From the David Letterman Show
David Letterman joked about QTV, the new gay and lesbian cable channel on his show January 10, 2005. Here's what he had to say, “There is a new gay cable channel entitled Q Television Network (what would the Q stand for?) to provide programming for the gay, lesbian and bisexual community. (Be nice if the bisexuals got their own channel, wouldn’t it?”)
Top Ten Shows on the New Gay Cable Network
10. "Everybody loves Raymond....especially Steve."
9. "CSI: San Fransisco"
8. "Inside the actor's studio apartment in the West Village"
7. "Law and Order: Special Antiquing Unit"
6. "King of Queens"
5. "Desperate Houseboys"
4. "Stone Phillips-Unleashed"
3. "Malcolm in the Middle"
2. "My wife and kids....have no idea"
1. "Press the meat"
Friday, March 28, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Some brief lesbian ranting..
Some Lesbian ranting...
Few people quite grasp the concept of how terrible it is truly is to be a lesbian. Gay guys, they have it easy, aside from the occaisional gay bashing and STD. They know how to dress. They care what they look like. And for the most part, they are attractive. Lesbos are not quite the same. They can't dress themselves. They take advantage of the fact that there aren't all that many lesbos out there, and decide that it doesn't matter what they look like. And they are mostly unattractive.
I'm not saying I'm a prized pig myself, well, yes I am. I'm too hot for these lesbians. They repulse me and that leaves me fairly lonely. If the sports bras, dyke hair, and wife-beaters weren't enough, they have now started wearing fake penis's under their pants. I don't know about you, but I for one am not attracted to people with mental issues. And I would surely say that wearing a strap-on out in public screams mental illness. So, I say, get your freakin' operation and go harass the straight girls and leave me alone Mr. Lady!
The only ones that are attractive are completely nuts. And I mean, balls out nuts. No common-sense, no ability to reason, and "I'll stab you in the face if you ever cheat on me" type of jealousy. That's scary. So, I ask you people.... what is scarier.... a woman wearing a penis underneath her men's American Eagle Carpenter jeans, or a knife-wielding hottie with every intention of stabbing you if you even so much as look at someone else?
You're right. I'll go with the knife-wielding hottie. After all, I'd rather be dead than to be woke up by a woman with a painted on mustache, asking me if I've seen her hormone pills. No thank you sir!
Few people quite grasp the concept of how terrible it is truly is to be a lesbian. Gay guys, they have it easy, aside from the occaisional gay bashing and STD. They know how to dress. They care what they look like. And for the most part, they are attractive. Lesbos are not quite the same. They can't dress themselves. They take advantage of the fact that there aren't all that many lesbos out there, and decide that it doesn't matter what they look like. And they are mostly unattractive.
I'm not saying I'm a prized pig myself, well, yes I am. I'm too hot for these lesbians. They repulse me and that leaves me fairly lonely. If the sports bras, dyke hair, and wife-beaters weren't enough, they have now started wearing fake penis's under their pants. I don't know about you, but I for one am not attracted to people with mental issues. And I would surely say that wearing a strap-on out in public screams mental illness. So, I say, get your freakin' operation and go harass the straight girls and leave me alone Mr. Lady!
The only ones that are attractive are completely nuts. And I mean, balls out nuts. No common-sense, no ability to reason, and "I'll stab you in the face if you ever cheat on me" type of jealousy. That's scary. So, I ask you people.... what is scarier.... a woman wearing a penis underneath her men's American Eagle Carpenter jeans, or a knife-wielding hottie with every intention of stabbing you if you even so much as look at someone else?
You're right. I'll go with the knife-wielding hottie. After all, I'd rather be dead than to be woke up by a woman with a painted on mustache, asking me if I've seen her hormone pills. No thank you sir!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The Car Wash
Workin' at the carwash...
We're going to take a little break from Francis stories for awhile and I'm going to share some stories about how a $2 Car Wash changed my life. I'm not sure if it was for better or for worse, but it certainly gives me and my friends lots of things to laugh at.
