Tips for whores who love the outdoors

News travels fast in the gay community, and I just heard a tasty little piece of gossip about someone I know. I won't mention his name, but a reliable source told me that his car was seen driving up and down "The Park." That's the all-inclusive term that we use to describe any outdoorsy cruising spots where men go to have anonymous sex with strangers.

It would be tacky of me to use the blog as a way to tell peoples' nasty naughty business in the bushes with dirty men who are probably married and on the down low. I'm not going to do that. What I am going to do is provide helpful tips to keep you all safe during your raunchy encounters behind your SUVs late at night when you think that no one is watching!

1. Always leave a note in your apartment before you go on your manhunt - Make it easy for the police when you turn up missing. A simple little note with your intended destination will help the search party immensely.

2. Bring protection - because you know the loser you'll meet won't have any.

3. Never take off your pants - Don't you hate it when the trick runs off with your favorite pair of jeans? Avoid the awkwardness of having to explain to the police why you're running home with nothing covering your family jewels! Always keep your pants down to your ankles. This also helps when you have to make a quick getaway.

4. Mind the critters - remember, humans are the intruders in the wild. Having sex on the ground? Be careful of those chiggers! Sex against a tree? Fire ants! I once got devoured by mosquitoes while I was splayed out spread eagle on the hood of some guy's Jeep and I wish I had brought my mosquito repellent!

5. Weed out the fuzz - public lewdness is a crime (I think), and undercover cops just love to catch pervs in the act. A simple way to test whether or not your latest john is a copper is to slyly challenge him to a race around the park or woods. Tell him that running gets your sexual energy up and allows you cum gallons. If you can outrun him, then he's a cop. Everyone knows that cops can't run.

6. Keep it short - this is a sexual encounter, not a honeymoon. Every minute you spend outside is critical, and you don't want to get caught by the police or private investigator that is following you because your boyfriend hired him after finding phone numbers in your jacket pocket.

Scoff if you will, but I've done extensive research on this subject! I've even participated in a few field studies, if you catch my drift!

If you wanna be my lover...

I went out to a bar with my friends on Saturday night and we had an excellent time chatting with everyone and waiting in line for the restroom. I met a man who was interested in sins of the flesh with my supple young body and we chatted for a bit. Before you go ragging on me for being so presumptuous, you must realize that the man had nothing interesting to talk about and he kept looking at me like I was a McRib and he'd been eagerly awaiting the return of the McRib and he hadn't eaten anything in six days.

He left momentarily and told me that he was going to go dance. If you've ever been to Big Chicks, then you'd know how small the dance space is there. The crowded dance floor, coupled with the fact that I was wearing an uncomfortable mechanical arm on my head that didn't allow me the freedom of movement that most people take for granted, wasn't too appealing to me at the time. I stayed and talked to my friends and other people who passed, when the man came back and bombarded me with more uncomfortableness.

Apparently, he wanted me to follow him like a nice little geisha. Since I am not a mind reader, I didn't know that he wanted me to go also. He went on to argue with me about the real color of Inspector Gadget's gloves. They're brown. They've always been brown. I know these things. And why the hell was I arguing with some dude in a bar about stupid shit like that? I left the bar with my friends and he followed us out.

Damn the alcohol for making me do things against my better judgment!!! According to my friends, I made out with the guy and gave him my phone number. Then he insulted my friends, calling them losers and rolling his eyes at them. That shit don't fly in Richie Town. Oh yeah, somehow my friends asked him if he wanted to join us for food and he said no. He matter of factly told us that he'd just eaten $127 worth of sushi and he wasn't hungry. I looked at him with pity and said "see ya," but he just followed us and expected me to go home with him. I really wish I hadn't been so drunk to make out with him and give him my number. Damn my inability to refuse beer!

It blows my mind whenever I encounter someone so socially inept. Treating people like shit and looking down on them may work for the women on Jerry Springer, but there's a group of people in America who have a bit of respect for themselves and for their friends. Not all gay men are willing to ditch their friends for pretentious dick (although pretentious dick is scrumptious, I do admit that).

