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…

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!

Meet Anthony, my whore of a guy friend.

Anthony is my best guy friend, we met in college and have seen each other through the best and worst of times.  I already know what you’re thinking, why don’t you date him? No.  Not going to happen, let me tell you why.

I know entirely too many gritty details about his sexual escapades and drunken nights and he mine, if we got married and had to get a divorce we would have to kill each other before we could take the information we have shared to the court system.  Anthony would be a catch for any other girl though, he is a successful engineer, cute, well mannered, family-oriented italian.  All of my friends swoon over him, even after he had to get plastic surgery on his face because I locked him out of my apartment.

Ok story on that, Anthony came to visit me, he went out to the bars with some douchers who did not include me.  Made it a point to say, “Don’t lock me out.”  Someone did, probably me.  I didn’t hear him knocking or calling and the next thing I know I’m texting him in the a.m. and he is telling me he’s going to the hospital because he got into a bit of a scuffle.  Then the next series of texts is that they’re going to do some labs and what not, so I hopped in my car.  Get to the hospital and not only is Anthony in the hospital, he is in the intensive care unit.  Yes, I am aware I’m a flaming piece of shit.  After chatting/flirting with the doctors they had determined Anthony had gotten hit by a car.  He couldn’t remember anything because he was so shit faced but the whole right side of his body was beat up.  That’s right, homeboy doesn’t remember getting hit by the car. Welcome to my circle of friends. He had to have surgery to repair his kidney and had to have plastic surgery to repair a bone in his face.  Basically I sold my soul to the devil after this and told Anthony if he ever needed anything, I mean anything he could always count on the Gizenator. It was technically my fault and all since he was staying at my place, therefore I am responsible for his well being. Bj? Ok be there in 10.  Someone to do your laundry? How about I take it to the dry cleaners?  You need a ride home from a bar? I’m there.  He’s never asked me to do anything sexual but pretty much everything else he has taken me up on, what a gentleman. The only good thing about this is that this wasn’t my first time meeting Anthony’s parents so they were a little more forgiving than if I had just been some rando girl he met at a bar. I had already won them over at Anthony’s family graduation dinner when I told Anth’s mom I amored her outfit. That’s love in Italian. Not really, but she liked my effort.

Anyway,  I’m introducing you to my bff with a penis because we had what might be the greatest conversation ever today about his recent trip to Vegas for our friend Rory’s bachelor party and I needed to share, ASAP.  So here it is. Information I already know going into this conversation: Anthony and bachelor party crew spent over 10 grand at The Bank (the nightclub inside the Bellagio hotel) and that he had gotten a strippers number at some point in the trip.

A: Got a new bb after Vegas….

G: AHAHA did you lose your old one in a stripper’s vagina?

A: No, I don’t know what I was thinking.  I guess the girl wasn’t AS filthy as the rest.

G: Well, still.  She’s a stripper.

A: She lovvvvveed me.

G: I mean, it’s a stripper in Vegas.  They love everyone.

A: Even after I got everyone kicked out.

G: Those the professionals, I don’t know what you were expecting.  How did you get everyone kicked out?

A: I had been telling all these chicks no all night.  #1 because I was paying for Rory #2 because 1 is enough.  And then one bitch comes by, spicy latina, and she’s doing her thang and I told her no at least 6 times, I was not paying for a dance.  Pretty clear.  She gave me all her sales pitches, just really pulling out all the stops. Must not have been a lucrative night for her.

G: Did she offer you an outside of the pants bj?

A: No she just went for it eventually.

G: This is gross.

A: I’m kidding.  Not really, but she finally gave up and was like well how about a preview dance and maybe one of your friends will see.

G: So let me get this right, you liked what you saw so instead of paying the stripper money you got her number so you could get it for free???!!!!

A: No, I got the number of a different stripper, but yeah you are getting the point.  I didn’t pay when she was done so she went and got all her fellas and they kept telling me to pay for an hour and were pushing me toward some room and I was like honestly man I’d rather just leave these girls are garb.

