Posts tagged ‘San Francisco’
He was ostracized from his community because he was different. Then he got nailed, hard.
He had a rough week, then slept for three days straight. Basically me after Gay Days, The White Party, or Labor Day weekend at Fire Island.
He surrounded himself with 12 men. Just look at the Facebook profile of any gay guy for a modern, shirtless redux of the 12 apostles. Or disciples. Or whatever. I never actually read the bible, I just skimmed a few Amazon reviews.
He wore a dress. Granted, it was a little more coverage than I would prefer- you should make a choice between showcasing decolletage, legs, or arms and stick to it but people were a lot more conservative back in medieval times when he lived.
He had a bitchin beard. If Jesus walked around town in the Castro, bears everywhere would Read more…
The following is actual embedded text from a Craigslist ad for a roomate in San Francisco. Frankly I didn’t know straight people lived/moved to Sanfran, but here is undeniable evidence. Thats just deductive reasoning.
$1000 Best. Roommate. Ever.
Konichiwa bitches. Are you looking for the most kick-ass fucking roommate that ever lived? If so, look no further. You fucking found him. I’m a 25-year-old professional marketing agent with experience at bad-ass companies in New York Fucking City. That’s right! What you know about experience? I graduated from Auburn University in Alabama, and moved to NYC at the ripe, tender age of 22. After deciding that New York was a stinky shit-hole, I moved back to Alabama to cultivate more professional experience. Why? So I can make millions of dollars and not have to post shit like this on Craigslist.
Anyway, so I landed this job with a marketing firm in San Francisco, and I have no fucking clue where to live. Honestly, I’m moving there in 3 weeks, so I don’t give a shit if I have to sleep in your bathtub.
A bit about me: I’m respectful, quiet, clean and I won’t bother any of your shit. If you leave shit out, I’m just like, “Oh fuck I better not mess with this shit, because it’s not mine.” I turn off lights. I clean toilets. Fuck it. I’ll even cook for you. That’s right! My dad is a chef and taught me everything there is to know about cooking southern cajun cuisine. I’ll fry green tomatoes, cover them with marinated crab meat and smother that shit in bearnaise. EVERY. GODDAMN. NIGHT. Don’t eat meat? That’s fucking FANTASTIC! I’ll make a zucchini and yellow squash carpaccio that will knock your fucking socks off. Read more…
And I liked it. His name is Belvedere Berenstein (hes jewish of course because for some reason I am a total shiksa at this point in my life) and we are headed to TJ Maxx later to pick out wallpaper for his cavern. (read: condoms for his asshole) This is technically a hangover diaries entry but this photo surpassed by far what I looked like today waking up stuffed into those hunter green velour leggings like a pig in a blanket.
We started off the night at Chris and Tom’s apartment, which is a lavishly decorated New Orleans meets San Francisco boudoir style mid century modern decadent palace filled with all manner of eccentric trinkets and antiquities to play with once you are blasted. Including a bear skin rug. But I digress.
Enter: The Passion of Christ
Seems that for some reason, when this furry San Francisco landlord got called to fix the fuse you blew (by running two vibrators at once, Read more…