Let's just get this straight first, I had a real job. I worked at the car wash, drying cars, when I was bored and wanted to get high and make money while doing it. The car wash consisted of several interesting characters. First and foremost, there was Lenny. He was the manager; a short fat man with a molester mustache, a full body snowsuit, and Hooters stickers on his Buick something. He was a major perve who went to Nudes a Poppin', some event where woman walk around naked, every year. He always was taking pictures of all of us girls with both a regular camera and a video camera. Plus, he always had a pocket full of "Lenny Joints", which we called them, so that we would always come around. They were named after him because they were so small and mostly paper. We all knew that he did that so the pot would last longer, thus more visits from us, and we had to smoke like 10 of them to get even the weakest high. When he was feeling really generous, he would give us one on our way out. We found out later that not only was he a perve, but possibly a dangerous one and also a pedophile. We knew he had a screw loose, but we liked getting high for free.
Me and about 10 of my friends all hung out there. Mostly just 4 of us, but others would pop up there when they wanted to hang out and they always knew where they could find us. It was pretty cool though, despite the nuts that worked there, because if you were bored, you could just go to the carwash and there would be at least 4 of your friends there. We used to get stoned and play cards, or shoot dice, or dry cars and get paid.
We all felt safe there in numbers, but if you went up there alone, it wasn't as much fun. You could still get high, but Lenny would always take advantage of the situation and say that dope couldn't be smoked there and that you'd have to go for a ride. He never tried anything with me, but asked for a kiss every once in a while. I didn't do it, of course, but it's still scary. He tried that with my best friend once when she was only 16 and he scared her half to death. I guess he thought she was an easy target and was a little more pushy. I think he knew that I would stab him, and she would not.
One day my friend Stephanie fell right through the grates in the floor of the carwash. We played on the tracks often while smoking, and I guess they had moved or something because she took one step and the floor gave out on her. She fell right into that nasty carwash water. It sounds like a horrible experience, and it was for her, but it was still damn funny to us.
My friend Ron, the one featured in the last Francis story, also worked at the car wash. He walked with a cane, due to getting hit by a car, drank non-stop, listened to Slayer and King Diamond, and laughed like a woman. He was great. Except he always tried to make out with me when he was wasted and we were alone. It would take me an hour to get him out of my car. That was not funny, no sir.
We used to go over Ron's to drink and party so often that we would leave our pipes there. Plus, they were safe from our parents. One day we went over there to hang out. I pull out one of our pipes, packed it, and took a big hit. I started coughing and instantly knew something was wrong. I looked over at Ron with his round face and red cheeks, and he was giggling to himself. I asked him what he was laughing at and he said that he let this guy Ron B. smoke crack out of it. Funny. Not for me. Well kinda. Crack sucks.
Ron B. also worked at the car wash back in the day, before my time. Lenny fired him for being too much of a retard. It's pretty hard to out-shine the rest of the land of misfits, but not for Ron B. Once he came through the wash in his car, drunk as hell, and forgot to put his car in neutral. He drove straight threw, jacking his car all up. Class A retard. But he was hilarious to hang out with. He would get so drunk that he would start zoning out and just fall side-ways out of his chair. That's quality if I do say so myself. He would stay with Ron sometimes. Once he stayed one night, he would never leave. We were never really sure where he came from. He would just pop up twice a year, stay for a couple weeks, then disappear again. A wanderer, if you will. Ron always got so pissed about it. He had "the guy on the couch" pretty often and it wasn't always Ron B.
to be continued...I'm tired of typing.
We're going to take a little break from Francis stories for awhile and I'm going to share some stories about how a $2 Car Wash changed my life. I'm not sure if it was for better or for worse, but it certainly gives me and my friends lots of things to laugh at.
