Tag Archives: gay

The Lesbian

I think I mentioned Tuesday that I am stressed out at work, right? It’s because it’s the fiscal year end and they (The Company/boss whores) try and cram more work than we do 11 months out of the year into 1 month and expect people not to lose their shit. I knew September was going to be crazy when I was trotting around in May being all “Fralalaaaaa… I have nothing to do! I’m better than you!” And everyone was laughing behind my back being all “Heh heh.. she’ll see!”  I see, ok douchers, I see.

I broke it down to see how much time I need to spend in each “area” I am responsible for to get all the work on my desk done: 

Emails: 1200 minutes

Transfers: 750 minutes

New Accounts: 30 minutes

Budgets: 60 minutes

Financial Reports: 1650

Total: 3690 minutes OR about 62 hours.

So if I worked for the next 2 ½ days taking no breaks and not sleeping I could get all of my work done, that is assuming that I don’t get any additional transfers, emails, financial reports, etc… which is about as unlikely as me finding a husband tomorrow. Especially considering the due date is September 28th for all this crap, and I will get about 10 X this much coming in on September 27th alone. I hate everyone!

If I hadn’t been such a slack ass facebooking/blogging/googling the missing instead of working for the past 2 months, this predicament probably wouldn’t be so bad.  But! Since everyone I work with is old and slow I still have less work than them, yesterday my bosses were all, “Praiiiise Gizzy, since you’re ahead of everyone else we need you to train the new girl, The Lesbian.”

Ok, ok.. I’ll train your lesbian, but you just tell her to keep her eyes to herself, mmkay? Before we get a bunch of hate mail, I am totally down with the gays, Lucky and I were Kevin Yang’s #1 fan before he deleted his blog/wordpress kicked him off.  I’m not entirely sure what happened there, I just know that my sweet rambling gayness is gone forever, Ellen is my homegirl, you get it.

So, despite what the bloggy may lead you to believe, I don’t really like to talk to people who aren’t my friends.  I’ll do a little hey how ya doin, or a short 1 or 2 line convo.  But after that I can all I can hear is myself talking (and yes, I’ve suddenly taken an interest in acting? I know, I think I’m bi-polar too) and I just think I sound weird, and quiet, and raspy, and a lot of people have told me that I have the voice of a porn/phone sex/900 number lady, and that really creeps me out, but I guess if I really want to work from home that’s an option?  So I’m just not big on talking, and having to train someone means I have to talk, like a lot.  So I was not looking forward to this.  I made notes so that I could run through the training 1 time, give her the notes and be done with it.  But she had all kinds of questions and wanted examples and just really ruined my plan.

Just when I’d start to feel a little bit comfortable with my training rambling and could hear myself talking in the 900 lady voice I noticed she was looking at my boobs, and then I remembered that she’s a lesbian.  Yep! Awkwaaaard.  

I shifted around in my chair and pulled my cardigan closed holding back my tears.  Don’t get me wrong here, I had on a full coverage dress, but I have big boobs so they stick out and are pretty noticeable no matter how much I try and cover them up.   As I was sitting there fidgeting wishing she would just go away so I could crawl under my desk and cry, I looked down and noticed that the dress I was wearing that has a weird angle slit up the front (it might actually be a bathing suit cover up, or pajamas? Thanks Target, for not making that clear) was positioned so that the world could see my underwear.  I mean there is a good chance she didn’t notice because my exposed underpants were under my desk and she was too busy checking out my boobs, but just the thought of it gives me the willies, as it would if this happened with anyone.

When the training was finally over I texted Anth, “There’s a good chance I showed The Lesbian my underwear today.” he replied, “HAAA! I knew it!” So he thinks I’m a lesbian?  I replied, “Not on purpose, jerkoff.” Then I explained the situation, and he proceeded to tell me not to jump to conclusions because she hadn’t asked me to be on her softball team yet, and I’m not really the type that lesbian’s are attracted to anyway so I needed to get my panties out of a twist, literally.

At this point in my life, Anth has now told me that I’m not the girlfriend/wife type and now I’m also not the type lesbian’s are attracted to either.   So what’s left… being a cat lady or a nun?

So I don’t know, things might be weird at work today.  I’m either going to have to call in sick or wear a mumu.

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Not about Britney, bitch.

