Adventures of White Girl & Gay Boy

The Night Before I Die

So in exactly ONE DAY I will be joining my friends on a festivity filled, eargasmic causing, bass-rushing trip to my very first rave. I will be going to Dubwarz PDX in Portland, Or. When (and if) I get back home, be prepared to read an amazing story of sex, drugs, violence, dead puppies, and maybe a crazy hobo here and there.

Your anxiously excited lover, Gay Boy

Shorty! I be rappin’ like a goon!

So the other day Mr. Man tweeted, “I bet Shakespeare would have been a crazy good rapper, given the opportunity.” this actually got us into a conversation about gay rappers. I know, sounds like a contradiction right? Like an Irish-Korean, and Starbursts being juicy AND solid. But you know what? I have ACTUALLY produced some purtty dank rap for you breezies, and unfortunately I will ACTUALLY be posting them on Tumblr. So prepare to have your mind blown like a verbal blow job and your stereotypes destroyed like my mom just sat on them.

"Cool kids are wishing they were cool like me,

My name is Gay Boy but you can call me Nike,

Rocking like Adidas and swaggin’ like a G,

Sure you think you’re fly but you can’t compare to me,

So let’s start off easy with an A, B, C,

Then you try to throw in an L, M, N, O, P,

But I finish it off with an X, Y, Z,

Baby you know me,

Even Barrack Obama wants to party with me,

I’ve got my life on the tee,

Watch me swing wide and score a birdie,

Just you wait and see,

My songs will rank number one before I’m thirty,

Go ahead and laugh,

I see you smirking,

But my mind’s a machine,

With all it’s inner workings,

So I pull out my dougie,

I’m not much for jerking,

Soon I’ll be on top,

And you’ll call me your king”

You know what the sad thing is? I actually used to contemplate having my friends help me make a music video out of this. What’s more sad? I’m actually thinking about it more now. I mean, it’d be cool right? White Girl & Gay Boy’s first video blog as well as getting to see me kick it with some hella beats! Ya dig nig? … Sorry, I apologize for that bad bad word. I mean, who says ‘hella’ anymore?

By the way, follow Mr. Man at nicsblog.tumblr.com as well as on Twitter at @nicthacker!

Ciao for now! Gay Boy

VD! It’s the bestest!

So today is the infamous “Singles Awareness Day” although I simply refer to it as VD. Because we all very much LOVE VD, even if it is being forced upon us by corporations. But let’s face it, which holiday isn’t? I’m sure the Easter bunny and his crowd of corporate lawyers are somewhere out there suing anybody who tries to remove his precious money maker from the calendar. Don’t even get me started on Mr. Claus!

I have recieved a handmade Valentine’s card as well as a beautiful text from my Valentine, White Girl! But other than that I have been eating pounds and pounds of food. I woke up and ate 2 bowls of cereal, and then a bagel right before class. And after I got done with my classes I made my self a pot pie which was quickly followed a trip to Burger King for a Whopper Jr. And my stomach is threatening to combust. Only positive? I will not gain ANY weight from this disgusting binge. But the other negative to my fast metabolism is I will forever and always be accused of being anorexic or bulimic because my body fails to have a BMI that isn’t below the scale. Yet their minds would probably melt in confusion when they read this blog. By the way, I’m also sipping on a nice can of Coca-Cola. Yet for some reason I’m STILL waiting to be called fat, it would be music to my ears! Anyone?

Now that I’m done describing my disgusting dietary choices I would like to explain some upcoming blogs that I have in mind.

My first idea is an experiment of sorts. But all I know for sure right now is that I have a test planned out and if I release any information it will ruin my whole plan. So just keep your peepers on this page and you will find out!

Also, on February 26th I will be attending my first rave. dubwarz PDX. This three stage concert in Portland, OR will be the highlight of my year. And if I manage to retain any memories I should have a very exciting blog to post. Maybe see some of you there?