Let's just get this straight first, I had a real job. I worked at the car wash, drying cars, when I was bored and wanted to get high and make money while doing it. The car wash consisted of several interesting characters. First and foremost, there was Lenny. He was the manager; a short fat man with a molester mustache, a full body snowsuit, and Hooters stickers on his Buick something. He was a major perve who went to Nudes a Poppin', some event where woman walk around naked, every year. He always was taking pictures of all of us girls with both a regular camera and a video camera. Plus, he always had a pocket full of "Lenny Joints", which we called them, so that we would always come around. They were named after him because they were so small and mostly paper. We all knew that he did that so the pot would last longer, thus more visits from us, and we had to smoke like 10 of them to get even the weakest high. When he was feeling really generous, he would give us one on our way out. We found out later that not only was he a perve, but possibly a dangerous one and also a pedophile. We knew he had a screw loose, but we liked getting high for free.
Me and about 10 of my friends all hung out there. Mostly just 4 of us, but others would pop up there when they wanted to hang out and they always knew where they could find us. It was pretty cool though, despite the nuts that worked there, because if you were bored, you could just go to the carwash and there would be at least 4 of your friends there. We used to get stoned and play cards, or shoot dice, or dry cars and get paid.
We all felt safe there in numbers, but if you went up there alone, it wasn't as much fun. You could still get high, but Lenny would always take advantage of the situation and say that dope couldn't be smoked there and that you'd have to go for a ride. He never tried anything with me, but asked for a kiss every once in a while. I didn't do it, of course, but it's still scary. He tried that with my best friend once when she was only 16 and he scared her half to death. I guess he thought she was an easy target and was a little more pushy. I think he knew that I would stab him, and she would not.
One day my friend Stephanie fell right through the grates in the floor of the carwash. We played on the tracks often while smoking, and I guess they had moved or something because she took one step and the floor gave out on her. She fell right into that nasty carwash water. It sounds like a horrible experience, and it was for her, but it was still damn funny to us.
My friend Ron, the one featured in the last Francis story, also worked at the car wash. He walked with a cane, due to getting hit by a car, drank non-stop, listened to Slayer and King Diamond, and laughed like a woman. He was great. Except he always tried to make out with me when he was wasted and we were alone. It would take me an hour to get him out of my car. That was not funny, no sir.
We used to go over Ron's to drink and party so often that we would leave our pipes there. Plus, they were safe from our parents. One day we went over there to hang out. I pull out one of our pipes, packed it, and took a big hit. I started coughing and instantly knew something was wrong. I looked over at Ron with his round face and red cheeks, and he was giggling to himself. I asked him what he was laughing at and he said that he let this guy Ron B. smoke crack out of it. Funny. Not for me. Well kinda. Crack sucks.
Ron B. also worked at the car wash back in the day, before my time. Lenny fired him for being too much of a retard. It's pretty hard to out-shine the rest of the land of misfits, but not for Ron B. Once he came through the wash in his car, drunk as hell, and forgot to put his car in neutral. He drove straight threw, jacking his car all up. Class A retard. But he was hilarious to hang out with. He would get so drunk that he would start zoning out and just fall side-ways out of his chair. That's quality if I do say so myself. He would stay with Ron sometimes. Once he stayed one night, he would never leave. We were never really sure where he came from. He would just pop up twice a year, stay for a couple weeks, then disappear again. A wanderer, if you will. Ron always got so pissed about it. He had "the guy on the couch" pretty often and it wasn't always Ron B.
to be continued...I'm tired of typing.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Francis: Peek A Boo....
This story is incredible scary to me, though I'm not sure if it's because I was messed up when it happened, or if Francis was crossing the line once again. Any commentary is invited.
So one evening, me and a couple friends were hanging out with our pal Ron from the local carwash. We were at his apartment, listening to Slayer, popping mini-thins and drinking Old English. All was going well and we were having a grand ole' time, until I started getting pages that said 7-11. I really didn't understand what that was all about so I ignored it. I should've figured that Francis had something to do with it, since he had also been paging me non-stop. But I didn't. Must've been the narcotics. Anyways... the pages went on until I had an epiphany.... our friend Ron's apartment was right next to a 7-11. I'm so smart, I know, I know.