Whew! Gang, I’m going to admit it, we’ve had some tough subjects on the blog lately—tampons, gynos, breakups, married men, and Justin Bieber. So Gizzy & I thought we’d actually do our job and give you some comic relief. Which is why we called upon one of our favorite bloggers, Kevin.

I love Kevin, because he loves vodka, female rappers, and baking. He also has the same name as my favorite movie character, Kevin McCallister.

Basically what Lucky is trying to say is that if we could choose only 1 drunk, gay, asian, baker to be our bff, it would totally be Kevin. I mean, even the title of his blog gets us excited. Cranberry and vodka, please. Just brilliant!

Yeah, enjoy.

The girls at Cocktails at Tiffany’s requested that I write a guest blog post for their site, which is this site. I could have said no, but I realized that they have more readers than I do. So now that I have volunteered, I’m expecting this post will blow you away and then you will be all like, “This kid is great! I have to read more on what he has to say about complete nonsense going on his life!”

Of course I don’t want (or plan) on full-blown exposure, as I didn’t fare well when people talked about me for a story I submitted on a drunken whim (i.e. 2Birds1Blog via May 2010). Other than looking to amuse – and maybe impress – you in short, I don’t have any other objectives at all. Right now you’re merely a reader of what I’m about to randomly throw at you just to see if you even like me. And it’s cool if you don’t. Think of this as an audition and you’re the judge. You can stop anytime by clicking on the previous icon if you want. I never liked William Faulkner or Sarah Palin’s literary works anyway, and never intend on meeting them (that is, Faulker’s grave and Palin dead or alive).

But maybe you’ll get a better sense of who I am within the next few paragraphs or so. And if you haven’t had enough of me, perhaps I would suggest you to my site by clicking here or grazing your eyeballs to the right to find my blog (too far, now you’re looking at the site’s credits. A little left. Right there! I’m under “Cranberry and vodka, please.” [Actually I’m not much a cranberry and vodka drinker these days as I currently prefer it with just soda and lime when I’m out, but calling my blog “Vodka and soda, please” sounds stupid. Before I go out, I’ll drink a can of Four Loko. Having all that sugar in my body, combined with cranberry juice, spells out hot mess disaster, or H-O-T-M-E-S-S-D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R]). Best believe I’m as uninteresting as you would imagine a pre-gastric bypass Star Jones, Monique, and chubby Oprah fighting over the last drumstick in a bucket of KFC.

Maybe I’m trying too hard to impress you.

Allow me to start over.

Hi, I’m Kevin. I’m assuming most of the readers for this blog are women. I minored in women studies so I understand your oppression better than you. I’m also a gay man, which means I don’t want to get you pregnant, but do want to see you in heels 24/7. This doesn’t mean, however, that I love Glee, flip my hands, and whip my hair back and forth, OR THAT I WANT YOU TO BE MY FAG HAG. Just a bit of notice to anyone looking to hook up their gay friends together: It’s the absolute worst when a straight friend tries to hook me up with their gay friend thinking we will get along mainly on the basis that we’re gay. (My date ended awfully. Click here for the story). I’m merely an average liberal minded, Asian, yoga inducing, baker who religiously listens mostly to folk music and fast bumping hip-hop (which I discovered after organizing my iTunes and realizing that most of my music was thanks to sitting in many coffee shops simultaneously wishing I was apart of Trina’s bad bitches entourage). What I’m getting at is that I’m indifferent about being gay. Sure it has its pros and cons, but it doesn’t define who I am. I have gay friends, but that’s because they’re mostly Asian too. This is the part where I should have taken out that “I’m also a gay man” bit, but too concerned with making a point. And to be honest, I feel that some gay men conform to being “gay: because it’s totally cool to call your other gay friends “girl” and listen to the latest Britney album as if she’s going to tell you the secret to long-term financial success. Do you know how many times I read Facebook statuses of, “Don’t be a drag, be a queen!” when “Born This Way” made its debut? It had to be one of the most annoying things I experienced since I found out egg white and white were the same color; honestly, WTF?!

Damn it, now I sound like a fucking douche.

I haven’t done a very good job impressing you and now I’m coming off like a conceded mother effer like the time I tried convincing someone I bleached my asshole on a regular basis. Now I’m coming up with random anecdotes and you might be thinking, Kill yourself, Kevin. Kill yourself. If not, read on!

