HAPPY HALLOWEEN! (Celebrate, because tomorrow we welcome Thanksgiving!)

Have a festive and fun Halloween!

Whether you are trick-or-treating, partying at your friend's house, hitting a carnival, or hanging at the bar...have a great night!

Be safe!

Tomorrow we welcome Thanksgiving, so soak today's holiday up!

TO GIVE A BEAT DOWN OR NOT GIVE A BEAT DOWN?

So, I missed blogging yesterday, but in my defense my head ache and work load were not getting along.

So, here is a question for you all, but let me set it up first.

Last night, from about 11:45 PM to 2 AM I, and my neighbors, had the privilege to listen to a crazy home-challenged man yell continuously. He took very brief breaks, because he is only human. 

So, I laid awake, and could not get to sleep. I am not going to lie, I wanted to yell out the window "Shut the *bleep* up," but let's be real, he wouldn't have stopped. I also feared that, like the zombies on "Walking Dead," it would attract him to come find me.

So, the question is, what do you do? Do you just cover your ears? Do you call the non-emergency number and report it?

What would you have done after 2 hours has annoying serenade? 

My HALLOWEEN MIX TAPE

If you are looking for the perfect Halloween Play List or Mixtape, look no further. Pass it on and enjoy!

My HALLOWEEN MIX TAPE:

"Thriller" - Michael Jackson

"Monster Mash" - Bobby "Boris" Pickett

"Heads Will Roll" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

"I Put A Spell On You" - Jeff Beck Ft. Joss Stone

"Beautiful Monster" - Ne-Yo

"Teeth" - Lady Gaga

"Somebody's Watching Me" - Rockwell

"Time Warp" - The Rocky Horror Picture Show

"Dark Lady" - Cher

"Spooky" - Dusty Springfield

"Maneater" - Nelly Furtado

"She Wolf" - Shakira

"Bad Things" - Jace Everett ("True Blood" Theme)

"The Reaper" - Blue Oyster Cult

"Ghostbusters" - Ray Parker Jr. ("Ghosterbuster" Theme Song)

Proud Of My Friends!

Today my Best Friends' photo, with their new son Jack, was posted on the page of a Gay News Group on Facebook. 

This amazing family consists of a Mommy, a Papa and two wonderful littles boys. When we post things Facebook we open ourselves up to various opinions, but today I got to see how ignorant people can truly be. 

How unhappy or uneducated can people be, that they would see this lovely and happy moment, and critique it publicly? 

These are two of the most amazing and loving parents, that I have had the privilege to call family, and the only word any one of those hicks should have posted was "Congrats!"

If anyone has anything negative to say...keep it to your damn self. Just because you have something you WANT to say, doesn't mean we give a Bible beating shit. Take your book of fiction, and shove it where the sun doesn't shine, because I assure you that Jesus himself would look at this picture of love and "LIKE" it on Facebook!

Happy Friday!

SEX, LIES, NUDITY, HANDCUFFS & SCANDAL!

!!This is a test. This is only a test!!

When you use sites like this for blogging, you can track how many views each entry gets.  Yesterday I wrote a brief blog about Grindr. It wasn't scandalous, and it was not explicit, but it got SO MANY hits. 

For those of you not in the know, Grindr is a Gay Dating App. And, if we're keepin' it real ... it's used to find d*ck! As you can guess, this lady doesn't stoop to such levels ... often. 

Well, my theory is that my readers saw the word "Grindr," and were on it like Creepers on a Twink's Grindr profile! You bitches are pervs and I love it!

So, to test out my theory, I titled this blog as R-Rated as I could, so that I can see if more readers take the bait. 

Please prove me right you kinky people!

TALES FROM GRINDR!

We've all been there... 

It's a late night and you are in bed, but you can't get to sleep, so you grab your phone. You sign on one of the many dating apps out there, and you see what is up for the taking.

Shortly after signing on you get bombarded with messages. Some polite and some...well...a c*ck up in your face on the screen. (Classy!)

I have a question...can one find love on an app that is on your phone? Is that where we find love or just c*ck?

Opinions?

WHAT STOOD WHERE YOUR HOUSE DID?

Tonight, I am in a very calm and pleasant mood, and I allowed myself to look around while I walked home.

Now, don't think that I will start wearing Navaho Turquoise Jewelry, talk crystals and burn sage, but I am having a moment about the world. 

Isn't it amazing to look up to the moon and stars and think that Aristotle, Monet, the Dinosaurs, the Mayans, the Vikings, the Cavemen...we all have seen the same thing. It makes me wonder, further, what was on my block 1000 years ago, or even 200 years ago? Amazing!

Think it over...

COUGARS, FOXES and CAT EYES, OH MY!

Golda Meir once said, “Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you're aboard, there's nothing you can do.” Mind you “she” has the grill of a hobbit who got hit with a rusty shovel.

I have to point out that many people seem to disagree with Miss Meir. The beauty industry makes approximately $160 billion per year, so that’s a lot of cheese that people are willing spend in order to fight the inevitable storm. Beauty is godliness in our society, and the money spent proves that to be true. What makes someone even more beautiful? Youth. Everyone wants to be in their 20s, or at least look like they are in their 20s. (Well a 60 year old might settle for 40 again, but you get what I am saying.) We want less lines, supple skin and firm titties and butts. No? (Mmmm … butts.)

Let me break this sh*t down for ya’ll. When we are hot bitches in our 20s, we are like beach front property in Malibu. (Example: Colby). We are on top of the world when we are young. We get what we want, and we think nothing can go wrong. As we get older, we move further and further away from the beach, and soon we are a double wide in a trailer park in the middle of Wyoming. (The land with more deer than people.) We want to hold on to the power of youth, and people go to great lengths to hold on. The three ways people try to recreate youth are with what they wear, how they alter their appearance and whom they date. I am going to hit on all of these issues, maybe not in that order, and I am going to keep it short and to the point. My opinions are simple on this topic, and bitches I gots something to say.