So I glanced out the window and what do I see? Francis's obnoxious car parked outside the 7-11. I'm not sure how he knew I was there since he didn't even know Ron. He's suck a sneaky little guy. I could see him staring at the windows, trying to see someone spy out so he could figure out the apartment.
Thankfully, I didn't have to run into him because we just waited him out, and his stake out was unsuccessful. He stood out there for about 2 hours. That's just scary.
So one evening, me and a couple friends were hanging out with our pal Ron from the local carwash. We were at his apartment, listening to Slayer, popping mini-thins and drinking Old English. All was going well and we were having a grand ole' time, until I started getting pages that said 7-11. I really didn't understand what that was all about so I ignored it. I should've figured that Francis had something to do with it, since he had also been paging me non-stop. But I didn't. Must've been the narcotics. Anyways... the pages went on until I had an epiphany.... our friend Ron's apartment was right next to a 7-11. I'm so smart, I know, I know.
So I glanced out the window and what do I see? Francis's obnoxious car parked outside the 7-11. I'm not sure how he knew I was there since he didn't even know Ron. He's suck a sneaky little guy. I could see him staring at the windows, trying to see someone spy out so he could figure out the apartment.
Thankfully, I didn't have to run into him because we just waited him out, and his stake out was unsuccessful. He stood out there for about 2 hours. That's just scary.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Still Gay...
Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm still gay today, but my sister might not be. We'll have to wait and see how she feels after dinner.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
To Grandmother's house we go...
Part Deux in the Francis series is a lovely story of a week long stay at my friends' grandmothers' house. Grandma went to Florida for a vacation in the winter, as old folks often do, and left us with her house. Surely, she forgot was it was like to be 19 years old, or she wouldn't have made that decision. Nonetheless, it was a good time for us.
This story isn't so much a Francis story as the latter, but it does highlight his insanity once again and I like that.
First off, the house was being kept up by primarily my friend Val, who's grandma owned the house, my friend Carrie, and myself. We did welcome strays and others stayed here and there. There were also lots of people there every night of the week as it was a free-for-all. This was back in my hay-day and weed was our specialty. We were really high. For a week. Well, for 5 years but we'll just talk about this week.
We went out and bought special bongs for the occaision and many a people came by to pack our shiny new water pipes. I don't remember alot of the week, but what is remembered was grand. There was the bedroom with the "GNOMES" which to this day I'm not really sure what they were. Small dolls or trinkets. There must've been thousands of them, and nobody would sleep in that room. Which meant about 5 to 6 girls, on a good night, piling in a full sized bed. The few that were brave enough to chance it never lasted long. I braved the trolls for one night, and woke up in the middle of the night to them all smiling at me. I moved to the couch because I didn't want everyone to know that I was as chicken as them, but I didn't sleep in there again.
There was the snow. And there was alot of it. We must've got 3 feet that week and if you can picture it, 3 really stoned 19 year old girls shoveling 3 feet of never ending snow was a laugh on it's own. It was almost as comical as watching us try to get our cars in the driveway afterward. Picture this... a poorly shoveled driveway with 3 foot walls of snow on each side. The driveway was somewhat elevated which was no good for the likes of our past vehicles. Val's 95 Neon had to be floored from down the street to make it up, not to mention it had to turn into the driveway, on a poorly plowed side street. Once the car was close enough to the driveway, we'd turn the wheel and give it more gas, sending the car plowing into the snow walls, ricocheting off of them all the way to the top. I don't know how the cars survived. Only one was trashed by the end of the week and it wasn't mine.
There was the bathroom faucet incident. I was taking a shower and put my foot on the faucet while I shaved my legs, and it snapped off. Completely. Not only was it embarrassing, I thought Val was going to kill me. Luckily, Carrie's dad is a plumber and came over and gave Grandma some new piping since I broke it off all the way from in the wall. You're welcome Grandma. The embarrassment was bad enough, then I had to face her dad and him making fun of me, and on top of that, had to have a parent in the weed smelled house. It sucked.
