Posts tagged ‘trannies’
Let me start off my saying that I am the one in the yellow sweater. I replaced my face with Beyonce’s because I have never in my life seen a more unflattering photo of myself. I look like a homeless man emerging from the subway tunnels at first thaw, after a long winter of anorexia, meandering in my own filth, and casual butt sex with stray dogs. I don’t know if its just me, but I haven’t been drinking as much in 2013. I have taken this time to reflect, work on projects, and hibernate in my bedroom, which is as much of a man-cave as it can be with a chain chandelier and 30 color coordinated cushions. Regardless, this means what when I do go, I go hard. So this Sunday Funday brunch extravaganza lasted no less than 9 hours. In no particular order, here is what went down:
We started brunching at Pier 9, which is a hit-or-miss brunch hotspot in HK. Its a hit because some of the staff, like the hostess and one particularly charming foreign server that resembles Mr. Bean are awesome and super accommodating. Miss, because they often get your food wrong, or run out of champagne and have to serve Sangria (Red wine does nothing but piss me off). Hit because the manager always makes up for any service issues we have. (sidebar: I am pretty sure our actual server was a Russian prositute).
Anyway, I was still drunk from the night before, so it was pretty easy to get my buzz back. I noticed a friend of mine across the restaurant, but rather than get up to say hello, I sent him photos of my nipples, and the nipples of the girl next to me. Jmo spent the entire time talking about how flawless his skin was. I was sitting across from a Puerto Rican tranny, near a girl who didn’t realize she was at a gay brunch, and some rando Colombian guy who kept grabbing Nadia’s justies (we call her boob’s justies, because a handful of tit is “just enough”). We ended up getting a random birthday cake platter even though it wasn’t anyone’s bday and more than enough mimosas and glasses of sangria to tranquilize a horse. Then we went to the new Boxers in HK, where I pondered whether or not my attraction to gingers is due to some kind of vitamin deficiency (I saw a redhead there that was so gingery his eyelashes were translucent- so hot). Then we went back to JMO and Nadia’s new apartment, where we were surprised by some interesting characters- a pair of twinky young vampire-looking creatures that were clearly “awake” if you know what I mean. In case you don’t, I will just just say that it was snowing wherever they came from. Meaning that they were hanging out with a white girl.
Cocaine. Just cocaine, okay?
I will say the best line of the night came when I told one of them (who was randomly washing his hair) that I loved the towel on his head. Without missing a beat, he said: “Its Chanel.” Well played.
Apparently the other one took that compliment to heart and Read more…
Times, they are a changing. Behold the first ever transgendered Cuban public official, Adela Hernandez. In November, the delicate pepto bismol flower that is Adela Hernandez was elected as delegate to the municipal government of Caibarien. I have no idea what that means, but all I do know is that up until recently, Cuba hasn’t been very tolerant of the gays. Adela has been attacked in the street for showing off the glamourousness of a fuschia vickies camisole, and she once went to jail the 80′s for “dangerousness”. If “dangerousness” were an actual crime in the United States, Lindsay Lohan would have received the death sentence for her Liz and Dick lifetime skit, and I would be doing community service for extreme sexiness.
Adela, who is the love child of Cheech Marin and Brigitte Nielson works as a nurse by day, serves honorably in her neighborhood watch by night, and apparently spends her free time staging publicity stunts that make Courtney Stodden look like a wallflower. If you notice, in the above picture she is clearly in an “undesirable neighborhood” read: Cuba, yet the sheets she is hanging to dry aren’t wet, and appear to be whiter than the inside of Paz De La Huerta’s left nostril.
Anyone who has ever lived in the ghetto or bought drugs in the ghetto knows that there is no such thing as a white sheet in the inner city. Still, bravo for Cuba embracing the transgendered community! It started with gays, now this nouveau civil rights movement has extended to trannies. After that, all we have to do is stop discriminating against fat people, and we might have a cold chance in hell of being a world full of decent human beings.
I find this photo both fabulous and disturbing.
Remember not-so-long ago when black and white people had to drink from different water fountains? Then, Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King or whatever decided segregation was wrong, so it was abolished. Allegedly. Have you ever noticed that we still segregate babies? According to tradition, blue is for boys, pink is for girls, and yellow is for tranny babies. I have never understood this though, because blue seems more of a feminine color to me, while pink reads more masculine. It starts at birth, and from then on we are assigned a gender based on our sex organs. That assignment haunts us for the rest of our lives. It dictates how we dress, how we act, and even how we feel. If everybody in the world is such a singular individual, how can we possibly classify anyone into one of two categories based on whether their gennies are inverted?
Boys are taught from birth to be rough-and-tumble adventurers that learn how to provide for a family. Girls are taught to be demure, shrinking violets that can take direction and cook a mean casserole. As our society progresses these distinctions have become less important, but there are still steadfast rules about how we should act and who we should be ingrained in us from birth.