G: Did this all happen before or after you spent 10K at the Bellagio?

A: Oh this was the night before.  At like 5pm.

G: Jesus. Christ.

A: She didn’t j me off by the way.

G: Um, yeah.  It sounds like she did.

A: Ok, maybe with her leg.  But that was it.

G: Even better.  So how did you get the other stripper’s number?

A: She just gave it to me.  Probably trying to get some money.

G: I thought you asked for it?

A: I saw her and her “partner” walking by and I was doing my drunk stare down.

G: So she was a lesbian?!

A: And my girl looked at me and stopped her friend and came over.  So we’re like talking for half an hour.  And then she danced for me and then gave me her number.  I forget what our connection was but she lovvvveed me.

G: I can’t believe you talked to a stripper for 30 min, what a waste of time.

A: What do you think we do at strip clubs? I’ve seen T and P before, I need to get my entertainment some other way.  (Anthony has trouble using sexually explicit terms and abbreviates them with first letter only because he has a great fear that since his company pays for his cell phone they are secretly reading his text messages but won’t realize that T and P stand for titties and pussy.  I tell him every day that he is the only moron working there and they’ve already figured him out.)

G: Well isn’t the whole point of going to a strip club to stare at naked women? Not finding out that she wants to go to nursing school and better her life.

A: Well, I mean we were holding hands.

G: Whaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttttt????????!

A: I’m in a meeting and I’m trying to hold it together, I’ve gotta go.

G: No.  TELL ME WHY YOU HELD HANDS WITH A STRIPPER!

*2 hours later*

A: Giz, I’d really love to stay and talk about strippers some more but I have some work to do.

G: You’re the one that keeps telling me you have to go work and then keep coming back to talk more about strippers.  Stop blaming it on the unemployed friend!

G: Sooooooooo….. did you call the stripper?

A: I texted her the next night.

G: Can you forward me the convo?

A: I just asked if she was working she said something conniving alluding to the fact that she was and I don’t think we talked again after that.

G: Can we three way prank call her?

A: Gizzy, I don’t have the number anymore. I have to go.  It’s date night.

G: You’re a faggot.

*25 Seconds Later*

G: Maybe you could look at your cell bill to get the number?

A: I wouldn’t be able to tell which number it was, I was texting a few different girls that night.

G: Whoa whoa whoaaaaa, who else?

A: You see what I did there?

G: So clever. Whooooo?

A: Some bachelorette chick and some over 40 lady.

G: You are disgusting.

A: They were like 38 actually

G: Did you make out with one?

A: No I didn’t make out that trip. The stripper kissed me and tried to slip me the tongue. But you know, I’m not
easy.

G: Do you realize where that mouth has been?

A: Strippers are people too you know

G: Not in Vegas they aren’t.

A: She kissed me what could I do?

G: Slap her. That’s rude!! Which stripper was it? The one that loved you or the spicy latina?

A: The one that was sexting me.

G: Do you think it would be possible to tell me all of the facts at the beginning of our conversation? Gizzy Things I did in Vegas with Strippers: Got their number, kissed one, held hands, SEXTED WITH A STRIPPER IN VEGAS, got an outside the pants bj…. anything else?

A: I went in the back with the spicy latina.

G: I need to go, this is too much. Enjoy date night you stripper fiending whore.

Another reason why I can never date him, right thurr. But, I am pissed now, #1 what is a bff with a penis good for if I can’t three way call his mistakes and make fun of them? And #2 wtf, date night? He doesn’t even have a girlfriend.  That is a crock of SHIT.  I’m pulling it, I am pulling the best friend card and putting it out on the table.  If he doesn’t give me that stripper’s number we are no longer best friends. End. Of. Story.  You hear that Anth?! THIS IS IT!!!!!! I’M DONE!!!

Also, I hate it when people say awwhh or aweee… it’s aww. EFF!