Boasting? Confession? Or Do You Just Want To Fuck Around?

Often while in the company of men, whether gay or straight, I find myself feeling strange when they start telling me about all of the sordid, intimate details of their sex lives. It's not that I really mind hearing the stories. In fact, sometimes they are pretty hot, but I'm not really the kind to fuck and tell. I kind of wonder if this is a form of confession and they are looking to me for some sort of acceptance. Maybe they just want me to tell them, "Oh. it's okay. Just say a few ‘Hail Satans' and wash your mouth out with a bar of soap." On the other hand, I kind of think that maybe they are just bragging. Maybe it's some pumped up form of machoism and this is their way of saying "Ha ha! I'm getting laid more than you are! Ha ha!" Sometimes, I start to wonder if this is some sort of ancient biological male ritual where I am supposed to share one of my sexual experiences to try to bond with him or to top the one he just told me. And, if I can't think of one right off the top of my head, should I make one up?

I was out with a new friend on a bike ride. He's a pretty intelligent guy, and I enjoy talking to him but his end of the conversation kept going something like, "Dude, did I ever tell you about the frat house party I went to in college? Man you could smell the testosterone on the couch. I just wanted to hump it. I was chatting with this fucking hot buck with a goat and he invited me back to his place to get stoned. We started smoking, and he pulled out his dick and I just sucked him dry."

I'm thinking to myself, "Hmmm... I've never smelled the couch in a frat house full of a bunch of gnarly, party animal college guys. Let me guess... the fragrance of puke and piss and stinky farts? That sure gives me a boner."

Then, the conversation turned to "Dude did I ever tell you about the Viagra party I went to? There was this bear bottom there who was so tweaked out of his mind on Meth. He just laid there in a sling, and I fucked him hard. When I take Viagra, it takes me forever to cum. So, I just kept on fucking him for hours and hours."

I'm thinking to myself, "Is this just something that he needs to get off his chest and I just seem like a nice, understanding guy? Is this that male ritual exchange I was talking about? Does he just want to bond with me through sexual stories of experiences gone by, or am I supposed to bring up one of my sexual experiences that is one better than fucking a tweaked out bear in a sling who can't feel you fuck him for hours and hours while on Viagra?" Maybe it's kind of like playing that card game called War. You know, where he lays down a card and I lay down a card and if my card is higher/better I win.

Or ,should I just make something up? Hmmm... let me see... "Dude, did I ever tell you about the time that Bubala and I picked up this guy at a local cruising park? He was a real hot, bald, furry fuck face! Man, we took him back to our house, and I got him stoned. He got all fucked up and was grabbing at our dicks through our sweatpants and pulling them out and sucking on them. Then, Bubala turned him around and fucked him while I fed his hot, furry mouth. He wasn't even playing with his own dick, but Bubala fucked the cum right out of him. I blew my load all over his face. Then, Bubala, he cums in quarts right? So, he just drenched the dude." Instead. I say nothing and take his stories as his confession.

Then, my friend says, "Dude, are there any secluded woods around here? I need to stop and take a piss." Finally, it dawns on me what's really going on here. We ride a little further and then I stop and I point to a spot in some woods nearby and say, "That place always works for me. I'll wait here and watch our bikes."

Never Mind The Scissor Sisters, We Want The Ark

On Monday, Bubala and I made our way to New York City to see The Ark. I am still kicking myself for missing their free Washington, D.C. show at the Swedish Embassy at which lead singer, Ola Salo, made a few laughable comments that were taken all to seriously about a plane that was flying overhead heading towards the White House. I guess some Americans have a problem when people from countries like Sweden (which apparently has more freedom of speech than America does) choose to exercise their freedom of speech in America. We don't want them to do that. Why, it's almost like imposing Democracy and freedom by invading another country and declaring war. We don't want anyone in our country that would do something mean and nasty like that now, do we? Anyway, the handful of remaining Ark U.S. tour dates were canceled after the Washington Post and Fox News blew things ways out of proportion and death threats were made against the band. The only date that was rescheduled was N.Y.C. So we knew that we were certain to be there.

We make it to N.Y.C. in pretty good time and find a place to park and have dinner in Little Italy and make it to the Bowery Ballroom just before they opened the doors. There were three ladies in line in front of us. We later found out they were the "Ark Angelheads," and that they had traveled from Los Angeles just to see this show. They had made plans to do the West coast tour dates and then the tour was canceled, so they had to come all the way to N.Y.C. To see the band. (And you thought we were crazy?) We all stood right up in the front row. I felt a little unglamorous looking at some of the N.Y.C. crowd that came to the show that night.

Opening up first was a Australian guy named Scott Matthew who is on the Shortbus soundtrack along with The Ark. He played acoustic string instruments and had a cellist accompany him. It was quite mellow, but his voice was so beautiful and he was really handsome. He kind of reminded me of Cat Stevens.

