Out! "I Am A Fortunate Homosexual Man"

Ricky Martin Comes Out! "I Am A Fortunate Homosexual Man"


Who is surprised that he is gay? DUH! Come on! It's like telling us that Pam Anderson has fake tits...

Story 8, Jose

Now I’m about 10 pounds lighter. My jeans have lost 1-inch on the waist. I still keep the sleeves on my work shirts. Keeping the sleeves on your shirts here is like being the guy who goes swimming with a t-shirt on and a bathing suit, it just looks out of place. I was at one point in my life that chubby kid that did just that because I thought that would keep people from focusing on my chub boy-bitch-tits or what my cousin Nicole called “pleasantly plump” exterior. Many of my hotter, less inhibited, more fit coworkers cut off the sleeves of their shirts to make themselves feel like they are sexier. When they stick to the appropriate size shirt, the action of cutting the sleeves does actually make them look better, but when they don’t…. It looks like sausages squeezing out of a tiny trash bag. I actually also just bought my first pair of Diesel jeans today, also known as gay man jeans. Actually, they are from a local thrift shop where I found them for just $10 because they have a pen stain on the crotch area, but I don’t mind the staring... It's the boost of confidence every young man needs to start their day with.

For the past couple weeks I keep getting scheduled shifts with this guy Jose. He is becoming a good friend. He is also my only real ally at work. This guy is fascinating to say the least. This boy was about 2 inches taller than me, making him somewhere around 5’10. He was one of those gay boys with perfectly plucked-eye brows, the kind that simply add to the botox look on his haggered 23-year old face. He is Latino-ish with eyebrows that have a bit of a drag queen meets cholo/greaser look that they bring to his face blank, glazed-over face. He is perfectly androgynous, spews overt sexuality, which adds to his mystique. He never allows his emotions to be seen, so it seems. This guy is always ready to give anyone a show. He has a whole bunch of tattoos that tell his story or at least the story he wants to people to believe.

Jose and I are about a month into being “friends.” Hanging out with him is like watching that lame Anna Nicole Smith reality show was. You want to not like the show, but after a while, you realize you have been watching for hours and don’t realize how much time you spend together. Like any friendship it’s still new and I am still trying to figure out if it’s just a part of some larger game connected to the bar. Is he really my friend, an ally or just someone with a good game face? Ricky, the little Chinese guy pulls me aside the yesterday and day to tells me that I should watch out for Jose. According to Ricky, he feels “that Bud ah have evil plans for Jose.” I write off what he is telling me such utter nonsense, so I ignore this whole concept. Jose and I get oddly close by the virtue of the fact that we both like similar things. We both like to go out, have fun and are stuck living on the schedule of the bar. This job puts us both on the vampire schedule. When one finishes work at 4am what is there to do? I am in school still. Any time I am free, not working and probably should be doing homework, everyone else is sleeping or it’s the middle of the day and they are working. They are on the schedule “of the living” so we call it.

While I am new to the scene, Jose is one of those people who acts like he knows everyone and everything. Whether this is true or not, I don’t know. I assume that he has been around the block a few times in his day at the ripe-old age of 23 by the way he acts and holds himself. I assume that he has been around because of all the different types of men who approach him when where are out and about. He is the type of guy that can go to a club and for some reason get everyone to fall in love with him. He has already worked at bars for a while. Maybe this is how they know him? Not from sleeping around, but more so from working in the neighborhood or most likely a bit of both. This guy is always ready to be the life of the party, and if that isn’t the case he will bring the party to wherever he is. He is always ready to fight anyone who gets in the way of his party life. He is a bi-polar mix of a down to earth, relaxed guy and absolute outraged hostility. It’s okay though. In my case it seems to work well. It’s like having a personal bodyguard wherever I go. Within seconds he can go from chill to breaking bear bottles on any bully’s head. I love the security I feel in that regard.

Being the responsible guy I have always been, its odd to spend time with someone who doesn’t think about the next step. Jose lives in the moment, something I know nothing about, everything I do is as planned and thought through as a TV guide. I admire how he can just let go and have this unexplainable freedom of not thinking about tomorrow. He is all about the now and in the moment. While I can see the problems associated with this train of thought, I can also feel the refreshing breeze of this concept. It’s a life of freedom from the stressful world I currently live in. It’s an escape from our problems and inadequacies. He seems to live life without responsibilities of any kind. I can’t understand it. He seems to have never learned the concept that with every move there is a reaction and vice verse. With him there are just moves, the reactions are not his problem or at least that is how he carries on. We are grown men in our early who are from “broken,” single-parent households. We both have take care of ourselves as we have our whole lives. Maybe that is why we have a soft spot for each other? We both seem to understand the other’s struggle. While they are different, they are very much the same. He will never let anyone know this though. He is a very thick skinned-poker face type of guy.

Jose is a guy who always has the money and time to party. Always ready with a little bit of weed and cash on him. Always dressed in expensive jeans and designer crap that he buys the same day in cash, he is always ready to impress. In retrospect, I don't think he could be a hooker, but wouldn't be surprised. He never seems to think about tomorrow, just about now. It’s amazing how he can just shut out the fears of tomorrow’s failures.
Our first time I out, is also my first Gay Pride. This was a few weeks into being at the Labyrinth. That Saturday, also infamously known as “Pink Saturday.” It’s like Marti gras in New Orleans. Jose somehow has the day off. Me being new to this game, I don’t really get the big deal of this gay pride crap. At 9 o’clock, I am off. As I punch my time card out, all of a sudden Jose is there, out of nowhere. It is as though he had just materialized from thin air. He pulls me by the arm and says, “I got a blizie in one pocket and another full of cash, we are gonna have some fun tonight.”

