Eliot posts twice in a week! Does this mean he’ll be contributing more regular additions to the blog? Stay tuned… Read the rest of his posts here.

At least in New York, short denim shorts were all the rage last summer.  Hipster homos from Williamsburg to …Williamsburg were showing loads of deliciously pasty thigh, including myself (and much to my chagrin).

Awesome L.A.-based comic James Adomian, however, asks:  what if Brett Favre and the boys threw around the pigskin wearing the same stuff as the ladies in the Nair commercials (oh, and every dude sipping a PBR at Metro between May and September).

The resident co-founder and awesome blogger Eliot occasionally finds the time to write here at GMSC. In this post, he finds perhaps the hottest wasted frat boy ever. You can see all of his posts here.

It’s not often I wish I were back in college.  At the time, I was doughy, naive, and dressed exclusively like a homeless clown.  I also went to NYU (where I met Colin, GSMC overlord and beloved hot nude yoga partner), meaning that I probably could have spent less time on LiveJournal and more time figuring out how to not be a total dummy, frequenting stupid Manhattan twink bars every weekend, always to exit devastated that I couldn’t figure out I felt so unnerved and alone (answer: BECAUSE TWINK BARS ARE BREEDING GROUNDS FOR THE WORSTS).

However, Brendan in Apt. 4010 (otherwise known as MY DREAM HOUSE) at the Chinstrap Beard University could easily get me to sign up for grad school.  Because I know myself better now and would likely feel significantly more comfortable going out of my way to score a room in whatever stinky dorm room houses this guy who takes baths in cans of beer.

~*~*~<3 <3 BE MY STUDY PARTNER??? XoXo~*~*~

Vagenius, also known as fellow creator of GMSC Eliot, occasionally stops by to give is opinions on various topics and guys he’d like to do. This is one of his posts. You can see all of them here:

Having not posted in a while, suffice it to say I’ve got a lot on my mind (and I know that Arch Noble and the Manhunt blog guy are just waiting with baited breath because, let’s face it, I’m CRAZY important, you guys).

However, this isn’t the time or place (okay, well, yes, it is the place) for me to spout rhetoric or wax philosphical about issues facing gender, sexuality, and queer identification.  Nah, you guys, today’s a different kind of day.  In fact, it’s a day I’ve declared The Day I Found A Twink I’d Like To Enter.

As a gentleman who fancies himself a fan of mostly the “bear-friendly” crowd (by which I mean dudes with facial scruff, body hair, deep voices, muscular legs, and tattoos – BONER TOWN, “POP.” ME!), the “twink” is a body type to which I virtually pay no attention.  Of course, the feeling is often mutual, but nevertheless, my wiener could tell you firsthand (yes, she talks!) that little is less appealing than a torso resembling that of a tween girl.  No.  Thanks.

HOWEVER, the power of dance has changed all that in thanks to Curtis, or MrTinydancer88 (duh #1), a young (duh #2), entirely hairless (duh #3) musical theater actor (duh #4, 5, and 6) who has taken to dancing shirtless (duh #7) on YouTube in videos that showcase his mindblowingly skillful ability to Booty Dance.   Like only the most savvy of the ghetto princesses who popularized the dance, this fag pops his ass, makes it bounce, and, in the process, makes me forget that he’s wearing a girl’s headband (duh #8), has a BELLY BUTTON PIERCING (duh #9), and is essentially beckoning for a gang bang (duh #10) in front of his best gal pal (duh #11).

It’s sick, it’s twisted, and I can’t believe I want him to take off his cutoff sweatpants (duh #12).

U know how sassy bitches be all up at the club, fu-haggin’ out and gettin’ down with e’rrybody just because of they sparklepower?

Neither do we.  Because we spend our time a) hunting for manscruff, b) drinking beer that tastes like juice, and c) dreaming of finally leaving Park Slope for some place even dykier, like Portland or northeast Alabama.  In fact, the last time we approached a twink was 2001, when, just after coming out, we followed our only gay friend, Matt (who, despite being in his late twenties and of Italian heritage, will forever resemble an underweight Puerto Rican adolescent, thus making him the King of Getting Ass), to Heaven because it was where homosexual males gathered (and glittery, orange freshmen piled into the *c*L*u*B* tighter than a nun’s vaginerr).  Needless to say, it was a disaster, although it took about another nine months before we realized that we should probably avoid places that gave us panic attacks and made us want to hang ourselves from a mirrorball while Willa Ford hissed in the background.

So, naturally, we totally feel the hetero fellas at Titsburg, whose ideas about fairies with magical powers (and a vat of Boy Butter, probs) isn’t that far from the truth.

And, for the record, we’d totally make out with the “bear.”

Titsburg: “sassy gay” from Chioke Nassor on Vimeo.

[Titsburg]

Neither Colin nor I know much about this lady aside from the fact that her name is Patti Stanger, and she is the star of a reality show called Millionaire Matchmaker, now in its second season on Bravo.  So good for her or whatever.  I guess that means she sets up rich dummies with other rich dummies as determined by her producers, who, under the network’s “brand” (as defined by overlord and awesome bi-atch Lauren Zalaznick), make sure to cast Stanger as Cupid for trashbags with deep pockets.

