Dear Joss Whedon,

Re: Giant Size Astonishing X-Men #1.

I think you've broken my heart one too many times.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Rachael Ray isn't wearing a terrorist scarf, it's a hispter scarf!!



A more than adequate reason to get rid of the ad without resorting to racist dickery.

ATTN: CALIFORNIANS!!!

I cannot stress enough that you absolutely, positively

MUST VOTE NO ON PROPOSITION 98

when you vote this coming Tuesday, June 3rd!!! For more information you can go to NoProp98.org But the capsule version of it is we need to maintain rent control in SF. Without it, all of us who aren't extremely wealthy will be fucked in the ass with 12 splintery baseball bats and no lube.

Just a thought.

What if the press (both music and otherwise) collectively decided to ignore Scarlett Johansson's album full of Tom Waits covers and just let it vanish into the total obscurity it so richly deserves? I think that would be a mighty fine choice.

ATTN: MADONNA!!

Re: Aging gracefully. This is how it's done. Watch and learn.



Note the lack of weird, fetish, granny panties, giant heavyweight title holder belt, leather thigh high boots, etc.

P.S. I am not a huge fan of all neutrals nor do I feel like someone her age needs to always dress UBER basic. But I am referring more to Jamie Lee Curtis looking fan-fucking-tastic and not trying to desperately cling to 25 and leech the youth out of people like Britney, Justin, Christina, etc.

Addedndum to Red Flag

Re: Using the word "lonely" in your online, hookup/dating profile user name. Also, why would you EVER use the word "crazy" in your user name?! This makes -230 sense to me. Mind you, I am looking for logic in the world of online gayness.

Sartorial Sunday #1

This is the first of a series of posts I plan to do on Sunday about things I love when it comes to clothing, fashion and all things wearable. I'll also probably include something I'm not a fan of because I'm a salty bitch and I can never resist talking about fashion trends or clothing styles I dislike. All of these opinions are obviously my own, I don't pretend to be some total master of fashion or the ruler of all good taste, so don't get too panty-twisted if I love something you hate or hate something you love. I am all about people loving their personal style but I will totally admit that a lot of trends-of-the-moment leave me cold.

This week Sartorial Sunday will be all about my love for Top stitching! I don't know what it is about this garment-sewing phenomenon but it fills my heart and eyes with joy just to look at it. When done well, it's one of those little details that makes a garment or shoe so much more appealing and exciting to me. It's also a cool way to make something that might be a little plain a lot less so without going all crazy with tons of details and 15 overlapping silk screens. This weekend I scored an awesome vintage jacket with some really sweet top stitching:





As soon as I saw it on the rack at Held Over in the Haight, little hearts started flying out of my head like a lovestruck Charlie Brown character. There's always that moment of trepidation when one is trying on a used item of clothing. You ask yourself a lot of questions like "Will it fit me right?" or "Will it look good on me?" or "Did the person who used to own this have crabs?" I am a huge used clothing shopper - it's where about 75% of my wardrobe comes from. Aside from the economic value of such shopping, it's also something that makes me feel a little bit better about not constantly increasing the demand for new goods. The downside is if it doesn't fit right and can't be tailored to do so, you're SOL. Luckily this cute li'l jacket fit me like a dream, much to the envy of my tall friend, Michael, who also coveted its sassy, top stitched ways. I didn't feel too bad thought since he has those long dancers legs and can wear tan suede and not look like a complete tool.

And now for Sartorial Sunday's fashion dislike of the week: Hipster Scarves! This photo collage of this annoying trend comes from the good folks at DieHipster.com.



While this photo mainly illustrates a kind of Afghani style of scarf, it is not the only kind I see on the masses of the great unwashed hipsters I see as I make my way through the streets of San Francisco. It does, however, seem to be the most popular. When I first started seeing it I thought it was a kind of subversive way of showing our Middle Eastern neighbors that not all Americans are total racist, hateful fuckstains who think all brown people are terrorists. But then I realized it was just more hipster wackiness! Who can understand what goes on in their minds? I mean, besides wondering if they're skinny enough to fit into their girlfriends' tiny pants or if they're successfully bringing high-waisted mom jeans back. Still, as much as I dislike this trend - even though I don't dislike the scarves on their own and have often thought they're quite attractive and nicely made (thanks for ruining something else, hipsters!) - it is a handy visual red flag that reminds me this person probably has a dirty butt, so you should not have sex with them!

See you next Sunday!!

Red Flag

Whenever I see someone who has an online profile - especially on a dating and/or hookup site - with the word "lonely" as part of their user name, I just want to send them a message suggesting they change their name to "Desperate Clingy Mess Who Will Say 'I Love You' Within 72 Hours of Meeting." You know, just for the sake of honesty.

Marked

(I've decided to occasionally post some more personal stuff here. So yeah.)

