Behold, Pacific Northwest Indian art themed briefs:

Maybe my attraction to these is because I grew up in the pacNOdubs (aka PNW aka Pacific Northwest) but I really would love to be able to sport some pacNOdubs steez when some dude is trying to get my pants off. I mean, who doesn’t want people to equate the awful power of Thunderbird with their croth? And seriously, would anyone other than a total art fag wear something like this? I have difficulty believing these were designed for guys stuck on ‘the res’ as a way to express their heritage through fashion.

That being said, my birthday is in a week and I totally totally want the bear ones below. You can buy them on Ginch Gonch’s online store here. Thx in advance!!!

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So while I’ve been absent and with holiday parties/a hang over/shopping/crashing White House dinner parties, the Gap had some crazy ads going on?

Did you all see this? It’s some Gap ad. Jezebel writer and blogger at large Lindsay Robertson wrote it up on Jezebel as being very slightly pedophilic, and got kinda attacked over it. (I don’t have TV so I learn about t through the internet). Anyways, I maybe kinda agree with her, only because of the weird train move at the end? Otherwise it’s a harmless ad, but considering the high pressure world of professional blogging, I don’t blame her for using that spin to post it in any ways. Here’s the original:

And I guess some gay guys saw this and thought it would be super fun to parody. I really WANT to like this, because the idea and execution are great, but I also get super uncomfortable watching a bunch of young gay guys infantalize themselves in the name of corporate fashions:

What do you think? Cute holiday commercial parody or kinda weird scary intersections of unhealthy psychology and consumerism?

I suddenly really really want boots for Christmas. Happy Holidays ya’ll!!!

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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).

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But it’s actually this:

If Bang Bang was still a store in Chelsea, they’d  totally stock this shit. There’s even a grouping of styles called “Elegance.” I can think of nothing more elegant than a the adult equivalent of a charm bracelet. It’s perfect for a night out on the town, to say… Buddakan or Arena when you come in on the weekends to Penn Station on the LIRR.

These chokers will also go great with that thong that has a platinum clasp in the back which spells out S-E-X-Y above your butt that you ordered from International Male in 1998. Wish that style wasn’t discontinued. I need it one for Fire Island this summer.

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Because I am just SUCH A DIVA!!!1!!11!! I definately need a pair of these. And when you can’t find something in the stores (stores = on the street for 10 dollars or less on St. Marks). It means it’s time to do it yourself. Caft night!

My buddies at Steeez and I are having a little blogger party, and my goal for the night is to successfully make a pair of these for myself. While everyone else plays board games and drinks, I plan on sitting in the corner frustrating myself with my lack of small motor skills and knowledge of craft. Here’s a basic diagram of how these spectacular spectacles are made (after the jump):

I wasn’t an alchemy major or anything, so I’m not really sure if this formula will work. It’s kind of like splitting an atom or creating hydrogen fuel, you need to know a lot about the properties of these materials and whether or not their charges will attract. But this looks just about right for me. Anyone have an alchemy book I can borrow to double check my work? It should be next to your book on phrenology.

Next, Anyone know how I can swipe some of Kanye’s nail clippings?

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So let’s play a game. Who wore it better? I’m personally more partial to M.I.A.’s outfit upon arrival, her peacock blue pan-African potato sack dress,  than I am to the sexy cow-print diaper she wore on stage. So here it goes — who wore it better?

M.I.A:

Or me:

Fashion explosion!

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[via A Poor Wayfaring Stranger]

If only I could be that flexible, then maybe I could land a “sweet daddy bear.”

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My favorite detail is that you have to put on the Mario mustache. It’s just part of the ride. You can’t hit the power box or jump on the giant air sculpture of the Goomba without it. The mustache is essential. I just take this as a second sign (the first one being the sexy facial hair in Gus Van Sant’s MILK) that mustache’s are making an important comeback this year. Trends always starts with gays and then move on to the sorts of people that want to create and  play simulated video games. That’s a tip for you big PR types next time you’re establishing a new brand.

After the jump, bonus nostalgia featuring the unlikely combo of Nick Arcade and Joey Fatone. 

My fellow GMSC writer and I were reminiscing about how much we loved that old show, Nick Arcade, and how much we wanted to play in a blue screen environment that through the magic of television, could place your live body inside of a really cheap looking video game. While neither of us ever got the opportunity to realize our dreams of conquering the digital world with our real live body, you know who did? Joey Fatone. While now you might just think of him as a regular on Dancing with the Stars, he was once known as the ugly one in N’Sync. The entire episode with young Fatone is posted below. 

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I love how Barack looks at the camera in these debates and really “speaks” to me. It makes my heart flutter/gives me a boner.

So this discourse logically raises the question: what are you all being for Halloween? I think this debates has inspired me. Considering how unseasonably warm October has been in New York this year, I think I can finally dress as a slutty (fill in the blank) on the day of our Pagan festival of spirits. I’m thinking I’ll be slutty “joe the plumber.” It will look kind of like this:

Do you think this is what Joe looks like? It’s the number two image on GIS when I look up “sexy plumber.”  I’d let him sure buy my (small) business. But what are you all being for Halloween?

