i too have had sex with larry craig

i woke up yesterday to read that two more gay men have come forward to say that they had their bottoms mercilessly pummeled by totally not gay conservative republican senator larry craig. after reading that news i found myself spending most of the day in quiet, tormented reflection, the result of which is my now deciding that it's high time that i came forward to admit that i too have fallen victim to the rapturous charms of the esteemed idaho lawmaker. this is my story...

the night that i met larry craig was mostly unremarkable, save for the fact that i was overcome that night with a profound sense of loneliness, a loneliness not unlike that suffered by scores of other hopelessly locked into singledom americans during the holiday season, compounded by the fact that it was cold and rainy out. i was in the DC area, georgetown to be precise, doing research for a cover story on bill frist that i was writing for cat fancy. at the end of the day i wandered into a bar, a pub really, and ordered my usual, a bacardi light pina colada. with an umbrella. suddenly, a man unknown to me took the stool to my immediate right.

"so do you also like getting caught in the rain?" he asked with a quirky smile.

"only on tuesdays and thurdays. and, well, it is tuesday. and it is raining"

smiling devilishly at my response, he loosened his tie, which only served to enhance his aura of slightly reckless dishevelment. his scent was a blend of mahogany and aged leather, a scent not unlike that of the study of the rectory of my hometown catholic church, the study where i spent countless hours as a wee lad listening to father phil reciting passages from erica jong novels. i was immediately overcome with a feeling of warmth.

"where's a good place to get a bite to eat around here?" i asked.

"hungry are you? me too. i was just thinking about how i could really sink my teeth into a good piece of cod, a codpiece if you will. interested in joining me for dinner?"

it was then that i recognized my paramour.

"wait, aren't you the author and co-sponsor of senate bill number 397, the lawful commerce in arms act, a bill that protects manufacturers and dealers of firearms from lawsuits filed on behalf of people injured by firearms?"

"why yes, i am indeed." he gleamed. "mind if i call you doris?"

"only if i can call you thor?"

we then cabbed it back to his place with me barely containing the voracity of my lust as i sat enraptured by his tales of long nights locked away in the senate chambers with other elderly white men squabbling about filibusters, veto overrides and fiscal responsibility. when we finally reached his place, a toney duplex complete with taxidermy and sawdust covered floors, his advances became more overt.

"for you i would travel to the ends of this earth to satisfy. if you should desire a lobster from the finest sea, i will get it. if that lobster does not meet your taste requirements, i will then travel to whatever other sea you would require of me to obtain a lobster of suitable taste for you. for dessert, i would hand-feed your belgian chocolate truffles, your choice of white or milk chocolate of course. after dessert, i will lay your rugged body down on silk sheets of the finest order, handwoven especially for you by mahmoud ahmadinejad's personal persian slaves. for you doris, nothing is impossible. impossible is nothing. or something like that."

i was understandably smitten.

"oh thor, make love to me. make love to me with the intensity of a million suns!"

he then swooped me into his arms, cradling me lovingly as he led me into his love-lair and laid me down on the bearskin rug at the foot of the warm, glowing hearth. he clapped his hands and a continuous loop of keith sweat songs began to play.

i'll spare you the details of what followed, but will say that i came a million times if i came once. the next morning he made me eggs before sending me off. we never saw each other again, but i'll never forget him, the times that we shared, the memories that we made. and i'll never be able to hear a cheesy 80s r&b song without breaking out into a sinister smile ever again.


from stripper/blogger to contender for best original screenplay oscar

there was a very compelling human interest story by david carr in the arts section of sunday's ny times. it featured a story on brook busey-hunt, who writes under the name diablo cody, a former stripper turned screenwriter whose first screenplay was turned into a film titled "juno," which opens this week. the film is receiving a bunch of advance buzz and many have mentioned that cody may be in line for an oscar nomination.

carr writes...

If you are a fan of the indie version of the human drama, it would be tough to top the one about the plucky Midwestern girl who used a stripper pole to shimmy her way up and out of a drab office cubicle and grab her piece of the Hollywood dream.

A few years ago, Brook Busey-Hunt was typing copy at a Minneapolis advertising agency and walked by the Skyway Lounge, a skeevy strip bar where desiccated women grind out a living a dollar at a time. Good Catholic girl that she was, Ms. Busey-Hunt saw an ad for amateur night and had a naughty epiphany. And the rest is, well, a stage name, a blog, a book and a screenwriting career.

read the whole piece here...

off the stripper pole and into movies

and you can read her blog, artfully titled "the pussy ranch," here...

http://diablocody.blogspot.com/


5th avenue christmas display windows

my friend and fellow nyc cajun amy v. cooper, photog extraordinare, went strolling down 5th avenue with her camera the other day and caught some great shots of the dolled up holiday window displays in midtown manhattan. here are my favs...







you can view them all here...

amy v. cooper holiday 5th ave. photos


keith olbermann reads tom tomorrow's village voice bill o'reilly cartoon in o'reilly's voice

i was just going to link to the village voice's tom tomorrow hilarious bill o'reilly political cartoon, but then i saw keith olbermann reading it in o'reilly's voice and figured i'd post the video as well. very funny.




WTF saints?!?!

anyone understand the logic of what jim henderson on saints radio referred to as "the worst playcall" of sean payton's career?