Now it’s time to get off and face reality, so have a great VD! And if you don’t have a Valentine, then tell everyone that Gay Boy is your Valentine this year!

Lotsa loves! Gay Boy

I’m like a 4X4. I’m bored.

So… Believe it or not this has been my second weekend, in a row, without any intoxication whatsoever! And I feel great!

Who the fuck am I kidding? I have been so bored. Almost as bored as a piece of wood! (Puns aren’t as funny when they’re written… Damn.) So I will give you a walk through on what my weekends (or lack there of) have included.

Sober event number one: Black Ops on XBox Live. Nonstop. I know what you’re thinking, “Gay people can’t play video games!” and my response is, “Go back to school Sarah Palin.” But on a serious note, the homophobia and profanity on XBox Live is disgusting. I think I’d rather wear only a g-string and walk through a biker bar than ever have to listen to people talk like that all the time. But not everyone on XBox Live are moronic fuckheads. And as far as I have discerned there are 4 different types of people on XBox Live.

  1. You have your average pot smokin’ gamer. They tend to be harmless, yet almost always high. And it’d be safe to assume that they mastered the art of rolling a blunt and owning some headshots at the same time.

  2. The douchebag. These people have their XBox controllers shoved up their asses or something. Because anything that goes wrong is the games fault. Cause OBVIOUSLY it couldn’t possibly be their fault. And they love profanity. Probably even more than they love not having friends.

  3. The friendlies. That’s the nickname I have given them because they’re just that, friendly. Jokes is their best man. And if you are unable to get along with them, then you’re probably the previously mentioned douchebag.

  4. Micless people fit into category number four. Without mics to converse with them one can’t really make an accurate judgement on them so hence the reason they have their own category.

Now we’re on sober event number two: Enjoying the pleasureful, tit-tickling, bum-numbing effects of drinking chocolate milk. Yet even my delightful choice of adjectives are unable to describe the pure lusciousness that is chocolate milk. If I had to choose between chocolate milk and White Girl… Well let’s just say this blog would be renamed The Adventures of Gay Boy and His Sexy Glass of Chocolate Milk. Sorry White Girl! She knows she’d choose James Franco over me anyday, so it’s all okay!

And for my final sober event, number three: Sleeping. I don’t quite understand how this all works, but I will do my best to describe it to you. For some reason when you don’t go out at night and lay in bed early you get more sleep! It’s a miracle. I wish there was some sort of scientific study on this phenomenon, cause boy that would be a blessing to all those rowdy college kids out there! One of the few benefits of being lifeless. I actually get sleep! And it feels great!

Speaking of which, I am off to bed now! So goodnight lovers! I’ll be dreaming of you!(;

Your lover, Gay Boy

holiday parties

I’m laying on my deathbed couch, too afraid to move because of the massive hangover I’m nursing. Which isn’t surprising considering the mixture of Skyy vodka + champagne + orange juice I was downing all last night. It’s like a mimosa, but gets you drunk enough to handle people you grew up with. This sounds like me just bitching, which it is, but it is key to understand the shitshow called last night.

8:40 pm: Although me and my partner in crime had purchased copious amounts of alcohol, we realized we forgot to BYOD (bring your own dessert). Which I truly believe is counter productive, considering everyone there was going to throw it up from the alcohol OR that’s just their normal eating routine. Regardless, I’m not going to be the girl who doesn’t bring one. So naturally, we stop at a gas station and pick up the cheapest bag of popsicles they have. Popsicles are a dessert item, right?

8:57 pm: Arrive at said holiday party. Take off my Northface to reveal clothes fit for an actual whore, which is what happens when that much lace and leather is worn together. Say my hello’s - to the three people that aren’t glaring at me. Get a quick tour of the host’s amazing house (for once I’m not being sarcastic, the house is annoyingly beautiful).

