Sober Moment 3.31.10: Fun with Grindr, CALL ME (The Down Under Edition)

To kick off my posts about Australia, I’d like to share some Grindr posts from Down Under. Yes, they have Grindr down there. And yes, it’s just as ridiculous. If not more so!

People act like they’ve never seen an African American who works out before! Then again, most of them probably haven't. Which is why I’m planning on going back before I lose the abs.

So, I mostly make fun of Grindr profiles with these posts, but there are a lot of really hot profiles on Grindr. So call me. Seriously.

Call Me…

…because I, too, believe Victoria Beckham didn't go nearly blonde enough.

…because I wanna see a human shed his skin like a snake. Shit, even I started peeling after sunning myself in Oz!

…because I still haven’t switched to the metric system. But really, how am I on your screen 116.8 miles away!

…because some of you Aussies get it.

…because some of you Aussies don’t. As I always say with friends who try to claim Native American: do you have paperwork? Could you get a scholarship for college?!

…because I’m probably the only guy you’ll find in a (former) British colony who fits every single one of your caveats. Especially that penultimate one.

…because I like your accent (read: I’ll do whatever the fuck you say! Note: Aussies do say WOOF).

Australia adventures to follow. For now, click here to check out more Fun with Grindr.

So much for an afternoon of culture (Drinking day with MicHELLe)

I really should have been packing for Australia, but an afternoon with a friend seemed much more fun! When I got to MicHELLe’s, she was towards the end of watching an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race on TiVo (“It was like Mortal Kombat!”).

MicHELLe broke out her laptop: “How much does it cost to get into this place… because I have almost no cash on me.”

Me: “Look up their hours, too.”

MicHELLe: “Okay, they close at 8… and it’s $15 to get in… Or we could go to a bar!”

Me: “So much for an afternoon of culture.”

We bellied up at The Ritz first, which was sparsely populated and not all that cutely so. But the upside was the music and getting to watch The Fifth Element on their TV screens. There’s a scene where they re-compose Leeloo's body and she’s crouched over inside a glass cage dressed in the white bandages with the bright orange hair. The closed caption said something like, “Mutters indistinguishable language.” I immediately blurted out, “Rah rah ra-a-ah! Roma Ro-ma-ma! Gaga, oo lala!”

As we were watching and harmonizing with whatever pop music they were playing (which, at one point, involved arm choreography and background vocals to “Dreamgirls” from Dreamgirls), a white guy in his 40s came up and started talking to MicHELLe and me (mostly MicHELLe). MicHELLe made a joking comparison between herself and Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, and this guy said something about the actor being fat now. Then he said something about tap dancing that went into slightly dangerous territory. We laughed it off, and after he walked away, we laughed even harder as I did the minstrel-dancing-for-chicken dance.

We had a nice kee-kee with a cute Asian dude who was sitting right near us and overheard before we moved on to 9^th Ave Saloon. While there, MicHELLe managed to attract and engage the least attractive, most drunk, and youngest person in the bar. He was going on and on about how he thought this pop diva was so much better than some other one, and I literally kicked MicHELLe under the bar when she asked him follow-up questions. It was obviously time to eat.

After some Thai food, and run-in with TTT at Starbucks (she was being lame), we ditched HK and headed to The Village. Our first stop was Boots ‘N Saddle, where they were celebrating Dominican Independence. They had 3 Latin go-goes and free red shots. They were playing all the classic bachata and salsa that I was used to hearing at No Parking. MicHELLe and I started talking to a circle of 4 older white guys, one of whom was really handsome. I noticed about 10 minutes into MicHELLe's flirting that one of them had a gold band on his ring finger. It took another 5 minutes before I saw the matching one on the other guy.

We bade our banter buddies adieu and headed to The Hangar. They were celebrating the birthday of HEB (Hot Energetic Bartender), whom I may not have mentioned before but I kind of adore because he’s about 3x as energetic and attentive as any bartender I’ve ever seen (okay, and because he’s hot). I first met him about a year ago at View Bar, but now he's at The Hangar on the weekends.

HEB (talking really fast): “Hey, how’s it going! Good to see you! You look great! What can I get you?”

Me: “Hey, let me get 2 scewdrivers, please.”

Him: “Two screwdrivers. Okay. Cool. Two screwdrivers. Alright. Coming right up!”

They brought out a lit birthday cake and sang happy birthday to HEB. Not long after that, MicHELLe and I left went to Rock Bar, where we ran into the 4 older guys from Boots 'N Saddle. MicHELLe finally noticed the matching rings.