AGE INAPPROPRIATE DATING

I am not going to beat around the bush. We have seen these couples with huge age gaps. We know it’s not about love, but about ego and arm candy. If you are a 45-year-old-lawyer who has been there and done it all, why are you dating a 20-year-old-undergrad? Please explain to me what you have in common, and tell me how you envision this relationship to play out. Or, why do older men and women date out-of-work “models”? I know that you, with your job, car, house, etc. have a lot in common with such a motivated young person. (Sure.) I know what you have in common … f*cking. You want to feel young and attractive, and if everyone sees what you can get, then you are young and attractive by association.

If it is just sex … cool! More power to you. You are a cougar or a daddy, so own it, and let it be what it is. Don’t try and cover it up with “dating,” because it is not going to go anywhere, and you don’t look more attractive, young or desirable because you have arm candy. You look like a person who never had luck in love or had false ideas of what you wanted or deserved. Now you are stuck. Love is not about having a play-thing or arm candy. A healthy relationship involves things in common, the ability to grow together and many other factors. I challenge you cougs and daddies to grow and find someone age appropriate to date, because the camouflage of someone else’s youth doesn’t work. My rule is normally 10 above and 10 below, so learn it, live it and love it! One final thing … people see you with your arm candy and they don’t think “stud”. They think, “Gurl pays for it!” (Enough said. Peace.)

AGE INAPPROPRIATE CLOTHING

Have you ever been at a shopping center and seen a 40-something woman going into Forever 21, and there’s not a daughter in sight? Anyone? She is, of course, a walking mannequin for the store with complimentary Uggs. (Hot!) Tell me, how is it a store with a Bible verse on its bag can promote such slutty clothing to young women? (John 3:16 … look it up!)

Have you ever seen her male equivalent, a 50-something man with blond highlights walking into Abercrombie and Fitch? You know that homo is there for himself because he is sporting the ever-so-stylish sleeveless t-shirt that reads, “I survived spring break, one bed at a time.” Then you think to yourself, “When the f*ck were you on spring break last?” 

Let me speak directly to all of these offenders. No matter if you have Abercrombie or Forever 21 covering your aging body … no one believes you are younger. What you look like is someone trying hard, and someone who has no style of their own. If you are over the age of 30, please develop or find some personal style. You can be current, trendy and comfortable in age appropriate items. 

Ladies … stop with the “low rise” and tube tops, and adopt appropriate items into your wardrobe. If we can see C-section scars … too low! I am not saying you have to wear mom jeans or granny panties. You know the kinds that allow you to tuck your titties in them they are so high. (At least you wouldn’t need a bra.) Look stylish and not desperate. This goes for you men too. Stop with the camo cargo shorts (cargo shorts in general), the sleeveless T’s and the overly decorated jeans. Get some sleek, stylish and appropriate jeans. 

No one wants to see your 40-something-year-old thong out of your Juicy Couture sweats! No one wants to see you in camo shorts that were intended for a 20-year-old frat boy who over-slept and ran to class! I challenge you to get personal style, and stop buying right off the display. You can look hot for your age, and no one will be talking sh*t behind your back.

Go shopping and move with the times, and stop chasing after years lost. (I am spent.)

INAPPROPRIATE … JUST INAPPROPRIATE AT ALL AGES!

Ok, this is simple. If you are going under the knife, make sure it is with a good doctor, that it is modest and don’t have false ideas of what is actually possible. You want natural and not fake. This goes for all ages, but when older folks do it, and do a major overhaul, it comes out freakish. 

I assure you that 95% of patients walk out looking like they were nipped and tucked. Some of these women (or men) have been lifted so many times, that their Brazilians are now a soul patches. (Okkayy?) We all see Michelle, Courtney, Demi and Cindy and think, “Who is her doctor?” We want to be them. We want to age well and look natural while doing it. (Let me say, none of it is natural, but with money you can get many things accomplished.) Then we see Melanie, Joan, Meg and Mickey and we say, “F*ckin’ damn! What were you thinking?” (Mickey made vomit a little in my mouth in “The Wrestler”.) These people went over the top. They don’t look fresh and younger. They look overdone and on the verge (if not already there) of Cat Eyes. Lips are not that big in nature and should never look painful! They had money too, but something went wrong.

Consult professionals and get multiple opinions. Ask the questions. You cannot turn back time after you go under the knife, so start small and do your research. (Maybe injectables first … just saying. Not that I have done them. You can’t prove it!)

I personally know a lady who is about 40, but looks 50 trying to be 40. She started way too early and has had way too much done. To avoid this being you, try eating healthy, exercising, sleeping, using SPF, limiting the amounts of partying and late nights and don’t stress out all of the time. Skincare is key and it doesn’t need to involve knives or needles. Start out with living well, and you won’t have so much damage control later. When the time is right, move forward with other things, but be careful.

In conclusion, be age appropriate in all you do, b*tches. Use your head and listen to your gut. (No don’t. Just listen to me.) If people are staring at you, and you are an offender in any of these areas, know this, they may be laughing at you and not admiring you. It is simple and sweet. Move with the times and be age appropriate. This will get you a lot more admiration and healthier relationships.

Strive to never look desperate, ridiculous and freakish. Never appear to be someone who pays for “it.” Always strive to look current, fresh and worthy of envy. Okkaay? Questions? I didn’t think so.

PART 3 (FINAL): FUCK QUASIMOTO … I WANT MY DAMN UNICORN!

Final Part (3): FUCK QUASIMOTO … I WANT MY DAMN UNICORN!

