Halloween Special: Zombie Dating

I thought I would organize a special, ummm, treat for Halloween. I've been having so much fun getting my readers of "the male persuasion" do a little writing over here, and this just might be the weirdest one yet. (Which  is saying a lot since I had Tim make an appearance last week. Ahem) I usually do guest posts on Wednesdays, but what the hell... it's mutherfukkin' Halloween, y'all! Oooowwwee!

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I think it's safe to say that we as humans think we have it pretty hard when it comes to dating. We bitch and moan about having the worst dates ever or doing something totally embarrassing. However, there are others out there who have it much worse than we might think... Those "others" I speak of are the race of the humble zombies, and what we might think of as a "bad" date, they see as a cake walk. 

Now to get you all in the Halloween Holiday spirit, I present to you...

Top 5 Awkward Moments In Zombie Dating: (Zombie Guy Edition)

{Photo credit: Marissa Martin}

5. Showing up to your date still wearing the same clothes you were bit in. 

(Come on, man! Just because you are a zombie doesn't mean you got to look like a slob! Dress out of that bath robe you were attacked in and put on a nice suit or something.)

4. Accidentally biting your date when you catch a human together.

(I know you hunger for the warm flesh of a human and all, but seriously! Show a little self control and let the lady have the first bite.)

3. Finding out your date is still Human.

(Your dad is going to be maaaaaaad...)

2. Getting shot right before you meet your date.

(Awww man, and you just put on that suit too!)

And, the Number 1 Awkward Moment 
In Zombie Dating: 

Having your zom-sausage fall off right before you lay some pipe.
(Worse than erectile dysfunction. You may as well just put your clothes back on and leave with your dignity.)

There you have it folks! I hope you all have a fresh new look on the world of dating now that you have seen the worse side of it all. Have yourself a Happy Halloween and be sure to read more of my stuff at Zombies Everywhere!

22 Things I've Done

I've been a little slack with the writing prompts lately, but since reading MultitaskingMumma's version, I thought I'll step up to the plate and take a swing at it. Besides, it's a post all about me - how can any good self-proclaimed narcissist turn THAT down? Sheesh.

1. I have lived in 3 continents.
2. I have driven an Army Hummer on a beach.
3. I have eaten kangaroo.
4. I have been to Ayers Rock twice (likely once too many; it's a big red rock in the complete middle of fucking nowhere, between hell and nothingness).
5. I have done Ecstasy three times; it did nothing for me.
6. I managed to hide a fender bender from my father for an entire month, then I just blamed it on the high school parking lot. Phew.
7. I made a plaster cast of my mother's breasts for a sculpture about breast cancer. It was mother/daughter bonding at it's most awkward.
8. I have been in love with probably 3 men that could have all been "the one", maybe 4, depending on circumstances.
9. I have attended SEVEN universities and/or colleges. I like school.
10. I was arrested when I was 14.
11. I have eaten an entire box of Reese cereal whilst being extraordinarily stoned.
12. I have done #11 with a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch as well. I may or may not have been stoned that time; I have no defense, really.
13. I have cheated.
14. I taught high school for 3 years; turns out I hate other people's hormonal children, but not nearly as much as I hate red tape and jumping through hoops, all in the name of "education". It's a bullshit broken system.
15. I have dropped my camera in a toilet full of my own pee.
16. I have been pregnant more than once.
17. I was a competitive public speaker; my most successful speech was entitled, "People are strange".
18. I got H.P.V. when I was 19.
19. I had to be escorted by a security guard through the gates when I left Australia the first time. I was completely fucking hysterical. If it was today's social climate, I have no doubt I would have been put on the "no fly" list.
20. I have traveled internationally for both softball and basketball.
21. I got my very first speeding ticket this year. I almost passed out from the terror of being pulled over by a State Trooper (yes, it was in the States, fucking help me). It was a woman; I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Still, the whole time, I wanted her to show me a photo and say, "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?"
22. And although spanning over the last 4 days, I have managed to eat an entire pumpkin cake all by myself.

Deep Thoughts, by Tim

When Lady Estrogen gave me the word that I was allowed to post on her hilarious guest blog I was pretty excited. I then read her latest blog posts and I was like, fuck me. I consider myself rated R but compared to Lady E and her period sex blogs I am that shitty PG Steve Martin, Jack Black, and Owen Wilson movie that is coming out. I am going to try to hang though. Does banging two midgets count as a threesome? No.