Within seconds, we are pounding shots at the first bar tending station of the bar. Shot after shot, they all are blurring together. Before the liquor sets in, Jose pulls me out into the street which now was filled with men, women, glitter, bowas, drag queens, trannies, clothing is now optional. At least that is how the crowd looks. There are DJ-vans set up everywhere and the streets are now blocked off. As Jose is pulling on my arm with one hand, the other is grabbing every ass of every hot guy he sees. It is the same way elderly people use railing to help themselves down stairs. He uses the asses to lead his way into the crowd. Out of nowhere he hands me a little blunt. We are right in the center of it all and smoking pot. I am amazed at how nonchalant he is. The carefree spirit is something I don’t really know how to embrace. I don’t know how to be as free as Jose looks. I turn to hand Jose back his blunt and he is making out with 3 random dudes at the same time. They are for some reason, dressed as angels and covered in glitter. I turn to my other side and there are naked lesbian on stilts who are tapping heads that they pass by to gain balance. They are wandering muffs out, tits bouncing. Now I was am so stoned that I don’t realize I am full on watching the Jose show as though it’s late night HBO and I’m 13 years old.

Eventually Jose and I end up drinking some booze with some shirtless lesbians we have just met minutes prior. It’s interesting to watch how Jose can work people. He knows what he is doing most of the time and if he doesn’t, he looks like it. He appears to be very good at manipulating things to go his way. Jose plays the whole gay boy card where he starts complimenting one of the girls on her makeup and the other on how perky her tits are. Such simple, stupid compliments and they work. These girls eat it up like cheesecake. He then asks if he could buy a beer from them. He ends up taking their whole box of MGDs, hands me 2 and then handing them $40.

We end up with the lesbians at some house party a few blocks from the “Pink Saturday” aftermath. This party is much like a San Diego State Frat party, but instead of bro-men, it’s full of lesbians of all walks. Then again I turned around and Jose is making out with some old daddy-man with a big beard who looks like he could crush skinny little Jose. I then realize that man is an ex-woman, a Female to Male. I notice this when Jose peels himself of the dude. Jose then takes out of his magical pocket yet another blunt. That pocket is like Mary Poppin’s bag, it keeps magically giving us more blunts. His pocket must be filled with them. Jose then looks right past the man/woman as though they have never met and takes an un-opened MGD he finds on a near by coffee table.

Jose comes up to find me engaged in a conversation with one of ladies. She has the most beautiful dreads that I have ever seen. I am so drunk that I am staring at it like it is the meaning of life. Her hair is blonde with natural copper highlights. We are talking about how we both had realize that we both loved PBR and living in San Francisco. We both had decide that we must become best friends right then and there. She starts talking about the Middle East, Gaza, politics, and of course peace. I hate when SF hippies start yapping about politics if they have no idea what the hell they are rambling about. Then Jose jumps into the conversation. He literally stands right between myself, the lovely girl who I am now best friends with for the moment. He then starts talking about how pretty the girl is. He tells her that her hair was so pretty, but looks a bit damaged. I thought think to myself how odd to say something like that in a backhanded compliment the way he is saying it. He then says,“this place is tired, I’m out.” Within seconds he was gone. Just as he so quickly materialized earlier in the night, he is now out of site all of a sudden. Before I know it, I wake up safe and sound in my bed some time hours later. I am still clothed, covered in the smell of smoke, pot and booze all rolled into one. I am just confused and unsure of the night’s events. I am sure though that this is a night I will remember.

new comic set

This is the first time that I'm using this material... Working out the kinks...

Bag Lady

Bag Lady
funny article

Smooth Move Bush

While visiting Haiti earlier this week, George W. Bush and Bill Clinton shook hands with several Haitians in Port Au Prince. George apparently got a little grossed out by something on his hand. Instead of looking for a napkin, he of course tries to shake it off. When that fails he goes to pan B: wipe on to Bill's shirt. Thanks for keeping it classy G.W.

I love this video!

Discovery Snags Sarah Palin!

Discovery Snags Sarah Palin!

Crazy Palin is getting a reality show? Reddic! Who wants to watch her lame life?

Story 7 Learning to Fight

The first time I have to kick somebody out of the bar I was scared shitless. Gina is doing what she does best, yapping and making a round of drinks. Right as she pours the drinks, this drunken guy walks by and knocks over all the drinks she is making so that they spill all over her. The guy has a body shape similar to a summo-wrestler, you can see the cheese beneath his boulder thigh, he is wearing a dog chain around his neck and has a striking resemblance to a one aging Mr. T. Little does he know, that one should never piss off a lesbian. They will make sure you pay and get what’s coming to you. She is so angered she snaps for me to kick the drunken mess out. Being her servant, barback for the evening, I stop and think of how I will get this guy out of the bar. I also start to wonder how such a large person could fit into the doors of the bar and if when he goes on airplanes, does he need to purchase 2 seats?

