Thought.is

I may not have been inside a church in a while, but I *have* been a religious patron of a bar on Church Street, where I drink more wine (a.k.a. the blood of Christ) than you can possibly imagine.

I would like to be buried, not cremated, the reason for this being partly because the mere thought of burning flesh makes me nauseous, but mostly because I don’t want anyone making any “flaming homosexual” jokes as I’m being set ablaze.

Why is he laughing at me? First he judges me and then he laughs in my face? Um, sorry dude, you’re not my dad, you’re not allowed to do that!

Since the dawn of portable speakers, music has played an integral role in setting the mood for sexyfuntimes, proving as useful as candles, massage oil, and fuzzy pink handcuffs.

There are so many expressions which reiterate the importance of indulging every now and then: “all work and no play,” “early to rise and early bed, makes a man healthy but socially dead,” and my all-time-favorite, “treat yo self!”

It’s sad to think about how much I will miss you, how I will long for us to resolve our differences and get back together, but you’ll barely notice I’ve left. I guess that’s what happens when you breakup with a city though. They go on just fine without you.

I am certainly not ashamed of my sexual orientation, but I am no more proud of being gay than I am proud that I have brown hair. I may not feel the need to hide my sexuality, but that doesn’t mean I want to march down the street in a thong and feather boa either.

Did you catch your boyfriend sexting his other secret girlfriend? Allow me to make sure those pictures are ‘accidentally’ forwarded to everyone in his phonebook, email, and high school yearbook, including his mother, boss, and 10th grade algebra teacher.