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When I look at this piece, it basically looks like a vanity piece for some astrology obsessed gay who’s a Sagittarius and loves the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. He’ll place it next to his unicorn tapestries.

I have difficulty understanding how anyone would spend so much money on this. At this point in time, Damien Hirst and other artists, such as Jeff Koons and Takashi Murakami, have become more of an industry label. They have entire studios with throngs of artists making work that they then put their name on. So how can any individual piece they sell at this point be considered an important part of art history or a good investment to someone with millions to spend on a new piece for their collection? Good friend and confidant Paul explained it to me today:

me:  Damien Hirst’s “The Golden Calf” sells for £10,345,250:
Paul:  oh yes
me:  shiiiiiiit
that’s like 25 million dollars
Paul:  i have been shocked and dismayed at thi act as it’s unfolded over the past few weeks
me:  yeah, it’s shocking
what I read said the work was created solely for auction?
Paul:  he has so many minions churning out SO MUCH SHIT that in two years he has like 250 works that havent been sold
like, not little doodles or things
but HUGE stuff like the calf, etc
me:  wow
Paul:  so he decided he’d just consign all of it to Sotheby’s London
for an estimate of over £100million
it’s absurd
me:  wow
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!
Paul:  and then as the auction went on, he sat at home playing snooker getting live updates
hahaha
me:  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PAUL!!!!
oh, off topic, I’m getting a new tattoo tonight
are you doing pro ro? I’ll come by after it’s done
Paul:  yea
pro ro for sure
me:  I’m so confused why rich people think work from people like him or jeff koons will be a good investment
because at that level, you really are making an investment
not just buying something pretty
Paul:  yea
i have no idea
me:  it’s like, these men are such factories, and they maybe didn’t even make the work even if they’re name and brand is on it
Paul:  or, they want a status symbol. i can just imagine all these new rich in Kamchatka or wherever wanting a status piece
me:  so how on earth is this piece going to be important in art history or gain value
yeah, I guess that makes sense
when you think about it as an international market
and not as just saatchi
Paul:  yea
over a 3rd of their buyers are in the middle east
me:  wow
Paul:  every sheik and amir wants their own
i sort of obsess over these stupid things
Paul:  “Hirst’s supposed satire: everybody nods knowingly – even the collector spending £10.3 million on The Golden Calf, a brazen symbol of false idolatry, is meant to be implicated in the foolishness of loving money too much – but nobody, especially not Hirst, ever really bears the brunt of it.”
Paul:  haha
yea
basically it’s come to a point where he’s minting his own currency
just as bad as Dalí importing blank sheets of paper and canvas with his signature that he could just fill in with scribble
THAT is probably one of the most brilliant antics that still tops Hirst and Warhol to this day
haha

I guess at some point I have to wonder how the sort of aesthetic featured in that hit movie starring J-Lo, The Cell, became so popular with the obsenely rich art buyers of the world. Is this a case of taste trickling upwards from the masses? Damien Hirst is soooooo 90s! Is this more proof that the 90s are “so in right now”?

God, if only I had bought the special collector’s edition DVD. It might be worth money.

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Do you guys know much about models? Because I don’t, so maybe this person is someone famous and I’m just uninformed about fashions. But I am thinking that Marc Jacobs might have snuck a trans model into his show last night.

So let’s play a game. Tranny or Not Tranny. It’s like Deal or No Deal, except you won’t win anything and there’s not a bevy of ex-beauty pageant ladies opening up mystery briefcases that may or may not contain bombs. That’s what happens on Deal or No Deal, right? Briefcase bombs?

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Really? Tyra Banks as Michelle Obama? For Harper’s Bazaar? Is this America’s Next Top First Lady? America’s Next Top Michelle Obama? I don’t even think Tyra can claim that she’s has the glamour and class really needed to pull something like this off… I mean she’s legitimately afraid of dolphins. Couldn’t they have gotten Iman or someone with international flavor and class?

‘Member this classic guys?

And there’s more where that came from!

She gives primordial dwarves makeovers and makes them dance for her!

She understand her vagina better than other women!

She knows how to dress up like a man?

She pulls her panties in front of her to pee!

And lastly, a classic, she just fucking falls over out of sheer idiocy to display her exaggerated, attention grabbing emotions!

Remember, guys, when you’re in the room with Tyra, it’s ALL about Tyra.

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This really raised a lot of questions for me as well as making me laugh.

Is this a sign that spambots have finally infiltrated Facebook or is crotchbook a new trend? Could this be the efforts of some viral marketer trying to sell gays underwear? Do you think Dubi is stuffing in his pic? Does this merit the development of a new Facebook app called “Crotchbook”? Where could this man be from where his name is Dubi? Should I post more crotch pix?