The Chameleon

My only Chameleon was a wonderful guy. I will refer to him as “M.” M was a nice guy. He was great on paper and was very cute. After a few weeks, I realized M had started to talk to my friends on the side, was eating how I was eating (the Raw Food lifestyle), and was complimenting me all of the time. He was changing to be what he thought I wanted him to be. He was acting like me, and I am not into dating myself.

The Chameleon is similar to the Puppy Dog, but he doesn’t know how to be himself when dating. He doesn’t want to screw anything up, and combining this with low self-esteem, he molds himself into a reflection of the other person. He doesn’t want to make waves and upset the person he is dating because that could bring an end to the relationship.

This trickster is the most difficult to spot because it takes some time to notice these changes. Once you do, you may be able to talk to him about the situation and encourage him to move in a direction that would allow him to be himself. If he is open enough and mature enough, things could change and be salvaged. Be aware that this can also backfire into some “Single White Female” sh*t. In my opinion, give a little nudge, but see how he reacts, and most likely you move on.

The Unicorn

Like I said in the beginning, I don’t believe in the idea of one perfect match in your lifetime. I believe you will meet a few amazing loves (if you are a lucky lady), and each will bring joy to your life. The Unicorn is “Mr. Perfect.” These men are Gerard Butler in, “P.S. I Love You.” (He ruined me for any other man.) The Unicorn will bring you laughter, happiness, affection and found memories. You will learn a great deal in these types of relationships. The Unicorn embodies the full package and should be held onto and experienced to the fullest.

In my life I have had several amazing boyfriends. Looking back I cannot say I was in “True Love,” and these men were not my mystical Unicorn, but I know they are, or will be, someone else’s perfect match.

You will know-I hope this is true-him when you find him, so keep your eyes and hearts open. These men are few and far between.

So, be careful out there. In the movies there are relationships like in “Revolutionary Road,” “Sleeping With the Enemy” and “American Psycho.” Those are the kind of relationships that we want to avoid. Those end negatively and most of the time we get jacked up physically and emotionally while in them. (Gurl, if you remember little Julia running for her d*mn life … shooot.) Then we see movies like “Titanic” and “Pretty Woman” and we fall in love with the idea of “true love.” We are ready to brave sinking ships while working as a prostitute just to meet the man of our dreams. (I loved me some Leo, but f*ck that, I am letting goooo and jumping into a heated blanket on a life boat. Okaaay?)

When on a date, trust your instincts and take care of yourself. Why waste your time with the wrong one, just to have someone in your life? Move on and keep your eyes forward so that you don’t miss what is coming down the road. There are plenty of fish in the sea, as they say, but you have to be selective about what you keep and what you throw back. There are a lot more puffer-fish, bottom-dwellers, eels and sharks compared to the lovely dolphins. Learn how to tell the difference quickly.

If this doesn’t make you think about dating in a different way, let me leave you with a little piece of information I was going to leave out. There is a sixth man on the dating scene. He is … The Creeper. I have seen more Creepers in my time then any other kind. Luckily, it is rare to end up on an actual date with a Creeper, but if you do, get the f*ck out! One of my favorite Creeper stories was when an older man came up to me with a drink at a club. I saw him coming and I tried to play it cool. He said to me, “I brought this over to you.” I was svelte, 22 and new on the scene. This was normal, but I was not going to take some Ruffie on the Rocks from this sex offender-looking Creeper. I told him I didn’t drink and tried to get my friends’ attention. He then said, “You’re cute. You remind me of my nephew.” (Eeew!) Oh yes, ladies, he sure did. I didn’t say a word, but I sure did walk away. The Creeper is an opportunistic lowlife who will pay for it, if the ruffies don’t work on guys like me.

Use you head. Be prepared to take care of business. Trust your gut. If you do those things, then you will be fine. Happy dating!

PLAYERS, DOUCHEBAGS AND PUPPY DOGS! (PART 2)

PART 2: 

FUCK QUASIMOTO … I WANT MY DAMN UNICORN!

The Player

If you read my dating story about little “Peso,” then you know I have encountered this type. He was obviously a Player, just not a good one. I have to admit that I too early on had fallen victim to Players.

This type of man has one goal and one goal only, and that is to get the f*ck off. (Shoot his load! Blow his wad! I think you get it.) He may actually be fun in bed, and you will think he is amazing for giving you one hell of an “O,” but do not attempt to cage and date this man. (He could also turn out to be a 10-second man. Beware!) This man is not mature enough to commit and may never get to that point.

The Player comes in all ages. He knows how to sweet talk. He knows which buttons to push. He will speak a lot about wanting to commit. Listen to your gut, my friend, and stay clear of this type. We all fall victim to The Player at some point, and looking back we knew all along he wasn’t the one. He talks a big game. Many of us have been caught in the sea of possibility, and we drift away from the shore of reality. Once you realize, if you do, you’d better yank the f*ckin’ rope to your little engine and get your boat back to shore.

I say this to those of you who are actually out to find love and a mate. If, though, you know what he is and accept the limits of this one-night relationship, then God bless you, and I hope it turns out to be one hot night! I never said sex with The Player was wrong, but you need to be on the same page for this to not turn out negatively. With time you will be able to spot these men with ease.

The Douchebag

In 2001 I met a muscular, tall, handsome guy with olive complexion, and I will call Douche-Trick. This guy was the clinical definition of a Douche, but because I was newly out, I let it go on for a little while. He talked about himself all of the time and rarely asked me anything. He wanted to get off but was not attentive in return. When he would go out with my friends and I, he would whisper things to me like, “I am only here because you want me to be here.” What it came down to was that he wanted arm candy, and I was top of the line from that department. I ended that shit right after he kept sighing loudly from boredom at a friend’s show that we attended. (Even naive Colbs didn’t play like that.)

This “man” is easy to spot. From the moment you step into this date you will know that this man has a lot of growing up to do. He is all about himself, and you are just a guest in his world. We all could end up dating this guy for a while because of our low self-esteem or we try and overlook his shortcomings.

