Another Another Gay Movie

After being booked with my first week back to school (eh, get it? Book…school…ehhh), I thought it would be good to celebrate the 3 R’s with the 3 B’s: booze, bitches, and boys (comma naked).

After sitting around, thinking of what to do, I received a text from a friend, like an edict from the gay gods, telling me I would be finding the bounty I sought if I went to see a movie. Not just any movie, though: Todd Steven’s Another Gay Sequel (which is the aptly named sequel to Another Gay Movie).

The media blitz (read: what I saw in HX) had apparently brought out many cinemaphiles out to the premier. After seeing the first movie and hearing about the problems with shooting the film (3/4 of the original cast had left the film), I wasn’t jumping at getting a ticket for the movie like everyone else. Which was a problem, as when I did go buy a ticket, I found it to be sold it.

Fate, however, wasn’t going to allow me to get out of it so easily, and my friend Eric presented me with an extra ticket. The gay gods had spoken.

We made our way into the theater, and saw that it was indeed sold out. However, my friend Andy had saved us a few seats, so we planted our asses thusly so. And after having a nip from my friend’s flask (booze!), I was ready to watch the movie. The seat I decided to set my feet on belonged to none other than Barbie-doppelganger Amanda Lepore (bitches!), who explained to me that she was in the cast. Sounded star-studded to me.

As the movie began, we were treated to two boys fucking right on the screen (boys comma naked!). Now I was ready for AGS. And it turned out to be way better than the first movie, and I liked it!
I won’t give too much of the movie away, but there is a fantastic puke scene, and wonderful performances by Scott Thompson, Perez Hilton (surprising, I know), and Dirty Sanchez (you’ll see).


^{Jake Mosser(Andy), Dir. Todd Stevens, and Aaron Michael Davies (Griff)}
Part of the other reason I was summoned to this premiere was also because I’m well acquainted with Todd Stevens (read that as you will). So, being friends with him, I was invited to the after party. We made our way to the Chelsea Hotel where the party was being held (I had the best AND worst sex of my life in that hotel). Some of the cast was there, excitingly. After a few drinks, I gathered the courage to “try my luck” with Jake Mosser (so we share a name, what else I wonder), who played Andy.

Upon approaching him, I congratulated him and made some small talk, as you would with anyone you want to see naked. As I was about to show him what I wanted to do with him using my finger, a girl walked up and grabbed his hand. If I didn’t doubt it then, it was their tongues touching that made me sure I wasn’t going to get him in my bed tonight.

And so, I had to find other things to do with my hand.

Küte ünderhosen

When dealing with party promotions, you have to advertise with something eye catching, catchy, and remain simple. With a name like "Küte," G Lounge not only allures me with simplistic promise of something in the non-ugly category, but it also appeals to my love of all things Germanic, with its clever use of the umlaut. And who better to drag along with me than my German pornstar friend Lars.

Lately, I've been finding it hard to drag me away from my XBox 360 and PC. I've been finding hooking up while playing a round of Team Fortress 2 is about as easy as it is on Manhunt, if you know the right way to ROFL, but my friend John talked me into coming to one of his hot sex parties (and this was no different). There is nothing like a hot gangbang to refresh your taste for shirt staining adventure (which tastes a little sweet and a little salty).



With Lars in tow, we ventured out to G Lounge, no goals in mind, really, except to drink, catch up, and enjoy the thoroughfare as it were. As we walked in, I was given a lesson in German, being told that "Küte" means nothing. After a few minutes of slapstick style humor, it was finally cemented into my head that it means nothing and not "nothing." I also learned to say the useful phrase "Ich have kleine ünderhosen en."

For once, in my eyes, it had lived up to it's name of "lounge." It wasn't too packed at 10:30, and we were able to sit and relax. My prior visits were met with a full bar, long waits for drinks, and cramped moving, which I used to cop feels of hot guys.

After much talking and catching up with Lars, I took a gander around. The general crowd of G is, for some, a bit cliquey, but being generally unafraid of the gay population (isn't that "homophobia?"), I considered getting up to talk to a cute boy I saw from across the room. I looked over at a white guy who had corn rows, so instantly I thought of my homelands Iowa. While definitely looking strange, he had an air about him. He looked, like many of the people in the bar, important.

So I got up and puffed up my chest, looking confident, and strode across the room to strike up a conversation with the boy. In retrospect, puffing up my chest while wearing a Superman t-shirt might look a little on the geeky side. Needless, as I approached the boy, another came up to him, and excitedly, they kissed. Not just a friendly "Oh, I'm so excited to see you!," a long, tongue licking, love of my life kiss.

I made a B-line for the bathroom directly behind them. Upon my return, when Lars said he was tired, I concurred and followed him out. And truly, in an un-disappointing ironic way, Küte lived up to it's name: there were cute boys, good drinks, I went home with some German sausage still.