I never followed up with Paul about how he responded, but I’m really curious what sort of response this guy gets and if he just sits around all day friend requesting guys with his crotch on display and what the response percentages are like. This sort of internet data could be really meaningful to marketers who are looking to virally market to chronic masturbators (me) who are looking to purchase crotch related products. I could really be the next internet millionaire considering the continually rising market for men’s luxury briefs.

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I totally danced around in the shower singing this to myself this morning. As weird as it is, it’s still totally catchy.

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And by that picture I mean I feel totally studly. Obviously. I am going to be so fresh for spring.

While my pants were a perfect match, there was some unfortunate guy in front of me in the dressing room that kept having the same problem every pair he tried on.Each pair ended up sticking out at the pockets away from his hips. He also refused to try on any dark colors which might mask this flaw. This wouldn’t be too bad, except I was forced to sit in a chair waiting, looking at my own flawed self in the mirror the entire time. The whole process was extended by a lady clerk, trying to up-sell him every opportunity she got, whom he seemed to trust when it came to fashion consultation.

“It’s ok… I mean… I didn’t even notice the pockets sticking out until you told me.”

Yes you did, lady clerk, yes you did. You liar.

And here’s where I lost my patience and the rest of this entry becomes fictional.

“Give it up already!” I shouted, like a saucepan full of boiling milk, but in place of a saucepan was my mouth and the boiling milk was the my utmost exacerbation.

“You know what? All of those pants look FINE on you. Just buy them so that I can get into the dressing room and stop staring at myself.”

“Yeah,” he meekly responded, taken aback my manly outburst, “but the pockets kind of stick out… right?”

“You know what? You should be grateful pants can even fit you. There are people in this world who can’t even wear pants! People like Lakshmi Tatma!”

The lady clerk responded, rolling her eyes and snapping her gum, “Who’s that?”

“You know, I would just tell you to go home and Google it, because her story is so important that it is all over the Internet and you can find it just like that. People have left comments on blogs about her. Lucky for you though, I carry a picture of her in my wallet just so that I can show assholes like you why you should be happy you have two normal legs to wear any pants, much less expensive fashion pants like the ones you are trying on”

I whipped out the picture:

The boy’s eyes begin to bleed. “Ok!!! I’ll buy the pants. Go! Use the dressing room. I’m done at this store. Jesus am I glad to have normal legs.”

I walked in and tried on the most well fitted pair of pants I have ever put on my two legs. I whispered a prayer of thanks to Lakshmi, “Thank you Lakshmi. Your many, many legs and great misfortune have brought me one true moment of happiness.”

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It’s called a Pussyfoot. Seriously. I’m not joking. There’s a vagina on the foot so they called it a Pussyfoot. Someone came up with this. lhfljshgjsldfhgj. That was the sound of me dying.

And now a short piece of fiction about gay foot fetishists:

Sure, he had been with some guys who would indulge his fetish. They would slowly take off their sweaty socks and rub their feet for him and put their feet in his face. There was even one occasion where a guy had been willing to foot him, an act similar to fisting but using the body part he truly desired, the foot.

He first discovered he loved feet at a young age. It happened while playing soccer once. One of the other 14 year olds kicked him in the butt. He had just entered puberty and was unfamiliar with the stirring in his groin this foot to ass stimulation provided him. After the game he had crawled under a bench in the locker room and watched the guys walk around on the cold concrete floors barefoot.

He wouldn’t know until he was 30 that this was a fetish — that he couldn’t love someone any other way. A person was a foot and the foot was the object of his true affection, something he couldn’t help but feel guilty about. The only other person he loved was his cat, Casper, and guilt had driven him to obsession with the kitty. Until recently, he worried about becoming an old, lonely spinster of a man, but then he had found a true love via a mail order catalog.

He had awaited it’s arrival with baited breath and sweaty palms. The soft ankles. The hangnail on the pinkie. The callus on the heel. For that alone, it was the sort of things he had wet dreams about. This foot had something the other feet didn’t though. A penis. He had finally found his love in Dickfoot.

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Can you guys see the sweater that girl is wearing?

It’s purple fake mohair with concentric sequined circles around the neck in silver, purple, teal, then gold. It has cap sleeves.

I am so sorry you chose to wear that. I hear it caused quite the commotion.

However, some people can pull it off. Keep trying for the dream.

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A good friend of mine(who has even written on GMSC before!), has found the solution to living out my wildest hentai tentacle rape fantasies.

Uniqlo is currently carrying it in 17 different colors, but you can also buy it online here.

It is now possible to film my own version of the La Blue Girl live action movies, that I am going to tentatively title Cloverfield II: Back in the Habit. We’re filming Sunday in the midtown New York Sports Club shower rooms, 4pm. You’ll recognize me because I’ll have a tentacle for an arm stuck up someone’s butt. Just say the codeword, angel tits, and you’ll get your chance to be a star.

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I’ve been looking pretty bad recently. Kind of like the (possibly retarded) girl who works as a barrista at Oslo and intentionally wears her glasses crooked because she thinks it looks cute. But it doesn’t.

Segue to before and after pictures!

Before:

After:

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