Wear a cock ring, you dick...

I feel sorry for most people going out to nightclubs these days. You have, unfortunatlly missed the greatest days of clubbing. The hottest, HOTTEST times were between 1988 thru 1993-4. I'm sorry, but it's true.
My friend just wrote to tell me that he was waiting on line to use the mens room at this place in the East Village when the bouncer (he thought) came over to the door. When the pee-er inside came out, the "bouncer" then put his meaty arm across the doorway and then used his other juiced up arm to wave over someone who happened to be Wilmer Valderamma or whatever the fuck his name (let alone his claim) and proceeded to escort him in the loo. The "bouncer" in question happened to be one of two bodyguards Mr. Fez employed for the evening. Maybe it's me; but I would never patronize a place like that again. As a matter of fact, I would pee right there in front of the door so this DICK-WAD walked right in it after he finished convincing himself in the mirror how important he is.

a new hotty joined the house here in Delray, and the resident hottie is a little up in arms. He calls him "pretty boy" faceciously behind his back. Resident H is now threatened. He goes in his room and comes out with a knit hat on(p.s. it's Florida!) and then new Hottie comes out with a 1930's golf hat on. Resident H still wears the requisite boxers hanging out of his jeans while newer Hottie wears tighty whiteys hanging out of his jeans. If we were not all sober here I sense with all of my gaydar that these two would be going at it better than a Dirk Yates video. 

Melange et tois

Remeber those two old guys sitting in the Balcony on The Muppet Show? Well, they have a movie reveiwing site which is pretty black considering it is from "Muppet Studio's." This week they reveiw "War of the Words of Tom Cruise", I mean that Speilberg CGI flick and "Bewildered." I mean "Bewitched".

If your thinking of trying how to skinboard this summer, you may want to make sure you have insurance first. I wish I had.

iPod download of the week: "We Belong Together" by Rickie Lee Jones

Assisted living in Florida...

And I do not mean the old people. It is so fucked up here in the sober house. The front driveway is littered with cars ranging from a Lexus to Mercedes Benz to a new F150 with drop down Video screens. It is three of these roommates who do not work. They sit at "home" waiting for the weekly check to get transferred into their bottomless accounts. While I'm waiting for my new job to start, I'm filling in my time by working at a place called Labor Finders which pays roughly $6.50 an hour. And it's freaking slave labor. Like, pyramid building slave labor, as a matter of fact I'm going to spell it like the British; Slave Labour, because the dollar is so bad there in the UK.
We are all supposed to have jobs here, but since these guys are paying every week it's not pressed. Last week, this one guy who is 27 stated that he was going on his first job interview in his life; and in the supportive AA/NA fashion everyone clapped for him, half of us (the worker bees) half-heartedly. One freeloader constantly asks for cigarettes; this may sound petty, but he has never bought a pack in the two months since I have been here. He claims that if he buys a pack, he will smoke them all. I always thought that was the objective of smoking; but instead, he feels better smoking all of mine. So now I carry a box of Marlboro's with only one in the pack stating that I only have one left whenever he asks me for one. Manipulator that he is, he said to me, "Well, your going to have to buy them anyway."
It's fun for these guys being sober for a week, it seems the gift to get is a DVD player. I must have forgot to register at Circuit City for these; I hope my moms reading this.
Boca Raton is filled with the most selfish, spoiled young adults that I have ever met. These are the CEO's of tomorrow based on the sweat and toil from their dads work. They will treat the workers such as ourselves like shit because that is all they know how to do based on shopping in malls with their mothers and seeing how these ladies who lunch treat the help. This is the greatest learning lesson I have experienced, having the clarity to witness the selfishness in this country some are losing their lives for.

Pull my Finger...

The Cool Stores favorite Italian (heritage-wise) songbird, Gwen Stefani is releasing "Cool" as her next single.

Southern Baptists say that they will NOW be allowed to go back to Disney Land/World. So states their Grand Poobah. Their boycott, which lasted eight years, (probably the amount of time all of these morons spawn aged) was started over the fact that Disney then allowed same sex partners to recieve benefits. They may now attend but can not work there. Hows that for bending the rules. I could picture Paul and Paulette Pious trying to explain to their overweight cherubs what gays are, gay sex is and why gay benefits should not be allowed. Then they decided, what the fuck. What would Jesus Do?