If you're trying to pick someone up, it's probably not a good idea to piss his friends off. The Spice Girls weren't just whistling dixie in their hit single, Wannabe. And who's dumb enough to shell out $127 for sushi, anyway?

Parental Guidance Suggested

I was talking to my three year old nephew yesterday and he was quoting lines from the movie "Drop Dead Fred." While some people would quickly decry my sister's choice in her son's movie list, I think that it's brilliant. As long as she explains everything as they watch it, I don't believe that he'd grow up all messed up in the head. The opening scene of Drop Dead Fred has little Lizzie saying to her mother: "What a pile of shit!" and my nephew has yet to say the word 'shit' because he knows that it isn't appropriate.

I think that children should be exposed to more than Dora the Explorer and Teletubbies if they're going to live in America. It's rough out there! They'd be much more suited to survive if their parents wouldn't coddle them so much.

As a child, I was raised on soap operas, r-rated movies, and porn. I found porn on my own... it's not like my mother handed me a copy of Bush Pilots 2 and said "have at it!" The point is that I was exposed to a lot of mature situations at a very young age and I turned out fine. There was one incident in elementary school that made the teachers wonder what was going on at home...

I was in the second grade and we were doing an English exercise, where we had to write down a three-letter word and draw it. Then we had to add a letter to that word and draw that. My first word was RAP, so I drew a rap artist and break dancers because I watched a lot of MTV. It wasn't until I added the E and drew a man and a woman fighting that my teacher took away my paper and told me to start over.

I'd seen a rape storyline on Days of Our Lives and the man and woman looked like they were fighting. My mother and sisters never fully explained what we were watching, and that's why I didn't know it wasn't appropriate to draw it in class. So much for parental guidance. Aside from that one little incident, I was a very intelligent and street smart kid. By age 17, nothing really shocked me.

Whenever I encounter a small child, I never do the baby talk. You know what I'm talking about! It's when grown men and women talk down to children by altering their voices to sound cutsie and calling things by pet names like "blankie" and "jammies." Those are the kinds of children that are going to get beat up by my children who call things by their proper names and use cutting humor that is completely wasted on the other kids.

My point of view is moot to some people because I don't have children of my own, but I know a lot of people who don't use baby talk with their kids and they think it's a perfectly acceptable way to raise their kids. Pediatricians all over the place agree that using baby talk makes your kids stupid.

Children may not be mature, but they're not stupid. With proper guidance and a firm hand (my mother preferred the backhand), they'll be fantastically witty when they become adults. Now the problem I'm having is trying to explain to my nephew what Drop Dead Fred meant when he saw 'cobwebs' under Lizzie's mother's skirt.

The Joy of Hex

I've been having the worst luck lately. It's never anything major. Little random things just happen to me sometimes. I'll stub my toe on a piece of furniture, the turnstyle at the gym won't turn when I scan my card (causing me to squish my nuts on the bar when I walk forward), I'll get the showerhead that doesn't work in the shower room, and I'll almost get hit by a car crossing the street because the driver never fucking looks where he or she is going. Then I had a memory flashback from years ago...

When I was sixteen, I got a job working at Marine World. I ran the kiosk next to the water ski show, selling cigarettes and sunblock. It was the ultimate irony (cigarettes cause types of cancer and sunblock helps prevent cancer) and I enjoyed it because I might be able to use it one day in an autobiography. A surly woman complained at how expensive the cigarettes were, and then she accused me of not giving her the correct change. After my manager counted my drawer and proved that the nasty bitch was wrong, the nasty bitch decided that the only way she could make me suffer was to put a curse on me.

I don't exactly remember what she said, but it was something like: "I pray that misfortune will follow you..." or something like that. She pointed her finger at me and did a "poof, begone" gesture with her hands and walked away.

