how egalitarian!

"As priests, we can't look at our penises. We were told not to look down on the unemployed."
--my dad's high school classmate who's now a Jesuit

i'm so memorable

I'm going to tell you something that you once told me, and that was really perceptive about this. It was---umm, hold on---umm, let's come back to that.

-Phil

Oh, Craigslist M4M...

"i mean we all kinda have those fantasies dont we? we just dont POST THEM ON CRAIGSLIST..."

- a friend, commenting on a mutual acquaintance's super-embarrassing public love note about this really hot guy in town. Actually, the posting is so ridiculously creepy that it might be worth quoting on here as well:

"Your luscious abs and pecs (and the semi-apparent bulge in your blue speedos) provoked my penis into an upright position hard to reverse. ... After the dance was over, I couldn't help but go home only to have over-powering sex dreams of you and me in bed constantly kissing and going at it, stimulating you to the max and causing you to virulently blast your semen on my innocently small asian body."

Krokodile tears

"Nowadays the Upper West Side gleams, and people talk about stock bonuses, real estate, and power strollers. For many, I think, "opera" means the Youtube clip of Paul Potts singing on Britain's Got Talent. But today while in a tiny hardware store, I heard "Nessun Dorma" ringing out from the shop next door -- Pavarotti's voice, young and virile. The hardware customer next to me said gravely, "It's a sad day." Nodding, the clerk gestured toward the shop. "He's been playing him all day," she said. I peeked in. The place, maybe the size of my old dorm room, is called something like "Opera Lovers Shop." The owner, shaggy and bespectacled like a Koren cartoon, was hunched over his desk. Figuring I had to say something, I blurted, "You're going to make everyone in the neighborhood cry." He didn't respond, and I figured okay, opera snob. But right then Pavarotti's voice, confident and passionate, was blasting toward the climax. And I realized two things. The guy wasn't ignoring me; he could hear nothing else. And he was crying."

Ok, I love Pavarotti and it's sad he's gone, but there's been a Krok-alum email chain going around, the emotional equivalent of 'mine's longer than yours' as people compete to write about how much more Pavarotti means to them. This quote was, at least, Expos quality writing.

Gay times...

A haiku my gay friend wrote for my lesbian friend:

Your arms are hairy.
You look like a lumberjack.
You're a lesbian.