If you date this man, you will end up annoyed, and it will end. This break up is not usually a nice one. All of the rage and resentment will come out, but The Douchebag doesn’t understand any flaws that exist in him. You get even more p*ssed off because he says something brilliant like, “You’re not even my type.” (After a month of dating.)

We all know him. This is a date where escaping out the window in the bathroom or calling a friend to rescue you is perfectly acceptable ... let him dwell alone in his self-centered pool of douche slop.

The Puppy Dog

Oh, the Puppy Dog boys. My pet, “Fido,” was a very nice guy. Fido was sweet and attentive, and he was very eager. I knew we had issues when his friends came up to me at a bar after date two and they referred to me as their friend’s new boyfriend. The final straw was when he said, “I love you,” on date three. That sh*t had to be snipped in the bud! Fido was sent to the pound.

The Puppy Dog appears to be perfect, at first. You may find his dotting behavior and compliments to be endearing. He is so nice to be around because you feel like a Queen. (Heeey!) Then you realize he is following you around on his leash of codependence. The Puppy Dog needs to sprout a pair before he is datable.

This type is usually identified after spending a little bit of time with him. The break up process can be messy as hell. It is usually emotional and may take several firm “NOs” before he gets that it’s over. He will then go the complete opposite end of the spectrum (Cujo) and demand things like the 12 mixed CDs he made you in seven days have to be returned. My advice is you FedEx that sh*t back and change your number.

P.S. His friends will also hate you because you “hurt” their friend. Boo hoo!

FUCK QUASIMOTO! I WANT MY DAMN UNICORN!

A universal topic that brings out all of the differing opinions from just about anyone you ask is the subject of love. Even those who won’t discuss religion or politics will weigh in on how one needs to go about finding a relationship. How do I find love? Where do I go to meet Mr. Right? Is there such a thing as a Mr. Right? The questions go on and on, and every matchmaker, yenta, grandmother, mother and auntie out there has an opinion on the subject, and each one of them is a self-proclaimed expert. I have met many of these ladies, and they are passionate about the subject of love. Many of them are also controlling bitches. (I’m just saying. Sorry, Auntie.)

Oprah has aired entire episodes on the differences between the sexes. (Of course she has, because we’ve all seen how well it has gone with Gail … I mean, Stedman.) Patti “The Matchmaker” Stanger speaks about the differences all of the time on her reality show. Dr. Ruth, Dear Abby, Dr. Phil and many other old ladies speak about and give advice on romance, marriage, sex and finding the perfect partner. Now, this young lady is going to weigh in on the subject and address the different types of men that are out there in the dating world. It truly is a jungle out there people, so you have to learn how to maneuver around in it like you are in f*ckin’ “Avatar.”

Here is a question I have wrestled with personally: “Does one true love even exist?” I, like many lonely ladies reading this (stroking their cats and eating rolls of cookie dough), wanted to believe that there was such a thing as a “perfect” match for each of us. If I didn’t, I would have to admit that I have been putting out for no reason … many times. (Many, many times.) To defend myself and my actions, Patti Stanger always talks about how men are attracted first physically (aka think with their dicks), so I was just being strategic by putting out. With women you stroke their minds, and with men you stroke their … you get the point. (I still say I am a … lady?) So, yes, I wish there was one perfect match for us all, but I have decided to be realistic, because I think there are many possible matches for each one of us. Like Forrest Gump says, “Life is like a box of chocolates …” and if this is true, my dating life better be Godiva and not f*ckin’ Russell Stover. (You know the brand I am talking about. You see it at Rite Aid with some damn Snoopy toy holding the cheap box of chocolates.) My box has been opened up and I have partaken in the caramels, the creams, the nuts and I still have many to go. Okaaay?

While searching for one of these amazing matches, through-out your dating career you will inevitably encounter the various types of duds that dating world has to offer. I can only speak about dating men because I am not as familiar with the types and classifications of ladies in the dating world. I do know that some would fall into the “slut” and “gold-digger” categories. I am sorry to all of the lesbian and straight men out there for my limited knowledge of women, but read on to make sure you, yourselves, know what category you fall into.

After years of dating, or research, if you will, I have tagged and studied many men. I have communicated with, sampled and measured all of these men. (Like f*ckin’ Gorillas in the Mist.) I have dedicated my young life to science. I have taken many for the team, so that I could pass on my knowledge. What you are about to read, I hope, will enlighten you and will help you to avoid the man I classify as the undatable. Are the dramatics necessary? Hellz ya! (Bitch knows how to entertain.)

The five types of men in the dating world are (could a bitch get a drum roll please): The Player, The Douchebag, The Puppy Dog, The Chameleon and The Unicorn. I know that as many of you read this, you will look back and realize you have sampled some of these types as well along your way. Let me dive in and shed some light on the variations.

To Be Continued...

F*CK THE OVER ANALYZING! - ASK COLBY

Question For Colby:

 I met a guy on Match.com and I like him a lot. I have been dating him, very casually, for 5 months. I am having fun, but my girlfriends think I should talk to him about seeing where the relationship is going. Should I talk to him?

Colby's Answer:

Let me just say that I am very excited to get another question, because I am very wise and have knowledge to share. 

I am going to keep this short and sweet, because we, as daters, need to stop over analyzing relationships. 

The thing that you said that stands out to me is, "I am having fun." If at this point you are happy and having fun, and the relationship is fulfilling your needs so far, then great. What's to talk about?

If you are happy and consenting, and he is too, then go with it. Even if this relationship only lasts 6 months, but you had fun as it ran its course, then go with it. You will know when you need more, and then you talk to him. If he is not ready, then you decide if you want to move on or stick around, but if he is ready, then great.

As long as you are getting what you need there is no reason to rush things, and put them under the microscope. 

Have fun!