We ended the night at Posh. I stayed for a little while, but for some reason, I just wasn’t feeling it that night.

Did I mention I was leaving for Australia in 2 days?!

Here are a few teaser photos from my trip to Oz. Enjoy.

Click here to check out Northern Decadence '09 (Labor Day).

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Photos borrowed from tg7archive.blogspot.com and gogirlfriend.com.

Sober Moment 3.24.10: Totally Tyler Texts

One day not long after SoHo Crush and I broke up this summer, I was on Grindr in Washington Heights, NYC. It was one of the first few days I was on. I was clicking through profiles, and I saw this white guy in a bright purple shirt. The photo was obviously professional and conveyed the hackneyed classic image of a boy new to the Big City.

The only text he had in his profile was a link: www.TotallyTyler.com. And the only thing the website had was a coming-in-August splash page. I messaged out of curiosity, saying, “Your website looks like it has a lot of potential. I’ll be sure to stay tuned.” Was this guy an actor? blogger? escort? His Facebook profile didn’t reveal much more than a picture of him bending over in a pink shirt and a studded belt.

Seven months later, his website finally launched. Turns out he’s a blogger. And quite funny. To give you an idea, here’s a few of the interactions we’ve had.

We sometime seek advice from each other. But we're rarely ever helpful.

I told him he should do a blog post about it.

Oh, but it's not just texts with Totally Tyler and me. More of our interaction takes place through our original medium.

Totally Tyler’s blog is up an running now. Check it out. Or if you don't like his writing, just look at pictures of him looking over his left shoulder.

Turns out I was to old to get into The Black Party '10 this past weekend. But click here to check out my Black Party '09 experience.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Why is Med School Mess in her underwear? (Tighty Whitey's photo shoot)

So I woke up with this rope harness still on, but it was surprisingly comfortable. When I woke up, Grrber was leaving for work. He reminded me of the uneaten shrimp (and pita!) from last night. Perfect. Breakfast.

I showered, moisturized, and got dressed for my ride to the East Side for Tighty Whitey's birthday photoshoot. His straight friend, who is a PhD/MD(/kill me) candidate, had some sick student housing: a roomy studio on a high floor with a view of the NYC skyline. The light pouring into his huge window was heavenly! I was almost an hour late, so everything was rather chaotic when I walked in from my four-avenue-block walk from the train. I set my bag down, greeted briefly, and got dressed. Everyone was asking what went with what and if they should wear this accessory or that tie or whether or not their white shirt would blend in with the white couch. It was actually a welcome break when I heard McNugget, our photographer, ask who was the tallest, calling Tighty Whitey and me over for some test shots.

Tighty Whitey: “Well, I’m not fully sure this is what I’m gonna wear.”

McNugget: “That’s ok. This is just for the frame. You don’t even have to pose or anything.”

Me (hitting an angle): “Hey, now! There’s absolutely no reason to take a bad picture.”

The shoot centered around 3 main concepts. The first was to be a sort of Velvet Mafia series billboard. The second was a fight breaking out during a game of strip poker. And in the final shot, everyone’s dead except for the birthday boy. It was supposed to be super decadent, sexy, and glam. We had some fierce hair and makeup people that really created the Mafioso look we were going for. Ernie and Med School Mess helped behind the scenes as well.

Me: “Yaaaaaaaaasss, girl! You are serving us cheek bones! Tyra would be proud!”

5-foot 8x6: “What? What's wrong with my cheek bones?”

Me: “No, I was just saying that the makeup really brought out your cheek bones. Tyra always talks about cheek bones on ANTM.”

Fifteen minutes later, 5-foot 8x6 was still freaking out about his cheekbones.

5-foot: “Do they look weird or something?”

Makeup artist, speaking softly and looking concerned: “I can tone them down if you want.”

Our call time was at 11, but we really didn’t start posing until about 1:30 or so. I was a bit worried that we might not have enough light as the day went on, but it worked in our favor, giving more of an impression of time passing between the shots. We switched places, we played with props, we gave face, and we served angles.

For the second shot (the fight scene), we were supposed to be stripping down. I was assigned to be punching 5-foor 8x6 in the face while Tighty Whitey hit me over the head with a bottle. 5-Foot 8x6 flask was spilling off the table, and Urban Sprawl was lying under the table drinking the spilling “liquor” while BRITney pulled him by the leg. We shot everything separately to be comped together in one frame, but McNugget had us shoot all together as well.

For the final shot, we got stripped down and bloodied up. The bruises the makeup artists did were surprisingly realistic, and Urban Sprawl talked about keeping his makeup on for the night. We draped ourselves in various positions of mortality as McNugget coached us.

