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I know, I know, you are all Coachella-fatigued. Tell me about it. This is the last Coachella-related post, promise. Just thought you would like to know a few of the less advertised secrets of the Coachella festival.Most of the hot guys were gay, most of the straight guys were doughy. Seriously, most of these guys are in their twenties and thirties and have love handles. Not cute. Ratio of hot girls to hot guys 20:1.Coachella has a reputation for being a celebration of drugs in the desert. True, the attitude towards drugs, grass in particular, is quite permissive, but considering the heat and intensity of the experience, the kiddos by and large kept it together. That said, I did have a little fainting spell myself after a bad churro. Stay away from the churros, cinnamon and sugar dipped Styrofoam. Special shout out to good Samaritan “Joey” who lent a hand to my panicked pal while my brain rebooted. The dominant fashion silhouette was 80’s, 80’s, 80’s. Think high-waisted shorts and booties. Lots of shorts, lots of legs. Some good legs and ass, lots of mediocre legs and ass. Some bitches just straight up wore a 2 piece bathing suit.Who rocked? The Rapture, Wild Flag, Santigold, Girl Talk, Florence and the Machine and EMA. Who disappointed? Gotye, Pulp, SBTRKT, and ultimately Dre and Snoop who basically did a cheesy medley of popular rap hits over the last 20 years, some theirs, some not. For the record, the Tupac hologram was an abomination.
By now, you’ve surely heard that Brad and Angie are engaged. How boring, predictable, and smacking of PR strategy. No one has forgotten that stupid leg Angelina, no one. Nor that neither of you make movies I actually want to see anymore.It wasn’t even a year ago Brad was on the Ellen DeGeneres show proclaiming with nobility how he wouldn’t marry until the gays could.
What about the gays Brad? What about the gays!?
Blaming the kids, the couple abandoned their support of those denied the opportunity. Kids want a lot of things – chocolate, toys, attention. Wait five minutes and they’ll want something new. Really shitty to abandon the gays. Really shitty indeed. Here’s the ring, since that’s all some of you bitches care about. No judgment, I was curious too. I’m almost too distracted by the freaky, vein-snaggled claw to even notice the ring.
So I was talking to one of my favorite people ever today. He’s been mentoring a cousin semi-new to the scene and trying to instill the proper etiquette into the young man for navigating the treacherous waters of the modern gay world.My impeccably clean and well-mannered pal has extended his home to his ill-mannered cousin on a number of occasions. In the past, cugino harmlessly and forgettably annoyed friend and his put-upon partner when staying over, but recently the off-side twat went too far.After arranging his cuz comfortably and appropriately in front of the tv on the couch, friend trusted his cousin in his apartment unattended for a short window of time.
During the brief moment of solitude in his older, respected mentor’s well-kept home, cousin crept upstairs and rifled around in the room he shares with his long term partner.
Primo shamelessly fished through the goody drawer and with unmitigated gall had the audacity to employ a very pricey prostate stimulator and do work on himself.
Take a moment and let it wash over you. I understand. Happy to wait. How did friend know about the trespass? Cousin left the dirty ass toy on a washcloth next to the sink like a parting gift. He did not even bother to wipe it down with the rubbing alcohol conveniently adjacent.So just in case any of you extra sloppy-ass invasive bitches (paging punk cousin) need a remedial manners moment, using someone else’s butt fun without permission is not a gesture of gratitude.
Anybody else catch the incredibly awkward, uncomfortable, and unintentional coming out party two guys had on Love Games: Bad Girls Need Love Too? (Don’t judge me haughty bitches.)Mike and Chris played helicopter wangs and then locked themselves in the bathroom for a little “private time.” Neither bothered to think up a good explanation for the co-bathtime behavior, so Chris panicked and blurted to the assembled group that he was taking a dump and Michael came in to take a shower. The lame-ass cover did nothing to quell the suspicions of man-on-man fun. Michael neither confirmed nor denied, but his face gave away everything. Chris looked nauseous as it dawned on him his parents and homophobic friends were going to definitely watch this. His little Gaultier T-Shirt isn’t helping. Michael was eliminated because (surprise, surprise) none of the girls thought he was very into them (maybe because he was four inches into Chris’ asshole instead?).