Gina’s selective butchness kicks into high-gear once a shift, where she usually ends up kicking drunken messes out when we need her to. This time, she tells me that it’s my turn to be the man of the group.
While Gina’s logic is true, I have never really had to confront another man in that way and tell them to leave an establishment. I have been in little quirels before, but nothing like this. I am the kid that has always been picked on for no reason other than my general awkwardness.

While I have never really been hit or injured from a fight, I have been threatened to be beaten up many a time in my young life. I have never really been in any major physical confrontations. Often these threats were harmless and once some kid threw their yogurt at me while I was leaving school. After being mortified, when I got home, I washed the strawberry yogurt out of my hair and then ate a gallon of strawberry ice cream to heal the pain.

I ask the guy nicely if he will walk out with me to the exit since he has had too much to drink and maybe needs some fresh air. His response is of course less nice. He informs me on how I am “a little faggot mouse” who has not right tell him what to do. Not knowing what to do, I just freeze not sure of what my next move should be or what to say. Then Gina comes right up from behind the guy, puts her arms around him in what looked like an old fashioned bear-hug, while restraining his arms down. She then walks in a waddling fashion (similar to the way one walks when conscealing a fart) with him to the door while keeping his arms tight to him. She leaves him outside of the door with the doorman and then tells me that next time she won’t be there to help me.

The concept of even possibly getting into a fight makes me think about how my father always makes me spar with him even as an adult. It’s been this way ever since I was a small child. Sparring is another term for practicing boxing, punching a given hand, item or punching bag. This is a great self-esteem strengthening exercise for an awkward kid like me. Little do I realize how this practice will come in handy when I will be dealing with drunken assholes for a living. This will lay the bricks for many things later on in my life. It is like an informal training on how to “handle it” as my good friend Tracy would say. My dad always explains it like this, “one day you’ll be walking down the street with a hot girl and some guy picks a fight with you. What will you do? Chat it out? Compramise? No, you’ll hit him harder than he can hit you and look good in front of your girl.” Such simple cut and dry logic.

My dad always fancies himself to be this amazing boxer much in the way that others dream of being a rockstar. He has an unusual obsession with boxers, their world and life they live. He idolizes boxing legends like Mike Tyson (before the ear bite), Lenix Louis, Mohamad Ali. According to him, some of these guys are on par or equivalent to modern day gods. He replays Tyson’s fights any time he needs inspiration or something to do. I have consequently seen every Mike Tyson fight at least 3 bazillion times. Where I fall asleep to “Golden Girls” and “Roseanne,” he falls asleep to the fights.
Living in the city of Angels, my muscular father is like most Southern California men. He is obsessed with going to the gym and making sure that people know he does such. The difference is his preference of gym. My 5’7, fair-skinned, four-eyed, bald-head father travels to Compton and workout at this place call the Broadway Gym. Dad says that he can’t go to another gym because real men don’t workout there. Apparently he needs a Rocky Balboa type to workout there or a man with tears tattoo on his face working out at a gym to feel like he fits in.

The Broadway gym is the one and only place were my father seems to feel at ease, something that will take me years to understand. He is always worried about life’s daily struggles, money, his relationships, possible mistakes of the present and past, the list goes on. This is the only place where he has real control of his life. As an adult I can still clearly remember him making me go with him so that I could “watch him workout”. This is similar to the episode of the “Simpsons” where Homer makes Bart look at the Virginia Slims ad for hours to make him feel more machesmo-ish. The gym is his way of showing me how men are supposed to be. Even though my dad always tries to be close to me, we never really connect in the way he hopes. The gym though is his time to show me his concept masculinity and tries to extend it as a role model. While I couldn’t grasp this concept as a child, now I understand the point of watching him box with other beefy men, beating eachother’s brains out. While it is just another one of life’s games where men work on proving who has the bigger balls. Boxing though, seems more interesting and more skillful than other games of this nature. It’s definitely more interesting than watching a guy show off their ridiculous sports car.

I will always remember my father in this way rolling up to the Broadway gym while blaring his hip-hop or hard gangsta’ rap, loud enough for people to hear he was coming. As he would get out of the car, he of course then takes out a Bensin Ultra-Light, his cigarette of choice. Maybe swig a sip of water, which in his case was always a coke or seven-up and then ask me to grab. I am always about 2 feet behind him like a golf-cattie carrying his bag. An ironic side-note about Russian immigrants, incase one has never had the delight of being raised by them as I have. All the families like us that I know, they always refer to sodas of any kind as water. Generally, drinking pure, crystal-clear water is considered unusual. Even plain water would have alca-seltzerish bubbles simply because that’s what they are us to from the motherland that treat them like prisoners, but we digress.

As a child, I have no clue that the Broadway Gym is in the city of Compton and known for being a bad area. This is my dad’s version of a country club, so I never really think about it. While he looks like the odd man out there to most onlookers, it is here that he feels he belongs. As he puts out his cigarette on his shoe, my dad’s voice drops 3 octives lower and he then begins to swagger, much like JJ on “Good Times” or LLCool J. He then grabs my hand and is greet by this big bald black man who goes by the name B-bell. He is about 35 years older than, and balding like my young father. The few hairs on his head, are grey and slicked down so much that the wind can’t make a dent. This man always treats me like I was his own grandchild. As a child he always has handed me a jump rope and treated me like I was training for the Olympics or a big Vegas fight. B, is an ex-famous boxer, friends with the greats during the time of Ali and the “rumble in the jungle.” His place here is to be the mentor for up and coming boxers and those who need fatherly guidance. He is like the trainer from “Rocky.” He even has a slightly east coasterly way of talking. He is a father to the fatherless of Compton’s Broadway gym.