Star of "Batman Begins": HOLI Take Me's!!!

STEAL THIS BOOK!!! Actually, all three of them could probably use the money, and they deserve it. This book is freaking hysterical. They also created "Strangers with Candy", the greatest sitcom. Ever.

Why do I feel compelled to write about this?

The job I have now before I start my real job next week is a real mind fuck. I'm power washing the algae off of 48 apartment buildings in Boca Raton. Since I am sans iPod, I have a lot of time to think, or; before I go crazy by doing such inconsequential work, I have to keep my brain ticking. I started playing this game wherein I would use the letter "M" and then go down the alphabet (A, B, C...ect) and think of a famous person with those initials. M.A., M.B., M.C. and so on. I did both "M" and "J" and succeeded at both by only missing M.X. and J.X. After I shot my load with this game, I came across a strewn cover of The Star or The Enquirer with Tommy Boy's picture on the cover and I started thinking about him and his fucked up life. How many "gay" guys get married three times? Although I've only seen snipets of his recent prolific displays, I feel I have some credible assumptions (good oxymoron Mickey!) regarding this guys life. By the way, I feel I am qualified to state this since I waited on Tom, his Mom and sisters once. (I have the credit card slip to prove it.) I recently read in a not so credible source ( I feel like Entertainment writer Jackie Hervey from the Onion with all these bad sources) that Mimi Rogers (T.C.'s first wife) was the niece of L.Ron Hubbard. So, Tom's agents at the time, knowing he was to be a big star, (but, alas; a queen) needed a beard. (Are gay males female coverups called beards? Elbows?) Enter Mimi and the Church of Scientology. After Mimi pressed and pressed for sex, Tom got sick of this and had to divorce her in an amicable and monetarily substantial way. Mimi has hardly worked since. At this point, Tom could not date anyone he really liked, but boy, did he situate himself in movies with them. Brad Pitt, Dermot Mulroney, Val Kilmer, Cary Elwes and all the extras who appeared in speedos in "Cocktail." In the midst of this, Nicole Kidman, a translucent presence making her name on American soil, was sought out by Tom, after finally noticing her in the last ten minutes of "Dead Calm." Not that Nicole did not appear in most of the movie, but so did a hirsute Billy Zane. After a 10 year commitment this time (these agents are not stupid...hell, they did not even think T.C.'s fame would last that long) and at least 10 guaranteed starring roles, the deal was sealed and then some! Two adopted children (one of them a black/mulatto boy) were thrown into the mix as well. Well, by this time, T.C. had gotten way to big for this planet. Along with his auditors and the hardcover version of Dianetics, T.C. divorced Nicole, fired his Publicist and set off to take his one man freak show on the road and across the world, hijacking a susceptible young ingenue with him, for his flight on the Thetanic Express. Poor bastard.
P.S. La Holmes just got dropped from any "Batman" sequel that may be in the works.

"I'm FUCKING NUTS!!" 

HAPPY GAY PRIDE DAY!!!

Here's a story from one of my most fucked up Pride Fests(1992). It was about 12 noon and I was positioned at the corner of Christopher Street and Gay Street (how's that for pride!). I was sweating bullets from the night before. These two Latino guys had this punch in a cooler and offered me some. I looked at the line of people waiting to enter the Korean Grocer and so I accepted and refilled my cup generously. I remember a few floats and marchers, and then we fast forward to about 10:34 pm where I was now about 25 feet from my apartment. I swear to you that at that second I could not remember the step I had just taken or the approximately 9 and a half hours that came before that. It's like I just snapped back into reality at that second. I got up to my apartment and proceeded to get ready for a shower. I untied my 19 holed Doc Marten boots and then slid down my jeans to discover that my underwear were suspiciously missing in action. I started freaking out, knowing dam well I had a pair on in the am, and how come my shoes (such a hassle undoing them) were not askew? I emptied my pockets and I discovered that I had about $240.00 on me. A sum that I knew I did not have with me when I left the house. I washed myself in the shower inspecting my body very closely for any signs of; well, anything. At the time I worked very close to where I had first situated myself at the parade, and for the next couple of days at work, I was expecting someone to approach me saying, "Hey, I saw you Sunday." I had really hoped for this to happen because as with flying to Europe, I had just lost 9 hours of my life to some kind of third dimensional strippers pole or something.