McNugget: “Guys, I need more face from you. You’re supposed to be dead, but like…”

Me: “Versace ad dead?”

McNugget: “YES! Give me Versace ad dead. And BRITney, turn your head towards me more… more… okay, now make your neck go limp… more limp… no, turn towards me…”

5-foot 8x6 and BRITney had reservations about taking their shirts off. 5-foot left a tank top on while BRITney took hers off and draped herself over the arm of the chair face down. In the middle of this shot (with many adjustments, which left me lying on my back long enough for joints to start hurting), 5-foot stood up.

5-foot: “Wait, am I the only one with my shirt still on? Should I take it off? Is the picture balanced? I don’t wann—“

Me, hissing through my teeth: “You’ve had your shirt on this whole time, and it’s been fine. We’re almost done, so get the fuck back on the ground.”

Another 5 minutes, and we were done with the shoot (and a bottle of vodka).

McNugget: “Why is Med School Mess in her underwear?”

MSM: “Why not! I’m joining in on the fun!”

Me: “Aaaaaaaand she’s wasted!”

It took another 45 minutes or so to pack up everything and make the apartment presentable (including 20 minutes of fumbling with the vertical blinds Ernie had taken down). And someone had gotten fake blood on the white couch.

I had a huge bag of clothing options, so I hopped in McNugget’s boyfriend’s car since they were going to Harlem via the FDR.

Mrs. McNugget (slightly panicked): “Which way do I go? They all say bridges!”

Me: “Take the Harlem River Drive.”

Mrs. McNugget: “But it says George Washington Bridge on the sign.”

Me: “Ok, now we’re going on the Triboro. What up, Bronx.”

We ended up taking a scenic tour of Astoria, stopping for gas, and taking the 59^th st bridge back into Manhattan (so basically back where we started). But, it was easier than dragging my bags on the subway, so I kept my damn mouth shut.

Did I mention that Tighty Whitey had a gay party in his building that night hosted by a guy he met on Grindr (and that all of his friends were performers!)? Did I mention there was boxed wine and a pink gorilla suit? Yeah.

Click here to check out the first photo shoot I did with McNugget.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Photos borrowed from Tighty Whitey's and McNugget's Facebook profiles. They're amazing without the blurring!

dinner and a show (The F Word's Fetish Party)

Leather gear and I have a special relationship. It mostly involves me being into the look but not being able to afford it (at least not in a fiscally responsible way). I was thinking about what I wanted to do for The Black Party that wouldn’t involve spending $120 on a harness that looked exactly like the one 100 other guys were wearing. My first instinct was a pair of hardcore leggings, but a certain website discontinued all the styles I would have used (and I’m not giving them free press by naming them).

I thought I had time to figure out what I was going to do as an alternative, but on a Tuesday, I got in invite for the F Word Fetish Edition, which featured a 2-hour open bar and a photo shoot for Next Magazine’s Black Party Issue that Friday. I absolutely had to be there. In gear. But now instead of a few weeks to plan my concept, I had a few days.

For last year’s Black Party, I made a web of shoelaces over my torso. I wanted to do something similarly low busget creative, so I skipped a day at the gym and hauled my ass down to Home Depot in Chelsea, grabbing rope and an 8” clip-on lamp. Med School Mess said she was in, so I told her to meet me at Grrber’s after work with her supplies.

I had a design in mind that I’d seen in a porn, but Grrber and I collaborated on an original design that didn’t take us too long to figure out (except that I had him do it over once he was done because I wanted it doubled). Luckily, Grrber was experienced in, er, use of different types of ropes and let me know that the coarse rope I had purchased would tear against my skin the whole night. He had gone out and bought us cotton rope to use (how twistedly sweet!). I was a bit anxious because the invite from the promoters made it seem like the photo shoot started at 8:30, and I wasn’t sure if it was a big group thing or individual portraits. Either way, Med School Mess and I were ready to make an impression on this party.

We arrived around 9 to find Menen already enjoying the open bar. He didn’t see any photo shoot going on, but he pointed out the outrageous set on the stage, surmising that that was where it would take place.

It was still pretty deserted Med School Mess and I went up to check our coats. Two of the coat check guys were in street clothes, but the youngest one, a short skinny white guy, was dressed in harcore lace-up boots, a spiked collar, and leather briefs with a mesh back. I noticed the mesh back because she was bending over to lace up her shoes. I hit Med School Mess on the arm to point out the show. The two older guys laughed, and one walked over to flick a switch, turning on the lights in the back area of the coat check.