In this gym they have these rows of seats, much like the benches one may see in church, which was perfect since this was my dad’s church. I will always remember sitting there, watching my dad going back and forth, between punching 2 different bags, one the size of a human, and the other, a little one above his head, he seems happier than I have ever seen him. This is his time to show off and be proud. He always waits for me to look over and applaud. Every now and again he will stop and chat with someone about old fighting-scars from knife fights and so-on, but that again is his way of showing me what he thinks men do. Fights, exaggerated talk about sex and making fun of those who can’t get it. In between these conversations, he then looks up to see that I am still happily watching him. He then tells whoever he was talking to, that I am there to watch and soon will start to spar myself. At which point, I am be half-asleep, dreaming about things that most boys seem not to, with a ribbon of drool soaking my shirt, then I would wake up, wave and go back to it.

My dad, generally is not a very outgoing person as the way most people know him. The ring is the only time he will step up and let is hair down, so-to-speak since he lost most of it at 26 when his father died. In the ring is when I learn the most valuable lesson he has ever taught me, how to strive and defend myself. This is the only time that I don’t fall asleep is when he is in the ring ready to fight another human being and does just that. Watching, I don’t realize how much of this brutal, savage and somewhat complex sport I am absorbing. My dad is very observant, always practicing his opponent’s next move before they made it and then combating by doing the opposite or hitting them first. Maybe this is what has and always will get me out of major fights?

I use my intuitive senses to spar out a conversations, this in turn to make a bully tired. This way they don’t have the energy to fight like my father does with his fists. He plays the game as he talk the other person down, like any good fighter does.
Once I start at the bar, I don’t realize that I will have to at times be the security of the bar. I would have to play the battle of the bigger balls via my speech and way of holding myself. Me, at a statuesque 5’8, 5’7 and ¾ in actuality, responsible for kicking out guys the size of houses and drunks ready to beat up anyone within a square foot of them. The second time I have to ask a guy to leave the bar, he tells little old me that I was am a kid and he knows when he’s had enough to drink. Then I inform him that I am sorry, but he is done drinking for the night and should leave. He then tries to swing a punch at me, I duck as my father does in these situations in the ring and the guy hits the brick-wall behind me. This fist is now scraped and bloodied. I then tell him that we can take it outside but now that he had tried to hit me, I have every right to defend myself, not only physically, but also make sure that he is taken to a drunk tank. The mix of poor reflexes and lack of words make him slowly walk out. This was just one of over 2,000 similar stories. Every time I have to kick someone out, my voice for some reason travels down around 3 octives and the adrenaline takes over. It’s as though I channel my father every time someone picks a fight with me.

Every time I need an extra shift, I end up being the bar’s door man on and off for about 3 years. The ironic thing is that I am one of the few to make it without a single scratch. I use the tools and ghetto-know how that my father has provided me with. If not for my father, I couln’t defend myself the way I do. I make it through these times without fear because of him. My father is the only light-complexioned man I know who during the famous LA riots is stuck buying a pack of cigarettes right in the middle of it all. The same man that since grade school tells me that, “if anyone fucks with you, hit them back 2 times harder.” Even though he is absent from many of my childhood memories, his tools for defense are ones that will always help me become a stronger man in the long-run and in turn even stronger knowing I won’t need use these skills. I can keep them safely stowed in my back pocket for emergencies. It was like that condom in the wallet that many guys keep there just incase but never use because they aren’t sure how long it’s been there, but feel empowered knowing they have it just in case. It’s things we don’t necessarily know if and when we’d need them, but feel good knowing we are prepaired.

Alec Baldwin Vs. emThe Enquirer/em

Alec Baldwin Vs. emThe Enquirer/em

Alec Baldwin was pissed when National Enquirer writer Mike Walker wrote an article about the actor yelling at Tina Fey on the set of 30 Rock so he responded in an interview with Britian's The Times calling him a "whore" and a "queen."

Mike responded in The Enquirer with, "Here's my headline: 'Alec Baldwin - Raging Closet Homophobe!' Grab your pitchforks and torches, Hollywood - the monster lurks among ye! Just for the record: I am not gay, as my wife will attest."

Not one to let things go, Alec went to the New York Post to say:

"Yes, he (Walker) is a goat-footed, wheezy, old queen, and all my male lovers agree with me."

LOLs — Alec may have a bad temper, but he does have a good sense of humor!



Read More: Alec Baldwin Vs. The Enquirer | PerezHilton.com http://perezhilton.com/2010-03-18-alec-baldwin-vs-the-enquirer#ixzz0iaOfgF55
Celebrity Juice, Not from Concentrate

Lt. Dan Choi Chains Himself To White House Fence In Protest Of DADT!!

Lt. Dan Choi Chains Himself To White House Fence In Protest Of DADT!!
(from Perez)


What a hero!

During the Human Rights Campaign march this morning in Washington, DC, Lt. Dan Choi, who famously has been under fire from the US Army for serving his country out of the closet, announced that he was chaining himself to the White House to protest the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy!!

Choi, who appeared on stage while comedienne Kathy Griffin was there supporting the LGBT community, read this statement before heading to the White House:

“Hello. My name is Lt. Dan Choi. I am being discharged from the US Army because I am gay and dared to say it out loud.