9:23 pm: People begin arriving. And by people I mean people that I went to high school with.  It is clear, from that point on, the objective for the evening is to get as drunk as possible as quick as possible. 

9:24 pm: Shot number one. 

9:32 pm:  Finished mixed drink number one. Yes, it was that quick. 

9:33 pm: Start reminiscing about high school. What I said: “ohmygod, remember that time we _______. so much fun” “ohmygod, I miss cheering with you”. What I was thinking: need. more. alcohol. Also keep in mind, cameras begin to be pulled out. “ohmygod, let’s take a picture together” “I totally don’t mind taking a picture of you guys.”

9:41: Shot numbers two and three. Realize we are almost out of champagne, naturally I call for back up: “Bring more Cook’s….yeah the cheap kind….the one that says Brut….the alcohol content is higher….thanks…..can’t wait to see you!”

This is when things get fuzzy. Lots and lots of alcohol and / or blocking out the awful sightings of ex boyfriends and people I dislike. It was moderately fun though, I must admit. Sometimes you have to take the good with the bad. 

Moral of the story: holiday parties in your hometown are premature high school reunions. 

xx, white girl.

Damn you Mr. Man!

Well apparently the consumption of vodka plus a certain dude’s (who I will refer to as Mr. Man) advice is what led to the creation of this post! Now, of course I have to type rather slowly otherwise my blog will be completely unreadable and unpleasant to the eyeballs. Mr. Man’s advice was a ‘tell all’ blog. Hmmm. Of course no one wants to read a boring story about my life, so somehow this ‘tell all’ concept has to be funny.

Let’s consider my sex life, hmmm. Let’s just say boring. I’m still a virgin. And by virgin I mean, I’m a naïve kid who’s secretly still scared of cooties. So pretty much I’m the only gay man alive who hasn’t had sex. Of course I’m also a guy. So masturbation is a solution to that problem, I suppose. (Did I mention I can’t feel my fingers? Damn Smirnoff.) The self pleasing event is actually, probably the most common event among the men species. It’s easy to do, kinda like the shake-weight! Seriously though, the shake weight was designed just to make the men jealous. Think about it! No one’s man-junk is ever gonna be that heavy, not to mention used that often! So no matter how much we shake our ding-dongs, that shake-weight will be doing the same damn thing.

BUT, I used to have thee biggest, fattiest crush on my old swim coach! He was about 24 I believe and I was probably 14. Of course this is 10 years we’re talking about! That’s 2 times longer than 5 years! (Check my math, because I’m still blurry.) But he was thee sexiest mofo I have ever seen in my life! But now he’s in the Coast Guard and I unfortunately have yet to see him since! By the way, he has thee sexiest tattoo right above his pelvis. (Of course I’d know that!) Not gonna lie, he probably started my attraction to older men. And by older men I mean age 20-27. (I’m not like that dumb bimbo who’s now engaged to Hugh Hefner.)

Of course I’m not much into crushes now because love can go suck a fatty chode. But I still think many men are attractive!! Like Ryan Reynolds, Mr. Man, @grahamccooper, and etc. The list goes on for a ways! But now you know my type right? Actually probably not. (Please remember my head is still spinning, so I apologize if this blog is… Well, drunk.)

Of course Mark Salling (aka Puck from Glee) will always be my number one man. Yumm-o!

Ya wanna know the truth? My life sucks cat penis! I’m surrounded by tons and tons of men, but only about 5% of them are in any way eligible for my prowl! (That 5% being the amount of homosexuals.) Of course, not all of these men are attractive. My guess is that there are only 1% of men that are attractive and gay. So, pretty much 1 out of every 100 men I meet is a candidate for my gay love! Awh penis shit. Guess I’ll give up on love till college!

And now it is 2:14 in the fucking morning! Shit! I really should go to bed now! Thank Mr. Man for this random blog of ‘tell all’ness! You can follow his attractiveness at nicsblog.tumblr.com!

