Why they don't call me anal boy

One of my resolutions over the New Year was to keep track of my finances, seeing as I want to get a place of my own. And one of the things I've found after a couple of weeks of doing this is that I would make a horrible accountant.

After the first week, I found out that I was missing P24. Of course I was worried. If I can't keep track of small amounts, how the hell am I expected to handle house finances? The following week I kept receipts and listed down everything -- and I end up with an excess of P631. I was so surprised and worried about my inability to keep things in check that I forget to be happy that I have more money than I thought I had.

It really is becoming clear to me why I failed Math.

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Since I am a man of the gay persuasion, anal sex is something I am familiar with. Or at least something I hope to be personally familiar with. In the meantime, I will look at studies that say women who have anal sex get more orgasms.

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And just so I don't look too much like a whore, I decided to put this up at the end of the post: Check out my book blog!

A long way down

Before anything else -- I did it! I went out there and started a book blog. You can check it out over here. It's pretty sparse at the moment, but I have quite a few entries planned and a thing that I hope people will enjoy.

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Last week, I posted on my Facebook Wall the agonizing last words of programmer Bill Zeller. It's a suicide note written by Zeller, wherein he recounts being sexually-abused as a child and the damage it has inflicted upon him for the rest of his life.

It's a well-written farewell note, and I particularly related to this part the most:

I've told different people a lot of things, but I've never told anyone about what happened to me, ever, for obvious reasons...It feels incredibly lonely to realize you can never share something with someone and have it be between just the two of you. I don't blame anyone in particular, I guess it's just how people are. Even if I felt like this is something I could have shared, I have no interest in being part of a friendship or relationship where the other person views me as the damaged and contaminated person that I am.

I've had my share of childhood trauma, and trust me when I say that it isn't being forced to sing in front of a group of visiting relatives. What I've found out from the five times (yes, I've only told it that many times) I've shared this trauma is that...it only results to more trauma.

The first time I told it was to friends I had when I was a kid. That...ended up badly. Let's leave it at that.

The second time I told it was to a classmate in freshman year, who then insisted that I tell it to our other friends. Other friends then went on to be...not receptive, to put it mildly. That sure taught me to shut my piehole.

The fourth time I told it was in junior year, when I was in a particularly vulnerable situation and was quite frankly overwhelmed by the presence of a guy that I liked. I felt that I was around people I could trust and who would sympathize with me. While I wasn't mocked, I didn't exactly get any sympathy either. More like an apathetic shrug.

The fifth and final time I told it to someone face to face, I was told that I was just using it as an excuse. That stung. On the bright side, the person was extremely apologetic afterwards, and I've learned to dismiss it as just the product of us being stupid kids.

But I did tell myself, never again. Evidently, trusting people with that kind of pain will really just get you a whole bag of nothing in return.

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To continue with this delightfully morbid note, check out this depressing item from Valleywag: Facebook suicide note gets mocked, turns out to be real.

Election, schmelection

Explanation here

Watching the news tonight, it boggles my mind that so much effort and money has been expended by some candidates running for positions on the baranggay level. I mean, really. It's a baranggay level position.

Yes, I know that there's a lot of money involved in baranggay positions. And that the fact they can hold multiple terms makes it especially lucrative for corruption. But still. IT'S. A. BARANGGAY. POSITION.

Maybe I'm just too much of a snob for my own good.

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As most of you guys know, I've had my phone stolen, I don't know, a bajillion times. And as anyone who's ever had their phones stolen from them, it's the loss of the contacts that hurts more than the actual phone.

Boy do I wish that all those thieves were as considerate as this Swedish thief.

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Finally, here's a link to The Evolution of the Geek.

Suddenly, Singapore!

I just returned from Singapore a few days ago, and it hasn't been hard to fall back into the daily grind as I thought it would be. There were a couple of times last Thursday where I thought I wouldn't be up to doing anything besides sleep, but I managed to rouse myself anyway and get back to work.