I laughed about it then, but now I look back on my life and wonder how it would have turned out if she hadn't cursed me. I blame my stiff ankles on the curse, and that's why I am not a famous tap dancer like Savion Glover. GRR!! ::angry fist shaking::

Then I did what any sensible man of the new millennium would do in my situation. I used Google to find out how to break the curse. The use of technology to aid in the warding of curses may look attractive on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but it never helps in real life. All I could find were stupid incantations and mind prayers written by non-gypsies.

I'm not really worried about the curse anymore because there are really only two types of curses that you should worry about: Gypsy curses and Sicilian curses. Since the woman from my past looked neither Gypsy nor Sicilian, I think I'm in the clear.

What is bad luck, anyway? It's the easiest way for jerks to put their minds at ease because they fail to realize that there is more than one way to look at a situation. When you stub your toe on a piece of furniture, are you cursed? Or is it an indication of your poor judgment in furniture placement? Maybe you're just fucking clumsy!

The Glory Holy Grail

One of the greatest accomplishments in a gay man's life isn't winning The Amazing Race. It isn't going to a high school reunion and looking fucking amazingly better than everyone who made fun of him for being weird when he was in the 10th grade. It's not becoming an American Idol runner up and being interviewed by Diane Sawyer. One of the greatest triumphs for a gay man is converting a straight man.

It's a fantasy for millions of gay men across the country. We hang out with our straight buds and we do the things that interest them in hopes that we'd catch them when they're drunk so we can make out with them. We are the listening ear when they are sick of their girlfriends nagging them about cleaning the garage. We pretend to like buffalo wings and dark ale at a titty bar when we're only interested in what moisturizer the waitresses are using.

Why are so many queens into the straight men? A lot of people (psych majors) will tell you that it's only because of the human need to want things that are just beyond our reach. The lure is the seemingly impassable hurdle that separates our mouths from their cocks. This has some truth to it, but I think that straight men are just more fun in the sack. They've got that look in their eyes like they're 5% ashamed of what they're doing and 95% intent on giving you the pounding of your life.

I used to work with a girl in Naperville and we affectionately referred to her as "The Gift." It seems that all of the men she has seriously dated have turned gay. So far, she has converted three guys who are extremely snackable. How does she do it? Does she have a magic vagina that changes straight to gay? Is she truly 'cursed' (blessed, in my opinion), or does she have an uncanny ability to see the latent gayness in a guy? That's all a bunch of hooey. I think she's just lucky.

Since kidnapping her, locking her in a white room, and studying her DNA using intrusive procedures is both morally and legally objectionable, I'll list a few tips on how to snag that special straight man:

1. The straight guy has to know that you're gay - It's just easier that way, trust me. The whole 'kindred spirit in the closet' thing is just the biggest pandora's box in existence. Don't even think about pretending to be straight to snag a guy.

2. You have to be comfortable with your own sexuality - In many of my conversions, the 'straight' man is impressed by how comfortable I am being gay because he wants that for himself. They want to know that they'd be in good hands if they were to come out. Would you ask Tara Reid for advice on how not to be a drunken slutbag in Ibiza?

3. Tequila is your best friend - Ah, the magic elixir! Tequila will get anyone fucked up in record time. Don't get drunker than the guy, though. I do this great trick where I wait for the guy to drink his, then I pour mine in a nearby glass. A lot of people close their eyes when they take shots, so it's the perfect opportunity to be sneaky! Whenever I choose the drunk guy route, tequila has worked every time.
4. Brag about how well you give head - For me, it's not really bragging. I'm just being honest. No, seriously! You think I'm joking? Ha ha! Straight guys love good head, so whip out that cucumber and work on getting rid of that pesky gag reflex.

5. Go straight for the ass hole - Ever hear the saying "the straighter they are, the wider their legs spread?" It's true, honey! Let's assume that you've got their pants off... congratulations, by the way. Straight men will do everything in their power to keep you from putting anything near their ass holes because they know that it's the ultimate pleasure zone. If you're lucky enough to slip a wet finger or even your tongue up there, you'll see how fast his back arches as he sings a high note that rivals Mariah Carey.

