...donny's place...
so i went to pittsburgh's premier lesbian bar last night. with this guy named Rich that worked with me at Caribou for a hot minute. Rich is super funny...and the last Homo I'm taking in. That's it.
there were so many steeler's jerseys that i couldn't really help but start to sick up a bit. i don't tolerate that shit from the straights...their steeler's jerseys and their timberlands and their baggy cargo pants...it was like "ghetto lesbian." and of course, as soon as we walk in the door...Melissa Etheridge is blaring out of the jukebox so loud that I just want to kill myself, and right after that is Kenny Chesney and Brooks and Dunn. I've come to the conclusion that Pittsburgh Lesbians are really just extensions of the Pittsburgh white trash 'Yinzer' straight males that I don't want anything to do with either. It was a great experience though, and at least I can say that I went...and was completely terrified.
we also went to the dirty, gay, dive bar in Oakland, where they had a 'dancer.' he was probably the most pathetic excuse for a dancer in the entire world, and thusly, that made the experience much more enjoyable. not only was he wearing black boots and white socks whilst dancing on the bar amongst people's drinks, he also managed to sport a pretty sweet varicose (sp?) vein in his leg, that at a distance, we thought was a really bad tattoo. he also had a myriad of homemade tattoos...including one that was 'USMC' with a lightning bolt through it. he did three costume changes, starting with black and white boxer briefs, a really sport little speedo that was hunter green, red, navy and yellow (we were thinking that maybe he used to have a really rawkin' set of nautical curtains that he turned into a speedo), and then a black pleather g-string with a zipper in the front. HOT TO TROT. the one time he disappeared, and rich walked by the kitchen (by the way, don't ever eat there...just saying), and he's in the kitchen...eating a sandwich in his pleather zippered gstring. so he comes back out after eating his sandwich, and decides to walk around, and eventually comes to me and rich and starts talking to us. he says, 'man, my stomach hurts. it feels like i have a loaf of bread in my stomach. my wife isn't going to like that tonight.' to which Rich and I die of amusement. So...while other homos are getting turned on and tipping this specimen of manhood, he's telling Rich and I about his marriage and his bodily functions. So funny.
My gay weekend in Pittsburgh was a good time.
there were so many steeler's jerseys that i couldn't really help but start to sick up a bit. i don't tolerate that shit from the straights...their steeler's jerseys and their timberlands and their baggy cargo pants...it was like "ghetto lesbian." and of course, as soon as we walk in the door...Melissa Etheridge is blaring out of the jukebox so loud that I just want to kill myself, and right after that is Kenny Chesney and Brooks and Dunn. I've come to the conclusion that Pittsburgh Lesbians are really just extensions of the Pittsburgh white trash 'Yinzer' straight males that I don't want anything to do with either. It was a great experience though, and at least I can say that I went...and was completely terrified.
we also went to the dirty, gay, dive bar in Oakland, where they had a 'dancer.' he was probably the most pathetic excuse for a dancer in the entire world, and thusly, that made the experience much more enjoyable. not only was he wearing black boots and white socks whilst dancing on the bar amongst people's drinks, he also managed to sport a pretty sweet varicose (sp?) vein in his leg, that at a distance, we thought was a really bad tattoo. he also had a myriad of homemade tattoos...including one that was 'USMC' with a lightning bolt through it. he did three costume changes, starting with black and white boxer briefs, a really sport little speedo that was hunter green, red, navy and yellow (we were thinking that maybe he used to have a really rawkin' set of nautical curtains that he turned into a speedo), and then a black pleather g-string with a zipper in the front. HOT TO TROT. the one time he disappeared, and rich walked by the kitchen (by the way, don't ever eat there...just saying), and he's in the kitchen...eating a sandwich in his pleather zippered gstring. so he comes back out after eating his sandwich, and decides to walk around, and eventually comes to me and rich and starts talking to us. he says, 'man, my stomach hurts. it feels like i have a loaf of bread in my stomach. my wife isn't going to like that tonight.' to which Rich and I die of amusement. So...while other homos are getting turned on and tipping this specimen of manhood, he's telling Rich and I about his marriage and his bodily functions. So funny.
My gay weekend in Pittsburgh was a good time.