Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Awesomely Gay Songs I Listen to at the Gym

Everyone has a playlist or a set of songs they listen to while working out and hidden within these lists are some pretty embarrassing choices. Below are some of the awesomely gayest songs that I LOVE to jam out to while I'm at the gym. Honestly.

Oh Sheila by Ready For The World
Qualifying awesome lyric: " I love you baby honestly/ Deedle, deedle, deedleee/ Deedle, deedle, do!"

Shake Ya Tail Feather by Nelly ft. P.Diddy
Qualifying awesome lyric: "Is that ya ass or is ya mama half reindeer?"/ They be like he the man when I'm really a Thundercat."

Summertime by The New Kids On The Block
Qualifying gay lyric: There really isn't one. It's just gay that I'm not even listening to their 80s/90s hits. I'm listening to the single they just released.

True To Your Heart by 98 Degrees ft. Stevie Wonder
Qualifying gay lyric: Again, there actually isn't one. This is super gay because not only is it the least successful boy band of the late 90s, but also the theme song of a Disney movie. Combined, the gay factor shoots off the charts.

I Love New York by Madonna
Qualifying awesome lyric: "If you don't like my attitude, then you can 'F' off/ Just go to Texas, isn't that where they golf?/ New York is not for little pussies who scream/ If you can't stand the heat, then get off my street." And of course it's gay, it's Madonna.

Control Myself by LL Cool J ft. Jennifer Lopez
Qualifying awesome lyric: "You know I know you like it/ Let me hit you on your sidekick/ Because the after party is at my body/ Meet me your invited....
Her top was short and purple/ Belly dancing in a circle/ When I feel like this I can't resist/ Stop it don't make me hurt you! (make me hurt you)...
Zezezezeze zezeze zezezezezezeze ze zez zezez ezezeze zezezez ze!"

What awesomely gay songs are on your iPod?

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

It's Called Magic, Bitch. Tricks Are For Whores.

It was a trifecta of friends' birthdays this week and the result was a fabulous trip to the Magic Castle in Hollywood. For all of you who have never been, it's invite only to a 100 year old, multi-level mansion where you pay out the ass to be shown magic. The dress code is strict, the parking is valet, and the magicians are not fucking around.

Before the evening begins, our Jersey homeboy, Gasper, strolls up to us (and a crowd of old people) and loudly announces how "Some fuckin' guy just yelled at me 'Shorten your tie, douchebag!' and then I grabbed my balls at him!" Douche bags and balls are always needed to begin a night of class.

We get herded into a lobby and pay two stuffy bitches to scream at us that we're not good or rich enough to be at a place of this caliber. Someone screeches into a bookcase "Open Sesame!" and we enter a world of creepy portraits, rickety staircases, and fully stocked bars (yes!) where we immediately order drinks.

There are small 10 minute magic shows in every nook and cranny of every eccentric room. We catch one of an older Australian gentleman who refuses to perform any trick without involving a kangaroo, but his accent is so entertaining that we stay anyway. Quickly after, we hurry upstairs where our dinner reservations await... and more drinks.

Next up, the main attraction. Justin Credible, host of Cupcake Wars, puts on a delightful show including a ring popping up in a lady's cleavage, a floating table, and a box that I suspect a fully literate midget may live inside. Then, he calls on Gasper. Justin proceeds to call him Casper, Jasper, Gasper, and then Jasper again for the next four minutes. I'm pretty sure those two hooked up after the show because they had quite a flirtation going on and Justin swore this mishap would be his FB status update. Oh, and I totally saw them making out later.

What next? More drinks! And more nook and cranny shows. We stumble upon an old school magician who's throwing back Jack and Cokes like it's Kwanzaa and telling jokes that intermix racial slurs with anecdotes about Frank Sinatra. Never have I heard such a creative use of the word "wetback." Classic.

I'm on my 100th glass of syrah when I'm yanked down into a possible sex dungeon where two ametuer magicians are doing quick sets. I try to hook up Devon with the first guy, but he leaves the room annoyed. (I thought I was being subtle.)  The second magician notices my horrifically purple mouth and thinks it's a good idea to have me help with his set. After a few slurred suggestions at what card he should pull, I decide the eight of spades would be great. He pulls the eight of hearts. Unfortunately for him, the best magic trick in that room was me making yet another glass of wine disappear.

The night ends with everyone sitting in the basement, listening to another magician talk about doing cocaine in his hay day at Studio 54. I sway to the melodic tunes from a Tina Turner look-alike on the piano and realize that my body is ready for Jack in the Box. Before parting ways, we reminisce over all the times we screamed things like "What?! That's impossible!" and "Where did his pants go?" A lovely evening indeed.

We couldn't truly end the night without a quick encounter with a wizard dog and a run in with some rent-a-cops on the 405, but everyone made it home safe, sound and full of magic (alcohol). Happy birthday to my beloved Freaky, the gorgeous Lori, and my BFF/Boyfriend Jeff!