WARNING! Only attempt number five unless you want the straight man to follow you around and fall in love with you. Once you pet that chocolate starfish, there's no turning back.

As homosexuality gradually becomes accepted in mainstream society, the lines between straight and gay become somewhat blurred. Is a straight man who regularly receives mind-blowing head from a certain Chicago blogger considered gay? According to him, no. However these supposedly straight men choose to classify themselves, it's all good for the gay boys who love the straight man.

National "a..DUUUUUUUUUH!" Day

My friend Scott and I went to see Altar Boyz last night at the LaSalle Bank Theater, and this time we didn't have to sprint from the train to the theatre entrance. After calming down a bit after the big tubby old NAMbLA member sat in front of me, I listened to one of the songs that featured the obviously gay boy confessing a long-kept secret. We all thought he would confess his gayness, but you'll just have to see the show to find out what happens!

Today happens to be National Coming Out Day, when closeted queens and altar boyz tell the world that they love to smoke pole. It's supposed to be a day where people can feel comfortable about their sexuality and receive support from their family and friends. It's also a day to raise awareness of the LGBT community, because nobody would know that gay people are anywhere in the world if it weren't for National Coming Out Day.

If you know me, then you know how I feel about this day and every other "day" like Christmas and birthdays. I look at my calendar and it's full of "days." Why do people only celebrate things on certain days instead of every day? It doesn't make it less special, in my opinion. It only makes it meaningful:

"Oh yes, it's December 25 so I have to be nice to people because it's in the spirit of the holiday. On December 26, I will go back to treating you like dirt!"

National Coming Out Day... psha! As if the world doesn't already know who is gay or not. A lot of people tell me: "Richie, that's not fair! Not everyone has a finely tuned gaydar like yours." This used to be true, but there are gay people EVERYWHERE! They're at the supermarket, they're at every hair salon in Chicago, and they're also on the writing staff of every witty show on television. Chicago is so gay that there are unisex bathrooms at all the cool clubs because none of the women are scared that a gay man is going to pitch a tent just by looking at their cooters.

It used to be so hard to find your fellow gays. You had to rely on your "Highlander" sense to know if the person you were cruising is a fellow ass bandit. You used to be able to only find the gays by attending Champions on Ice, but now you can just go to Capitol Hill.

Way to go, freakshow!

I've been searching frantically for certain pieces for my Halloween costume and I hit a few snafoos recently. I've had to call around at various hat stores in order to find one that was the right color and size. When I called one of the hat stores here in Chicago to ask if they carried one in my size, here's what the woman said:

"Seven and five-eighths? Ha ha, we don't carry anything THAT huge. Sorry!"

A hat size of 7 5/8 means that my head is a little over 24 inches around. Not only do I have disproportionate feet and hands in relationship to my height, but now I've got an enormous honkin' noggin! I'm starting to think that I'll eventually look like Roger, the alien from American Dad. I can have my own brand of porn where I'm having a three way with conjoined twins. It'll be the Siamese Twins and Alien Boy in Falcon's "Freakshow" brand of adult videos, with special appearance by the bearded lady.

I kind of knew that I was weirdly shaped as I was growing up. I remember trying to sneak through iron fences and failing miserably because my head wouldn't fit between the bars. In the first grade, we had to pose for silhouette pictures and everyone laughed at me because mine came out bigger than everyone else's silhouettes. I just assumed that I was standing closer to the light source and that made my head look big.

My mother always told me that I had a big head, but I thought she was referring to my ego. UGH! Now I have to contend with the fact that my mother was right about something. Grr!

What's the evolutionary advantage of having a large head? If the science fiction movies are correct, then I'm going to be able to move objects with my mind and manipulate the atomic structure of various objects in nature. I'll be sure to call Ted Danson and Helen Hunt so we can join forces once the next stage of evolution takes effect.