So, about my trip. As most of you guys now, I've been planning to go on a vacation for what seems like years now, and I finally got to do it several days ago, when I went to Singapore and stayed there up until Wednesday afternoon.

My visit was far from being my first time there. I think I've been to Singapore four times previously, and I've gotten so familiar with the Island -- as J would call it -- that I didn't even need to have D pick me up or anything from the airport.

This visit, however, was the first time that nobody was bankrolling my expenses. I was staying over at 's apartment, and while he graciously paid for most of my food and for the tickets at the Asian Civilization Museum, I was on my own for anything else.

Thankfully, I wasn't there for Singapore's numerous malls. After all, I've visited them often enough before. What I was looking forward to was spending time with friends I haven't been able to see for quite some time now, and in that regard Singapore did not disappoint.

Just being with my friends gave this visit an entirely different dynamic. For one thing, I wasn't staying at some hotel on Orchard Road, but one of the estates at Lengkok Bahru. Staying there certainly made a lot of difference, as it felt like I was in Singapore and yet, not in it as well.

For one thing, there were quite a lot of us staying under one roof, and when Filipinos get togeher we get LOUD. Even Neil Gaiman acknowledges this. Add to that the constant stream of Filipino shows from TFC and it didn't even feel like I left home at all.

And yet, all around me was that heavy silence that doesn't exist even in the provinces over here in the Philippines. Even in remote places here in the country, there's always the constant buzz of nature in the air. Compare that to Singapore, where silence definitely means silence. It was relaxing and unnerving at the same time.

I also made a conscious decision not to visit touristy destinations this time around, and I think that decision worked out well since I got to catch a glimpse of Singapore without going through the filter of tourist guides.

It's the best way to see a country, honestly. For once, I wasn't thinking of Singapore as a a mall that found itself turned into a country, I was actually looking at it and seeing a little of what the locals get to experience everyday.

For instance, I would never in a hundred years have expected to spend a night in Singapore just sitting quietly in a bar, listening to poetry and talking about the nature of friendship. But that's exactly the experience J gave me my third day there. I got to swim in a public pool (I think that's what it was) with locals and eat the same way office workers do at Lau Pa Sat. And that pole dancing recital I attended with D certainly helped ease my view of Singapore as a sexless city.

All in all, I felt like it was a great four days. I reconnected with old friends and met a lot of new ones. Sure, I didn't get any shopping done or gone on any of the amusement park rides, but who really cares about that?

NOW FOR PICTURES! I didn't get to take a lot, though.

Chinese lanterns over at Chinatown. Because it would be weird if they had...uhmm...non-Chinese lanterns?


's J being Korean.




A Hindu temple over at Chinatown. I used to know what they call this. In fact, I think I have it labeled in a previous entry, but I'm too lazy to search.


I like this building's facade. Am not an architect so don't blame me if this comment is uneducated and uninformed.


I don't know if these posters are authentic, but I wanted to take one home with me.


Also in Chinatown. I have this uncontrollable urge to take photos of sex shops in Singapore because I have always thought of Singapore as a sexless city.




This is the construction happening over at the Marina, seen late in the afternoon.


Dinner at Lau Pa Sat with D and Y!


The view from Y's digs.


Still from Y's digs.


C and her pole dancing certificate!


The Singapore posse.


K and C battle for pole dancing supremacy!








Presented with no comment.

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Mr. Gwen Stefani

I may not have been into his music at the time, but I definitely knew I was into Gavin Rossdale. And it seems that for some time, Mr. Rossdale was also into dudes.

I'm curious as to which one of them is telling the truth. Was it really just a one-time thing, as Rossdale claims it was? Or was it really a five-year affair? Because I wouldn't call a five-year relationship an experiment.

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User's Guide: Going to Butt Town.

My goodness me, that's a lot of steps. Also, the constant references as to how it's going to hurt do not make it sound appealing at all to me. Still wouldn't turn down an offer, though. From an acceptable individual.

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"Uh, no I didn't enter."