Getting Ready 02
Originally uploaded by ohnochriso.

I decided to put on some sock garters under my work outfit today. I don't wear them every day or even every week. But when I do wear them I instantly remember why I like them so much. I'll admit that my initial motivation to buy a pair of them was that I loved how they looked on a couple other people - someone I think is incredibly hot and whose wearing of sock garters only increased his already volcanic hotness and someone who is a style idol of mine and who I would so dress like if I was a girl. So I was basically trying to refocus a little of that heat onto me by biting their style. What ended up happening was I discovered something of an entirely different hot nature when I put them on: they leave marks.

Before Otto and I ever fucked for the first time back in the fall of 1997, he tied me up. We were sitting in his apartment watching both TV and the naked exhibitionist guy across the street when, apropos of nothing, Otto asked me, "Have you ever been tied up?" I hadn't. Unless you counted the childhood times I would fake tie myself up with my makeshift magic lasso so I could then "break free" and save the day with my Amazonian powers. I had certainly never experienced it as a sexy possibility and the thought had never really crossed my mind to do so. Otto proceeded to direct me to sit in a chair in the middle of his living room and he tied me up. I wish I could say it was one of the most erotic moments of my life but it was about as opposite of that as it could possibly be. We both became more and more giggly as the bondage commenced until I sarcastically blurted out how this was all SO HOT.

The laughter was largely due to the huge pink elephant in the room: how much Otto and I wanted each other. He was in a very non-open relationship and I was very single. We hung out constantly when he wasn't at work and our friendship was largely based on our mutual, suppressed desires that were forcing themselves to be recognized more and more each day. The next afternoon we were sitting in his room listening to music when he told me to lay on my stomach and he tied me up again. We both collapsed into childish giggles once more and then he untied me and laid next to me on the bed. In a further burst of infantile behavior I began kicking and punching the bed and groaning in frustration. When he asked what was wrong I shouted "Oh, you know EXACTLY what is wrong! And you have a boyfriend so there is no fucking way I am doing anything first!!" He reached over to hug me as he "awww"d in mock sympathy and the next thing I knew we were jamming our mouths together like this was the only way we could consume oxygen. When he tied me up again minutes later, neither of us was laughing.

For the next 2-3 months I had some of the most incredible sex of my entire life. It didn't always involve ropes but it very often did. And I very quickly discovered that I didn't like it if they didn't leave marks. One afternoon, as I lay face down on his bed with my wrists tied to the headboard, he noticed me twisting my wrists and asked if it was too tight. "Not tight enough," I half-whispered, a bit embarrassed about how desperate my voice sounded. But I wasn't embarrassed at all about the moan that came out of my mouth a second later when he called me a good boy, leaning over my back to tighten the ropes. Two hours later I stood in an East Village zine shop tracing the imprint of them on my wrists and smirking at the sensation of lube trickling down my inner thigh. I knew I should be feeling guilty about this affair but the only real guilt I has was over how I didn't feel bad at all. I felt like I was learning all of these new things about myself - things that seemed like they'd always been there but, until someone reached down and shined a light on them, I had never really been aware of their existence. It was hard to see how there was a downside to any of that.

As I walked around work today doing my various, thankless tasks, I mentally remarked on how much I loved the grip the sock garters had on my calves. They aren't exactly what I'd call comfortable. But they aren't uncomfortable either. They're tangible and sensate and I can never fully ignore them even if I am not always totally aware of their presence on my body. The physical marks Otto left have long since faded but the other ones will always be there, even if I'm not always aware that they are. But today I decided it's time to find someone else who's at least as capable of leaving more of those physical marks.

TESTAFYE KITTEH!!!

more cat pictures

Harrison Ford Cares About The Environment, Turning Me On

I think this ad is largely cheesy as I generally do of all celebrity pseudo-political blah blah. But, um, hi Harrison Ford's chest, what's up?

HOLY SHITBALLS, WE CAN GET MARRIED!!

Tears of joy as same-sex marriage advocates get the word

Thursday, May 15, 2008

(05-15) 11:23 PDT San Francisco - --

There were whoops of joys and hugs and tears among scores of gay rights advocates and same-sex couples this morning outside the California Supreme Court building in San Francisco as word spread that the justices had cleared the way for gay and lesbian marriages.

Geoff Kors, executive director of Equality California, a gay rights group, ran out of the building on McAllister Street and screamed, "We won!" just after the decision was released at 10 a.m. Many people unfurled California state flags with rainbow stripes sewn on across the bottom.

"This is an incredibly historic day," said Judy Appel, executive director of Our Families Coalition, who is raising two children with her partner in Berkeley. "I'm so thrilled, I'm so excited for what this means for my family and all Californians."

