My roommate, the gay?

No! Though most people wish to describe my roommate as metro (Mextro) or even just plain gay, he's not. He likes the poon but is just a sensitive, creative and charismatic man. I mean, sure this description can describe any aesthete, well groomed, well dressed homo, but this is what makes my roomie so special. Not a gay. Not metro. Sure, he's kinda effete: we share the same grooming products, he bought our bathroom stuffs from CB2, he eats organic and he has a platonic boyfriend whose bed he sleeps in occasionally... I know! He screams homo but if I were to peg him as something it would be a gay straight man.

Last night, I hung out with him and his BFF (Bed Fellow Friend) and it was the cutest thing on earth. Yawning babies ( don't have shit on them. They spent the night making fun of each other's ability to handle booze, each other's taste in music/shoes/women/height and my roommate's broken heart (at the hands of a mutual friend). They're both shorter than my 5'8" and they act like children...or hobbits. I think the Mexican/foreign element complicates the picture plenty. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between a Mexigay (Mexican + gay) and a Hipxican (Hispter+Mexican) or a Yupxican (Yuppy + Mexican). They're a hybrid of sorts, resulting in a sampling of the music taste, grooming habits and dispensable income of said groups.

I'm trying to find my roommate a wifey who deserves the best man on earth. If interested, please submit 2 photos, a resume, and a writing sample.

My apologies

I'm still trying to figure out the format of this blog. Sometimes it's like a diary (YAWN!) and othertimes it's just gay. Still, I didn't post for a while becuase I've been super busy with my gay job. Plus I was in New York and have been sick for about a week. New York was amazing and living there is quicly becoming a reality. Being sick has sucked, since I've stopped drinking and smoking and smoking. Not really, but I've cut waaaay down. I think my body is punishing me for putting it through hell the past few weeks. (I guess this post has become like a clip episode on any given sitcom.)

Ava left for the Bahamas today, Jill thinks I don't like her anymore, and Eddie is leaving for France on Wednesday, and it seems like I'm losing college friends left and right. It's giving me the sinking feeling that we're not in college any more. Cool. I've been settling into my nest in Pilsen, which has the potential to replace my vice- filled social life. I don't know if I want to become that wholesome, though.

I've been to Weiner's Circle thrice in the past week. They know me! So I went in there wearing a tight fitting, yellow v-neck and the woman behind the counter said "Is that...that's a woman's shirt isn't it! Shit, I got that shirt! I know that's a bitch's shirt," to which I replied, "it's not but, you must like it since you own one. I can't fill it in as much up top like you, though." To which she replied, "Youz hot to trot isn't you. Fag." BLISS!!!!
I was there again yesterday and was, as usual, wearing 3/4 thigh length plaid shorts. The minute I walked in, she laughed and turned to her crew and said "Damn those are some tiny ass shorts." I retorted, "Do you have these too, baby?" With a raised eyebrow she says, "Shit. I can't even fit one of my thighs in those tight ass shorts. Look at him, coming in here thinking he the shit. Keep it up, baby." She let us skip the line and gave us express service. Moral of the story, you can be an asshole like all the frats/trixies or you can be sweet and saucy.