Kids these days

Unlike the kid below who is 15 and can't basically run too far, the crew I'm holed up with in this "Sober Living" environmental (experimental!) house need a good kick in the ass. These are the priviledged ones. The kids who get "Dad-allacs" for their senior graduation with the humongous yellow ribbon around it. These (3 specifically) "kids" who have to be told to pick up their underwear from the bathroom floor and to take out the garbage instead of playing Jenga with it, seeing how high it could stack. If your staying in a room with three people and your phone rings at 7:30 in the morning, maybe the courteous thing to do would be to talk in the other rooms of the house instead of me hearing your fucking inane conversations. When coming down off of methadone got to stressful for one guy his A-Mom-ican Express card took a toll for $1500 bucks. It must be nice.
Since we all have to keep a job, one spoiler told me that nothing harder than Valet Parking would do for him. Aw puddin...let me wipe the sweat from your brow. If you open the front door to go outside, do you just let the door fall where it may, or do you usually use your hand to give it that extra push, click to verify that it is closed? Not these guys. I'm sure Consuelo did it for them. These happen to be kids that would possibly be the same age as a kid had I gotten a girl preggers at 18-19.
I honestly do not know what I would have done if there was disposable income at my fingertips, but there was not, and maybe that why I have this great work ethic and great appreciation for other peoples stuff. I have to get out of here soon. Maybe I will donate sperm to my friend who wants to have a baby and me be the father, I know I can do better than the fucked up parents who raised these guys.
Oh yeah...they are all Wiggers to boot.

I came out to my parents and all they got me was a trip the straight camp

People, you will not believe the post you will click on to. It is a blog from a Tennessee kid who came out to his parents, who in turn sent him to a GET STRAIGHT bootcamp. This is so disheartening. As he states," If I do come out straight I'll be so mentally unstable and depressed it wont matter.. I'll be back in therapy again. This is not good--"
today's post lists the rules, one of them for example in the clothing paragraph states,"The clients may not wear Abercrombie and Fitch or Calvin Klein brand clothing, undergarments, or accessories."
Oh, so that's what it is. If my mom did not dress me in those pesky A&E or Calvins at seven years old when I started having those feelings for Vinnie C. down the block, I would not be in this position now, would I. You mean, if I had just stuck to JC Penny Boxer briefs, I could be married now with children, high fiving buds and cheating on the Mrs.?
I make light of this because it is so fucking ridiculous. RUN! Fucking RUN for your life dude. I wish to God I had enough money to hire a freaking private investigator to tail some of the leaders of this so called pyramid scheme. The worst thing you could do to these naive parents is give them this false hope. Believe me, I do not feel bad for the parents wasting their money on this scam. I can't blame them, because in these instances, they do not know any better. It's freaking Tennessee!

Best Friends. I could not for the life of me think of a popular guy/girl best friend duo. Yeah, I know, Will & Grace, but I have a hard time putting myself in the Will category. He's too queeny, and besides, he's Canadian. I'm probably more like Grace anways (read: Big Mess). Then I thought of Dorothy and the Tinman; but I don't do Judy G. I could only think of Mary and Rhoda to describe the relationship I have with Joyce. Yesterday she said what had to be the nicest thing someone has TOLD ME in years. Compliments are few and far between these days, and sometimes the people who love us the most just assume we know what they are thinking. I feel so lucky that I have at least 5 people in my life whose love is unconditional towards me and visa versa. I hope some of you readers have the same going for you. And if you don't, you always have me, Robin Byrd. (New Yorker joke) 

Man, I hate it when couples I like get divorced or split up. I've liked both Dermot Mulroney and Catherine Keener respectively since their careers basically began. Dermot from his fucking brilliant scenes in "Longtime Companion" and Catherine from around the time of "Johnny Suede" or that great chick flick she did with Anne"nutjob"Heche, "Walking and Talking." I saw them both at a cafe(Kings Road) in LaLa circa 1994 and found out that they were married, and I thought they were the coolest couple. Oh well...