Nothing to the gay community. They’ve done a lot and I appreciate the years of societal tolerance past generations had paved for me to enjoy my life. It’s just the stereotypical connotations people, even myself, think of when they imagine gays to be like. (Click here for my view on it). All-in-all I could really say that I’m neither this nor that. I don’t think anyone really wants to be classified when identifying themselves since most of us are in that generation where it’s all about me. Not me-me. I said it earlier before that I can’t handle people knowing a lot about me. Then again it makes me look like a hypocrite having a blog and recording my shameless experiences through a public website for people to read.

This is not how I typically write. Promise. Matter of fact, I’m much less condescending and make more sense. If you think I’m lying, then you my friend have just killed a Pokemon. I write about getting drunk and doing stupid things.

Speaking of making sense, lately I’ve felt like the only time I come up with great new ideas, nuances, and epiphanies are when I’m under the influence. (Maybe you’re expecting me to outline what things I’ve done in the past, but perhaps it’s best to keep those things quiet until you get me really drunk and then I will be DYING to tell you a secret. I told a friend the other day as we were drinking, “Hey John, don’t forget to remind me that when I’m drunk so I can tell you a secret about [redacted].” More times than not I forget what I say.)

Honestly I’m writing this all on a whim. Typically I don’t like to sit down and edit my work and people have told me and I’ve attempted editing a few times, but there’s other things I’d rather do. Like eat frozen chicken tacos. The stuff I’m putting out on the Internet is for people to freely read. Some of the funniest things written on the Internet are free. And maybe I lack the patience for editing, but the quality, I think, is still there nonetheless. I don’t think that anyone posting comments on YouTube gives a fuck about what anyone else thinks about their grammar. Then again, I love reading the comments where users bicker back and forth about grammar problems. I believe that most forms of entertainment should be free; that’s why I go to the bookstore to read a book I don’t want to pay for because isn’t it why they have chairs and tables there? And if you’re still paying for your music, I’m really sorry. I’m known in my different circle of friends to be a cheap person – or “niggardly” which my law professor so likes to use (and she doesn’t think it will make us feel uncomfortable?!) – so I’m totally fine with people reading my work for free. There’s no other exposure better than the Internet.

Damn it again, the topic I wanted to write about in the beginning of writing this was going to be about gay and straight relationships. And all I really did was ramble.

I hope that my objective was at least minimally met to make you laugh or giggle or snicker. Of course if you didn’t like what I had to say, it’s okay, because I already think you’re a tool.


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Gay Versus Straight. GAY WINS!

Guys, last weekend I had the greatest experience of my adult life.  I’m not talking about an orgasm. I worked at a gay bar and it was FAB-U-LOUS. SO. Gosh I love gay guys.  I have no choice.  I was totally prepared to post this and completely eff up the countdown to 100 week last week, but I refrained at a chance to have an entire week to make this post funny, which probably won’t happen because I’m too excited about it.

Anyway, I was a little hesitant at first, I always love me some gays but it’s the lesbians I wasn’t too sure about.  The only lesbian I have ever been around was Gigi’s friend Emily and she was kind of manly and liked to hug a lot, which is what I found the lesbians at this particular club liked to do too. Lesbians are fine in my book but I did noticed a few things, ok 1 thing:

1. They don’t wear bras.  Ever.

I got hugged by about 10 lesbians and felt squish against my arm instead of the firm support of a bra.  Feeling raw boobs on my arm is like sticking your hand in a pile of dog shit, it was kind of gross.  Not kind of, it was gross.  It wouldn’t matter if it were straight women, I don’t want to feel free balling boobs on my arm, ever.

I have been around a few gay guys in my time, but I usually scare them off because I want to be best friends and they don’t.  I feel like they just look at me so stereotypically because everrrryyyy straight girl wants a gay best friend and they are tired of it.  But, I walked in the bar and was instantly greeted and made to feel welcome- since I’m obvi straight and was mesmerized by all of the rainbow stuff around me and gays playing with my hair the second I walked in the door, I was like a moving target.  Normally, when I walk into a bar ran by straight men they’re drunk and cat calling me, “EYOH CROWN GIRL COMMERE” versus gay guy, “OMG hunny I LOOOOVEEEE your outfit come over here and take a picture with me!!!” Here I would like to introduce a little segment where I call gay versus straight to prove why I hope the next President of The United States is a gay man willing to make me First Fag Hag.