Finally, The Top Ten Classic Homoerotic Movies That Need Sequels. LINK SO NSFW LIKE YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE.

Of fuck lists and feminists

Here's something I stumbled on a couple of days ago: The Duke Fuck List.

In case you don't want to click on the link, it's a PowerPoint presentation made by a recent Duke graduate about the multiple sexual encounters she's had with 13 Duke athletes. It's quite a detailed list, wherein she breaks down the penis size, aggressiveness in bed, and overall attractiveness of the guys she's slept with.

She had initially forwarded it to two friends and thought that it would remain between the three of them. But as often happens to things shared over the Internet, the list quickly became viral and now everyone is either pissed, embarrassed, or really smug, depending on how they placed.

But what has been interesting to me has been the discussions about what this list means with regards to what it means to be a feminist.

When I first saw the list -- and got my laughter under control -- the first thought in my mind was "You go, girl1!" Why shouldn't a girl enjoy her sexuality and engage in consensual sex? And why shouldn't she objectify and rate their performance as well, since men have been doing that since forever?

And some of the disparaging stuff she says really would cut a man down to size (heh). For instance, she describes one guy's penis like this:

"That gorgeous, perfect body of his was supporting a penile structure so disproportionately small I had to take several deep breaths and force a smile before commencing the hookup session, lying every few minutes (when asked) about how he was 'the biggest I had ever seen'. Also, he came pretty damn quickly."

I thought all the negative comments would be from guys who would predictably call her a slut and a whore. So I was surprised that a lot of the commenters objecting were female, and that they were objecting about things I didn't even think about.

Take this comment, for example:

This is shitty because she is treating her male partners in the very way that we discourage the males to treat their women partners.

How the hell is degrading men a 'success' for feminism?"

And I have to admit that I honestly have not thought about feminism in that way, ever.

So, I wanted to ask you guys: Is this lady an enlightened and independent woman enjoying her sexuality? Or is she hurting the cause of feminists everywhere?

Tangentially related: I am never e-mailing anything personal to ANYBODY EVER AGAIN.

Also, also: I have copies of the slides unblurred and with the names not redacted. If anybody's interested.

* * * * *

Additional information here

I was going to write about Tyler Clementi and the spate of gay suicides that happened in the United States as the main topic for discussion, but everybody else has been doing such a great job already that I'm just putting this up as another voice in the growing crowd.

*too sleepy to think of a title*

Brother and sister duo Dylan and Lauren

To call the past two weeks "harrowing" is an understatement.

Two big book events happened a couple of weeks ago, which resulted in me having to wake up at 6 in the morning all of last week. And if you know me, you know that those are UNGODLY hours. And I had to take cabs to the venues because I couldn't trust myself enough to stay awake on a jeepney.

I didn't mess up at the events -- I am nothing if not a trooper -- but it did wreak havoc on my sleep. And it bled into last week, where I would often find myself groggily looking at my laptop's monitor trying to will stories out of it. It wasn't until yesterday that I finally got a lengthy amount of rest.

I'm yawning even as type this out now. Used to be, I could pull all-nighters and still function perfectly the next day. Now I have to get my eight hours in. I hate being old.

On the bright side, my leave has been approved! I just need to get my funds and it's off to Singapore for me!

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I haven't heard of Maureen Johnson or read any of her books, but I do like what she has to say in her blog post Sell the Girls.

And I have to thank her for providing the link to the interview that proves without a doubt that Nicholas Sparks is a grade A douchenozzle.

To quote:

"Sparks' favorite tale of youth? 'I think A Walk to Remember,' he says, citing his own novel. 'That's my version of a coming-of-age.'"

You should read the part where he compares his novels to Greek tragedies.

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I used to be a wrestling fan in the faraway days of my youth. Maybe that's why this is intriguing to me.

Epic self-love

The past week has been pretty hectic for me, what with interviews coming one after the other. It wouldn't be so bad if they were set in the comfortable hours of the late afternoon, when I am no longer groggy, but most of them were set WAY TOO EARLY in the morning. It's a miracle that I didn't make a fool of myself at any one of them.