Jack White rules. His recent interview with Terry Gross along with Meg White was so refreshing. In the sense that this guy has a great view of the world as well as music and of people. Terry asked some great questions; especially about religion, which Jack answered so astutely. It's great to hear a guy talk so passionatly about certain subjects without fears of being branded a pussy. And for the fact that here is an interview conducted without the controlling strings of the puppetmasters/PR machines. Denial Twist is one of my favorites from the new CD, "Get behind me Satan."

Is anyone buying this Tom Cruise bullshite? From Jossip...
Letterman completely stumped Holmes by asking her how she met the man with whom she's fallen so hopelessly, unconvincingly in love (in the mere six weeks since they've known each other, according to her count). Apparently, Cruise's sister/publicist hasn't yet vetted (pun unintentional) a story, since Holmes never answered the question, instead stammering out something about the incredible chemistry at their undisclosed first encounter, and eventually trying to burn up time with an endless anecdote about her misadventures swimming with dolphins. (With her man, of course. They're nothing if not sporty.) What sad souls.

The species of man

This morning I had to work with 4 other guys @ this Temp Agency. Who knew I was such an outsider. While all four traded srories of being in jail and doing "bids" I was the only idiot actually working.

Bought a magazine the other day with one of my roomates. Me: New Yorker Him: Maxim.

How do you answer a question like this? "Your not a fag, are ya?" Isn't that like a double negative?

Try living with three guys and noticing their bathroom habits.

If I don't feel like watching a car go around a track five hundred times, does this make me a "Fucking NYC Snob?"

more to come

Please KARMA; at least use some lube...

I feel like I'm getting reamed so bad in life and I'm wondering if I have this evil, ugly twin who I'm being confused with @ the offices of the man upstairs. Maybe because I believe in Karma and I'm sort of like waiting for something good to happen everything in the balance has reversed. I do not know. But were going on a good 15 years now. Isn't there a statute of limitations on recieving payback?

My Wish List Part I

I'm a giver...Not really a taker, so it is with this in mind that I ask for you to purchase one of these items for yourself.

BOOK: Although I think highly of most of you to suggest The Wind Up Bird Chronicles by Haruki Marakami, I prefer to go with my first choice, the sublime Geek Love by Katherine Dunn.

RENTAL: For some reason I have been wanting to view Central Station again for a while but thanks to the SHITTY Video Stores down here in Florida (read:Blockbusta my Nuts), I can't; so I hope you can procure it and find some relevance in your life with it's beautiful story and acting.
P.S. For those of you stateside, I HIGHLY recommend the UK version of Queer as Folk. Fucking Brilliant!

MUSIC: Touchy, touchy subject here; One mans opera is another mans...; well I forgot how that saying goes. My pick for you is from 1998. Eels-Electro-Shock Blues. Suggested Tracks-all. Favorite children: 3 Speed and Climbing up to the Moon. Anybody and their mother could love this album. (sirens ring <----I'm dating myself)

It is with these wishes for you that I end this post. XO, Mickey

A sad farewell to a member of the Italiano family. Anna Maria Louise Italiano aka Anne Bancroft died today. When asked why she feels that she will always be remembered as Mrs. Robinson and not the role of Helen Kellers teacher which won her an Oscar, Bancroft stated "I am quite surprised that with all my work, and some of it is very, very good, that nobody talks about `The Miracle Worker.' We're talking about Mrs. Robinson. I understand the world. ... I'm just a little dismayed that people aren't beyond it yet."
As her husband Mel Brooks might say,"May the Schwartz be with you."

Everyone's favorite Abducted by a Latino, Power running, Wheat Grass Fueled, Gift Taking Bride is now an action figure...

A frown is a smile turned upside down

Defamer rules...A quote from today, "Tom Cruise continued his Turn Off The World publicity tour ..." and;
"More proof that God hates nerds...Fox names Brett Ratner to ruin take over X3.