Today, I am here on a mission with Capt. Jim Pietrangelo, and we are asking you all to join us. We’re calling you to action because we are at a turning point — a moment in time where talk is no longer enough, and action is required.

Equality is not going to happen by itself.

You have been told that the President has a plan. But Congressman Barney Frank confirmed to us this week that the President still is not fully committed to repealing Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell this year.

And if we don’t seize this moment it may not happen for a very long time.

Some may tell you that I am one of the lucky ones. I have been welcomed back by my unit with open arms. And it would be easy for me to stay quiet and hope that change will happen.

But what I was taught at West Point and learned in war is — hope is not a strategy. As officers, James and I both find it a dereliction of our moral duty to remain silent while thousands of our brothers and sister are not allowed to serve openly and honestly.

Capt. Pietrangelo was honorably discharged under Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell in 2004 and I will be subject to the same shortly. As officers we are here today fighting for those in the ranks, and we need our Commander in Chief to do the same.

Our fight is not here at Freedom Plaza, it is at the White House. We are walking to the White House right now to send the President a message. So…take out your cell phones and your cameras. Document this moment. Join us as together — we make history.”

He then proceeded to march to the White House, and as we write this, is still chained to the fence with a crowd of supporters!!

As of now, only one woman, Robin McGehee, has been arrested for helping Capt. Pietrangelo handcuff himself to the fence on the grounds of 'disorderly conduct.'

Stand strong!! We are 100% behind you!!

EQUAL RIGHTS FOR ALL!



Read More: Celebrity gossip juicy celebrity rumors Hollywood gossip blog from Perez Hilton http://perezhilton.com/#ixzz0iYUsAfyP
Celebrity Juice, Not from Concentrate

Story 6, Tales of the Shitty

Often people have asked me, questions about working in the Castro. “I bet you meet hot guys all of the time right?” This is always a leading question, often followed by a smile and a silence that can cut-glass. I assume that people who don’t know what this job entails seem to think it’s full of meeting people of all walks. They often glamorize the job in their descriptions. There is always this intrigue with the idea of being at the center of attention. As one is shaking people’s drinks, they are also the main attraction and the reason people come into that bar, the “hot” bartender. Every night this person gets ready knowing that there will be men lined up and ready from all around, waiting to be serviced. Meeting hot, available men all them time with a pick of a different hot guy to go home with at all times of the night sounds interesting. While serving them shots, you get to watch hot guys get drunk and raunchy as they show off for you. The fantasy seems to make this image seem like the setting for a porn scene. As cool as that idea is, it unfortunately is far from reality. There isn’t a “money shot” in this reality.

I have quickly realized that the glamour factor of working in a bar is everything but. Not to say that it doesn’t have it’s advantages, because trust, it does. Busing glasses for every Tom, Dick and lesbian who ever walk into the Labarynth. Being a fan of the social sciences, this gives me a chance to study the inner-workings of the Castro. It was much the same way that I would read case studies in college.

I learn am learning many things within the first few months. I learn drink terminology, gay lingo, how to meet guys and who to steer clear of. I soon learn that learn that gays truly run on alcohol and criticising others. I assume that is why the post Oscar fashion shows still exist?

There I am I am constantly meeting people, all of different walks, colors, sizes, likes and studying them. From bear to twink, sugar daddy to muscle stud. Name it and I have know them often from the bar. I then notice that these “hot” guys getting less and less attractive after meeting them 5x a week and having to re-introduce yourself to them every time because of their goldfish memories. Alcohol does do that. In the bar this was more likely, especially when many people are walking pharmacies. That in itself, is a whole separate topic. I watch hot guys every night, go from Stallion to sloppy mess within shots. These sloppy messes often resemble a blend of Groucho Marx and the Hulk in one. We all have met these guys.
One happy hour in particular, there is a relatively handsome man who I watch succumb to the process mention earlier. He looks like a seemingly normal business guy, in for an after work cocktail, maybe to find someone he could chat with. Within a few rounds this guy who resembling an older Alex P. Keaton ends up retreating further away from the bar. The first round he is drinking at the front of the bar. This is still when small remnants of daylight still slightly peak into the bar. He is sitting chatting it up with those of us behind the bar. I am working with James who is explaining to this guy just why he thinks that Cher was so amazing live. This of course was right when the “Believe” video flashes onto the screens of the bar. At this point the music makes me want to start shattering glasses… Instead, I just smile and work diligently. The conversation seems to turn Mr. Keaton off from chatting with us. So, the next round brings him to a table about 10 feet away from the bar. As the hours pass and happy hour reaches near a close, I go on yet another round to pick up glasses. I figure that this guy must be deep in the bar by this point or maybe he has left. By now I assume he is messier than Courtney Love around any substance. On this round, I check every bathroom for glasses just like I do several times daily when working.

I reach one stall and hear this groaning. At first I think someone was taking the shit of a lifetime. Then, I hear hard breathing. It was kind of like that breathing that one often hears in high school while running the mile. In my case, I was often with the last parts of the class, the fat, or smoker kids of the crowd. In response to the breathing, I assume that someone has snorted a line too fast. Then comes a grunt noise. This is the noise that made me wonder if there was a lost cockerspanial in the stall. I imagine it’s being abused by the sounds of it. Then a slurp noise and my mind drifts straight to the gutter. Another moan…Slurp… Moan …Grunt. Curious as any healthy, homosexual, young man is, I peer in. I accidentally lean on the stall door. In turn, pushing it in.