HOMELESS VAGINA & HOW YOU CAN HELP (PART 2)

PART 2

Imagine the voice of Mrs. Sofia Petrillo as I say, “Picture it!”

Picture it! A young man (me) pulls into a 7-11 one sunny morning in Los Angeles. (All classic stories start at 7-11 or Walmart.) I was in a fine mood and looking good. I jumped out of my Jeep Wrangler (Gay!) and headed for the entrance. On my way into the store, I passed a woman standing near the entrance, which happened to be directly in front of my car. I noticed her and identified her as homeless and possibly deranged, so, of course, I kept my distance. (Fuck mace … I had Lysol Wipes and Purell ready to go!) I went into the store and got my morning Big Gulp filled with diet soda. (I don’t do coffee in the morning, but I use to get diet soda on my way to work. Call me high class!) As I strutted my hot sh*t out of 7-11 and passed the woman once again, she grunted. This grunt was directed at me. I have learned that I bring that type of reaction out in homeless people. (Just like when my Grandpa sees me and each time is compelled to ask, “When are you getting a wife?”) I faced forward and headed right for the car. I did not want to reinforce her negative behavior. If she had been Boo Boo, I would have grabbed the spray bottle. (Naughty homeless person! Naughty!) I climbed into my vehicle and looked straight ahead. As I set my gaze forward, I looked into the eyes of a woman who could have taken me apart with her rough and in- desperate-need-of-lotion hands! 

She was stout and had a bit of a weight issue. (Can you say “Precious”?) She was angry-looking and the aggression just fumed off of her and her reddish complexion. (I could have suggested laser treatments, but it slipped my mind.) Her hair was unruly and a dirty brown color. She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of men’s basketball shorts. It goes without saying, but she was in need of a shower and a washing machine, but that was not what I was worried about. You know what? Now that I am thinking about the movie “Precious,” she resembled a white and homeless version of Mo'Nique’s character from the movie. (Yummmoo!)

When our eyes met, my heart started to race. (This happened once before when I worked at American Rag and helped Simon Rex on my first day.) All I could think was “Pamplona.” (I wanted to run. Fight or flight, bitches!) I froze like Bambi in the headlights of a f*ckin’ Mack Truck, and I felt the urge to pee myself. I stopped myself from panicking and tried to focus on putting my drink in the drink holder and on getting the keys in the ignition. I was failing on all accounts. She would not stop staring me down, and this caused me to break into a cold sweat. I believe she may have huffed and puffed and stomped her feet like a bull, but scary moments play tricks on your brain. 

I finally got my keys inserted where they needed to be, and I steadied my breathing. (Let me tell you … I had never had such an issue sticking it in!) My eyes never left her face. I didn’t trust this woman. In my head I imagined an old Western, and only our eyes would be shown on camera. Back and forth the camera would show each of us squinting with anger before we would draw. In the background there would be that dramatic Western music. One of us was going down, and I prayed it would not be me and my car. 

Right before I got the car turned on, a crazed look came over her face. (My sudden movement might have spooked her … like cattle.) What happened next seemed to go in slow motion, but I know it only lasted about 10 seconds. I watched as she reached down and across to the left leg of her soiled gym shorts. She did this all with such speed that I couldn’t look away in time. She grabbed the leg opening (Slow motion, “NOOOOO!”) and pulled those f*ckers up and over and exposed full bush! (Bitch went commando!) I panicked! (AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!) I screamed and cried! I felt like a big black lady wailing and fainting in a Southern Baptist church. (Sweet Lord, save me!) I finally got the car on, but some how I forgot how to get it into reverse. While this is happening, she is standing in daylight outside of 7-11 on Fairfax Ave. with her coochie saying, “Howdie-Do!” to all the citizens of Little Ethiopia. 

I was mortified, but I finally got the car to shift as she continued to threaten me with her vagina. It was angry! What made this worse was when I shifted the car into reverse, I knocked my Big Gulp over onto the floor. (Life’s a bitch!) Now I was scared and parched! I felt like Nancy Kerrigan after the clubbinh, “Why! Whhhyyyy!”

I began to back up at top speed. I might have taken out a few small children and/or someone’s grandmother, but I had to get out of that parking lot, and I was willing to accept the casualties. As I shot backward at warp speed, I took a chance and took in the full picture below the equator, and the following description may never make you feel horny again. My love for passionate nakedness left my body and soul for a long time after that moment. Oh … it’s back now, but for a few hours that day it was not happening. (The compass would not point north, okaaay?)

All I can say about the Beaver was it most definitely had rabies and needed to be put down like Old Yeller. It needed its damn vaccinations and it needed them YESTERDAY! I thought I might even need a shot or a cream from just looking at it. (“Hello Free Clinic! It’s Colby … yeah the regular!”) Let me tell you that this wildly furry and untamed creature had never heard of a Brazilian. From what I saw in my glimpse, it had collected a great deal of lint over the years, and I think I saw a lollipop stuck to it. You know the Green Apple kind with caramel? Oh … and one word … Baguette! (Think about it.) I am sure that Beaver had done some things that no little Beaver should have to do. (Call PETA!)

As I drove away, I looked in my rearview mirror and saw her slowly allow her shorts to slide back down. I may have been mistaken, but I think I saw her lips mouth, “I love you.” (You know what lips I am talking about, you nasty sluts!) On a side note, she really should read my blog and learn some dating etiquette. I know she wanted me … but damn! The Beaver stays in the cage until after dinner at least. 

Let me tell you that typing this out has made me flop sweat. Wow! Now … we can all breathe. (In … and out …) This truly illustrates that I am a survivor. We can all put that behind us and move on. Never look back. I will admit that reliving the trauma was a lot for me, but I will do anything for my loyal fan. (Thanks Chuck!) 