Next week isn't looking any better either, as the Manila International Book Fair rolls into town. I'll probably be holed up in there for most of next week, and while it's an event I really enjoy covering, it still takes a lot out of you physically.

A big part of what keeps me going is the vacation I've got planned for myself. Thanks to a rather fortunate event, it looks that I will indeed be able to take a short vacation outside of the country. As long as nothing unexpected happens, I may be joining in Singapore for a few days!

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I'd be sleeping soundly too if I had the time to wank four to five times a day.

So, James Franco just said that he masturbates four to five times a day. That's a lot of times for someone who isn't in the 16 to 18 year old age range.

At least now I have a ready answer when somebody asks me what James Franco is probably doing right now.

Sort of related, here's a compilation of ten horrible masturbation stories.

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I was totally a Tommy/Kimberly shipper.

Growing up, I followed the Power Rangers religiously up until the movie came out, after which I lost interest. I didn't really think anyone of them would be gay. I would wish that Tommy was, but that's about it.

Now, it turns out that the Blue Ranger is one of teh gays. Imagine that.

Logan Lerman as D'Artagnan in 3 Musketeers.

Yes, Percy Jackson's wig really is that horrible. Funnily enough, it reminds me of the epic Hans Jensen interview.

The universe and a dead girl

That picture up there is apparently the universe in full. I can't help but be reminded of Orion's Belt. And yes, I am aware that he was talking about a galaxy and not the universe.

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I've been feeling a little down on myself lately, which I guess is odd since everybody around me has been nothing but supportive of the boring sideshow that I call my life. This past week I've felt nothing but trepidation and anxiety over the smallest of things.

Hopefully, a short break from work will help fix things, because I will be taking one next month. I still haven't fixed the particulars, but I'm thinking of maybe going somewhere outside of the city for a few days. That plan, however, is heavily dependent on how much money I have. Here's hoping that I get the chance to escape.

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Child plays dead on Google Street View, horrifies a nation.

Just as most of the commenters pointed out, why didn't the guys inside the Google car get out and check if the kid was still breathing or something? I mean, she wasn't really dead, but what if she was?

A little something something

Yes, I am still alive. I am constantly on Twitter, but I just haven't found the energy or the inclination to come up with an actual blog post. It takes too much work and actual brains to come up with something halfway coherent.

A lot of stuff's been going on. For one, I have once again become a victim of the unwashed masses. This is the second time in the space of six months. And I think the fourth or fifth time since I started working. I keep on wondering why I always end up being the target of these things when I look about as presentable as a hobo.

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Moves like a butterly, stings like a bee.

Remember the Star Wars kid? There's a video reminder above if you don't. After that video got posted on the Internet, he "dropped out of high school, was diagnosed with depression, and became an in-patient at a psychiatric ward for kids. His family then sued the families of the classmates who leaked his video for $250,000."

Well, he's studying to be a lawyer now.


Hopefully he'll live this down.

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Let us all mourn the passing of an incredibly sexy firefighter.

Focus on the naked McGregor

Although I don't really travel by plane all that much, I have been on them on more than one occasion. And while I've experienced all the usual things that stress you out in the airport and on the plane -- unsavory seatmates, long lines at the toilet -- I don't think I've ever really gone through a horrible experience.

I can't say the same for four-year-old Ryan Thomas. He's disabled, and the TSA asked him to remove his leg braces and walk through a metal detector unaided.

That's just cruel.

There are even more airport horror stories over at the comments section of Gawker.

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Ewan McGregor fancies full frontal nudity. I have no problem with this.

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Finally, a handy guide to all gay men.

You straight folks should go ahead and read this.

*insert title here*

As most everyone on my flist already knows, Alexander McQueen died last Thursday. Gawker has an obituary complete with pictures up, while Jezebel screencapped McQueen's final tweets. On the other hand, ONTD reports that the Westboro Baptist Church plans to picket his funeral.