I'm a weird guy and I think weird things. Case in point, I think the Kool Aid man may have diabetes. You can't be that large and have sugar water running through your veins for that long. Also, why did MTV remake Footloose? Footloose was already a classic. Kevin Bacon should impregnate one of MTV's Teen Moms for revenge.

Another thought I have is are there female leprechauns? I'm not saying leprechauns are gay but there are more males in that community than a Dungeons and Dragons tournament. Also, their pot of gold is kept at the end of a rainbow.

Remember when music was good? Neither do I. I don't listen to any modern music whatsoever. Musically I'm the equivalent of the 70 year old man with his bathrobe wide open yelling "Get off my lawn" I listen to mostly 80's and 90's rock. It's fucking time for 90's rock to be considered classic rock. Give me some benefit for getting older, c'mon! I also don't get what those young girls see in Justin Bieber. Since when did looking like Sally Jesse Raphael make you a sex symbol?

Also, I just got a smart phone and I promised myself that I wouldn't be one of those phone zombies glued to their phone. I lied. I'm already on that thing so much that I know I'm going to get hit by a bus soon. If I do, I'll deserve it. Don't walk and smart phone. I was going to add kids at the end of that last sentence but people who write to adults and refer to them as kids need to be slapped.

As some of you may know I co-run the tshirt company Soge Shirts. I suck at designing tshirts myself so I was lucky to find Lady E. Seriously if you haven't checked out some of the stuff she has done for us, it's pretty sweet. Not the most subtle product placement in the world but you have to admit trying to be clever is pretty overrated.

Tim is a consultant for Interactive Music Teacher where they teach online music lessons.

The Penis, Explored.

I would like to take this opportunity to set the record straight about a time honored misconception about "the smell". Women everywhere have/are always painfully self-consciously aware about their womanly scents. Sure, once we enter into a long-term relationship, that relaxes a bit, but we still make every effort to keep the garden fresh... particularly if we're going to want to wave in the man to do some playing in the garden... head first. Ahem.

I've always been a bit of a fusspot about this. If a shower is not an option to do a full taco flush before some oral sex activities (which I'd obviously prefer), I would at least cup some water in my hand and give myself a little whore bath.

Oh, yes, I do.

What has always amazed me is the complete LACK of fusspot'ness from men when the same favor is about to be returned. I mean, really... my face is about to be buried in your crotch - a face that contains all of the senses and can experience things simultaneously (whether we want to or not). One nudge for a blow job is given and, wham! The bologna pony is out of the gate like a shot - no hesitation.

Things that should be questioned are:
When was the last time you showered?
If it was today, have you done any heavy lifting or perspiration-causing activities since said shower?
Have you had the trots today?
How long since you had a pee? And, did you shake well?
Did you have asparagus for lunch? Or perhaps beans?

These are important questions, people!

I've devised some definitions to explain these issues that, as a seasoned cock-sucker (see, that's not always used as an insult), I have come to be made unpleasantly familiar with.

The No Tub Chub
Either he hasn't showered in more than 24hrs, or his manly musk is packing a punch, suggesting that a wash would be beneficial to both of you.

 The Sweaty Dipstick
Slightly related to No Tub Chub, but focusing more on texture than smell. There is something really off-putting about a guy's meat n' veg being overly, umm, moist upon first contact. Eww. Get a pat-down there, champ!

The No Shake Trouser Snake
I think a lot of guys take for granted the importance of the post-piss squeeze and shake. I get it - they've been doing it for so long, it's not even thought about anymore, but please, if there is a possibly of getting a blow job in the immediate future, give it a second, or even third thought, because having the first mouthful of dick taste like urine isn't exactly a motivator.

The Hint o' Stinky Winky
There it is, when going more and more south... the lingering hint of his excrement. Fucking hell, man.

And, a special shout out needs to go the crowning glory...

The TeePee Nuggets
Sadly, this is not even an isolated incident or guy. While exploring the more under-parts of a man's business WITH MY MOUTH and discovering dried on pieces of toilet paper on his sack. Com'on, dude! That's what the Loofah Scrub is for - they make them long for a reason. The worst part is that I didn't even skip a bob. I just flicked it off like a fucking trooper... every time.

So, the next time a woman is feeling slightly self-conscious about her business right before impending oral sex, just remember, he doesn't exactly smell, or look, or feel like roses either.