Inside of this stall to my freakish horror is that older guy, who now looks like a different person. He is the opposite of the clean-cut man he came off as hours earlier. Now the tie is hanging out of his pocket and a mouth full of gross. He is rimming the bum who asks me for change everyday freaking day on the corner of 18th and Castro. This bum, I will never forget his gnarl, scrawny body perch on the toilet. When I say rimming, I mean there that this drunken man is rimming a bums ass. The bum is just propped up dingle-berried ass hanging out, and the whole nine-yards. This drunken man has made a transformation that I could only describe as a cross-bread of a Groucho/Hulk creature. This man is also so drunk that he can’t put words together. Caught is literally caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I want to break the glasses in my hands which I just bussed this round, and shove shards in my eyes to sooth the pain.

The life of a Castro barkeep, is a desensitized one. In Castro bubble, image is been one thing. The reality is often another. When people ask about the “hot guys” I meet working where I do, they often are met with a brief. Sometimes the image that people have in their head is better than the reality.

Joe Wong

My friend Rico sent me this link. I like this guy!

At the Chelsea Handler Book Signing!

Me Waiting in line at the Chelsea Handler Book Signing!!!





This is when she asks me if I am Jewish, because I look like it…

Finally she signs my book “Go Jews!”
The best day ever!

One of my first Open Mics

Over-Written

Over-Written
Chelsea Handler Has a new book! Can't wait to read it! I have read her first 2 books and recommend them to anyone who wants to laugh. :) She has a way of telling a story that makes you feel like you too can relate to her.

Sean Hayes Comes Out in The Advocate

Sean Hayes Comes Out in The Advocate

After years of speculation about his personal life, 'Will and Grace' actor Sean Hayes has finally acknowledged, albeit circuitously, that he's gay in an interview with The Advocate.

Hayes, who became a household name in the late 90s for his role as Jack McFarland on the NBC comedy, has been notoriously mum about his sexual orientation until now.

In the interview, which appears in April's issue of The Advocate, the actor says, "I never have had a problem saying who I am... I am who I am. I was never in, as they say. Never."

Hayes is a member of an ever-growing list of celebrities who have come out in the media after hitting the big-time.

*NSYNC heartthrob Lance Bass famously appeared on the cover of PEOPLE magazine alongside the words "I'm Gay" in July of 2006 after rumors of an alleged relationship with 'Amazing Race' winner Reichen Lemkuhl hit the blogosphere.

Actor Neil Patrick Harris, who first became famous for his eponymous role on 'Doogie Howser, M.D. and more recently for his role as Barney Stinson on 'How I Met Your Mother,' opened up to the same magazine just months later in November 2006. In his interview, Harris told PEOPLE, "I am happy to dispel any rumors or misconceptions and am quite proud to say that I am a very content gay man living my life to the fullest."

As for why Hayes took so long in making his sexual orientation public, he says, "Nobody owes anything to anybody. You are your authentic self to whom and when you choose to be, and if you don't know somebody, then why would you explain to them how you live your life?"

He adds, "I feel like I've contributed monumentally to the success of the gay movement in America, and if anyone wants to argue that, I'm open to it. You're welcome."

Betty White is coming to 'SNL'; Betty White is coming to 'SNL', 88-year-old comedienne may join 'SNL' alums on show

http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/tv/2010/03/09/2010-03-09_betty_white_is_coming_to_snl_88yearold_comedienne_may_join_snl_alums_on_show.html


Betty White is coming to 'SNL'; 88-year-old comedienne may join 'SNL' alums on show
(Article reposted from http://www.nydailynews.com)

BY PATTY LEE
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER



Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/tv/2010/03/09/2010-03-09_betty_white_is_coming_to_snl_88yearold_comedienne_may_join_snl_alums_on_show.html#ixzz0hhqXFQCG
Facebook fans, rejoice! Betty White has said yes to "Saturday Night Live."

The former "Golden Girls" star confirmed she will appear on the late night comedy show this season, reports People.com.

White shared the good news at Elton John's annual Oscars viewing party on Sunday night.

"I don't know why or how," she says, "but it's been wonderful," she said of her sudden currency.

Fans launched a massive online push, including a Facebook group, for the 88-year-old legend to host "SNL" after she appeared in a popular Snickers ad during the Super Bowl.


The Facebook page "Betty White to Host SNL (please?)!" has almost half a million supporters.

There's no word yet the details of White's appearance.

She may appear alongside former SNL vets Molly Shannon, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler in a special "Women of Comedy" episode, according to Entertainment Weekly.

It's been quite a year for the former "Golden Girl."

In addition to her cameo in the Snickers ad, White starred in "The Proposal" with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds.

She also received a lifetime achievement award from the Screen Actors Guild in January



Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/tv/2010/03/09/2010-03-09_betty_white_is_coming_to_snl_88yearold_comedienne_may_join_snl_alums_on_show.html#ixzz0hhqDxDp4

Proposed Law Would Deny Tax Breaks to Films That Feature Gay Characters

http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/riptide/2010/03/proposed_law_would_deny_tax_br.php
Proposed Law Would Deny Tax Breaks to Films That Feature Gay Characters

By Kyle Munzenrieder in Culture, Politicks, Rainbow ConnectionMon., Mar. 8 2010 @ 11:56AM


​Well, our hopes for a sequel to The Birdcage just got dampened. That's because a new bill that increases tax incentives to lure television and movie production to Florida would deny those tax breaks to films that feature gay characters. And unlike the ultraconservative Republican politician in The Birdcage, it doesn't seem the bill's sponsor, Rep. Stephen Precourt, will have a change of heart anytime soon.