Me: “Oh, thank you, honey! We came to F Word, and they gave us dinner and a show!!”

I didn’t even notice until we got back downstairs that all the bartenders were in leather gear. And The F Word has some hot bartenders!

Me: “Lemme get a screwdriver.”

Hot Bartender: “Just one?”

Me: “I like how you think!”

Another couple of drinks later (after Grrber showed up), the photographer from Next Magazine finally arrived and started shooting. One guy was covered in what looked like candle wax, and Grrber later identified him as Jake Deckard, one of my all-time favorite porn stars (one of the few who is just as hot as a top as he is as a bottom)! It was announced that those of us wanting to be photographed should get in line by the stage. As we were standing in line, I caught Mark Nelson’s eye (one of the producers of The F Word as well as other nightlife events like the gay days at various 6 Flags across the country). We’re vaguely familiar, so I gave him a finger wave and a smile. He waved back and whispered something to the pair of guys ahead of us who promptly let us in front of them in the line.

I’d observed that it was a pretty fast-paced shoot (actually, the photographer was almost literally bouncing off the walls, hitting more outrageous poses than his subjects), so I made MSM practice two poses with me before we got on stage. It very much reminded me of the scene in A Christmas Story when Ralphie finally sees Santa Claus and blanks out. In the course of about 40 seconds, we had hit our two poses, the photographer asked for “more, more, give me bigger, outrageous, come on!” I immediately reverted to the fake voguer in me and gave arms, wrist, and neck like my life depended on it. The lights on the stage were blinding, and I had no idea how I looked, but I remember trying to do everything big… and to not look drunk. It was like we blinked, and he was motioning for us to leave the stage.

Apparently, the room was rather full of guys that Grrber had hooked up with knew from Twilo The Roxy (a legendary club that opened in the 70s and closed in early 2007). I saw him trying to avoid hugging some muscle queen and then pointing in my direction.

MQ: “Oh, so you’re the husband?”

Me (after a half-second pause): “Oh, yeah. Hi!”

Grrber wasn’t the only one, though. On the way to coat check, I ran into The Aussie and a tall, blonde, Midwestern guy from my past (though not so ancient). We were glad to get our coats and get out of there! And I insisted on wearing my lamp-hat on the subway ride home.

I was pretty damn wasted, so I crawled into bed. Grrber started to cook me some curry shrimp, about which I remember being really excited. But I passed out.

No shrimp. No sex. No role play with the harness. Did I mention I woke up with the harness still on (thanks, Grrber!)? Yeah.

Update: Turns out we weren't pretty enough to be featured in Next Magazine or their website :-/

Are you getting spring fever (aka allergies) yet? Click here to check out a day at The Pier.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Photo borrowed from saintatlarge.com

avoid drinking all damn day (Valentine's Day Weekend)

Readers: I can't say I'm ecstatic about coming back to reality the States, but I'm definitely excited to be back on the wagon with blogging. I've plenty of crazy stories and hot photos to share from Australia, and I'll do my best to get caught up with what happened before I left as quickly as is feasible.

On the Saturday before Valentine’s day, TTT had been invited to a singles-only house party. I figured I’d play along for the night since I really had no other plans and Grrber was busy with Fashion Week stuff. I ended up running into MicHELLe at a deli on the way to TTT’s. Correction: as I was walking into the deli, MicHELLe ambushed me and wrapped her arms around my neck (she’s a good 8” shorter than I), yelling, “YAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSS!” After I snapped my spine back into alignment, we got matching sandwiches and walked down to TTT’s.

I’d been at No Parking the night before (and I can never leave before they close), so I didn’t want to go too hard. We had a pre-game drink at TTTs before walking down to the party, which was hosted by a friend of Ms. W’s that I’d met a few times before. The invite said to feel free to bring your cute friends, and for the most part, people followed directions. I wasn’t necessarily in hunt mode, so MicHELLe and I mostly kee-keed in the kitchen with the other black girls (there were 5 of us!) while sipping our drinks. TTT, on the other hand, surprised us all: not so much by making out with someone at the party, but making out with the guy with the gauged earlobe piercing! This was all going down not too far from where I was standing, and after extracting her tongue from this guy’s mouth, TTT mouthed “HELP!” over his shoulder.

Me: “What?! Bitch, you’s a grown-ass man! You need to handle your business!”