The X-Factor revealed!

WORLD EXCLUSIVE! 
Brace yourselves, people!
OK, so it was 4am and I had 7 pints of cider and long since lost my voice
from attempting to talk over the horrific 80s rock cover band. It took me 3 days to recover.
And, well... I'll let the rest speak, or rather, sing for itself. Ahem.

It has occurred to me that since Adele is currently suffering from vocal cord hemorrhaging
(which is truly a terrible thing), this rendition might actually be a lot more accurate than originally thought.
I'm going to hell, I'm aware of that. If anyone wants to join me down there, just know that I'll be the fucking headliner!
Owe, indeed.

PS. All of you bitching about me doing a vlog, you can now shut it, because this is the best you're going to get.

Homo erectus. Coming soon?

This post marks my 250th post. Whoa! I fucking talk a lot.

I thought in honor of this momentous occasion, I would make a movie. Well... OK, not really, but I did this.

Crimson Kryptonite

Although it's one of the more 'ickier' topics, it has always been one that has intrigued me. People's reactions; I love them. They are usually so heated and their resolve one way or the other can get fairly emotional.

I'm talking about Satan's natural lubricant.

The devil's water slide.

Mother nature's snake painter...

----> PERIOD SEX <----

I have found that there are varying degrees of opinions from both genders. Some, on both sides, discount it as being nothing but a complete write-off for 3-5 days every month. Right about here is where I'd like to chalk up just one more reason why God is a twisted dude... it's a proven fact that women can get pretty fucking horny when they are menstruating.

Some guys I know have had their share of horror stories when it comes to this situation, and for that, I can't really blame them for having particular hang-ups about it. On behalf of all the crazy bitches that weren't up front about having their monthly lady sploodge, I apologize, because that shit just ain't right.  That being said, I've found that if I were to liken the majority of men to that of Kryptonians, then a woman's menstrual blood would be their glowing crimson kryptonite to which they would recoil at the mere presence of it.

(Don't think I'm implying that all men are Superman. Easy there, killers. You'd be super too if you were the LAST human male, but alas, I digress.)

Some women that I know are completely turned off by it, and feel dirty and unsexy. Well, I'd personally like to take this opportunity to thank The Bible for that one. Talk about centuries of brainwashing - see how effective it was? I'm sure all the Puritan ghosts are giggling their repressed asses off  right now.

It's biology, not a sin.

I'm not saying people need to LOVE it. It's not entirely pleasant and I'll admit that the thought of oral sex is pretty revolting, BUT it is not a disease or an isolated occurrence that should still be freaking people out. I should add that I might think if someone "LOVED" it, there's a strong chance that guy is a vampire. So, careful there.

Other women have admitted to me that they aren't adverse to it, but that their boyfriend/husband is completely grossed out, so it's become a moo point in their relationship.

The men that are willing to compromise are my secret heroes. My troopers. Way to take one for the team, guys! I know my friend's boyfriend was slightly grossed out, but he powered through it and she'd wipe off the worst of it afterwards; then he would take a shower. Simple. See?

That's fucking team work, people!

My husband? Well, there are apparently two substances in the world that will burn him upon contact.
His finger will sizzle off with holy water, and his cock will ignite when coming into direct contact with menstrual blood. Even if I'm completely finished, his line is always, "Let's wait one more day... ya know... just in case."

And as for me?
I'm actually a "meh" woman, myself. I could take it or leave it on most occasions, but I will say this...
If I'm utterly gagging for it and so happen to also be riding my crimson tide, I'm thinking: Man up! Throw down a maroon towel (navy works nicely too) and give me a good solid pounding!

No. 
Lube. 
Required.

What's your stance? Honestly, are you a trooper, a Kryptonian, or a vampire?

The Canucker Fucker

During my dating career (I use the word career because it felt like an eternity and it was really hard work) I had come to label certain characteristics of men in order to slot them into categories; I’m sure we’ve all done this, both men and women.

Jocks. Metalheads. Burnouts. D&D Dorks. Skids... and I could go on for quite some time, but I’ll restrain myself. The one that came to piss me off the most is what I’d like to think is an original term of my devise:

The Canucker Fucker

The Canucker Fucker has 3 very particular traits that, although not overly annoying on their own, putting them together made me dry heave.