Two weeks ago, I promised that there would always be a lesson to be learned from my stories, so here it comes. Yes, even this can have a positive spin. (I know you all were wondering where this was going.) I am challenging us all to give back and help. Though the homeless folks are not my cup of tea, I do give back in my own ways. I care about the environment and work to protect it in the little ways that I can, and I also volunteer with an amazing organization that helps youth in crisis. (I am not a complete bitch.) 

Think it over and see what you are passionate about. If it is the environment … go for it! Go build a house made out of used shoes or protest some toxic waste place. If you love animals … go help those little bastards! Adopt a dog or a cat, or volunteer to save a big fish. God bless those big fish! If you love those homeless … um (swallow) people … God bless you! Go hand out food, but don’t expect me to be there next to you. With my luck, I would run into the Beaver and she would want seconds on biscuits. (With a side of the Colbs.) I can’t take that chance.

In all seriousness, giving back can change your life, especially when it is something you truly care about. It gets you out of your own head and allows you to focus on something bigger than yourself. At times, I too, though I am attractive, talented (Seriously, read this blog), giving and intelligent, need to get out of my own head, and focus on something bigger than myself. It helps you be well-rounded, and it helps you to be thankful for what you have. Bitches don’t even try to tell me that you “don’t have any time to give back.” We all can find one day a month, or even a few hours of one day per month. Hell, write a check if you must!

So, I release you, my people, out into the world to help those in need, and to spread the message. Be dedicated to whatever you choose, and be open to how it can enhance your own lives. Start small, if need be, and work your way up to Colby status. You can do it!

HOMELESS VAGINA & HOW YOU CAN HELP (Part 1)

Part I

WARNING: What you are about to read is opinionated, politically incorrect and extremely crude. I Naired My Balls For This? takes full responsibility for the content of this blog, but not for what may result from reading it. This story is based on true events and has caused sleepless nights for many gay men, and severe nausea in men and women alike. Proceed with caution! If you don’t like the blog … you can f*ck off. Have a blessed Easter.

Each morning, some of us wake up naturally fierce, flawless and fabulous, and ready to start the day. Some of us … don’t. I have been told that these second-class citizens (oops) … um… I mean, these other people, have to work at it. (And bitches, Colby has seen what you look like after “working” at it … so you may be headed for the beauty unemployment line.) I don’t know what it means to be part of this second group, but I will try and image how it feels for the sake of my blog. For my craft, if you will. I will put myself in the shoes of the common people and explain what my morning routine might look like if I had to work at it. Luckily, being ugly is not my reality, because Jesus loves me more. (Dare I say … I am one of chosen pretty people?)

My mornings regretfully begin at about 5:30 a.m. I say “about” because I have been known to snooze once, maybe three times, depending on the night before. (Don’t judge, we all snooze the damn alarm.) After shutting off my lovely-sounding alarm clock, I begin my pre-work routine. I walk and feed my dog, Boo Boo. Then I shower, moisturize, hang upside down for a few minutes, primp, style, get dressed in the clothes I laid out the night before, take my vitamins, drink a big glass of water (hydrate ladies!), check my gym bag, put Boo Boo away and finally run out the door. Right before walking out the door, I stop in front of my full-length mirror, and take it all in. (Let’s just say it … it’s that good.)

While getting ready, I normally have the morning news, Today in LA, on in the background. I don’t really listen to it until they get to the weather. The reason being is that I like to know if my intended outfit is appropriate for my day at work. The selection is based on weather conditions and temperature, because a lady is always prepared. The reason I watch Today in LA’s weather, and not some other channel, is because I love my hottie, Elita Loresca. (Titties for days!)

On one particular morning I happened to overhear information about an illness being referred to as “Swine Flu.” Immediately, as I was applying my expensive Deep Tissue moisturizer to my alabaster skin, I began to conjure up a picture of the infected people with, what I imagined to be, Swine Flu. I envisioned them as being dirty grunters with rude dispositions and an intense desire to get into the garbage like little piggies. Pig people! (Oh hell no! That ain’t right.) It was too horrible to imagine! I never wanted to catch this horrific illness, and after this vivid mental imagery faded, I started to panic! I began to think that if it was, in fact, how I imagined it to be, then Venice, Santa Monica and Downtown had already been hit! I had always called these people “homeless.” (Who knew it was Swine Flu?)

Yep … I said it people. I am not a fan of the homeless, and I am not afraid to say it! Curse me all you want, but before you place judgment, let me tell you why I have a lack of affection for the “home challenged.”

First, I want to say that I’m fully aware that the homeless population is commonly plagued with mental health issues, and the rest of them just have issues. (Who’s got some Colt 45?! Anyone?!) I think that it is all very sad, and I wouldn’t wish this chosen lifestyle on anyone. (Oh … and it is a choice, like being gay is choice.) I wish we lived in a world where mental health issues and homelessness didn’t exist. I wish we lived in a world where we weren’t visually assaulted by pictures of Heidi Montag and the Octomom every second of every day. I also wish I was 6’2” and looked f*cking amazing in a wife-beater at the gym. Guess what? We don’t live in that world, so we will have to deal with reality. We will have to help the homeless and treat the mentally ill, and I will have to settle for being 5’10” and f*cking gorgeous! Reality sucks, but that’s life.

Now, with that being said, I would like to continue on and explain why my experiences with the homeless have been less than stellar. (You will forgive me, I’m sure.) My encounters have consisted of homeless people barking at me, kicking at my head, screaming at me and my dog, bumping me, asking me for money and food relentlessly, and yesterday I witnessed a homeless woman yelling at two men of the same income level. I got to see her express, with passion: “I like to f*ck! I want to f*ck! It’s my business!” Hell, that was a positive interaction! I shed tears of joy upon witnessing that at 9 a.m. I wanted to yell, “Preach Sista’! Preach!” My friends have also had horrible run-ins with the homeless. One story that stands out for me occurred when my friend was walking down the street and a homeless woman spat upon her. Spat!? That is NOT ok! If Swine Flu was what I thought it was … well … my friend would be dumpster-diving somewhere in Downtown Los Angeles with the Pig People. That would be so sad, because we obviously would not be able to remain friends. (Ladies, don’t dumpster dive.)

