SomeLowLife
2009-01-02, 05:25
Most of my New Years have been fond memories. I have spent them in Jamaica, amidst the warm Kingston beaches, I have spent them in Ireland amongst my drunken and jovial family. I have partied ever so hearty in Times Square as the ball signifying the new year noblely dropped. Basically, most of my memories of this festive and social day have been mostly positive, in fact I would say they all have. All except one.
Leave it to the inimitable streets of San Francisco to leave me battered and emotionally scarred. The night started out innocent enough, me and a few close friends stumbling around the beautiful city in an intoxicant fueled haze. Earlier some of us had ingested MDMA, another had swallowed a heroic dose of ketamine which was yet to take hold. I was merely nursing a flask of Jameson after greedily consuming a few Red Stripes. Hooray Beer.
One of my close friends, Andrea, brought along her muscle ridden boyfriend who I and the rest of my comrades have affectionately named, douche bag. You know the type, buff as hell but with a tiny mind. The kind who lifts everything he can except a book. I can picture him alone in the gym, pumping a massive unhealthy amount of weight to the mantra of, " I'm not gay! I'm not gay!" It was that guy, I'm sure you know exactly the sort of which I speak for they are an unfortunate shit stain amongst the beautiful and unique humans upon this planet. He was, as most of those types are, an angry drunk and very, very homophobic. Guess, you can't see where this is going? Not in San Francisco of all places!
We wandered the Mission district getting perpetually more fucked up, we smoked many a blunt in the Twin Peaks, and flirted with all the gorgeous women roaming the Sunset district. I searched in vain for LSD throughout Haight Ashbury, and ingested jello shots in Dolores heights. I saw my cousin in the Filmore and we caught up for awhile eventually parting ways and wishing each other a happy new year. We did our best to avoid Hunters Point yet gleefully explored the Tenderloin occasionally yelling profane and mischievous things at the prostitutes. We walked briskly through the Castro avoiding eye contact with the hordes of insanely colorful and sexually confused humans. It was so far, a very entertaining night.
Occasionally douche bag would open his mouth and say something almost painfully stupid which was of course promptly ignored by mostly everyone except Andrea. My friend, Blair, who was at this point in the depths of an epic K-hole could hold better conversation then this asshole. I turned to Blair, to express props for his ability to handle his drugs only to find that he was nowhere to be seen. I looked around in all directions throughout the sea of diversity, all kinds of different faces yet none of them Blair's. I alerted the crew that he was missing in action and people began to worry. Not to say that he couldn't handle himself normally but he was pretty obviously the highest person there. We had to find him. Where could he be? Where did our last adventure take us? It's hard to walk far on Ketamine so he had to be within the vicinity. I began to rack my brain and a look of complete horror soon crossed my face. Not the Castro. Anywhere but the motherfucking Castro. I would rather lose my very high friend in the ghettos of Johannesburg then leave his tender, supple, dissociative filled buttcheeks in the Castro. The gays would tear him to shreds! My god, he could be contracting AIDS as we fucking speak, I alerted the group, and started sprinting through the crowds to save him. That's right, friends don't let friends get attacked by trannies. Fuck, I want that on a bumper sticker! In the midst of my panic I didn't notice douche bag followed suit.
It didn't take long to reach the gayest street in America and once I did, it became painfully obvious just where I was. Rainbow colored barber polls were next to rainbow colored street signs were next to rainbow colored cars. The streets were littered with hairy, unkempt, transsexuals. Their Adams apples ominously glistening in the moonlight. Myriads of huge, beefy dykes roamed around hunting for fresh clam. As I hustled around in a frantic state, I felt the cold creepy hands of drunken gay men attempting to slap my ass, if it were any other situation I might have started a scene, however it was painfully obvious just how outnumbered I was. I felt more violated then a drunken fifteen year old Catholic girl in the depths of a frat party. Eventually douche bag caught up with me and gave me his ever so intellectual insight.