Next up was The Jealous Girlfriends. Just another alternative chainsaw band with a keyboardist and a girl singer. I put earplugs in and snoozed.

Finally, The Ark came out and played an hour and a half show. They were not as tight as on their albums which are very produced with a very polished 80's production style. Since this was a one-off show, I'm not so sure how rehearsed they were. The songs were slower in tempo and in some cases ran longer then the studio cuts. I would describe Ola Salo as a young gay glam Bono from U2. Only before Bono became a corporate rock star suckmiester who never takes off his sunglasses. Ola has a lot of charisma and stage presence and was very sexy and quite funny in his onstage banter and gymnastics. He actually did cartwheels!

Bubala and I thought that the bass player, Leari, was more our cup of tea with his sexy bald head and little mustache. And, he has a nice "=" sign tattooed on his arm.


The band played through over half of their latest album, "State Of The Ark" and a handful of songs from their other two albums that are only available as imports in the U.S. right now; 2002's "In Lust We Trust" and 2000's "We Are The Ark."

Ola Salo is a really great songwriter. His songs have great melodies and moving lyrics touching on topics like gay fatherhood in "Father Of A Son" or loving and caring for someone who is ill in "Disease." His message seems very clear though. Don't be afraid to live your life how you want to live it. "One Of Us Is Gonna Die Young" because "It Takes A Fool To Remain Sane."

I'm really glad that we went to this show, because The Ark probably won't be back in the U.S. for a while. They are writing a new record and Ola said the N.Y.C. show might be the last show until after the new record is done. So, you have a chance to go buy their albums and catch up before they come back and take over the world. Coincidentally, what other gay iconic mega super group comes from Sweden and took over the world?

Welcome To The Kingdom Of The Bald Monkey

So, after Blogger Mumi died, his spirit traveled around for a little while reconnecting with his inner Darwinian self. He ended up in a far away kingdom. So far away that he needed to take 2 airplane trips, 3 boat excursions and 9 taxi rides just to start the great expedition through the thickest of jungles to the most remote part of Mumilumiloo. There, he overthrew an evil fascist dictating ruler named Jesukasbusha who had been making everyone comply with his selfish demands of conformity. After Mumi’s spirit had saved all the people of Mumilumiloo from a life void of any individuality, he was crowned LordGodKing, The Bald Monkey ruler of all the kingdom. Finally, everyone there was free to be who they were as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else. Things changed for the better throughout the kingdom of Mumilumiloo. Magic mushroom medicated monkey meat marathons quickly became the favorite pastime in Mumilumiloo, and The Bald Monkey was quite a formidable participant in the races. After the marathons, it was “eat banana pudding time” and then everyone‘s second favorite, nap time. This went on for nearly two hundred and one half decades, and everyone enjoyed it and kind of got used to it.

Then, one day, The Bald Monkey was out in his garden listening to the melancholic sound of a Porcupine Tree off in the distance when an evil terrorist group known as the Anjesukasbushadics, who work for the evil Jesukasbusha, kidnapped The Bald Monkey and brought him back to their hideout, “Terrorist Cell Block H.” There, they tortured him using a bunch of blood-curdling medieval devices. The Bald Monkey was almost at the end of his tree branch when his old faithful companion, Bubala, saved the day. Bubala had done a bunch of internet research about the Anjesukasbushadics had determined the precise location of their secret hideout and he snuck in and beat up all the bad guys and carried The Bald Monkey away to safety.

When Jesukasbusha found out that The Bald Monkey had escaped, he sent his other bad guy terrorists to find him and Bubala and kill them. So, The Bald Monkey and Bubala had to leave Mumilumiloo and find a new safer place to live. They traveled over mountains, and forded streams. Then, they took this really cool train ride past all of these famous buildings and ended up in a largely alcoholic town called Glenburnadeticus where all of the hot, goateed, blue collar men were married to hippopotamuses due to a series of high school weekend drunken party mistakes that had plagued the town in the 1980’s. Here, The Bald Monkey met a gypsy woman who told him to settle down here in Glenburnadeticus and rule Mumiumiloo from this undisclosed location via a series of secret messages sent through the Internet.

So, The Bald Monkey, Bubala and their pet monkey, “Littleboymonkeybananaswigglepanigglepunkinpiesnickerdoodle” (also known as “Max.” As in maximum goofy names you can call your pet monkey without making everyone sick) settled in Glenburnadeticus and devised a way for The Bald Monkey to rule his kingdom of Mumilumiloo via the Internet.


This concludes the first message transmission to my people, The Great Mumilumilooians. Let them all know that I am okay, and I will continue to rule as your faithful leader from afar.

Let the magic mushroom medicated monkey meat marathons begin!