Potato Queen

I was talking Lan, to one of my acquaintances who is Asian and he told me that he wasn't attracted to "guys like [me]." This is weird, because I could have sworn that we were discussing television shows. Anyway, I was mildly offended by his cryptic remark about guys like "me."

What did he mean by that? Did he have something against guys who drink beer out of champagne glasses? Was he not attracted to guys who play 'naked ninja' in their apartment late at night? Was he turned off by guys who are excellent deep-throaters? He should know that I once had people waiting upwards of four to five weeks to get into these pants because I was so overbooked with booty calls.

He aggravated me even further with his roundabout response when I asked him to elaborate: "I don't know, I can't really describe it. I'm into the All-American type. You know, the boy next door?"

Those are the two terms that I absolutely hate to hear.

The boy who lived next door to ME growing up was a dirty little right-winger whose family handed out Christian pamphlets for Halloween instead of candy. He was a gross little bastard who never bathed and always tried to eat the food in our refrigerator without asking. So far, I wasn't buying into Lan's "boy next door" fantasy.

Then I decided to explore the "All American" thing. Americans are people who are citizens of North America or South America, so a person who is "All American" technically should have dual citizenship between America and Brazil. Mexico is sort of halfway between North and South America, so let's say that someone from Mexico is the perfect example of "All American." Gael Garcia Bernal comes to mind! Yummy =)

What Lan really meant to tell me was that he is only into white boys. He's such a potato queen. He once said that white men were the only beautiful men on the planet, which really made me sick. I don't understand how people can be attracted to one race. You can try to explain it to me for hours, but I still won't get it. Feel free to draw pictures and use visual aids such as hand puppets and flash cards. I will never understand how people can think that other people are ugly because they are a certain race.

There's a strong possibility that aliens are monitoring our television shows and they're watching the segregated Survivor. Then when they come to take over our planet, they'll separate everyone by race and put us on different spaceships and Lan will have a difficult time trying to hook up with his fellow Asians.

At the risk of sounding like an announcer for a feminine wash commercial, I think everyone in this world is beautiful. People think I'm just blowing smoke out of my ass when I mention things like that and they try to get me to admit that I'm attracted to a particular race, but I'm really not. If you had the access code to my electronic record of tricks and lovers, you'd have proof that I don't discriminate when it comes to the attraction. But you don't, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

Prince of Wails

Soap opera actors have to be able to portray a wide variety of emotions such as anger, fear, and sadness. I know that everyone thinks that soaps are hokey, but some of the actors make the scenes believable when they can pull off the facial expressions and the emotional dialogue. I'm very critical of people who can't naturally cry in a scene.

Alexa Havins, who plays Babe Chandler on All My Children is a master of the cry-0n-cue. She can start bawling just by talking about how she lost her favorite teddy bear as a little girl. Sometimes you can play an All My Children drinking game where you take a drink whenever it looks like Babe is about to cry, but you should really check yourself into rehab if you drink that early in the day (AMC airs at 12 P.M.).

Think of how wonderful it would be to have the ability to turn on the waterworks whenever it suits your fancy! You can pretend to be ultra sensitive when watching a movie with someone you are trying to impress. Everyone knows that men who are sensitive in public are super sex hounds in private! I once dated a guy in Houston who cried when he saw that someone had run over a dog and we ended up having hours of rough mansex in his living room. I'm just glad that he didn't cry after he was finished.

For all of you treacherous queens out there, the ability to cry can give you an unfair advantage over an unsuspecting victim. Let's assume that you were an agent of G.U.L.P. and your mission was to become the secret sexual consort of some important member of parliament in order to get information out of him and the guy catches you trying to break into his super secret wall safe. What do you do? First you tell him that you were sleepwalking and continue to feign ignorance of the situation as you weep uncontrollably because you're supposedly ashamed of your sleep disorder. Then when he comes close to you to console you and possibly use your tears as lube, you drop kick him and put him in a choke hold until he tells you the combination to the safe.