1. Excessively listens to The Tragically Hip (If you don’t know who they are, they are like Canadian music rock royalty... and I hate them.)

2. Loves the Toronto Maple Leafs

3. Wears car logo hats.

Perhaps it was because this pretty much described half of the guys from my high school, but no matter, I tried my damnedest to steer clear of any guy that shared this lethally annoying combination.

On the third date with a particular fellow, I felt it was about that time I put out; he had failed to disappoint me up to that point, so that was a good sign! After the initial make out session on his couch, he led me to his bedroom. When he opened up the door, this is what I saw:

1. Giant (24x36in) framed gig poster of The Tragically Hip hanging over his bed

2. Toronto Maple Leafs pillowcase & duvet cover

3. VW baseball cap hanging on the bed post.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I tried not to be horrifically disappointed and I powered though the sex...
and then a while later, I married him.

Apparently, he truly was a Canucker Fucker and I just so happened to be the Canuck.
Does that mean the joke’s on me?

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Originally posted on Finding One's Way.

From Virgin to Sex God

Hello from ‘Murrica! Brandon from My Own Private Idaho here. I have crossed the blogging border into Canadian territory to take over Adventures in Estrogen for a day. Lady E is like a sister from another mister to me.

• We’re both lefties
• We’re both Aquarians, and both garnet-clad (January babies)
• We’re both sexual deviants, and love every bit of it

When I think “sex stories” and “totally fucked up” I automatically think Lady E’s site. It’s only fitting that I share my wonderful ‘first time’ adventure with you on this blog. So sit back, relax, put on some mood music, and enjoy the takeover.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit I didn’t lose my virginity until I was 19. I haven’t always been a confident, flirty guy. Charm is learned and swagger is earned. Back in my teens, I was an introverted dork with no game whatsoever.

Her name was M, and in 18 months she would be my wife (YES, I KNOW, I married my first. It just went from lame to ultra-lame…). We met at an after-party, and hit it off. We dated, and about a month into it we moved our fun into the bedroom.

It started innocently enough. Our first night together, all she wanted was a long massage. We slept together, but didn't have sex. She just wanted to… gasp… cuddle. Fast forward to about 1am, when she’s fast asleep and I’m still wide awake.

Holy shit, I’m in bed with a chick. Sex is inevitable. Did I read enough Maxim articles? Do I remember all the tricks and stuff I learned? What if I’m not good? What if--

And then I felt it. Her hand wandered up my thigh and onto my junk. She was playing with me in her sleep.

IT WAS AWESOME.

A few nights of cuddling and sleep-wanking later, we are finally ready to do the deed. She wasn't a virgin like I was, so the bar had already been set. I NEED to be good, or else it’ll be one and done.

Kissing, foreplay, yadda yadda yadda, and time for the real deal. I slip on the condom, and go inside her.

….hmmm…. not bad. I like this. And she’s liking it. Off to a good start, Brandon…

Ten minutes later, she climaxes hard. I’m still light-years from orgasm.

Why?

I’m a nervous fucking wreck.

I’m pumping away, thinking “Holy shit, if I blow my load in her, she may get pregnant. I know I’m wearing a condom, but what if it breaks? Do I shoot it all over her? Is she on birth control?

What if…”

Meanwhile, while I’m fretting like it’s going out of style, she’s ramping up to O number two. My brain may be ruining it for me, but my hands/pelvis/rhythm is still spot-on.

A lot of sexual gymnastics (and 2 more orgasms) later, I fake mine to mimic a mutual climax. She’s spent, breathing hard, and speaking incoherently. Since her head was spinning, she didn't notice me discarding an empty condom…

After some recovery, she asked me how I was so good since this was my first time. So I told her my secret… anxiety.

Anxiety had made me a sex god…

After some talking and assurance on her end (and a little bit of laughter… bitch…), I realized my fears were pointless. She was on the pill, and condoms rarely break (especially the thick-ass ones I bought…). There’s always a CHANCE she could get preggers, but she doesn’t want to be a mother just yet.

In other words, I have nothing to worry about.

I calmed down. I felt like I could actually get off now. The next day, we went at it again, and I actually got my rocks off.

…after about 90 seconds…

…Fuck.


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How great is Brandon? Let's all give him a warm round of applause! I rarely hear about a faker of the male persuasion. 
Fucking classic. Be sure to check him out over at his place if you haven't already. Yay!