"Dude, this place is gay." he wisely remarked
"Thanks. Really. Thanks for that brilliant observation. Here I was, thinking we were lost in the financial district. Now that you mention it, there does seem to be an awful lot of transsexuals on wall street tonight. Actually maybe it was that pulsating dogpile of dick in the shady alleyway I just caught in the corner of my eye, but fuck I think you might be right!" I quickly rambled back.
"Bunch of freaks..." he muttered under his breath
I was beginning to lose faith. For a few moments I didn't feel so bad leaving my friend to be molested by HIV incarnate, yet as I scanned around for the final time I saw a familiar reflection that shone through both the moonlight and some nearby tinted glass. It was Blair. He seemed to be flirting with someone, something. I patted douche bag on the shoulder, drew his attention to this ghastly phenomenon and sprinted towards it.
As I approached Blair he saw me and smiled. Before I could even say anything he tried to introduce me to his new friend who seemed a bit overly friendly. I ignored whatever manly name "she" told me yet still managed to shake it's hand. My god! What a firm handshake. This was most definitely not a woman. That thought was immediately confirmed when I noticed just how hairy it's arms were. It put me to shame, and I'm no fucking swimmer. It was a fucked up yet comical situation, me trying to save what little dignity was left of my friend who was soaring on Ketamine and what seemed like quite the hurry to lose his anal virginity. I started laughing. First softly and then it became a roaring cackle. However my laughter was interrupted by what sounded like a nearby testosterone fueled scuffle.
I turned just in time to see douche bag swing on an effeminate man for a reason I couldn't see. He dropped him with one punch. The situation soon turned dire. I made the unfortunate move of running over and associating myself with the drunken violent man. Within moments we were surrounded by an ocean of drunken, angry, gays. My god, I thought. We are so raped. Fuck, I have horrible luck!
I don't know if ya'll have noticed but over the years it seems gay people have gotten buff. I remember in the early nineties when gay people were skinny little twigs reminiscent of Neil Patrick Harris. However maybe due to constant homophobic comments or some other faggoty reason it seems they made a universal decision to start pumping the weights. Now the angry mob that surrounded us wasn't just gay buff. They were gay prison buff. A whole different level. I feared for my sphincter.
They slowly moved in closer and I tried to play the diplomat card. "Hey, no need to get violent people. I voted no on Prop 8." This angered them more. Great, I'm going to get gang raped, murdered, and thrown into the San Francisco bay all because my friend is dating an ill tempered douche bag. Fuck it, I thought, I'm not going down without a fight.
I reached out for the smallest gay guy I saw, and grabbed him by the shoulders. In one sudden thrusting motion I launched him at one corner of the circular mob. It created a small opening which I soon ran for. Douche bag followed right behind me, covering with flailing legs and arms. A small lesbian woman spat at my face. I delivered a haymaker right to her jaw and ended her night. Fuckin' cunt. I pushed on, being pummeled from all directions, and I soon noticed a beast of a dyke charging me. I gave her a swift kick to the ovaries and she soon toppled. Huge bears of gay men were punching and kicking me, the pain was sharp and constant. Eventually after about thirty more seconds of struggling the damage was starting to take effect. I fell to the ground. My face was bleeding, that much I could feel. However once I fell, they soon stopped beating me. I crawled through the maze of legs and actually ended up escaping from the epicenter of violence. I shakily stood up, and ran to Blair who at this point was making out with the monster as if I wasn't just getting the shit kicked out of me not twenty feet away. The bastard. I separated them and the tranny contested. I punched "her" in the nose, breaking it. A look of fear filled it's eyes, and it stood up and fled.
"Let's go!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
A man in assless chaps saw me, noticed who I was and that I was attempting to escape and alerted the bloodthirsty grunts to my plan. I have never ran so fast in my life, yet the man in assless chaps was right on my tail. He chased me three blocks and then the queer gave up. I had made it! I escaped, and was still STD free to the best of my knowledge. I had lost Blair, did I care? No. I had lost douche bag, did I care? Hell no. For all I knew they got bukkaked right there in the street and were left to rot in the gutter. I found my way to the BART station and headed home. Fuck the holidays.