Sadly, neither of these scenarios would never work for me in the real world. I'd only practice the cry-on-cue if I were interested in becoming a serious actor, and that won't be happening any time soon because I couldn't remember lines if my life depended on it. How would you feel next to a grown man who cries all the time, anyway? Two words: MAMA'S BOY!

Single Bells

I read an article about "Holiday Fun For Singles" and it just seemed so ridiculous that I simply had to read it. The beginning of the article explained how difficult the holiday season can be if you are single. Then it listed five ways to make ensure your happiness during the lonely nights while everyone is living it up with their lovers (or some rent boy that they bought for the weekend).

At first I thought it was going to be a fun little alternative article, but every one of the five ideas ended up being a way to meet someone and end up in a relationship. What kind of bullshit is that? Here are some snippets from that stupid article:

1. Participate in Lots of Holiday Gatherings Who knows? You may meet Mr. or Ms. Right at that next party. Or you may meet someone who knows someone who is right for you.

2. Volunteer Many people volunteer during the holidays, especially very good-hearted, loving people -- the kind of people with whom you want to be in a relationship!

3. Worship Religion and spirituality can be uplifting and satisfying for your soul. Thus, the holidays are the perfect time to rejoin or revisit your place of worship. Plus, you'll find that lots of other people are making the same choice this season!

If you have trouble meeting your fellow worshipers, take on a volunteer role. Become a greeter, volunteer on a holiday committee, or take on some other role that fits your personality and interests. Being in a role with a job to do makes it easier to strike up conversation with people -- and possibly find romance!

4. Participate at Work Are there holiday events going on at your work? If so, participate!
If not, lead a group of people in organizing some activities. Create opportunities to socialize with as many of your co-workers as possible, then ask each of them to bring friends to the events.

5. Send Out a Holiday Letter Mail a letter about your life to your friends and family, and maybe even to work clients. Tell them about significant events and milestones in your year -- and tell them you are single and looking!
Describe your ideal mate and include your picture. Who knows what the postman will bring back?

The article makes it seem as if single people are incomplete and so pathetic that they have to resort to trickery and duplicity to snag a man in order to fulfill that stupid idea that coupling equals holiday happiness. "Hi, I'm here to volunteer at this soup kitchen because I'm such a good Samaritan. Does that man over there have a boyfriend?"

In response to this poorly written attempt at making singles feel like shit, I have come up with a few tips of my own to ensure holiday happiness for the singles out there. Here are a few of them:

1. Go to a movie - Movie theatres are one of the few places that are open on major holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. When you go alone, it's easier to find a seat. Don't you hate having to find two seats together? What's the point in going to a movie with people if you're only going to be faced in one direction for two hours? There is the possibility of having sex in public, but all the psych majors will be the first to tell you that your exhibitionism is only a cry for help.

2. Buy something nice for yourself - No pesky boyfriend in your life means more money to spend on yourself. Now is the time to really go wild! I recommend lube and porn. You'll see why.

3. Attend holiday parties and talk about anything you want, no matter how boring you might think it is - All of the couples will hang on your every word like you're singing a siren's song because they're so sick of hearing the same old holiday music and the stories about how so and so's kid did the cutest thing yesterday. YAWN! I once had a group of couples entranced by my story about how I choked on a cheez it.

Hopefully, your sex drive will have been quenched momentarily by all the masturbating you've been doing because of all the lube and porn you bought for yourself so you don't need to worry about trying to hook up with anyone... unless you've got a sex drive like mine, where you get an erection just being within fifty feet of anyone with a penis and five minutes of free time.

What I want people to understand is that you don't need to follow tips from an article that reeks of right-winginess and old-fashioned values that I'd rather spit on than acknowledge. Have fun this holiday season, and don't let anyone tell you that you need a man or woman by your side to be complete. If you do have a boyfriend or girlfriend, then that's cool too. Just don't sit next to me at a party unless you want your boyfriend to be seduced by me and my patented soap opera gaze!