Gayer Than Christmas In Palm Springs
I mean, really...
...where else are you going to find an image like that? FAAAAAABULOUS!!!
Yes, the boyfriend (who will now be referred to on the blog as "Baby Chutney") and I spent a nice, relaxing, faggoty three-day weekend in Palm Springs. While I've visited Palm Springs a few times in the past, it was mostly work-related, so I never got to immerse myself in all the much-ballyhooed gay aspects of the town until now.
Dear Lord, is it gay.
Baby Chutney and I discovered this not one hour into our extended weekend as we sat al fresco at the local California Pizza Kitchen and saw three men walking down the main drag downtown - one was in white hot pants complemented by a very graphic Tom of Finland t-shirt, while the other two were in striped bicycle shorts and string bikini-style tank tops.
"Yowza," said Chut Chuts, "look at that."
"Tourists," I mumbled between bites of my Mango Chicken Pizza (thin crust, please). NOTE TO GAY VISITORS TO CALIFORNIA: No one here dresses like the guys on your Undergear catalog. No one. Take it down about 17 notches.
After a nice, relaxing evening highlighted by drinks at Toucan's, Palm Springs' premiere twink/lesbian/bear/dance bar (I loved small town gay bars! No choices, so everyone ends up there!), Baby Chuzittnyz and I spent a beautiful sunny day relaxing by the resort pool.
GAY GAY GAY. The only way I could think of making that picture any gayer was to run it thru the "Film Grain" filter in Photoshop. Presto! 15.7% more faggotry!
My favorite moment of the weekend, though, came later in the day when Chuts and I climbed into one of those jumbo hammocks tied between two palm trees and just cuddled in the sun.
It was like a Corona commercial gone horribly right.
Saturday night began with dinner at Phillipe's, a hoity-toity French restaurant where I regaled the Baby Chutzah with my rendition of my favorite moment from the John Cusack classic "Better Off Dead", where his mother tries to wow the French exchange student by preparing a special dinner complete with "Fraanch bread, Frannch toast, Frannch fries and Frannch dressing." I ordered this:
MmmmmDEEE-lish! Actually, all sarcasm aside, it was quite tasty, if not visually appealing. After that, it was to the local arty-farty gallery to see my buddy Manny's photography show - you guys are slightly familiar with some of Manny's work since he took a lot of the cool pix you see on this site, por ejemplo:
and
Woofy woof bark meow moo grr grr! No, he's never seen my naughty bits.
After the show, another visit to Toucan's, where Babychutarooney and I saw the WORST TOUPEE IN RECORDED HISTORY. Seriously guys, embrace the bald. It works. Trust.
The weekend was capped off with a visit to the outlet stores at Cabazon where much Christmas shopping was accomplished at the Crate & Barrel Outlet. GAY GAY GYAGHGAYGHAHG.
ASIDE: Having a conversation with a new boyfriend about your blog, how many people read it, what is off-limits and what isn't and whether to post pics of him or not is one of the strangest, most surreal talks a blogger can have. Luckily, mah man is ahhhsum.
...where else are you going to find an image like that? FAAAAAABULOUS!!!
Yes, the boyfriend (who will now be referred to on the blog as "Baby Chutney") and I spent a nice, relaxing, faggoty three-day weekend in Palm Springs. While I've visited Palm Springs a few times in the past, it was mostly work-related, so I never got to immerse myself in all the much-ballyhooed gay aspects of the town until now.
Dear Lord, is it gay.
Baby Chutney and I discovered this not one hour into our extended weekend as we sat al fresco at the local California Pizza Kitchen and saw three men walking down the main drag downtown - one was in white hot pants complemented by a very graphic Tom of Finland t-shirt, while the other two were in striped bicycle shorts and string bikini-style tank tops.
"Yowza," said Chut Chuts, "look at that."
"Tourists," I mumbled between bites of my Mango Chicken Pizza (thin crust, please). NOTE TO GAY VISITORS TO CALIFORNIA: No one here dresses like the guys on your Undergear catalog. No one. Take it down about 17 notches.
After a nice, relaxing evening highlighted by drinks at Toucan's, Palm Springs' premiere twink/lesbian/bear/dance bar (I loved small town gay bars! No choices, so everyone ends up there!), Baby Chuzittnyz and I spent a beautiful sunny day relaxing by the resort pool.
GAY GAY GAY. The only way I could think of making that picture any gayer was to run it thru the "Film Grain" filter in Photoshop. Presto! 15.7% more faggotry!
My favorite moment of the weekend, though, came later in the day when Chuts and I climbed into one of those jumbo hammocks tied between two palm trees and just cuddled in the sun.
It was like a Corona commercial gone horribly right.
Saturday night began with dinner at Phillipe's, a hoity-toity French restaurant where I regaled the Baby Chutzah with my rendition of my favorite moment from the John Cusack classic "Better Off Dead", where his mother tries to wow the French exchange student by preparing a special dinner complete with "Fraanch bread, Frannch toast, Frannch fries and Frannch dressing." I ordered this:
MmmmmDEEE-lish! Actually, all sarcasm aside, it was quite tasty, if not visually appealing. After that, it was to the local arty-farty gallery to see my buddy Manny's photography show - you guys are slightly familiar with some of Manny's work since he took a lot of the cool pix you see on this site, por ejemplo:
and
Woofy woof bark meow moo grr grr! No, he's never seen my naughty bits.
After the show, another visit to Toucan's, where Babychutarooney and I saw the WORST TOUPEE IN RECORDED HISTORY. Seriously guys, embrace the bald. It works. Trust.
The weekend was capped off with a visit to the outlet stores at Cabazon where much Christmas shopping was accomplished at the Crate & Barrel Outlet. GAY GAY GYAGHGAYGHAHG.
ASIDE: Having a conversation with a new boyfriend about your blog, how many people read it, what is off-limits and what isn't and whether to post pics of him or not is one of the strangest, most surreal talks a blogger can have. Luckily, mah man is ahhhsum.