How was yours, SG?
Oh and for you ignorant bastards, http://tinyurl.com/2m9fmb
Leave it to the inimitable streets of San Francisco to leave me battered and emotionally scarred. The night started out innocent enough, me and a few close friends stumbling around the beautiful city in an intoxicant fueled haze. Earlier some of us had ingested MDMA, another had swallowed a heroic dose of ketamine which was yet to take hold. I was merely nursing a flask of Jameson after greedily consuming a few Red Stripes. Hooray Beer.
One of my close friends, Andrea, brought along her muscle ridden boyfriend who I and the rest of my comrades have affectionately named, douche bag. You know the type, buff as hell but with a tiny mind. The kind who lifts everything he can except a book. I can picture him alone in the gym, pumping a massive unhealthy amount of weight to the mantra of, " I'm not gay! I'm not gay!" It was that guy, I'm sure you know exactly the sort of which I speak for they are an unfortunate shit stain amongst the beautiful and unique humans upon this planet. He was, as most of those types are, an angry drunk and very, very homophobic. Guess, you can't see where this is going? Not in San Francisco of all places!
We wandered the Mission district getting perpetually more fucked up, we smoked many a blunt in the Twin Peaks, and flirted with all the gorgeous women roaming the Sunset district. I searched in vain for LSD throughout Haight Ashbury, and ingested jello shots in Dolores heights. I saw my cousin in the Filmore and we caught up for awhile eventually parting ways and wishing each other a happy new year. We did our best to avoid Hunters Point yet gleefully explored the Tenderloin occasionally yelling profane and mischievous things at the prostitutes. We walked briskly through the Castro avoiding eye contact with the hordes of insanely colorful and sexually confused humans. It was so far, a very entertaining night.
Occasionally douche bag would open his mouth and say something almost painfully stupid which was of course promptly ignored by mostly everyone except Andrea. My friend, Blair, who was at this point in the depths of an epic K-hole could hold better conversation then this asshole. I turned to Blair, to express props for his ability to handle his drugs only to find that he was nowhere to be seen. I looked around in all directions throughout the sea of diversity, all kinds of different faces yet none of them Blair's. I alerted the crew that he was missing in action and people began to worry. Not to say that he couldn't handle himself normally but he was pretty obviously the highest person there. We had to find him. Where could he be? Where did our last adventure take us? It's hard to walk far on Ketamine so he had to be within the vicinity. I began to rack my brain and a look of complete horror soon crossed my face. Not the Castro. Anywhere but the motherfucking Castro. I would rather lose my very high friend in the ghettos of Johannesburg then leave his tender, supple, dissociative filled buttcheeks in the Castro. The gays would tear him to shreds! My god, he could be contracting AIDS as we fucking speak, I alerted the group, and started sprinting through the crowds to save him. That's right, friends don't let friends get attacked by trannies. Fuck, I want that on a bumper sticker! In the midst of my panic I didn't notice douche bag followed suit.
It didn't take long to reach the gayest street in America and once I did, it became painfully obvious just where I was. Rainbow colored barber polls were next to rainbow colored street signs were next to rainbow colored cars. The streets were littered with hairy, unkempt, transsexuals. Their Adams apples ominously glistening in the moonlight. Myriads of huge, beefy dykes roamed around hunting for fresh clam. As I hustled around in a frantic state, I felt the cold creepy hands of drunken gay men attempting to slap my ass, if it were any other situation I might have started a scene, however it was painfully obvious just how outnumbered I was. I felt more violated then a drunken fifteen year old Catholic girl in the depths of a frat party. Eventually douche bag caught up with me and gave me his ever so intellectual insight.
"Dude, this place is gay." he wisely remarked
"Thanks. Really. Thanks for that brilliant observation. Here I was, thinking we were lost in the financial district. Now that you mention it, there does seem to be an awful lot of transsexuals on wall street tonight. Actually maybe it was that pulsating dogpile of dick in the shady alleyway I just caught in the corner of my eye, but fuck I think you might be right!" I quickly rambled back.
