Big Fat Hairy Living

I was chatting online last night when someone greeted me with “Hey, big stud!” I’m not entirely sure why, but something about his little picture on the screen next to that message calling me a “stud” flipped a switch in my head and I suddenly had a minor revelation. My thought process went something like this:

1. This guy’s calling me a stud.
2. I like to use that word — yes, I know it’s cheesy — to describe guys I think are really, really hot.
3. He’s told me in the past that he wants to fuck me.
4. Therefore he must think I’m really, really hot.

As silly as it sounds, that was the first time it ever really, truly, deeply sunk into me that there are men out there who think I’m really hot. I’ve always understood on an intellectual level that there are guys out there who find me attractive, and I’ve always had days where I look in the mirror and think “Hey, I am kinda hot,” but I’ve never had that deep-down feeling that I can be a hot, sexy guy. It feels good.

Mark and I went to a lawyer and now we’ve got wills and powers of attorney set up. It’s a bit morbid thinking of death, but it feels good knowing that we’re legally protected should anything happen to one of us.

Via gmjambear, we learn that disgraced American politician Larry Craig, famous for having washroom sex while supporting anti-gay Republican bullshit, apparently likes bears:

Meet David Phillips, a local IT geek and bear-about-town.

Phillips was recently in a bar minding his own business when he heard Craig’s voice on the television. “I went pale and nearly vomited,” Phillips says. It was the man he remembered from one of his creepiest sexual encounters twenty years earlier. “After a truncated meal I went back to my hotel room and began unwinding and jotting down the memories that the voice had opened. I recalled The Follies [a now-closed bar in Washington], the furtive groping and pawing there, the odd following of this man in my car….. Crap!”

I want to suck David Phillips’ cock.

Via paddbear comes word that the New York Observer has discovered “design bears”:

A bear is not unlike a lumberjack: big, hairy and favors plaid. And that has never been a particularly popular image in the design community, which tends to favor the black-clad and slender.

Until now. Meet the Design Bear, the furry antithesis to the foppish clique of fashionistas, furniture makers and artists: a clique filled with skinny jeans and tight-fitting T-shirts (think the French designer Hedi Slimane), a clique among which one bear, the artist Nayland Blake, said he sometimes feels like nothing so much as the neighborhood garbage man.

“Some guys say they are metrosexuals,” Mr. Blake said. “I call myself the hobosexual.”

This article reminds me of the article “Perky ‘Canada’ Has Own Government, Laws” from The Onion, or perhaps something written by Ric Romero.

I have a new fuck buddy. He’s very large and very hot and very averse to having his picture taken, so you’ll just have to imagine what he looks like. I can tell you, however, that he has rock hard 21 inch biceps.

The last time we met, we had a bit of a discussion about all those bottoms who talk tough on the internet, but wimp out when it comes time to get pounded really hard. Tops get used to these bottoms who talk tough but can’t take it, so they hold back when they fuck.

I, on the other hand, am different. When I’m in the mood to get fucked, I want it rough; I need to be turned into a cock sock or I don’t get off. So when I tell tops that I want my sex rough, I always have to explain to them that my kind of rough is not I’m-only-a-pig-bottom-on-the-internet rough, but real rough. These fantasy bottoms make more work for the rest of us, because we end up having to train the tops.

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It’s always bothered me a bit the way so many doctors refer to body parts as the instead of your. “This is a mid-stream urine test. Pull back the foreskin, start urinating in the toilet, then stop and finish in this bottle, filling it up to the line.” Whenever I hear a doctor say something like that, it always creeps me out a bit.

Eric Schnupp, a hot ex-football player apparently is in trouble because he whipped it his cock at a pub and pissed on the bar:

The alleged incident happened around closing time, as employees were getting patrons out of the bar, said bartender Danny Severe, who was working at the time.

Severe said an employee witnessed Schnupp urinating on the bar, and a manager told police, who were already at the bar for an unrelated matter.

“While we were kicking everybody out, he apparently thought that nobody was looking and whipped it out and (urinated) on the bar,” Severe said.

I want him to piss on me.

(There’s a picture of Eric Schnupp for those who want to know what he looks like.)

Claude just told me about the hotness on the front page of today’s Metro. (Caution: PDF)

Now I will go to the washroom and masturbate in a stall.

I went to a workshop today to listen to people talk about how they use the $50,000 piece of software my company bought last year. I didn’t see any hot cocks in the conference centre washroom, but I did take a Myspace-style picture.

The walls and floors were marble, but they were cheap, ugly marble.

Today is election and referendum day in Ontario. Remember to get out there and vote.

(And remember to vote for the Mixed-Member Proportional electoral system in the referendum.)