For some of you skanks this advice comes too late, but for those who can make it through the first couple weeks of school without hopping into bed with a stranger, let me compliment your self-control. A flurry of upheaval and excitement accompany the first few weeks of the semester. It is easy to get swept up in the fervor and make regrettable decisions. Maintain a bit of mystery. Consider a 90 day moratorium on casual sex during the first three months of school. Let the insecure desperadoes jump at the first offers. Watch all the messiness unfold. See who is who and what is what before you take your pants off. Get too slutty too quickly and risk reputational damage and Facebook-style humiliation that could haunt you for years. Don’t rationalize bad behavior with over-partying. We don’t accept such fuckery here at Demeter Clarc. Keep it classy this fall and take your pick of worthy muffins by Thanksgiving.
Rachel finally cornered Whitney (and the camera crew) in the guest bathroom at a pool party. With very little solicitation on Rachel’s part, Whitney bent her over the sink and turned her out unbeknownst to the sunbathers just outside.Kacy and Cori visited the fertility specialist who advised baby vessel Cori to kick cigarettes for maximum fertility. Cori hired a Mark Harmonesque hypnotist named Bruce to cure her of her addiction. Immediately after Bruce broke the induced trance, Cori felt the treatment worked.Apparently, the spell’s magic only had a shelf life of about 6 hours, because later that evening Cori was crawling out of her skin with a raging nic fit. Thinking an electric cigarette might ease her suffering, Cori made Kacy drive her from gas station to corner store on the hunt for the elusive device. In the process of hitting up store after store, Cori left her phone behind, and completely lost her shit when she discovered it had gone missing.Several castmembers ended up at the same girlparty PYT. Everyone seemed to enjoy mellow fun until one of Whitney’s wasted friends Chas started calling Claire a “deb” from New York. A debutante burn? No, apparently “deb” for “Debbie Downer” was the stated explanation, but that doesn’t really make much sense, right? Was Chas implying it was desperate to relocate from New York to catch shine off a lezzie reality show? Is Chas bitter she didn’t make The Real L Word cut? For the most part this show prefers its lesbians of the lipstick or soft butch variety, and Chas is Dan Connor-flavored.
Romi’s friend Drew is a 12-stepper and is easing Romi into the recovery scene. With Romi abstaining and Kelsey boozing, the two constantly clash and even discussed parting ways. At 23, Kelsey’s still naïve enough to think this is a lasting arrangement. In a last ditch effort to salvage the relationship, Kelsey pronounced that she too will quit the bottle. Quite sure she can’t make it at a club without a drink, she phoned Romi’s sober buddy Drew to take her to AA. Romi reacted selfishly to the news that Kelsey and Drew spent the evening cuddled in bed watching movies and threw a childish fit. Drew did drop this little nugget of wisdom, “If you have one foot in the past and one foot in the future, you’ll piss all over today.” Could someone please embroider that on a pillow for me stat?Trading on her new-found recognition among the Lesbian community, professional pussy party pusher Whitney hosted her own girlparty Juicy (grossy). Whitney and HBICs at The Real L Word deserve a little credit; many shows (eehhemm Hills) don’t want stars to acknowledge the reality of how fame affects their lives after the first season airs. At least Whitney straight up acknowledges (with a hint of embarrassment) that she’s more or less succumbed to milking her F-list celebrity status.
Over the weekend I had a lengthy discush with a good friend about giving it up too early. Well past virgin territory, arguments for waiting have nothing to do with Jesus or wedding nights. In no particular order, a few good to reasons slow down…1. Jumping into the kip on the first night has become a tired cliché. It’s neither sexy nor rebellious. It is expected and ordinary. Nobody’s talking purity rings here, but honestly, some of ya’ll don’t even get a first and last name before getting naked.2. After a certain age, one realizes authentic chemistry is exceedingly rare. If another person gives you butterflies, delight in the magic and draw out the phenomenon for as long as possible. Fuck too soon and bang the butterflies to death.3. Most people are selfish and dirty. In a one night stand situation, most people won’t confess to the herp, hep, HIV, or clap. A greater majority don’t even know they are spreading warts all around town.
4. Reasonable delay allows anticipation and tension to build. Courtship creates mystery and interest. Easy = Boring. 5. Holding out for a minute also allows you to weed out the following: 1) stage 5 clingers, 2) assholes, and 3) beer-goggle regrets.
Skills for life: protect your vagina and your wang. XO,DC
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