I've never really seen an Alexander McQueen creation up close, but I have been an admirer of what I've seen of his work on magazines and various other media. The fact that he was out and proud and married his partner just makes this loss twofold.

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Molly Shannon to play Sue Sylvester's nemesis on "Glee".

I LOVED Molly Shannon in Superstar!

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Brazilian men in their underwear. Must I really say more?

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Finally, NY lesbians marries male stranger in gay marriage protest.

A bunch of Wild Things

I watched "Where The Wild Things Are" yesterday because I was really curious about how they would stretch more or less 10 sentences into a 90-minute movie. All the hype and the buzz about this movie certainly inflated my expectations, so I went into the moviehouse with quite a bit of excitement. However, I was also bracing myself for immense disappointment, since it goes without saying that most movies never live up to the hype. I'm looking at you, Avatar in IMAX 3D.

Well, I most definitely wasn't disappointed. The movie certainly took the book's theme to heart and even dared to push it into even darker territory, so much so that the MTRCB gave it a PG-13 rating. It's unsettling, sometimes menacing, and yet still infused with lots of charm and real emotion.

The soundtrack is really good too -- I'm in the process of downloading it as I type this. The performances were also great, most especially Max Records, who plays Max. I know, what a coincidence.

Would definitely recommend that you guys watch this in a theater. Unfortunately, it only seems to be playing at Greenbelt 3. Anybody else know where you can catch this film?

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Do you guys remember Daniel Brusilovsky? He's the 16-year-old tech writer and CEO who I briefly wrote about here.

Well, he got fired from his writing job at TechCrunch because he accepted a Macbook Air for a bribe. Goodness.

* * * * *
Also, in not so surprising news, a male model offered to "suck (a policeman's) dick and balls" after getting arrested for being drunk and disorderly.

The male model just happens to be 19-year-old Nick Snider, who is the current face of Prada.

At least he still got the stank face on even in the mug shot.

"It's a fucking concert!"

My understanding of concerts has always been this: the performer does his thing, and the crowd goes wild. it's a pretty simple dynamic, and something that I am really, really fond of. It's one of the few instances in life where it is absolutely encouraged that you stand on chairs and scream your hearts out.

As everyone of my Twitter followers found out last night, I was at the Kris Allen concert. While it started out a little low-key with Boyce Avenue, the crowd was getting pretty pumped by the time the Jabbawockeez performed, and it would have been a cakewalk to get them into a frenzy once Kris Allen went out.

But all throughout the concert, if anybody so much as stood up ON THE GROUND, security personnel would walk up and ask us to sit down because the people at the back couldn't see. There were also people from behind shouting "Sit down, we can't see!" It got so annoying that I would routinely shout back "Stand on the chairs then, it's a fucking concert!" We got asked to sit down so many times I just gave up and tweeted for most of the show.

I haven't been to a lot of concerts, but all of the ones I've been to had security AND audiences who were absolutely cool with you standing up to show your appreciation. You happen be blocking their view? Fine, they'll stand on the chairs. Even THE CLICK FUCKING FIVE audience understood this dynamic.

And to top it all off I ended up being one of those people at every concert who end up misplacing some of their stuff and never finding them again. Perhaps I was being too obnoxious when I told them to stand on the chairs? But you see, I never thought I'd have to reason to ever say those words AT A FUCKING CONCERT.

* * * * *

From left, Ruhal Ahmed, Brandon Neely, Shafiq Rasul

Guantanamo guard and inmate become Facebook friends.I know, this story is a month old. But isn't it amazing? These two probably got along better than I did with those concertgoers.

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A Contract for the Gay Guy/Straight Guy Friendship.

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Lesbian Albatrosses Raising Chick Together.

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They're going to be teaching drag at Brazil's first gay school.