The Straight Guy Says, “You’re looking pretty hot can I get your number so we can bang one out tonight?”

The Gay Guy already put his number in my phone so we can go shopping and grab some margs tomorrow and is now looking through my contacts telling me stories about every guy he has hooked up with named Andrew.

The Straight Guy stares at my cleavage in a non-chalant and totally obvious way.

The Gay Guy plays the bongos on my boobs and giggles.

The Straight Guy tries to get me to come back to his apartment so he can use me to get some ass.

The Gay Guy tries to get me to come back to his apartment so we can cuddle and watch When Harry Met Sally.

Anyway, you get my drift.  But here I am at a gay club where there is a co-ed bathroom with a bed in it wearing lime green booty shorts that say “Bite Me” on the ass feeling like I have just entered into some magical land of fairy’s I never knew existed.  The manager shows me to the back where we can change and get set up.  The back happens to be the dressing room for the Drag Queens and they are in hair and make-up before their 11 o’clock show.  Amazingly amazing, if I can use 2 words to sum it up.  If I didn’t have bills to pay I would have quit my job so I didn’t have to work and could’ve sat there and watched them paint their make up on all night long. I haven’t ever been around Drag Queens but they pretty much put the Kim in my Kardashian.  Blah blah blah we do the promo, I give a gay guy my number and ask him to be my new BFF, here we are enjoying each others company:

And here is Katie with him and his boyfriend:

Well then I’m in the dressing room closing up shop when an 8 foot tall Drag Queen walks past me.  You would think I saw God.  I mean with the hair and the heels and the OMG I’m not even kidding, she was 2 inches from the ceiling.   She walks past me and literally in the deepest voice I have ever heard out of  any man says, “Hi hunny, how ya doin? I’m Asia, pick ya mouth up offa the flooa (floor) doll and unzip me I’m exhawsted (exhausted.)” I felt like I was in Vegas and had just been given an all access pass to the greatest Drag show of all time. Here’s a picture I found online of her, just to give you some kind of indication of what it was like for a 5 foot 4 inch me wearing lime green chucks and knee high socks to be standing next to this God like person:

I mean the other lady is as tall as the guys right? She’s probably 5’10/6 foot.  If this gives you ANY idea I mean, christ, she was at least 2 feet taller than me.  I came up to about the bottom of her boob.  So after I unzip Asia and run around of the room because while yes I am 25 but I am no where near old enough to see a naked Drag Queen changing into a prom dress and head dress.

We wrap up and after the manager saw how star struck I was by the Drag Queens he asks me to follow him and takes me into the room where the show is going on.  Then I got a shout out and got pulled on stage, “Oa look at this here cutie patootie in her bite me shawts, here hunny, turn around and bend over, oh not that far hunny you’re not a man we’re looking to pillage.” Apparently, this was the funniest joke the gays had ever heard and the crowd roared, this is all a blur and I don’t remember any of it, it’s just what Katie tells me happened because I blacked out during my 15 minutes of gay fame.

Now that the Drag Queen shock has worn off a little and I have all of my pictures to flip through to cherish those memories by.  Memories…nothing more than, memories…

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A weekend treat – Baby Wee Wee

Here it is 2:30 in the morning on a Friday night, Lucky and I have been on the phone for the past 4 hours looking at 80’s toys commercials laughing our asses off and couldn’t resist showing you our favorite.  Enjoy tots.  We will have a full post of our findings bright and early monday morning.

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I believe a few thank you’s are in order…

I’ll make this short since we all know I’m a rambler, but Lucky and I need to do a few shout outs and thank some people who have made our blog a smash hit.

First and foremost we’d like to thank ourselves and the assholes that date us.  Without us and them, lets face it, there would be no Cocktails at Tiffanys, and nothing for you to read to make you feel better about your own life.

Second, we need to thank freesexmovie.irwanaf.com (this is in no way a plug, I wouldn’t recommend going to this site….it’s probably all whored out with virus’ and shit) for having the largest number of referrals to the blog.  If we had prizes, they would get one.

But most importantly, we’d like to thank our readers.  We nearly doubled our record yesterday and while 95% of them were us logging on from different computers reading our own blog, there’s still 5% of you out there that actually are reading it (ShyGuy, Lucky’s Mom, Buttons… ummm I think that’s it.)

Anyway, cheers to you and cheers to us.   Happy Weekend!

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