First, let’s get something straight: I don’t have any problems with men who sew, knit, or create any articles of clothing utilizing fibers or whatnot. I’m very pro-clothing, as without it, we’d all be nude… and while that sounds like a good idea at times – there are a lot of people out there who I DON’T want to see crouching down to pick up their newspapers every morning.
Now, the whole Fleshlight thing, I obviously have something of an infatuation with currently. I do not own one of these amazing inventions – nor do I think it likely that I ever will… just based on the fact that I’m not the type who spends money on sex-toys, regardless of how fun they might be. Never the less, I have X-tube for the purposes of watching OTHER men enjoy their amazing cock-sleeve of joy. And all the power to them. Maybe once I’m rich from my practically invisible gay web-comic – I’ll worry about the frivolity of pleasure-toys… but until then, boys gotz’ta eat, yo.
In other news: I love my coffee shop. I love being able to sit and draw, chat with some very awesome baristas (baristi? baristamos?), and check out the man-candy sauntering about the place. Now, it’s obvious I don’t have a “classical taste” in gay men. Washboard stomachs to me hold no candle to a robust full-bodied barrel of a man… and damn if this state doesn’t have those in spades. So oft will I see the hairy bearded gent waddle to the nearest table and press ham to seat in a maneuver which displays more ass-crackery than this boy deserves. I need a better cell-phone camera to capture these moments in pornographic detail for these late nights at the computer.
And now, for the mental conflict of porn vs sleep…