Now through all of this fun, I had forgotten about one thing... Francis. He was not happy that I was not having anything to do with him for an entire week. He was also not happy that everyone in the city of Fraser was invited over but him. This did make me feel slightly bad since I met all of these friends through him in the first place. But whatever. Life goes on. Back to the story... Francis was paging me non-stop and of course I would ignore him. I didn't think he knew where to find me, but apparently, he found out from someone because he showed up at the door one day. I was mid-bongtoke and I get the page "ICU". How creepy is that anyways? What a freak. I look outside and he's there, so I call his cell and tell him to go away. He begs for me to talk to him for a few minutes, and after much rejection, I obliged. I went outside and he was being his normal freakish self, whining about how I don't call him back and he doesn't know why I always do this to him. To this day, I still don't know exactly what I was doing to him. It was more like what he was doing to me. It was cold and he somehow talked me into getting into his car, and as soon as I shut the door, he floored it backwards out of the driveway and stole me. My friend Val was standing in the driveway, mouth gaping wide. You would think we would expect this kind of thing, but it was always a shock. Perhaps because we were always high. I'm not sure what Francis's objective was in kidnapping me, because he returned me after about 20 minutes of me screaming at him. I think he just needed to get his fix. What can I say? I am sexy.
About 3 days later, he struck again. This was one of the creepiest things he's ever done in my eyes. It was around noon. Several of the girls were at work or school. Only my friends Val, Michea, and I were home. This time, there was no warning pages, no warning calls to the house. Nothing. We were trying to sleep when we heard a knock at the door. I did a 007 to the front window and see Francis's car in the driveway and quickly run back to the bedroom before I'm spotted. We layed there silently hoping he would just go away, but no. That just doesn't happen. He kept knocking. Sometimes taking breaks to go around the house peaking in windows. Apparently, he was tired of wondering, so he decided to let himself in. We heard him try to open the door, and were deeply saddened when we heard it open. Whoever left last did not lock the door!! We layed in the bed, pretending to still be sleeping. Eyes closed, we listened to Francis walk through the kitchen, down the hallway, and stop right outside the bedrooms' open door. He just stood there for a minute looking at us, then turned around, walked out, shut the door behind him, and began knocking again!! What a freak baby!! Who does that? If he wasn't still a friend, I would report him. Surely.
On our last day at Grandma's, Val and I went out to breakfast then headed back to the house to clean up and remove the bong's from the house. As we turned into the driveway, we saw the Grandparent's car there and the bag with our bong's sitting outside the door. We threw the car into reverse and got the hell out of dodge, but knew we would have to go back. We freaked out for awhile, then decided to face the music. Well, Val had to face the music. I was stoned and just made her go in. She got our stuff, grabbed the bongs from outside, and Grandma has never mentioned it to this day. I'm still waiting for it.
This story isn't so much a Francis story as the latter, but it does highlight his insanity once again and I like that.
First off, the house was being kept up by primarily my friend Val, who's grandma owned the house, my friend Carrie, and myself. We did welcome strays and others stayed here and there. There were also lots of people there every night of the week as it was a free-for-all. This was back in my hay-day and weed was our specialty. We were really high. For a week. Well, for 5 years but we'll just talk about this week.
We went out and bought special bongs for the occaision and many a people came by to pack our shiny new water pipes. I don't remember alot of the week, but what is remembered was grand. There was the bedroom with the "GNOMES" which to this day I'm not really sure what they were. Small dolls or trinkets. There must've been thousands of them, and nobody would sleep in that room. Which meant about 5 to 6 girls, on a good night, piling in a full sized bed. The few that were brave enough to chance it never lasted long. I braved the trolls for one night, and woke up in the middle of the night to them all smiling at me. I moved to the couch because I didn't want everyone to know that I was as chicken as them, but I didn't sleep in there again.