One Awesome Lady

We often hear the question: What you you want to be when you grow up?
And also: Who is your role model?
I'm sure there has been varying answers that have come and gone throughout the years, but one has always be a constant, since I was about 14.

Sue Johanson.

She is my role model and I want to be her when I grow up.
This woman fucking rocks. She is still kicking around, however slowly these days, as she's now 81.

I use to watch her show all the time and was blown away with how frank she was about sex - and in such an entertaining way. She came to my college once and I was star-struck.

Not only is her knowledge of sexual health a bottomless well, but she's also a fellow hometown Toronto lady, born and raised. She began a high school birth control clinic in the 70s - which was the first of its kind in all of Canada¹, which, at that time, was pretty damn ballsy. She's also written three books about, well... you guessed it, sex; my favorite being Sex Is Perfectly Natural but Not Naturally Perfect.

She has been awarded the Order of Canada AND has her own brand of sex toys!
Yes, that awesome.

If you know who she is, then I needn't say anymore, but if you do not know her, have a quick watch with her on Conan a few years back. You'll quickly understand my adoration for this woman, my hero.

"There's a lot of things that you can use that you've got around the house, 
besides the carrots, cucumbers and the regular things..."

ACK. She kills me!



1. Wikipedia: Sue Johanson

Bye Bye Brutus

This weekend will suck for me. After 5 years with my "first born" it has come painfully apparent that he will be happier with another family -- and so will we, once we get over it, anyway. He's a little hyper crazy dude that needs more attention than I can give him, and with less competition from those darn human children that keep cramping his style.

Sniff, sniff.

On a lighter note, I wrote some ridiculous attempt at comedy over at My Own Private Idaho. Yay! Please check out the awesomeness that is all of Brandon and tell him that I sent you!

Brutus

My best pal 2006-2011

Comments are closed. Check out My Own Private Idaho.

Dance, Dance, Dance

One of the writing prompts for Mama Kat's this week is to write about a slow dancing experience. Good gawd! Just one? Seriously? I can't do it -- but what I can do is a Top 10 of kerfuffles that I lived through at various dances and proms. In addition, I also can usually remember the song that surrounded any given said teenage train-wreck. Good. Fucking. Times.

10. Getting kicked in the face from some asshole that was crowd surfing... at a prom. I had a sexy L-shaped gash on my forehead which coordinated nicely with my wine-colored dress. (Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana)

9. Leaving half way through the dance to give my boyfriend a blow job behind the balcony bleachers. (I Will Always Love You, Whitney Houston) There's humming music if I ever heard it. Ahem.

8. Getting together (Everything I Do, Bryan Adams) AND breaking up with Marcus during the same night. (My Prerogative, Bobby Brown) It's definitely a record for my shortest relationship... approximately 7 songs. I never even got to feel his junk.

7. Having Justin slow dance with me was bliss in itself, and then he started squeezing my ass. I was so excited, I almost passed out from the euphoria. I thought this was it... we were finally going to hook up. Oh my god, Stephanie! Keep your fucking cool! ... Ummm... nope. He was just ridiculously drunk and ended up with some random girl that resembled a Treasure Troll later that night. (End of the Road, Boyz II Men)

6. Making out with my first 'real' high school boyfriend during the entire length of Stairway to Heaven, which I recounted in a previous post, describing how we both looked at each other, smiled and then we partook in some rather shamelessly sloppy PDA in the middle of the dance floor... for the entire 8 minute epic. It was a long time not to come up for air! One of the senior girls from the basketball team slapped me hard on the ass while yelling really loudly, "Way to go, baby skank!"

5. I was asked to dance by one of the older guys from the basketball team. I couldn't really say no, politics and what not, so off I went to the middle of the dance floor with him. As soon as he brought me close I smelled it - his fucking putrid stale body odor. Holy shit, it was noxious. Oh yes... and his giant boner poking into my pelvic bone didn't help matters much either. And the song? Fucking November Rain by Guns N' Roses, which I should mention is NINE MINUTES LONG. I decided to NOT focus on the stinky penis burrowing into my stomach and rather on not vomiting instead.

4. Upon hearing Welcome to the Jungle at our Senior Formal after about 6 Bacardi and Cokes, I located a Mike's Hard Lemonade baseball cap (its origins is still a mystery) and squeezed it over my $80 up-do and proceeded to throw myself into a drunken mosh pit. The hat didn't exactly match my velvet and satin mermaid gown... which also ripped. Classy.
*I should also mention our year was the LAST year they "legally" allowed alcohol at the formal. Oops!