Even as a gay man, living in the gayest city in the country I still sometimes struggle with my gender, whether I look too masculine or feminine on an everyday basis, and how I am coming off to the general public. That is the ultimate mind-fuck of it all.
We are taught from birth to act certain ways that may or may not go against our human nature, and we stick to those rules that were assigned based on our genitals simply because we were taught to.
And that, my dear friends, is why I love trannies.
[ via TheLuxurySpot ]
If you notice, at the top of this photo it says that the NY lottery is 121 million–a sum that is to be stretched out for someone’s lifetime. If you read a little further, it states that in just one year, same-sex marriages have added 259 million the the economy of the city of New York. I am no mathematician, but it appears to me that slovenly third-world cities like Detroit, MI, Jacksonville, FL, and FUCKING California should probably jump on the bandwagon. But enough about politics–you don’t come here to read what you can Google. Here is a list of other advantages to allowing gay marriage:
You know all those horrible run-down neighborhoods where teenagers go to smoke crack and create prom night dumpster-babies? (Detroit–no offense but this one is aimed at you) Imagine if the gays came in, painted them up, hired some Home Depot landscapers (read: Mexicanos), and threw a coat of paint on them so fast the property values did a double take. Our country would turn into Wisteria fucking Lane, except with more Botox, and less hit-and-run murders. (R.I.P Despies)
Most right-wingers claim that their biggest issue with gay people is the promiscuity and sin. Do you know the easiest way to cure promiscuity? Marriage. Do you know how you stop people from “living in sin”? Marriage. So take a note from your own book (That one about that guy, with the beard, who climbed up a beanstalk and got crucified by a wicked witch that lived in a gingerbread house, or whatever) and allow gays the option to bind themselves to one person until death do they part (and by part, I mean sign up for a www.christianmingle.com account and get back out there on the dating scene).
Munty, hunty. I know New York is normally light years in front of the rest of the country, but money talks, and trannies walk (in heels, even). There is nobody with more dispensable income than gays, because we don’t have to waste it on diapers, singing lessons, school trips, and birth control. I believe that the number of gays that got married during the first year of legal same-sex marriages in New York is nothing compared to Read more…
Let me first start off by saying that I woke up this morning to realize I have a sprained ankle. I sprained it yesterday at 4 PM. I am pretty sure walking around and climbing down buildings didn’t do anything to help the situation.
We got started early this weekend. Nadia is staying Harlem right now so every weekend she has been moving in and being the perfect little tranny house guest. I pulled a hairball out of the drain yesterday that was bigger than both of Sandra Bernhard’s Haireolas combined. All you have to to do is take one look at that swarthy jewish queen to realize her nipples rival the size of Thanksgiving dinner platters. The other aspect to Nadia’s occupy fidi movement is that she never brings any clothes, so we have to make her something new to wear every night. A gallery of her fashions to follow.
The weekend started at Old Sichuan, in Chinatown. The service here is absolutely deplorable, but its a byob and the food is super cheap. 7 of us got stuff and wasted for $70. We bought orange sodas, but the server took forever to bring glasses (and by forever I mean they never came) so we just dumped a shit ton of vodka into the hot tea they brought us. (PS green apple vodka and hot tea are actually pretty fucking great together). Then we went to Bar 13 for the underwear party. Being a gentleman of a certain age that is going to Gay Days Orlando in a few weeks, I left my clothes on. We got accosted by a drug dealer who resembled Jesse Jackson. Somehow we ended up in Hells Kitchen at The Ritz where we drank beers with shots of vodka in them. DO NOT DO THIS. I woke up the next morning fully clothed and went Read more…
“I hope to have a few girls one day. If not girls, they better be trannies. Because I have some amazing shoes and bags and stories that need to be appreciated.”
-Blake Lively Read more…
Let me first say that KUNT has no reference to the “C” word. This type of KUNT describes a much more fierce, impetuous, omnipresent type of mannerism that is somewhat overpowering and awe inspiring. Serving KUNT is better left to professionals like drag queens, fierce bitches or trannies that are capable of handling KUNT. KUNT must be handled with care. If there’s too much KUNT being thrown around, things will get out of control rather quickly and well we just don’t want that. KUNT must have a look. If there is not look to go with the KUNT, then your KUNT will not come off as fierce as it should. KUNT must be used properly when talking about it in sentences otherwise you might offend someone. Saying something like “You’re a KUNT” would not be cute at all. Rather, one should say “Gurl, you’re giving me KUNT today and I’m loving it.” KUNT in that context is not seen negatively.
I’d like to give two hypothetical situations that have empirical research to back their findings. One situation will show how to properly serve a normal amount of KUNT according to statistical data. The other situation will Read more…