Call me a bad friend, but how the hell am I supposed to 'help' an adult who is willingly making out with another one. Self-help is a book called Turning Your Head: How Not To Lead Him On. Later, she was all up on one of the hosts. And actually got his number. After the host observed and commented on her making out with the Gauged Guy. I could never get away with that (on this continent).

The night ended rather uneventfully at Posh with MicHELLe on a mission to find “DICK!” as she so eloquently put it. Rumor has it she was successful (if waking up next to an old man and telling him, “You gotta go!” could be counted as success). Meanwhile, the only love I got was from the cat in Hampton Deli. He literally jumped into my arms (like TTT on any white guy within a 2-block radius of her apartment).

I was expecting that Grrber would be working the whole weekend, but it turns out his fashion show was on Sunday and not Monday. He texted me that he expected to be done around 3. I was gonna skip anti-Valentine’s day brunch, but I figured if I was going to cut out early to spend some time with Grrber, I could justify it (i.e., avoid drinking all damn day).

When I arrived, TTT was waiting by the bar with Urban Sprawl, who was dressed in all black. When we were finally seated, our very cute waiter (accent included!) started feeding us margaritas. In the ~2 hours we were there, there were no less than 3 birthdays and 2 engagement celebrations, something I’d never seen in my years of brunching at Maracas. MicHELLe joined us about 1.5 hours in to regale us with her aforementioned tale of tail.

I suggested Gym Bar since Pieces has started to bore me on Sundays, but Bottomless Pitt had crawled her way to the Village already. Urban Sprawl went to go meet her there while the rest of us trained it to Chelsea.

Gym Bar was pretty damn packed as usual. A couple of the boys from the night before met us there, and somehow, we got to talking to this couple of muscular guys, one of whom was pretty engaging. I talked to him for a good half hour before TTT and I went to the front of the bar to get a drink.

Me: “That guy is totally hot, but I think that’s his boyfriend.”

TTT: “You mean the guy was making out with the other guy?!”

Me: “Yeah, but that might be their arrangement.”

TTT: “What?! Would you be okay with Grrber making out with someone with you in the same bar?”

Me: “Maybe… if we were both hunting. Anyway, I’d be the one to pick the guy who wants to talk all night. I guess it doesn’t really matter if they’re boyfriends or not, but I don’t think he’s that into me.”

TTT: “Do you think he’d stick around for an hour talking if he weren’t?”

Me: “Well, if his boyfriend’s making out with some random, it’s not like he has anything better to do.”

TTT: “True.”

It was dark outside, and we were starving. We texted the boys in the Village that we wanted to meet up at Tue Thai. As I was leaving, the muscular guy stopped me and asked, “Are you on Facebook or something?” I gave him my card for my blog. I probably should have just given him my number. Then again…

After dinner (TTT bailed at the last minute for some boy), we headed to XES for Karaoke. I was kind of upset that both Mary J. Fly and Peppermint were absent, but it turned out that Mary J. Fly hadn’t made her entrance yet. And enter she did!

We stayed for way too many drinks and ended up going to the New Venus Diner on 8^th ave where I pigged out on breakfast food. I still hadn’t heard from Grrber (happy Valentine’s day to me), but I had his keys. Talk about crashing the party.

Of course, I passed out on the train to BK, but I happened to wake up 2 seconds before the subway doors closed at his stop. Did I mention that I couldn’t find my phone when I woke up? Yeah.

Click here to check out my birthday trip to Vegas (with video).

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" on the right and the Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.

Photos borrowed from cafepress.com and gosundayfunday.com

Sober Moment 3.1.10: Fun with Gaydar

Gaydar is a British dating site that recently started marketing in the US. I first discovered it while I was in Syndey in '03, but I didn't actually try it out until '08 when I was hoping to meet foreign man (but I ended up with SoHo Crush instead). It's a truly international audience, and those who don't quite have a handle on English can be the most entertaining.

(Click the pic to enlarge)

I bet she talks exactly how she writes.

Say what?!

Gaydar is a bit more suited to dating because each profile as much more room for specific interests and detailed information. Some guys have several stipulations. Others aren't too hard to please.

And just a warning: just like foreign men tend to be more blunt than Americans, so it goes with the foreign websites as well. There are times when it may not be the best for one's self-esteem.

An exclamation point? Really?!

A certain handsome and humorous gentleman learned a valuable lesson about online dating/hookups from my blog.

I directed him to my "Single Ladies" video from the summer. I think he liked it.

And no matter where you're from, there's always the pervs (this reads bottom-to-top).

And for every perv, there's at least 3 guys who just don't get it.

Click here to check out Fun with Grindr (with guys that are actually hot!).