Chapter 5

Chapter 5.
Night in and night out I watch this ridiculous display play out over and over again. Unfortunately for me, it’s while I’m working and not happily sitting in those comfortable sweatpants we all wear when at home watching Lifetime and eating popcorn or eating peanut butter right out of the jar (everyone watches Lifetime at some point, don’t act like you’re too cool), but I digress. I am a few months into working at the Labyrinth. Little by little I am growing more sarcastic about this place and life as a whole. I am learning that this is apparently the gay man’s way. I can make a whole comedy act on the shit I’m learning here, but who cares? I am taking note of observations and scenarios I get to watch here. All the odd shit, that here becomes normal, I watch replay they over and over. It’s like day-ja-vu with booze and a Kylie Minogue/Madonna soundtrack playing in the background. Anyone can watch this stupid display acted out at gay bars across America. It’s cheap entertainment and for more interesting to watch than anything Nancy Grace has to say. It’s just one of the elements of this place that annoys me to no end. It’s more annoying than any movie with Seth Rogan or Jonah Hill. I sware they are the same fucking person.

Often the participants of this annoyingness fit the following description. The participants are usually a pair (one guy, one girl) out at bars. The gay guy is usually so flaming that when they talk it’s like they are rhetorically shooting sequins the second they open their mouths. Usually, this gay man-person is accompanied by a slutty, bimbo, straight-girl friend. We all know the type too well.

The girl often fits close to the following description give or take a detail or two. She is blonde with bleached teeth. The teeth are so white that they have that blue hue that I’ll admit I aspire to get. One can only stare at her teeth for a few seconds because the brightness burns the cornea of your eye. It’s a similar shade to Anna Nicole’s in the Trimspa commercials. May she happily rest in peace somewhere enjoying some fried chicken. This lady-person almost always has big tits, sometimes real, often they are real-fake. Most of these girls have what can only be described as Tori Spelling Syndrome. This is where the fake tits look like they are floating up and away, just like Tori Spelling’s with the huge space between. If they don’t have the tits they have thickly padded bras that hike their poor, defenseless, little ladies further up than they ever thought they can and should be. These girls often resembles one of those “girl next door” sluts. She is the type of girl who has been bleaching their hair so long that it is obvious she has developed some sort of brain damage. This is the type of bitch who has or would probably appear in a “girls gone wild” ads, under the right circumstances, ½ a King Cobra and a dollar. This bimbo is the type of slut that will make out with another chick at the party not because they likes it, but because she is greedy. I say, if she is doing it for the shear love of wanting sex from another woman, then, by all means, bump those Brazilian-waxed clams. We know though, that she is just doing it to get douche frat guys to take them home. Is it really worth all this subterfuge to get a little ass? She is not quite a “faghag,” but a girl who uses her “Gays” as her self-esteem booster when need be. She also refers to us as such. Like we are key-chain or something. She is possibly a good Christian girl. The type that “loves the gays” but when asked about her views of gay marriage, she smiles and talks about being a good Christian but just regularly gets gangbanged sideways on camera.

The slut/girl’s friend is often a little mousy Gay. They are not they gym bunny type, but usually more on the awkward side of life. They are really queeny type who usually has great style advice for others, but when it comes to their own look its very abstract. They are quiet in most moments until someone asks their opinion. Then, it’s like opening Pandora’s box, these lispy queen acts like fireworks are going on inside of them won’t shut up. They are particular in the way they order their drinks, three iced cubes, vodka, never well and ALWAYS, ALWAYS a twist, like a twist makes or breaks a drink. To me, the only way my bartender can mess up my drinks is if they forget to put booze in it, the garnish is just unnecessary crap to begin with, but we digress. Often these guys love to spend every waking moment being divas because they see themselves as. Their hair is always perfectly styled and dyed if need be. Their tan is often just a shade too orange to be natural, complimented by eye brows shaped too perfect to not have been plucked. They are so orange, that their skin could double for Carrot Top’s head. These guys are usually every entertaining to watch in their natural habitat, be it Barney’s, a runway show or the local gay pop bar stomping ground. They are often what make these places so interesting.

After a drink or two, the queen always utters this sentence, “if I were straight, I would soooo do you!”

At this point I am usually rolling my eyes to myself while watching them. I want to yell at the two, “Really lady? You would sooo do her? How would that go down exactly?”

She then keeps up with this charade, asking the guy “really?”

This barrage of compliments about doing each other lasts for usually at least 10 minutes, at which point I feel like vomiting. Do these bitches have that low of self esteem that they have to play this stupid game? How vain can a woman be? She doesn’t want him to do her anyway because she knows that she wants to be penetrated right. The gay one, probably doubles over, ready to vomit at the sight of a lady’s little hairless beaver. He wouldn’t know what to do, let alone kill the mood with his high-pitched squealing. The only way that those two are going to get down is with the intervention adult toys and we know that isn’t happening so sAtop it already! It is a well-known fact that women come to gay bars for the attention and the compliments, but this is going too far! Stop it already! Gay men, stop enabling this act already.

Tonight I come to work to watch the described act play out. Queeny-Mc-Queeny and his BFF who looks like a Tiffany or possibly a Kelly. She has tits big enough to make Hugh Heffner uncomfortable. They hang at my well for a while, from the first drink to the fifth drink, these two are arguing back and forth.

“If I was-ss-s sstraiiight, I would ss-s-sssso fuck yyyou.”

“Shut up. You’re so sweet!”

She then jumps up to bounce her knockers and being that she is in a room of gay men, no one even give her the time of day. Honestly, this tickles me because I hate when people think they can get everything from their looks or strictly from being a bimbo.

By drink-five, “Sss-ss-sweetie, I love your haiir. It’s ssss blonde, whats shades is that? Itssss SOOoo pretty. I would SOOOOO fuck you.”

He then spills his drink a little.

As she is about to open her huge lips, which are lined perfectly with what looks like eyeliner, I loose it and interrupt them.

“You two really need to get over yourselves! You don’t want to fuck each other. You both want a man who can push you down the stairs and keep you wanting more! Furthermore, SHUT UP!”