Monday, March 27, 2006

Hail, hail, the gang's all here

While hanging with the Chosen Fam recently at C.C.'s, we were all engulfed in various conversations. I had been watching the boy porn trying to get a closer look at the tattoos on this particular porn. No, really, I was looking at his ink - okay, not just his ink, but...

I inquired about it. The Professor said that it was Dred Scott (sorry I couldn't find a better photo).

AP: I wish they'd do a close up shot of his tattoos.

HT: Doesn't his tattoo look like a corset or something a can-can girl would wear?

AP: No.

HT: Oh my God. I just sounded so gay a purse just fell out of my mouth. I might as well put on a beehive wig and start lip-syncing to Bette Midler right now.

I couldn't grab the trick pad quickly enough to make notes.

Later on, Zereos, the clever bartender, noticed the bowl of popcorn before us was empty.

Z: Hey, you guys are out of popcorn. Can I get you some more? You know, popcorn is like heroin. It's made out babies [as Zereos taps the vein in his arm like an addict and walks away].

Again, I race for the trick sheet to make my notes.

It's common knowledge how much I love Hot Toddy. When he and I get to spend time together, it makes me happy. He is always so witty it amazes me how his brain works. This particular evening was no different.

Hot Toddy had gone outside to plug the electronic meter which spits out a stickered receipt to post inside your car window on the curb side. Rather than put it in Sven, he walked back into the bar and sat down beside me casually sitting the sticker in front of himself.

HT: Good, I have my sticker.

AP: Why didn't you put it in your truck?!?!

HT: Oooooh. You have to put it in your window.

As he walked out the door, I was about to pee my pants from laughing so hard. His intentional blonde moments crack me up.

Then there was the boxing conversation.

TP: This is why gay men are bad at boxing...they think this is a fist [making a motion with his hand similar to when you would mock someone talking too much - thumb placed beneath all four fingers].

HT: It isn't fisting. It should be called "lobster clawing."

It was then The Math Whiz piped up.

TMW: Oh, it was so good...I got lobster clawed last week.

Again, to my blog notes I went while practically blowing Margarita all over the place.

Upon completing my notes, I looked over to find Hot Toddy digging diligently in the bottom of the pretzel bowl.

HT: Sorry, I'm just trying to get to the salt.

Pony: Hey, I'm the Pony. I get the salt lick.

HT: I crave salt waaaaaaaaaaay more than I crave pussy.

We all lost it. I've never known anyone who cringes more than Hot Toddy when it comes to talking about girl parts.

There were a couple of guys leaving the bar, one of them looked like Osama.

AP: Hey, look, it's Osama Bin Laden.

MzKarma: Bush hasn't been looking in gays bars for him!

That's probably where that bastard is hiding. He's probably tucked away in some gay bar or porn shop incapable of stepping away from the Glory Hole.

I spent a little time visiting with The Handsome Prince. Even he had his clever cap on that evening.

AP: [motioning toward the boy porn] Look, that bottom must like that action in his ass - his penis is hard.

THP: Yeah, it's called Viagra. It must be like beer nuts on a porn shoot - there are just huge bowls of Viagra sitting all over the place.

Though we do at some point in the week get together at C.C.'s, it's rare that the whole gang is there together. Since the gatherings at The Vortex have ceased since Hot now lives with me, we don't seem to gather like that as frequently. It's good to know when we do, it's like we've never been apart.

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