But the one homeless moment that stands out above all other encounters, the one story that will be forever burned into my memory occurred outside of a 7-11. (Most homeless stories start outside of a 7-11 or a similar location.) 

Too be continued...

It's Colby Time!: Stop Hurting Each Other!! (Please Read.)

It's Colby Time!: Stop Hurting Each Other!! (Please Read.): Let me tell you a story ... There was a little boy who always wanted to make his parents proud. He wanted to be funny, good a...

SELF SUCKING & THE BIRTH OF DATING RULES (PART 4 - FINAL)

I would like to say that I purposefully edited out the horrible details that could make your balls and titties dry up and fall off. My past dates are my burden to bear. These men taught me about prescreening. The following rules have saved me a lot of time and pain over the last few years, so I hope they help you as well.

Dating Rules from the Book of Colby:

1. When meeting a date off the Internet you must see at least five different well-lit pictures from all different angles prior to the date.

2. On a first date, you should meet him/her at the public location and split the bill. Make it a public location, because no one wants to go hiking on a first date and end up on a mountain with a crazy person! Split the bill so that no one leaves feeling screwed if it goes poorly.

3. Put your best foot forward and represent yourself well. A first date could turn into more, so you should look your best, and be the most enjoyable you. No one wants to hear about exes, dead people, addictions and/or lost jobs. Those are what we call in the dating industry as “turn-offs”.

4. Be aware of your limits going into the date, and be confident in what you are comfortable with.

5. Be aware of what you are getting yourself into. For instance, when you are asked over to watch a movie, that can be translated as “Come over and f*ck.” It is as simple as that! (It also applies to going over to “watch TV”.)

6. You know your type, so don’t go on pity dates, and don’t “give people a chance”. Why do that to yourself? Stick to your guns bitches!

These are a few of my basic dating rules. These work for me, but we are all different.

To conclude this lovely tale, please do some soul-searching and know what you want. You can say one thing and want another, so figure your sh*t out. This will help yourself and those you date. If you want a marriage, don’t give up the sex to everyone. (Though it can be fun!) It doesn’t get you any closer to walking down the aisle. If you want easy sex, don’t say you want “love” just to get your pickle tickled. That ends up hurting others, and I don’t think any of us sets out to be a blatant douche-bag assh*le! If you are honest and communicate well, there will never be dating drama. Above all, strive for the happiness and balance that we all deserve. Oh and … stay away from the LA Guys, Pesos and John Does of the dating world. They have crooked paths to travel, so let them figure out things for themselves. Strive for better!

SELF SUCKING & THE BIRTH OF DATING RULES (PART 3)

 PART 3 

The second worst date was with a man I will call … Peso. (He was not Mexican, but the reason is for me to know.) Peso, in short (Hint! Hint!), was a nice enough guy. He was fun over dinner. (AT MOTHA’ F*CKIN’ ISLANDS … maybe I just screen Big Spenders that suggest that bullsh*t!) I learned that we had things in common, and he was very cute. I thought there was promise with Peso. It was early when we finished our fine-dining experience, so we went back to my place. (Don’t get any ideas, because I am a lady.) We talk, laugh and flirt a lot. I thought all was splendid!
While sitting close to each other he says, “Wow, you are hot. I really want to kiss you!” This could have been cute if he had not asked like a 16-year-old guy who was trying to grope me clumsily. He was a little aggressive and the tone was similar to begging. I was not opposed to testing the lip-lock waters, so I agreed to it. The kissing was fine. (Mostly because I have a gift.) Then he says, “I really like you … can we take off our shirts?” Oh yes, you can see how this progressed. Each time it got more and more like he was begging. It was starting to annoy me, but it was also like seeing a person with a big goiter that you can’t stop starring at, and you just want to thump it. Let’s just say we end up in only our jeans in my bedroom. As much as he talked about liking me and wanting to see me again, I realized he was a dating ninja, but not a good one. I could see right through his act.

He continued on with his mission and tried to get me out of my jeans. He asked several times and in “sly” new ways. I finally said ok, only because I was afraid he would say, “I have blue balls and I could die if I don’t get off!” If little immature Peso had said it … I would have laughed and hurt his little feelings. (Notice my foreshadowing with the word little.) We get our jeans off and we end up in our birthday suits. (Skipping the begging to get my underwear, that I don’t wear, off.)

Okay, was this a cosmic joke? I don’t like the “relish tray” at Thanksgiving, and I did not want no Baby Kosher Dill in my boudoir. (Okkkaaay!) Give me something to work with. He says, while making out and grinding his tiny business into my hard soccer-player thigh, “I only top!” If my eyes hadn’t already been closed, and if my mouth hadn’t been full of Peso’s tongue, I probably would have laughed and rolled my f*ckin’ eyes! Really… only a top with that plumbing? That boy was meant to be face down in a pillow calling my damn name! I go with it though because I was feeling so much like a played fool at this point, and I didn’t want it to become unbearably awkward. The worst part was I let it play out like that. It was my fault!

Let’s just say it was a lot of me faking it (didn’t know a guy could do that), and planning out what I was going to shop for the next morning at Trader Joes. My performance left him thinking he was a stud and promising to call me the next day. He didn’t and I was glad (and NOT at all sore). It was one of my worst dates because of the fact that I allowed myself to do something that made me feel ridiculous. I should have ended it on my terms. Now I get to see him around and know my shame.