Goodnight my readers who feel the need to waste their life on my petty drunkness!

Gay Boy out!

Dark Shenanigans. (*You’ve been warned.*)

I don’t know if you readers/fellow bloggers know this, but I used to be an emo kid. Yes. An emo kid. Like the dark clothes, “no one gets me” vibe, and the need to be ‘non-conforming’. Pretty much everything about me in the eighth grade screamed, “I pretend to hate my life.” Side note: My parents never let me wear eyeliner, have piercings, or dye my hair. So imagine a gay ginger wemo (wannabe emo) kid.

A favorite (not so sure I should use that word here) emo past-time was writing poetry. And by poetry I mean: a terrible and depressing misrepresentation of what is normally a beautiful use of words.

The ‘jizz’t (yes, I did just do that) of these poems would usually be something along the lines of; life blows…still blowing…blows, yet again…oh yeah, I’m emo…life blows. This bland list of topics crammed into a distasteful poem would normally sound like this:

"Life is so pointless, really dark and dreary, I close my eyes and see dead people, I feel weary, When I walk, my feet hurt, it makes my eyes get teary, Now I’m in emo-land, can anybody hear me?"

Coolio.

Of course writing poetry wasn’t the only creepy activity I participated in. Inflicting pain upon myself was also non-conformist and emo. First, calm down and take a breather. If you are easily faint or queasy you may not want to read further. Now this included… Wait for it… Scratching myself with a paper clip. I sincerely hope that I didn’t make anyone sick with those graphic details. But all of it is true.

I would sneak a paper clip from my teacher’s desk and continue by unbending it. After that was completed I would poke the side of my hand with it. Ouch? Over and over, till I could faintly see tiny scratch marks. Scary, right?

Well now you know the scary and very threatening emo side of Gay Boy from the 8th grade. Scary business, but it had to be told.

Love you all,

Gay Boy<3

Imagine someone took a piss in your water and said, “Hey drink this, it’s alcohol.” But when you did decide to consume this foul looking liquid you’d begin to realize that a nice cup of dead puppy smoothie would probably taste more pleasing to your tastebuds. Now go ahead and stop imagining that, because if that sounded delicious to you(for some fucked up reason), you may now head to a local store and purchase a pack of beer. Yes. Beer tastes like piss water.

Yet for some reason after consuming more than half of a Four Loko(R.I.P. in WA) the utterly horrifying taste of this alcoholic piss water seems to disappear.

So to my dismay I found myself on my knees with a tube down my throat. Don’t get excited, this isn’t a sex scene. The beer started going… Going… Gone. Foam and all. Well that wasn’t so bad!

I even ended up doing a second one!

Now the lesson of this story is; even though things may sound, look, or taste bad, just get drunk, it ain’t so bad!

Imagine someone took a piss in your water and said, “Hey drink this, it’s alcohol.” But when you did decide to consume this foul looking liquid you’d begin to realize that a nice cup of dead puppy smoothie would probably taste more pleasing to your tastebuds. Now go ahead and stop imagining that, because if that sounded delicious to you(for some fucked up reason), you may now head to a local store and purchase a pack of beer. Yes. Beer tastes like piss water.

Yet for some reason after consuming more than half of a Four Loko(R.I.P. in WA) the utterly horrifying taste of this alcoholic piss water seems to disappear.

So to my dismay I found myself on my knees with a tube down my throat. Don’t get excited, this isn’t a sex scene. The beer started going… Going… Gone. Foam and all. Well that wasn’t so bad!

I even ended up doing a second one!

Now the lesson of this story is; even though things may sound, look, or taste bad, just get drunk, it ain’t so bad!

lolz. click to watch.

This is literally my cousin’s ex boyfriend who I unfortunately met three years ago, before he was a “Adonnis” the “rapper” on MTV. I fucking hate our generation. Two thumbs up Adam, you truly are a nostradoucheous.