When I Grow Up

When are the Pussycat Dolls just going to admit that they were technically born as men? If they could just come out and say it then I could at least start admitting to myself and others that I quite like their new song. This is because a transvestite pop group is something I would never feel guilty for enjoying. In their present 'female' (ahem..) incarnation they obviously must be feared and hated and mocked mercilessly in public until everyone leaves and then I can creep quietly to my room and sit in the corner facing the door so I can see if anyone enters and play it on my mp3 and worry about what people would think if they really knew how I felt.

In other news, I love that I was reminded that Gossip Girl (a.k.a. the single greatest television show ever produced) was back on after seeing posters in a gay club. They know their audience, this much is true. And oh my, the second season opener had muthafucking Jay McInerney and Tinsley Mortimer as guest stars which tells you everything you need to know about how and why it rocks so hard because, were we to 'do the math', we would learn that:

advertising in gay clubs + hipster authors + famous Manhattan socialites = pure undiluted awesome

The sums: they no lie.

Speaking of gay clubs, why am I only ever told how gorgeous and fabulous I am by 'the gays' in the gay clubs? Why is it that strange Barcelonian boys whose boyfriends sit there with a look of resigned disgust on their faces because my boyfriend is chatting up straight girls again and super camp spiky haired Pompey dudes that will hoochie dance with you when you've only just met are the ONLY men that appreciate my own unique brand of awesomeness? I am getting to the point where I'm realising that the only male love I'm going to get is from the ones who don't want to have sex with me.

Anyways, the real reason I'm here is not be self-pitying or talk up a storm on a pop culture tip, but because I wrote a short, short story and it's here if you want to read it. Or not. Whatevs.