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Finally, I know there are some Ben Whishaw and/or Brideshead Revisited fans on my flist, so perhaps you may be interested in this article from Out. Brian Moylan from Gawker indirectly came out in that article, specifically because of this exchange:

While he might reject labels -- his character in Cock declares that the labels gay and straight are “words from the ’60s made by our parents…only invented to get rights” -- the coincidence of appearing in consecutive plays (Cock and The Pride) that explore sexuality might suggest a subconscious desire to discuss his own identity. Are the plays a way to make a statement without making a statement?

“Maybe it’s subconscious, I don’t know,” he says. “It’s intriguing to me that these parts come along. Of course the choices you make express something about you to the world, and of course the work I do is all about me, but rather than me standing up and making statements about myself and things, I’d prefer to let the work do the speaking.”

This part of the article is also interesting;

Whether this is a disingenuous fudge or a heartfelt response from a man who, at 29, still seems something of a boy, Whishaw is not oblivious to the complex and painful issues that the question raises. Asked if he thinks it’s important for young gay people to have positive role models, his ambivalence vanishes. “I really agree with that, and I feel in my heart that it’s important, but I don’t quite know yet the way to go about that. Maybe that’s the transitional thing I feel I’m in the middle of at the moment. It’s something I think about, but it’s important for me to do it at the time that’s right for me. And I’m not there yet.”

What do you guys think? Gay or Nay?

Possibly groundbreaking things

There was a big fire yesterday, as most of you know. It was so big, you could see the smoke all the way from our office building.

* * * * *

Work was really exciting today, as we just finished a photoshoot with Rica Paras, who along with Justine Ferrer made Philippine television a much friendlier place for transfolk.

Rica isn't just fun to have around, she's fiercely intelligent as well. She was very articulate during the interview and held nothing back, and was game with anything that we asked her to do.

And to see how people would react to her! We shot some of the photos at a high school near the office, and male and female students would follow her around and had no qualms at all telling her that they loved her. It was such a beautiful thing to watch.

Another great thing: When this issue goes out, our paper will be the first one in the country with a trans person featured prominently on its pages. At least as far as I know.

* * * * *
Gay teen worried he might be Christian. I quote:

""I don't know what's happening to me," Faber admitted to reporters Monday. "It's like I get these weird urges sometimes, and suddenly I'm tempted to go behind my friends' backs and attend a megachurch service, or censor books in the school library in some way. Even just the thought of organizing a CD-burning turns me on."

* * * * *
Pope says gays endanger humanity. I won't even bother with you, Papa Razzi.

* * * * *
Channing Tatum's meat is well done. I quote once again:

"Channing Tatum's penis is gross. It looks like a hot dog that's been left too long on the grill. The tip is hot-pink, singed, and shriveled. It appears angry. And it's painful to view. My penis hurts just from looking at it. Movie stars tend to be vain, by nature and profession, but Chan—that's what everyone calls him—does not mind one bit showing me his sad, withered wiener. 'It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my life,' he says, flipping through photos on his iPhone until he lands on a grainy snapshot of a scorched member. His scorched member. 'I'm good . . . now,' he says with a grin. 'Now my penis is fantastic! One hundred percent recovered. Put me back in the game, Coach.'"

Holiday homophobia, pregnant weightlifters, and pretty books

The holidays are just around the corner, and while that may mean a less stressful workload for most people, I'm not sure I can say the same for those of us in the office. Things haven't slowed down at all with regards to work, and we're not even sure if we're going to get Christmas off. I'm hoping for the best, though.

It's that same work week crunch that's prevented me from putting anything up on the blog until today. Throughout the past two weeks I've amassed quite a number of open tabs, some of which I've already had to discard because the news is stale already.

There is also the fact that nothing really exciting is going on with my life. I was supposed to go to a party yesterday, but my ride had to leave before I could leave the office. So there's that.

* * * * *
As most of you guys know, reviewing books is part of what I do at my job. When I first started doing this, I was given instructions not to be so hard on local authors, especially when they were just starting out. Through the years, I've been given more freedom to write what I really think of a book, and I'm immensely thankful for that.