The last of today’s tales is the Crown Jewel of my bad dating career! I am not going to make this long, because you will see from the beginning that this date was doomed. I met “John Doe” off a social networking site. It took forever to pick a day and restaurant to meet at. I had learned my lesson, some-what, and I said I would meet him there. I had no intentions of going back to his place or mine and I made that clear before the meeting. I should have canceled the whole thing when he proved to be so difficult, but I gave him a chance. Big mistake!

John Doe showed up late, of course. (This is L.A.) He showed up looking much older than his three posted pictures, and had some weird chip on his shoulder. He tells me over dinner that I am cuter in person, so at least he displayed taste. It started out slow, and I was trying to feel him out. I was already taken aback by the outdated pictures and by the fact that he must have thought I wouldn’t notice. It was like Gerard Butler sent me a picture, and Danny DevVito showed up.

We ordered our food, and right after ordering he dives in to the topic of sex. I felt like I was hit by a truck filled with dildos on the way to the Pleasure Chest. (No … that would have been more fun!) He says, once the appetizers arrive, “My d*ck is about 10 inches and I can suck myself.” Yes ladies, he said it. Not only did he say it aloud, but I had to hear it every time I replayed the scene later. At that point the date really took a nose dive into the deepest ocean of inappropriate first-date topics possible. He began to bring up people on my “friend list” so that he could inform me of which ones he didn’t like, who he had dated and which fellows he had “four-gies” with. I did all I could to tune it out, short of going into the fetal position on the floor and going “Na, Na, Na.”. If only I could have been Dorothy and clicked my cute John Varvatos Converse together, and been back home on my sofa. I would have rather been alone at home eating my weight in carbs every Friday for month than be stuck with John Doe and his tales of sucking himself. (Yuck!) Enough said about Mr. John Doe.

I would like to say that I purposefully edited out the horrible details that could make your balls and titties dry up and fall off. My past dates are my burden to bear. These men taught me about prescreening. The following rules have saved me a lot of time and pain over the last few years, so I hope they help you as well.

Stop Hurting Each Other!! (Please Read.)

Let me tell you a story ...

There was a little boy who always wanted to make his parents proud. He wanted to be funny, good at school, good at sports, and a son that any parent could love. He was very hard on himself, because unless he was pleasing those around him, he didn't feel like he was worth much. He just wanted to be a good boy, so that his family would be happy. 

From the outside, he was the class joker, and he was always happy. He had lots of friends, but that didn't mean that there weren't bullies out there that would target him. When he got to a certain age, the bullies in the school had learned new ways of teasing and hurting feelings.

Over the next few years, popular or not, those bullies called him fag, gay, queer, faggot, girly, homo, little girl ... and you can imagine how that would hurt a little kid. And if you can't empathize, then replace those words with ugly, fat, poor, stupid, and any other word that you might find hurtful. 

He didn't really worry about himself, but he never wanted his parents, or sister, or family to hear those words. He thought, "How can anyone be proud of me if I am teased and called names? How can anyone love me, if I am those things?" 

He didn't want his parents to worry about him.

A time came, when his parents were made aware of the teasing, and it was the most embarrassing day of that little boy's life. He was very ashamed. He didn't want them to know that every time he walked into a bathroom, an assembly, a classroom, a locker room, a school concert ... he felt sick and feared that someone would ridicule him, and that they would witness it. He was so afraid that they would hear it and think, "I wish I had another son." He just wanted to be "normal." He never wanted them to hear or see someone yell out "Faggot," when he walked in, because he, himself, didn't know what he had done to be disliked by certain boys and girls.

This was a different time, and bullying happened and it was not addressed in the ways it is now. He always tried to put on a brave face, and reply "school was good," when asked. Even if it had not been "good."

The teasing never fully stopped, but it turned into rumors about him as he got to high school. He turned to not eating, and focusing on how he looked. He turned to finding ways to take care of himself, so that no one could ever target him again. Maybe if he was class President? That didn't fix the rumors. Maybe if he was snobby, he could defend himself from others? That didn't fix the rumors. Nothing fixed the rumors, but he did make it through.

He grew up. He finished college. And, he finally did come out, but it was hard, because he didn't want to prove those kids and people right, after all those years of saying, "I'm not gay. Please leave me alone." He didn't want to admit that he had spent a lot of nights crying in his room, because he was so nervous about what the next day of school would be like.

He is now a proud gay man. He was lucky to have an amazing family and friends. He was lucky that he didn't go down another path. Now, those types of words, don't faze him. He is all grown up now, and has a tougher skin. He can now see, that he didn't do anything wrong. He didn't make them dislike him. They had their own issues, fears, and probably, shitty home life.

Why do I tell this story? I tell it because we all have buttons people can push, and at any age we can get our feelings hurt. The other day I was reminded of this, and I got my feelings hurt by a stranger, and until I started writing this, I was ready to let them get away with it. No! That person is not going to hurt me, because she isn't worth it. 

It is no one's right to dump personal garbage on other people. None of us have the right to be hurtful and cruel to others. It is no one's right to bully other people. If you are a bully, then you have your own baggage, so deal with that in a healthy way, and don't be a douche bag that no one wants to be around.

The next time I, or you, want to make a joke at another person's (or groups) expense, stop and think it over. Like Thumper from "Bambi" said, "If I don't have something nice to say, then don't say nothin' at all." That person that you want to laugh at, mock, point out to your friends, or bully, has a mom, a dad, a sister, kids, grandparents, loved ones, friends ... they are just like you, and they don't deserve to be made to feel bad by anyone else. They have their own story filled with fears, joys, dreams, jobs, families, pasts and you most likely have something in common with them.  All any of us can do is survive and keep on going, so don't make it harder for anyone else.

If you don't have something nice to say and something positive to contribute, then keep it to yourself. Life is hard enough, so let's support one another, and not tare each other down.

What would the world look like, if we could celebrate each other, instead of dumping our personal garbage on each other. 

Think it over...