"Bunch of freaks..." he muttered under his breath
I was beginning to lose faith. For a few moments I didn't feel so bad leaving my friend to be molested by HIV incarnate, yet as I scanned around for the final time I saw a familiar reflection that shone through both the moonlight and some nearby tinted glass. It was Blair. He seemed to be flirting with someone, something. I patted douche bag on the shoulder, drew his attention to this ghastly phenomenon and sprinted towards it.
As I approached Blair he saw me and smiled. Before I could even say anything he tried to introduce me to his new friend who seemed a bit overly friendly. I ignored whatever manly name "she" told me yet still managed to shake it's hand. My god! What a firm handshake. This was most definitely not a woman. That thought was immediately confirmed when I noticed just how hairy it's arms were. It put me to shame, and I'm no fucking swimmer. It was a fucked up yet comical situation, me trying to save what little dignity was left of my friend who was soaring on Ketamine and what seemed like quite the hurry to lose his anal virginity. I started laughing. First softly and then it became a roaring cackle. However my laughter was interrupted by what sounded like a nearby testosterone fueled scuffle.
I turned just in time to see douche bag swing on an effeminate man for a reason I couldn't see. He dropped him with one punch. The situation soon turned dire. I made the unfortunate move of running over and associating myself with the drunken violent man. Within moments we were surrounded by an ocean of drunken, angry, gays. My god, I thought. We are so raped. Fuck, I have horrible luck!
I don't know if ya'll have noticed but over the years it seems gay people have gotten buff. I remember in the early nineties when gay people were skinny little twigs reminiscent of Neil Patrick Harris. However maybe due to constant homophobic comments or some other faggoty reason it seems they made a universal decision to start pumping the weights. Now the angry mob that surrounded us wasn't just gay buff. They were gay prison buff. A whole different level. I feared for my sphincter.
They slowly moved in closer and I tried to play the diplomat card. "Hey, no need to get violent people. I voted no on Prop 8." This angered them more. Great, I'm going to get gang raped, murdered, and thrown into the San Francisco bay all because my friend is dating an ill tempered douche bag. Fuck it, I thought, I'm not going down without a fight.
I reached out for the smallest gay guy I saw, and grabbed him by the shoulders. In one sudden thrusting motion I launched him at one corner of the circular mob. It created a small opening which I soon ran for. Douche bag followed right behind me, covering with flailing legs and arms. A small lesbian woman spat at my face. I delivered a haymaker right to her jaw and ended her night. Fuckin' cunt. I pushed on, being pummeled from all directions, and I soon noticed a beast of a dyke charging me. I gave her a swift kick to the ovaries and she soon toppled. Huge bears of gay men were punching and kicking me, the pain was sharp and constant. Eventually after about thirty more seconds of struggling the damage was starting to take effect. I fell to the ground. My face was bleeding, that much I could feel. However once I fell, they soon stopped beating me. I crawled through the maze of legs and actually ended up escaping from the epicenter of violence. I shakily stood up, and ran to Blair who at this point was making out with the monster as if I wasn't just getting the shit kicked out of me not twenty feet away. The bastard. I separated them and the tranny contested. I punched "her" in the nose, breaking it. A look of fear filled it's eyes, and it stood up and fled.
"Let's go!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.
A man in assless chaps saw me, noticed who I was and that I was attempting to escape and alerted the bloodthirsty grunts to my plan. I have never ran so fast in my life, yet the man in assless chaps was right on my tail. He chased me three blocks and then the queer gave up. I had made it! I escaped, and was still STD free to the best of my knowledge. I had lost Blair, did I care? No. I had lost douche bag, did I care? Hell no. For all I knew they got bukkaked right there in the street and were left to rot in the gutter. I found my way to the BART station and headed home. Fuck the holidays.
How was yours, SG?
Oh and for you ignorant bastards, http://tinyurl.com/2m9fmb