Current laws prevent tax breaks for films that feature smoking, sex, nudity, or profane language. The proposed changes make Florida guidelines seem even more like the Hays Code that censored Hollywood from the the '30s to the '60s. Thankfully, Precourt hasn't borrowed more ideas from that censorship office and written in language that would also disallow interracial relationships, suggestive dancing, and "lustful kisses."

"Precourt says he's not targeting the gay community but that shows with gay characters would not be something he'd want 'to invest public dollars in,' " reports the Associated Press.

Besides not offering tax breaks to films that "exhibit or implied act" of nontraditional family values, films with gratuitous violence would also be left out.

In recent years, Florida has slipped from third in the country in terms of film production, only behind California and New York, to out of the top ten. Other states have aggressively offered more generous tax credits.

Recently, the cast and crew of the show Burn Notice, one of the few TV shows to actually shoot in Florida, lobbied the legislature to increase tax incentives for show business productions. They claim they've paid nearly $25 million in wages to Floridians and booked more than 7,000 nights in hotel rooms during the shooting of the show. The show received about $5.2 million in tax breaks last fiscal year but could find itself out of luck depending on how the "gratuitous violence" clause is interpreted and wouldn't be free to introduce LGBT characters.

The bill, which also has a companion bill in the Senate, still has to go through various committees before it reaches the House floor.

Story 5

Being there is like living inside the eye of a traveling tornado. There are always new people flying in and out of that place. Often it seems like more people have gone through that place than Starbucks. Besides the drifters, there are the core people who have been there for years, they seemingly keep that place together like the cheap bricks hiding inside the walls of the place. These people, though they would never admit it, are what I call the lifers. We don’t get to this place intentionally; we just end up being a part of the foundation that holds the place together. This is until we reach our expiration date. Like modeling, bartending at this bar means that eventually you will be replaced or phased out by someone who is younger, maybe prettier (but not necessarily), naive boys and girls who will be the jaded bartenders of tomorrow. Often lifers are the ones who help keep this bubble we work/live in intact. This is until they themselves are fired. Almost nobody quits this place. The ones that do are few and far between. It’s a good gig, why leave while the getting is still good? After they quit, they often come crawling back begging for their jobs because as reality has it, the real world sucks far more than living in this suds-reality of the Labyrinth and the Castro bubble.

Besides the lifers, the rest of the staff hasn’t been there long enough for me to remember their names. As a result of this, I just call them lemmings. It’s been nearly a year that I have been at the Labyrinth and I still don’t know everyone here. If I don’t know a person’s name, I usually call them Michael or Chris because it’s generally a good guess. There is always one of those two in a crowd and it sure beats calling the guys “hey you.” It’s like when you’re taking a multiple choice text and you know if you pick C, you will be less likely to pick the wrong answer. On my SATs, I did this and ended up getting probably the lowest score in my high school.



I am usually lucky enough to get at least a shift a week where I worked with Michael who soon since has become one of my best friends. Michael is an interesting guy to say the least. He isn’t the type that you would expect to be a bartender. I guess the longer that I work here, the more that image in my head of a bartender changes. He isn’t cocky and is definitely not a beef-cake jock. He is normal, slender and genuine. He is a video game playing, trekie-loving, introvert that on first glance seems to be best suited for a different line of work. Once he goes behind the bar, it is like another person awakens inside of him. This person is outgoing, loud-mouthed and without any internal censors much like myself. This is what we all love and respected about him besides the being completely devoted to and in love with the man he says he will marry once it’s legal. They are of the few gay male couples I know who are not in “open relationships.” They are absolutely devoted to each other. Mikie is known for being that person that will talk about others behind their back, but in front of their face. It’s much in the same fashion that old Jewish women talk about each other. At least that’s how they work in my family so that they can eventually gang up on you and make you sure you feel inadequate. They will with make sure that someone is chatting about your problems and keep your insecurities alive.

For Michael, if I would point out an attractive guy in the room, Mike would shout out “what? You like who? Cover his face and you’re good.” He would say it just loud enough so that others could hear. The best part is that he simple doesn’t care about others accepting him. He is a treckie who isn’t ashamed of being vocal about his love for conventions, Vulcan ale and all sorts of nerd crap that I would never admit to liking. He doesn’t give a shit what others think of him. I aspire to get to this point.
While Michael is an example of one of the hardest working individuals there, he also has showed me how to have fun and really make the most out of this place. He often finds a way to be playful with the people we meet while working. He casually asks hot guys that we meet to show off their “man hood”. Whenever I hear him say that I wonder what the fuck he is talking about. Sometimes I’m like a small child and need some time to connect the dots. Then I get it. He’s talking about their dicks. He gets these guys to whip out their dicks. Color, size, width, cut, uncut, he gets anyone to do it. Usually this is done strictly for entertainment value alone because really we aren’t aloud to drink while working at the bar, so we got to get our shits and giggles somehow. Now, it becomes game of sorts. It’s way more fun than Blackjack and less costly. Whenever there would be a hot guy asking Michael or myself for a free drink, Mike would ask how they wanted to earn it.