Fine.  Who cares?  As someone who watches a limited amount of TV (30 Rock, Battlestar Galactica, and Wheel of Fortune are eternally burned into my DVR queue, which should speak volumes about my taste) but gets paid to write about it, I should take an objective look at the show.

But I can’t.  Because Stanger, as Colin and I both effortlessly agree, is a monster cunt.

Ummm, Patti?  Let’s talk… Read More!

Hi.  Vagenius here, GMSC co-founder and the site’s resident former “Internally Homophobic Vigilante,” as my therapist once put it.  Now, while in the past I’ve used this site to essentially slam gay men for demonstrating endless hypocrisy and self-defeating, inadvertently retrogressive behavior, that doesn’t mean I hate all gay men.  Because I don’t.  Nor do I hate myself, and nor do I wish I weren’t gay.  ‘Cuz, hey, I’m fine (not “fawww-ine,” but, y’know…fine).  (Well, maybe fawww-ine, too, depending on whether or not I’ve shaved.)

You know what’s not fine, though?  When gay elves with your Mom’s haircut are given the chance to flaunt their self-important “issues” (at the cost of one tragically overweight gaychaser’s dignity).  Even less fine?  That such an opportunity is provided by the Original Mess herself, Ms. Tyra Banks, whose talk show has either replaced Jenny Jones’s as the most retarded ever, or this is just what happens when something isn’t hosted by Oprah (I wouldn’t know, because I only watch Oprah when the episode description guarantees that the show will be OFF THE WALL BONKERS).

Despite his lilting, Hills-inspired falsetto and the vest he stole from a baby tuxedo, openly gay 19-year-old Shane considers homosexual men weaker than heterosexuals men.  According to Shane, people with penises are “supposed to be Alpha” (which Tyra brilliant describes by impersonating Tim Allen’s entire stand-up routine). “The majority of gay guys are effeminate,” he says, before adding that “if they want to be girls, they should get a sex change or sometheeeng???”

Uh, Shane?  Before you suggest reconstructive surgery to the limp-wristed, you might want to shave that putrid pussy off of your chin.  I, too, once had a goatee (in high school), but I also thought I was a “nu jazz” musician at the time named Soul Patch.  So at least I had an excuse.  You’re just awful, and that’s only made clearer by the pubes growing down your face.

Anyway, yes, the kid’s argument is, indeed, ridiculous.  We can all recognize that. Read More!

[photo from BUTT MAGAZINE]

I do what (and whom) I choose with my butt, and I want the whole world to know!

Well, that’s not necessarily true, but if it were, I’d finally have a forum to share TMI that didn’t cost $24.95 per month.

But now, it seems, I do!  In fact, I can finally scrape up the pride I [never] left curbside, among the chucked slushees and free condoms at the parade in P-Town, and do something with it.  I can help gay activist Trever Hoppe curate his new project, The Bottom Monologues.

“The Bottom Monologues is all about…telling gay/bi/queer/trans men’s stories about bottoms. As collaborators, we have some ideas about our own experiences, but we knew that to really do bottoms justice, we needed to get your stories straight from the tap.

What we want is your story. Unfiltered. And perhaps even uncut. Write a poem or a song. Stream of consciousness? Fantastic. Or even just plain old prose. Whatever style works best for you, works best for us!”

Not only is this a cleverly furtive approach to creating “gay” art without shying away from, y’know, graphic content (dicks in butts, y’all!), but it’s also refreshingly devoid of sensationalism.  Without being overly sensitive (read:  a lesbo) about it,  Hoppe is spearheading an idea — one that could, indeed, be considered precarious in its nature — with a sense of boy-next-door charm, thus denying it the type of naughty novelty flavor that free gay weeklies would kill to cover (if only The Bottom Monologues were stamped with a picture of a twink — eyebrows tweezed like the dickens — holding a book over his buttcrack and a pinky at the mouth).

But even more awesome about The Bottom Monologues is that they’re probably going to make Eve Ensler — the creator of The Vagina Monologues — reeeeeeally angry.

 I would totally provide more commentary, but I’m busy digesting feces.

[via Everything Is Terrible]

Fred Phelps and all the human shitstains at Westboro Baptist have issued their annual Christmas video, which is like if Weird Al wrote lyrics to a holiday song, but if Weird Al was one of the worst people in the world.

Golf claps for the “Santa Fag” sign, though.  That one’s totes true.

Just because I like dick doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two about homosexual women.  Sure, all we really share in common is mass persecution, but that doesn’t mean I can’t put my feelers out there.  In fact, I’ve lived in Park Slope – one of the lezziest neighborhoods in New York and the United States – for three years!  In my neighborhood, 3/4 of the guys I check out almost always turn out to be well-groomed dykes (to whom I tip my hat).  We’re both into dogs, the outdoors, and lumberjack shirts, so – yeahhh – I think I can say a thing or two about the gals.

So let us raise a glass and salute some awesome ladies of ‘the L word’ variety. After the jump, my top five fave ladies who love ladies. Read More!