Posts tagged ‘college’
Remember that show on Bravo NYC Prep? It was on of my guilty pleasures during its first (and only) season. Another one of my guilty pleasures was S-ing the main character’s D on the reg in college. Now, I know he was a huge pretentious douchebag, but he was hot and gay.
I went to a tiny, pretentious, douchey school in Florida where everyone knew everyone, but only if you were thin and chic. On the first day of school, I spotted a familiar face. It was NYC Prep boy.
Like, what? At first I wondered why he chose such a random small school, but then I realized that he and the school had the same personalities. I decided to set a simple and fun goal for myself: hook up with him – it will be a great story to tell your grandchildren.
I found myself sitting next to him at one of the local bars that very night. He asked me my name, he told me what his was, and it took everything in me to refrain from saying “I know.”
Things were going well as we discussed everything from Michael Jackson’s death to starving children in Uganda. Things weren’t going well when I looked away from him for one second then looked back only to see that he had been punched off his bar stool by some equally douchey frat guy, no doubt clad in Vineyard Vines and entitlement.
“Ah well, I’ll sleep with him another night,” I thought.
Little did I know “another night” would be the next night. I have zero recollection of how I ended up in his dorm room, but I did. This dorm room was weirdly chic – it was a single room complete with hardwood floors, crown moulding, a wine refrigerator, and some of the best men’s ready-to-wear on campus. I must admit that I did some iTunes stalking while the little Bravolebrity was in the bathroom, which is when I discovered a large collection of NYC Prep episodes. Narcissism – I liked it.
So he came back, we hooked up, and then watched Family Guy. I would have forgotten how gay he was judging by how he navigated a vajine, except I didn’t forget how gay he was because the whole time we were hooking up, Seal and Shakira’s She Wolf were playing in the background.
We continued to hook up on occasion, until we started to do a lot of salsa dancing at normal clubs, and I found out that he was actually regularly fucking men. People always tell me they didn’t think that would stop me, but it does. Oh yes.
At least I know how to set goals for myself.
The majority of us guys (yes, even the gay ones) have partaken in some douche-baggery at some point. Yes, there was a time when I parked my 91 chevy cavalier with the fabric ceiling that just wouldn’t stay up no matter how many toothpicks I jammed into it sideways at the back of the JCPenney parking lot. I popped my Abercrombie collars so hard it made my ears bleed, and I have been known to take my shirt off at a funeral or two (basically any outdoor event is excuse enough for a nipple party).
But I moved away from Florida, and now if I take off my shirt my frozen nipples will pop off and shatter on the dirty pavement. My nipples deserve better than that. My point is that Read more…
I have thought this many times after a late night rendezvous with my hand and a tub of vaseline mixed with skin-so-soft. Why in the Hell would someone want to share a porn video on any kind of social media site? Do I really want people to know that I like to watch inter-racial midget videos while strangling myself with the Vera Wang for Dollar General polyester silk curtain tie-back that came with my auto-erotic asphyxiation for dummies dvd?
Then I realized I basically admit to everything I do right here. I can’t count the number of times I have gotten to work and opened my computer to a saucy photo of a college co-ed wearing lucite heels. In case your boss catches you red handed, here are a few ways to get out of a sticky shituation (pun intended)
1. Mutter “Damn it, that is the last time I let that paraplegic mute kid across the hall borrow my computer. He always says he is just searching for his birth mother on Facebook, and even though I know he is really looking at porn I let him because I have a soft spot in my heart for orphans ever since I was molested by the dog I fostered.
2.Start crying. Act embarrassed. And tell your boss that you found out last night that your sister was suckered into posing for some “lingerie photos” and ended up getting gang banged by Read more…
1. I’m not a white middle aged man sitting in a library.
2. I’m not Don Draper (See # 1).
3. I’m not a pirate, or a hooker in 18th Century England.
4. I don’t like throwing up for non-weight related issues.
5. I’m not a lesbian who wants to drink until I grow the balls to bitch my girlfriend out in public for chatting her ex up on facebook.
6. I am not at a parade and it is not daytime.
7. I am not a straight guy in college that doesn’t know any better and thinks that a jack and coke are Read more…
I’ll be 100% 50/50 honest with you. When I was in college I drove drunk every weekend. In fact most of the time it was more than once per weekend, and most of the time I was WAY more than just drunk. I was incredibly lucky that nothing bad ever happened, and there was more than once where I got behind the wheel and realized I shouldn’t be driving. In fact one time I pulled over at my friends house and knocked on his door, but he was too drunk to answer. So I got a blow up mattress out of my trunk, blew it up using the exhaust from my car and slept on his porch in front of his door. But I digress.
If I had known that my car would suffer the consequences of my selfishness I wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel even once.
According to statistics that I’m making up on the spot 100,000 billion cars perish every year as a result of the reckless drunk driving of their owners. These cars are not at fault – Your Toyota Tercel didn’t go to a human lot and choose you, it was the other way around. But you are still willing to risk your poor cars life every weekend and for what? Read more…
Recently whilst on vacation to a fair hamlet, my hometown of Panama City, or as I like to call it the Devils Genital Wart I happened across this Hungry Howie’s sign. It got me to thinking–what if you could order your perfect guy like you could a pizza? What if you could specify exactly what you want beforehand so that you aren’t disappointed?
Then I realized you could. Can. And do.
On the fucking internet.
As I’ve said before many times I have nothing against online dating–and think that nowadays we have so many different avenues and options in regards to being exposed to a much wider selection and variety of people. That being said, I don’t really like meeting guys online. I won’t say I’ve never done it, or will never do it again. But I am wholeheartedly old fashioned when it comes to meeting guys–I want to meet them in a bar, give them a fake name and have meaningless sex.
I was raised right.
I think its a general concern that most people have–every decision we make has the potential to deeply effect our futures in a myriad of ways and the sick and twisted of it all is that we have no idea what those residual effects will be.
I think most people live in fear of their actions, which is ironic because fear is to action what vagina is to my boner. It murders it.
How to Wrangle a Twink,
So you want a twink huh? You want a twink so bad you can taste….it. But there is only one problem, you aren’t a big butch masculine hunk-o-rama. Don’t fret my fellow fagatrons, merely follow my helpful tips below.
1. You might not be Mariah Carey but it is imperative that you lower your voice by at least two Octaves. Twinks love a deep voice.
2. Grow facial hair, and if you can’t grow it then trim your nose hair and use a trusty bottle of Elmer’s Glue to slather those sweet whiskers of love on to your face.
DILF stands for Dad I’d Like to Fuck and it refers to a specific set of attractive men that have placed their genitals into a womans varginia and then waited 9 months for a baby to pop out.
Here are several reasons why my ideal man comes with baggage: Read more…