Are there any blogs or sites that make you just laugh out loud?

I guess from working in the Entertainment business for 5 years in LaLa; Defamer just does it for me.
I also like the TeenBeat that is covered over at Pink is the New Blog, Trents photo captions and arrows crack me up. And I must add that this is the most creative site I have seen on a blog.

I was kind of bummed to see that I was taken off of Narcissism101's links, and I swear to God; I had just finished adding some links on the cool store site last night! (My blogenshpiel template did not come with a links section, and let me say that I am so frickin proud that I did it myself)
Besides the fact, that since I have been in this "recovery" house, my entries are rocking.

Go Fug Yourself is also a witty site as is the Onion.

The newest roommate joins the house and...Oops, he's gone

That's what it's been like here. A new guy just came here from Detox from heroin. He paid the $210.00 deposit and the first weeks rent. His luggage is bags with the hospitals name on it and he said he was going to get some groceries, and none of us have seen him since 1:30 this afternoon. He's 22.
Which reminds me. I have to take a picture of my laptop, because in some peoples eyes, it's manna from heaven. Like in the cartoons. You hear the sound ka-ching, as the eyeballs roll back to reveal two $ $ signs instead. I hope this landlord has renters insurance!

Is there something in the book of Revelations about the end of the world and non stop rain? 'Cause it's been raining like an Em-Effer for the last week. Great rains. With booming thunderstorms that wake you right out of sleep, and long, hard downpours that quell you back into sleep.
I've got to look for job #756 tomorrow. "I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired." That happens to be a lame-O phrase from AA. Although they have some cognizant ones, that one is a little piss poor.
A weirdorama thing happened to me today as I was waiting for yet another bus. I was standing in a shopping plaza with about 30 stores, but the one I was in front of was like a furniture store, with a mattress outside, as if to say to passing cars, "Hey, we sell Mattresses here!" So, I'm like standing there, and this car pulls up a few feet in front of me and the window lowers; and for some reason at that moment, I just said to myself,"uh-oh". It was a low to the ground car, and excuse my ignorance for not knowing models but it was one of those convertible BMW's or something like the r280 fifteen um C class or something. Anyway, the car is now inching towards me, and my thought now is, some old batalack is probably lost and needs directions. I'm standing on the sidewalk and I can see down into the car, and as the car is rolling closer I see a hand of a man, massaging his groin area. He peers his head over to me and says, "You know how much that is?" I look at his face and he is this like Grandaddy Guido. I'm like, "The Mattress?" Cause I'm confused. He pauses for a second and goes, "yeah." Like an idiot, I walk over to the mattress to see if there is a price on it (there wasn't) but now it hits me. Maybe he thought I was a hooker. Naw, I say. I look back at him, and he is still rubbing his freaking crotch, and he looks back at me, as if to say, "You fucking idiot" and he jets off. It was then that I was thinking, "hmmm?" I mean I would never do anything with Gramps, but it did make time go by faster while I was waiting to go home.

check out these cuties from a team in Texas passing the time as the rain delayed their game.Dirk Yates..HERE WE CUM!!

This is how I judge a city...

The transportation here in South Florida sucks. No wonder that you have to pry the drivers licenses from the 97 year old, telephone book jacked up grannies and grandpa's, because their is no ample transport here. They have this billion dollar rail system that is next to nothing to ride, but how the fuck do you get to it? I took a bus today to Boca Raton, which required transferring. Now, the buses are all timed...Timed to miss each other by five minutes so you sit in this pea soup like atmosphere for 55 minutes more. It's fucking brainless. The idiots making the schedules should have to get from point A to point B for a week and then you will see the changes.

New York definitely ranks as the best way to get around in a city at any time of the day. (Even though I've cursed the 4,5,6 line some nights for being late; I forgive).

San Francisco comes in at a close second. Their BART system is clean and goes just about everywhere, the only drawbacks I found where the freaking Swiss Alp like climbs to get to most stations.