Being free to sat what I want does have its drawbacks: Saying a book sucks balls is bound to get a reaction from the author. Thankfully, I've only had one author go after me because of a bad review, and her points weren't very good ones at all.

Besides, the irate author I got is nothing compared to Candace Sams, who I believed is often referred to as "Crazy Lady". Her book, Electra Galaxy's Interstellar Fellar is given a one star review on Amazon and she goes nuts. I would recommend following Making Light's suggestion and "Remember to click on all the links that say Customers don’t think this post adds to the discussion. Show post anyway.'"

Trust me, it's an absolute trainwreck. The only thing I have to complain about is that Sams flounces away after page 19.

* * * * *

"White Horse, Gold Dragon", written by "Lan Pam Thi"

The author name is in quotes because it turns out that "Lan Pam Thi" doesn't actually exist, or at the very least, didn't even write the book. This wouldn't normally be a problem, except the book won a prestigious literary prize in the Czech Republic.

Read the full story over here.

* * * * *
Homophobe and notorius money-grubber Oral Roberts is finally dead.

He has this to say about gay sex: "The waste matter comes out of the body as poison, and he penetrates that part of the body in homosexuality. It's not to be put in the mouth of the man, or the mouth of the man or the woman…. It is the male organ, penetrating the vagina of the woman, the male and the female."

Here's a great response from one of the commenters on Gawker: "Isn't it fascinating how these folks like Mr. Anal Bob really seem to have the most vivid imaginations as far as what the sex lives of so called sinners are like?

A gay guy is like, 'yeah, I thought this guy was attractive, we went back to his place and had sex.'

Oral Dick here thinks like 'he drooled long spindles of saliva across his chest as he took the hard veined, throbbing penis across his moist lips, into the cavernous wet mouth, suckling the tip with his tongue, aching, throbbing, praying to the heathen gods for the seeds of sin to splatter his wide eyed eyes with hell fire. This is wrong. Insert penis in vagina. Ejaculate. Rinse. Repeat. Amen.' Ugh. Rest in a world without heaven or hell because neither exists, dumb fuck. Peace out!"

Also, what kind of evil parents would name their kid "Oral"? I mean, REALLY.

* * * * *
In other gay news, you can now get gay married in the District of Carolina. New York may have been a disappointment, but at least there is still some progress being made.

Which is more than I can say for the Comelec, which rejected Ang Ladlad's appeal to be allowed to run for party list. Here's hoping that the Supreme Court comes up with a much more favorable ruling.

* * * * *
A weightlifter in Chile gives birth during practice while a dad in England delivers a baby using Google.

Sometimes I love the world.

* * * * *

PRETTY.

I am so happy that I haven't completed my collection of Nabokov novels, because that means I can still get to buy these beautiful editions. You can find the rest of the covers here.

Them crazy kids!

I envy this kid's room.

After all, how many 14-year-olds do you know of that have posters of Blue Velvet on their walls, much less even know what Blue Velvet is?

It's also admirable how he's managed to wrap his mind around his family life -- he's the son of a gay man and a straight woman -- and just seems to be enjoying being a teenager in New York City.

* * * * *

This guy is certainly enjoying being a teenager as well.

He's a student from St. Peter's Secondary School in Canada, and he was photographed by the Toronto Metro making a splash at the Kinsmen Santa Claus parade. In such an unintentionally funny way.

Because you see, it's not just an ordinary picture of a student frolicking with his classmates under a spray of water. It's a picture of a student WITH HIS PENIS HANGING OUT, frolicking with his classmates under a spray of water.

And he's certainly not ashamed of what's on display, if the commenters on the Torontoist are to be believed.

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When you've got the words "forever-flaccid penis" and "group fisting" in a letter meant for your previous superiors, then you know it's going to be a great read.

The previous management at The Harvard Crimson appears to be composed of ginormous tools, if the group e-mail sent out by staffers is to be believed. Maybe some day, when I retire, I can be so ballsy as to write something like that.