dr pussy-jekyll and mrs pussy-hyde

recently the crew and i have begun to notice that our good friend pussy has two personalities. there's her normal everyday self, and then there's mrs. pussy-hyde who emerges only after a magical combination of beer and tokes... this first became visible at a rib night that moonbeam organized for pussy and myself at her posh new westminster flat. in walked dr. pussy-jekyll and one hour later after a magnum of wine and a few tokes off the peace pipe, out stormed mrs. pussy-hyde.

so after spending almost a month with leviticus and mooninderjit, i returned to chez puss last night. she was supposed to be home from work at around 9:30pm after drinking from the free wet bar at her place of employment with some of her work mates. at 10:30 with the puss still nowhere to be found and my hunger growing, rocco the fish taco joined me in my vigil for the puss to return home for dinner. it was shortly afterward, that the puss stormed in...

here are some of the "lines of the day" recorded in the minutes after her arrival. we stopped keeping track after a while...

"you'd fucking eat my pussy if it was gay!"
- the puss (to evil)

"evil, it's so good to see you. i want to fuck you."
- the puss
"me too."
- rocco the fish taco (both providing a much needed stroke to evil's ego)

"bring me your penis"
- the puss (whilst brandishing a pair of kitchen shears going snip-snip)

"i am not a god damned monk!"
- the puss (through the floor to her neighbour asleep in the flat below)

rocco and i (of course) were rolling around on the floors by this point, howling with laughter. encouraged, the puss decided to change into her jammy-jams. after disappearing into her bedroom for a minute ot three, she burst out naked as a jay bird and gave us the ol' mona lisa smile directly from her sweet spot. well, this was enough to send rocco and i completely over the edge... we howled and howled and howled.

we ordered a pizza and the puss passed out on the couch before it arrived.

all this with a brando movie playing on tv...

line of the day 22

"was the hymen gone after the first time? did you have a tough hymen?
- genesis (to rocco the fish taco)

dogs know it!

in my latest attempt to find provide my life with clarity and meaning, i have decided to pursue sports more aggressively. my first endeavour in achieving this aim was to join some of the rock journalist's friends for a spirited game of soccer-baseball (aka kickball) over beers and tokes in an unlit park in mount pleasant recently. it was under a full moon, that i encountered the lad i will describe only as justin timberlake.

on meeting him, he seemed to instantly take interest in me. his vibe seemed very cock-positive, a point that was underscored when he was selected to be a team captain. young j.t. selected all the boys for his team and christened us "the epiphany faggots". i was beaming on the inside. we charmed each other for most of the evening, however on inquiring to a friend which way j.t. swang i was informed that he likes girls and sports a cock-ring.

ah! i thought. here we go again, evil...

seems i have a complete distatse for actual homo's instead preferring a dog's breakfast of flirty straight boys, bi-sexuals, and closet cases. a note about gaydar: it's seldom wrong. to those types who protest by referencing said closet-cases past forays with pussies, i have two words...

sir elton

fags can get married too, remember?. but it don't change shit. a green weiner is a green weiner, as an old friend once said. i've noticed that i consistently get obsessed with closeted/repressed homos. put one in a room with me and i'm gobsmacked. why? i've concluded it can only be because i was stuck inside monsieur closet (pronounced: closay) for so fucking long, i feel a kind of duty to provide these poor boys with salvation. the idea of being someone's first also appeals to me as i'm sure it does to everyone. this of course, got me thinking. first, if got me thinking about what it is that draws me to these types. secondly it got me thinking about the signals that i get that indicate sexuality. finally, it got me thinking that this would make a heck of a blog entry...

so without further ado, i present evil's five steps to dealing with/identifying/supporting closeted and repressed homo's:

1. don't be fooled by appearances

the first trick is to not be fooled. metrosexuals may act gay, yet are straight. leathermen act straight, yet gobble sperm with more passion than stephen harper gobbles babies. what does all this mean? simply, it means that appearances mean nothing. it's more nuanced than that.

2. if you are male and walk into a room of strangers the male that avoids eye contact with you and fails to introduce himself after all the others have himself is a homo

this is gospel. he's threatened by you so he backs away.

3. flirting is flirting

whether the brother is an uber-fag or a lumberjack, you know when someone is flirting with you. even if someone masquerades as a breeder, if he flirts he's into it. this does not mean talking, laughing, emoting, etc. this refers only to flirting. end of story.

4. never underestimate the lengths some homos will go to to conceal the truth

living in a lie can provoke some shocking behaviours. sir elton was once married.

5. the period during which most gay men begin to address and explore their sexuality is a stupid stupid time

but necessary. please be patient... and supportive.

all this said, lately i am on the "who the fuck cares band-wagon". it's not interesting which gender of lover i have. i've been wtih both men and women. most fags, bull dykes and straights i know have. i seem to think the sex is better with the fellas, but sometimes i wonder. you are only defined by your sexuality if you let yourself be defined by it.

j.t. will sail off into the sunset just like the others, but a boy has gotta keep himself amused, don't you think?

line of the day 21

"yes. i actually think little hammer is satan. we all thought it was you up to this point."
- rocco the fish taco (to evil)

hot summer nights

summer 2005 is quickly passing by... i think the summer can be characterized by a sinking realization that i don't want to go back to o-twat. otherwise, it's been a slice.

line of the day 20

"what joni mitchell song do we have that made granddad cry?"
- moonbeam bouvier (to leviticus)

correspondence from montreal

my inbox continues to be full of surprises... see below.

from: "the yenta"
date: 3 Aug 13:16 (EDT)
to: "evil"
subject: hair

the other night in a state of complete normalcy (neither in a furious rage, nor clouded by drunkeness), i took a pair of toenail scissors to my head...don't worry it's not all gone. i am g.i. yenta with... a rat's tail.

some reactions:

my sister: "your rat's tail is making me nauseous"

my friend: "good thing hats come in so many shapes and sizes"

my friend making a sex and the city reference: "hey now you can be one of those big earring women"

another friend: "there is a reason that mozart didn't play guitar yenta...he was such a beautiful pianist."

yet another friend on introducing me to his friends: "this is my friend yenta. she used to be beautiful but now she's a ten year old boy."

his friend in response, "i thought the mullet was coming back as ironic cool but I didn't realize the tail was too."

still another friend: "why would someone so pretty go to such an extent to make herself so ugly?"

my mother: "well if you're going to have short hair, you better take off some pounds. otherwise you'll just look silly."

luckily, i am tougher than steel and more celibate than a nun. also, i feel that i am allowed to wear even brighter colours of lipstick on a regular basis.

well i leave tomorrow (for brazil) and just wanted to say that i'll see all of you in september.
ciao
yenta