Philadelphia is third along with Chicago wherein I relied on their transports for the two short days I stayed there, and I found each to be pretty decent, but Philly had some long ass walks to reach certain stations.

Los Angeles is one of those places where you ask your friend who works in the costuming department at 20th Century Fox to supply with an outfit so that no one you know sees you either entering, exiting or waiting for any of their transportations. It's a bitch, but it's true.

New Jersey...Ah, poor New Jersey. Always a bridesmaid, never the bride. Well, this time they are the Flower Girl...With Florida being the new wife to the divorced father whom everyone hates.

One last thing. And this might sound mean and all, cause we are all God's children; but the one's riding the flu. And LAO public system seem to be a few crayons short for arts and crafts.

Amy Poehler has Bong Rings around her mouth

this totally is her...check the other pictures as well...

Don't throw stones; you heathens...

I just came home from a great meeting, and while storm clouds are threatening to give us here in Florida another day of great lightning storms; the air is as thick as pea soup and the temperature is as hot as a "straight" guy in a gay club. I wanted to channel my thoughts into my diary, but I decided to read some sites and then get down to business of expressing it on paper. I read Hunter's page , that freaking cutie; and he shared a little bit about his depression days and how it has all been eradicated in his life now. I smile for him and his success, because it is the joy that he has in his life now which washed away his solace. I am quite lonely down here in Florida, and I notice how my depression has been creeping up on me again...it especially reared it's ugly little head last week when I succumbed to the bottle again. I mean; am I really considering confronting the fuck-face aka father I had who ruined the shit out of all my self esteem and squashed every one of my dreams? Will this bring closure? Or more anger compiled with deeper depression? Will I be absolved of the newly formed unbeknownst to me angry face I have been sporting?
This girl at the meeting said something very profound (Oprah's favorite word), and maybe you can use it in your life, sans the alcohol and insert your own crippling device. She said that everything in our lives are situations, and when we "drink" they now become problems. Read that again, and try to get the full gist. Ponder, class.
I hope nobody thinks I'm this friggin holy roller reformer these days. I applaud (well, that's going a little too far) those of you with self control, I have a lot of control in other situations but alcohol has knocked my dick in the dirt for the last 15 years.
Salute!

My GAYDAR Rules

Just finished reading two magazines cover to cover in my self imposed exile from the safe house, and only when I finished them did I realize that each cover sported a half of the Brad/Angelina duet. Brad, was on GQ, which I was forced to buy since it was the only thing that was not crap in the supermarket. Angelina was on Vanity Fair, which I always get pissed at myself for buying once one of the subscription cards falls out and I realize that I could get em' mailed to me at a dollar an issue. The reporter for Brad's interview seemed fair enough to him (I'm assuming the quotes from him where all correct) and he seemed to come off okay to me. I still can't recall any outstanding performance from him since T&L or Johnny Suede, but that's also saying that I haven't really seen many of his films anyway (Snatch was a good one also). As for Ms. Jolie...man, she is a very intriguing woman whom I wouldn't mind interviewing. I think Brad exposed more about her generosity in GQ than VF did for Angie. And for these commitments that she provides to third world countries is very humane. According to Brad, Angelina basically makes these blockbuster like paychecks so she can give most of it away. Pretty cool.


On other fronts; my GAYDAR was completely in tune 6 or so months ago when The Real World Philly debuet. I had pegged this one Bo-Hunk Langdon as a closet case alchie (this is the pot calling the kettle black!) and I felt more would be reveled, if not now than in the near future. Check out TVGasm for a picture of a new underwear ad starring this high fiving horse punching (Smoking Gun) Rock Hudson.

You can't hide from yourself

Feeling sort of guilty about my recent foray into drinking behind the backs of the people in my house, I came clean. I was kicked out for a week. I am back (very luckily) by the grace of God, because I would be the most miserable homeless person in Florida, and I'm not saying this to be funny or anything. I saw the freaking signs from a mile away but I basically pleaded myopia blindness and I succumbed to the hypnotic powers of what floats around in bottles, available every ten feet where I live. Yet, no excuse again. I internalize EVERYTHING, and let it stew around inside my brain until I feel crippled by scores of events that I have no control over.