3. I did mushrooms at a MuchMusic video dance party and I-HAD-A-BAD-EXPERIENCE. Lasers, dry ice, crowds of people and Marilyn Mason's The Beautiful People video did NOT mix well when hallucinating. I'm chalking that one up to a hard-earned life lesson.

2. In grade 10, the first major public appearance of myself with my latest boyfriend was at a school dance. When we started making out on the dance floor, some people were aghast and noticeably offended. As it turned out, a majority of the student body assumed we were brother and sister because we had the same last name. Nope, just coincidence, people! Nothing to see here but two completely unrelated horny teenagers. Thanks. (With or Without You, U2)

1. Slow dancing with one of the older 'jocks' that I had an unhealthy fascination with. We had both been drinking and he started to put the moves on me. I was currently in a fight with a freshly ex-boyfriend, so I was also feeling all 90210ishly vengeful and slutty. I started making out with him, feeling his sweaty upper lip smear all over my face. I thought I would have enjoyed it, but I was disgusted with his 'over enthusiastic' tongue which was like a pointy slug having a seizure in my mouth. It's important to also note that he was only 5'1". It is most likely that this night marked the turning point that began my downward spiraling and paralyzing aversion to little people. (Closer, NIN) Ugh.

And in honor of this post, I couldn't resist!

Dumb White Girl? Here!

Shhh... we’re not supposed to talk about it.

During University, I had a good friend, Deron. We lived together for a semester – and I never even had sex with him (I know… shocker!). Deron and I got on really well and we had some good times together; we shared the hobby of making fun of other people's work in our program behind their backs. I guess we both had minor “artistic god complexes”, so our friendship was a good fit... for the most part.

He was from the Bahamas and had been coming to Toronto for school since he was 13. He went to a swanky private boarding school during high school and then attended U of T for four years. His parents bought him a car in both countries so he would always be able to “get around”. In addition to his vastly expensive wardrobe directly from Ralph Lauren's catalogue and various techo-toys, he let it slip once that he had 5 servants on his family estate in the Bahamas.

Now, would you say that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth? I would say a big fat “YES!” and that’s fine… good for him and his family… my issue arose with his artwork.

Every. Single. Piece. that he created had to do with being an oppressed black man in a white society.
Are you fucking kidding me? 
In reality, he was an over-privileged, sheltered private school boy, and on canvas, he was an angry black man.

I would like to think that I’m not completely naive, but I just didn't get it. I confronted him about it once in a very joking, nonchalant way and he jumped down my throat spewing out remarks like,
“You have no idea what it’s like to be me!” 
“You have no fucking clue what it’s like to be black!” 
Hummm… please enlighten me, because from where I stood, his life looked pretty damn good!

I am aware that harsh racism does still exist in many parts of the world, 
and that is truly a tragedy. 

But Deron? He totally road the double standard highway. If I played Pearl Jam too loudly, he would complain that my “white music” was annoying him – music that is emotional and poetic – and he would try to drown me out with harsh gangster rap songs about drugs, violence and that's demeaning towards women. Could you just imagine if I called it “black music”? He would have signed me up as a card-carrying member of the white hoods if I said that. Good lord! I would NEVER have even considered spitting gas on THAT fire.

So, my point and question is simply that I get so frustrated by people that constantly dwell on the past… not even THEIR past… we’re talking two hundred years ago. People came (and still come) to Canada to escape racism. So, after years of over-coming oppression and being awarded the same rights and opportunities (if not more) than other races, why do some choose to dwell on the past? Or obsess over the colour of their skin?

{Credit: Viewaskew Photos}

I’m not saying forget it, but learn from it and be stronger for it.

Am I just been naive?

I’ll finish with the wise words of Hooper X from Chasing Amy, to whom I often thought Deron was similar to; although he wasn’t gay like HooperX, he was definitely a well-groomed, advantaged metro-sexual leading a stage personality in the name of A.R.T.

Hooper X:  I need to sell the image to sell the book. I mean, would the audience still buy the whole black rage angle if they found out the book was written by a... you know...

Banky Edwards:  Faggot?

Hooper X:  When you say it, it sounds so sexy.