There was the snow. And there was alot of it. We must've got 3 feet that week and if you can picture it, 3 really stoned 19 year old girls shoveling 3 feet of never ending snow was a laugh on it's own. It was almost as comical as watching us try to get our cars in the driveway afterward. Picture this... a poorly shoveled driveway with 3 foot walls of snow on each side. The driveway was somewhat elevated which was no good for the likes of our past vehicles. Val's 95 Neon had to be floored from down the street to make it up, not to mention it had to turn into the driveway, on a poorly plowed side street. Once the car was close enough to the driveway, we'd turn the wheel and give it more gas, sending the car plowing into the snow walls, ricocheting off of them all the way to the top. I don't know how the cars survived. Only one was trashed by the end of the week and it wasn't mine.
There was the bathroom faucet incident. I was taking a shower and put my foot on the faucet while I shaved my legs, and it snapped off. Completely. Not only was it embarrassing, I thought Val was going to kill me. Luckily, Carrie's dad is a plumber and came over and gave Grandma some new piping since I broke it off all the way from in the wall. You're welcome Grandma. The embarrassment was bad enough, then I had to face her dad and him making fun of me, and on top of that, had to have a parent in the weed smelled house. It sucked.
Now through all of this fun, I had forgotten about one thing... Francis. He was not happy that I was not having anything to do with him for an entire week. He was also not happy that everyone in the city of Fraser was invited over but him. This did make me feel slightly bad since I met all of these friends through him in the first place. But whatever. Life goes on. Back to the story... Francis was paging me non-stop and of course I would ignore him. I didn't think he knew where to find me, but apparently, he found out from someone because he showed up at the door one day. I was mid-bongtoke and I get the page "ICU". How creepy is that anyways? What a freak. I look outside and he's there, so I call his cell and tell him to go away. He begs for me to talk to him for a few minutes, and after much rejection, I obliged. I went outside and he was being his normal freakish self, whining about how I don't call him back and he doesn't know why I always do this to him. To this day, I still don't know exactly what I was doing to him. It was more like what he was doing to me. It was cold and he somehow talked me into getting into his car, and as soon as I shut the door, he floored it backwards out of the driveway and stole me. My friend Val was standing in the driveway, mouth gaping wide. You would think we would expect this kind of thing, but it was always a shock. Perhaps because we were always high. I'm not sure what Francis's objective was in kidnapping me, because he returned me after about 20 minutes of me screaming at him. I think he just needed to get his fix. What can I say? I am sexy.
About 3 days later, he struck again. This was one of the creepiest things he's ever done in my eyes. It was around noon. Several of the girls were at work or school. Only my friends Val, Michea, and I were home. This time, there was no warning pages, no warning calls to the house. Nothing. We were trying to sleep when we heard a knock at the door. I did a 007 to the front window and see Francis's car in the driveway and quickly run back to the bedroom before I'm spotted. We layed there silently hoping he would just go away, but no. That just doesn't happen. He kept knocking. Sometimes taking breaks to go around the house peaking in windows. Apparently, he was tired of wondering, so he decided to let himself in. We heard him try to open the door, and were deeply saddened when we heard it open. Whoever left last did not lock the door!! We layed in the bed, pretending to still be sleeping. Eyes closed, we listened to Francis walk through the kitchen, down the hallway, and stop right outside the bedrooms' open door. He just stood there for a minute looking at us, then turned around, walked out, shut the door behind him, and began knocking again!! What a freak baby!! Who does that? If he wasn't still a friend, I would report him. Surely.
On our last day at Grandma's, Val and I went out to breakfast then headed back to the house to clean up and remove the bong's from the house. As we turned into the driveway, we saw the Grandparent's car there and the bag with our bong's sitting outside the door. We threw the car into reverse and got the hell out of dodge, but knew we would have to go back. We freaked out for awhile, then decided to face the music. Well, Val had to face the music. I was stoned and just made her go in. She got our stuff, grabbed the bongs from outside, and Grandma has never mentioned it to this day. I'm still waiting for it.
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