Dave Chandler, who along with his partner, Jeff Chandler, was a plaintiff in the case, said, "I'm just cheering the joy. I'm feeling the joy all over. I feel that our kids will be well-protected when we have all the rights, responsibilities and benefits that married couples enjoy. The state of California has renewed my hope."

He said his partner was at their San Mateo home watching their two children, ages 1 and 4. The couple was married on Valentine's Day 2004 at San Francisco City Hall, one of nearly 4,000 same-sex weddings that were later annulled by the state Supreme Court.

Stuart Gaffney hugged his partner and proclaimed, "We're going to be newlyweds after 21 years together."

Mind you, I most likely will never get married since I think marriage is insane-o and all I've ever seen it do is FAIL. But I totally think everyone deserves the right. WAY TO GO CALI, YOU FINALLY GOT IT RIGHT!!

"Get Ready for Real Men"

The above title for this post is the tag line for gay porn company Falcon Studios' new web venture, "Falcon STR8MEN" (NSFW, obviously). In case you missed that the first time, here it is again: a gay porn company is producing a line of videos for the web featuring allegedly heterosexual men with the tag line "Get Ready for Real Men".

Sigh. Really? Do we really have to do this? Again? Fine.

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK, FALCON? Do you just hate yourselves and the many, many gay men you employ and who consume your product? I can't really understand any other reason for this bullshit tag line implying gay men are somehow not real men than a massive dose of self-loathing. I mean, it's sad enough that you're just now hopping on the straight man fetish bandwagon that sites like Sean Cody and Corbin Fisher have been rolling for the last, oh, eight-plus years, but you have the gall to frame it as if, finally, your porn is going to contain real men?! What kind of men did it contain for the last thirty-some-odd years? Cylons? Were they mannequins that only came alive because Andrew McCarthy assembled them with loving care?

Do I have to even explain to you how incredibly fucked up this little piece of marketing is? Have you not grown up and lived in a world where gay men are frequently told that we're not actually men due to our sexual preferences? Because if you did, and I'm pretty sure you did, then I can't see how you can actually sleep at night knowing you paid someone to come up with that "Get Ready for Real Men" crap.

How are your dozens and dozens of gay male models and performers supposed to feel about that? How are the hundreds and thousands of gay men who consume your products supposed to feel about that? Are we supposed to be hot for it? Are we supposed to be excited for this crop of "Real Men" you're finally sending to our massive island of limp-wristed wannabes? Or should we just all boycott your products until you take that offensive piece of ad copy and, hell, the whole straight men worshiping site down and stop shitting all over our identities? Because I have to say, I'm personally leaning towards the latter.

And, finally, let's be honest here. We all know that all these sites purporting to contain "straight men" are largely full of homos. All it takes is one video where one of these "straight men" decide to "try gay sex for the first time" only to swallow a 10" cock to the pubes in the blink of an eye for any of us to see that it's all smoke and mirrors. My old boss in NYC was a big ol' homo from down South who used to write what was called "Girl Copy" for Playboy magazine. You know, the stuff that's all "My name's Chrissy and I love puppies and roller blading and taking two cocks at once!" It was written by a gay guy! It was bullshit! 99% of anything you read about a porn model on any of these sites or in any of these magazines is bullshit, including the alleged heterosexuality of most of the guys on these "straight" sites. And, while I don't like to deny anyone his or her personal fantasies, why do we have to force the fantasy that all gay men are really just into straight dudes and we'd all be better off trying to be like them? Most of us are actually plenty hot for our gay brethren and have no desire to get caught up in all of that straight guy-chasing mess.

In short, Falcon, stop taking a huge crap all over your gay male customers, talent and employees with this "Get Ready for Real Men" business. In my opinion, being a "real man" means knowing you don't have to hide behind a bunch of insecurity, self-loathing and lies in order to claim your maleness.

The Things I Wonder About

- Are there any really, really major Right Said Fred fans out there? I mean, major enough for them to justify having a web presence?

- What do you think Stacey Q is doing right now?

- How is that there was never a gay porn movie entitled Boy Meats World???

FYI

I greatly dislike Scarlett Johansson.

It's hard to say exactly why but here's a handy supporting example.

O HAI!

Dear ANTM,

Not only do you give me a healthy dose of modelicious insanity and bucketfuls of tasty Tyra crazy, but this past week you also gave me a lovely slab o' man meat:



I can only love you more, if that's at all possible.

xoxo Chriso

You know what the perfect end to a perfect evening is?

It's when you exit a tacky gay bar in the Castro after telling off some piece of Euro trash who hit on your friend only to blow him off and hit on your other friend and then you pour a drink down the back of the sweatshirt of some fucking asshole you've loathed for the last two years and then the sad little hipster bar back tries to retroactively kick you out of the bar after you've already left.

That's what you get for trying to talk trash about me to my then-boyfriend at our friend's holiday party you boring, scientist motherfucker. WHAT.