He would then go on to tell them “sweetheart, nothing is for free, we all gotta work to get what we want.”
He would then turn to me and say, “Just cause I am married, doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes and a pulse. I can look damnet. It’s like being on a diet, you can still look at food!”

While Mike plays good cop, I take on the persona of the bad cop. I casually respond to Mike’s comments with a “he is shy” or “he doesn’t have anything to show.” The fact that it’s so easy to play these men is both funny and really sad. What’s funny about some men when their drunk, the second you make a comment about their dick size being sub-standard, they get so defensive and over-protective. While stupid, the game often will entertain us and our coworkers while these boys step up to the plate for a free drink in the name of honor. It isn’t about the final result of seeing the little or big piece of flesh hidden inside of a man’s trousers, although that alone is worth it. It’s more about getting there.

During fleet week we have a slew of marines come in the bar. Michael is like a kid in a candy store. He always uses single me as bait. After one shot, these boys don’t even need to be challenged. They will do it willingly. It’s like one of those “girl’s gone wild” videos, but with hot and some not so hot men. Well actually, mostly hot men. The less attractive and short the guy/marine is, the more likely they are to step up to the plate. Maybe it’s due to their little man syndrome? They are those guys who probably drive little red sports cars to make up for their lack their of… Be it gay, straight, cut, uncut, black, white, red, blue, ginormous and microscopic, we see them all.

Besides the games, since Michael isn’t single there is that whole element of competition that are taken out of the mix. He is very sure of who he is and isn’t. Unlike many single gay men, he is sure of where he could has love and doesn’t need to go looking for it. This energy from him on that level is very empowering to me.

After finishing work at 3 or 4 in the am we often then head to his house. We get milkshakes or burgers and hang with our friend Mary. She helps us relax. We spend many a night watching TV and talking about everything from politics to bar gossip. Michael has become my backbone in some ways. He is also the first friend I have from this new bar lifestyle where I feel like I could just be myself without putting on a show or entertaining. There is no game face needed with him. I am not worried that he will stab me in the back. For some reason I have a soft spot for him. He is like the perverted big brother I never had.

Same-Sex marriage leads Catholic Charities to adjust benefits; Article reposted from the Washington Post

Same-sex marriage leads Catholic Charities to adjust benefits

Here is the link, having issues posting it:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/03/01/AR2010030103345_pf.html

By William Wan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, March 2, 2010; A01

Employees at Catholic Charities were told Monday that the social services organization is changing its health coverage to avoid offering benefits to same-sex partners of its workers -- the latest fallout from a bitter debate between District officials trying to legalize same-sex marriage and the Catholic Archdiocese of Washington.

Starting Tuesday, Catholic Charities will not offer benefits to spouses of new employees or to spouses of current employees who are not already enrolled in the plan. A letter describing the change in health benefits was e-mailed to employees Monday, two days before same-sex marriage will become legal in the District.

"We looked at all the options and implications," said the charity's president, Edward J. Orzechowski. "This allows us to continue providing services, comply with the city's new requirements and remain faithful to the church's teaching."

Catholic Charities, which receives $22 million from the city for social service programs, protested in the run-up to the council's December vote to allow same-sex marriage, saying that it might not be able to continue its contracts with the city, including operating homeless shelters and facilitating city-sponsored adoptions. Being forced to recognize same-sex marriage, church officials said, could make it impossible for the church to be a city contractor because Catholic teaching opposes such unions.

After the council voted to legalize gay marriage, Catholic Charities last month transferred its foster-care program -- 43 children, 35 families and seven staff members -- to another provider, the National Center for Children and Families.

Orzechowski said Monday that the change in health benefits will be the last move necessary in response to the legislation.

"We do not anticipate any further changes whatsoever," he said. "Taking the action we have on foster care and spousal we feel has addressed everything the new law requires of us."

D.C. Council member Tommy Wells (D-Ward 6), who voted to legalize same-sex marriage, said the charity had the right to change its health insurance plan.

"Catholic Charities is a private, nonprofit corporation. They can choose to provide benefits to families and spouses or not," he said. "I hope that it's not just a runaround to keep from doing things they should do, but it's within their purview to decide what to offer their employees."

The church faced two options with the approval of the new law, said Robert Tuttle, a George Washington University professor who studies the relationship between church and state. One choice was to expand the definition of domestic partner, as the Archdiocese in San Francisco did years ago, to include a parent, sibling or someone else in the household.

The second choice was to do what the Washington Archdiocese has done: eliminate benefits for all spouses.

"For decades, the church has been at the forefront of worker benefits, so this move cuts against their understanding of social justice and health benefits to all possible," Tuttle said. "But obviously, you can see they felt there was a real conflict between those values. They feel they weren't left with much of a choice."

Staff members at the charity were not given advance notice of the new policy and will not be able to add a spouse now because the most recent open enrollment period ended in November.

Those who use their health benefits to cover spouses will be grandfathered into the new policy.

Catholic Charities, which operates in the District and five counties in Maryland, employs 850 people. Fewer than 100 use the spousal benefit option, charity officials said.

Staff writer Michelle Boorstein contributed to this report.

Interesting interview with Gaga and Cyndi Lauper

Janice vs Tyra

Janice vs Tyra

HAHA! Tyra Banks does look like a man!