Going to a gay bar at least twice a week, every week, for the past 3 months, I'm bound to meet some interesting people and see interesting things:

Beautiful trannies... check.
Not-so beautiful trannies... check.
Gay guys that I swear are straight... check.
Gay guys that hit on me (?)... check.
Guys I see on an almost-daily basis at the Domain... check.
Girls standing up to pee... check.
Guys blowing other guys in the bathroom... check.
The hottest men I've ever seen and yet I shall never have... check.
9 people cram into the handi-cap stall... check.
Someone slip and bust his ass in front of everyone like a damn fool... check.

And now,

A famous gay porn star... check.

I had no idea how "big" (haha - zing!) he was until I went home and Google Imaged his ass (haha - zing x 2!). And because my friend is talking to him right now, I totally had a shot with him and we took a classy picture in the bathroom.

Gosh, I love Rain.

I'm going home in a couple hours, and I can't fuckin' wait. If you're there, holla at your girl. [Haha, did I really just say that?]

Not that I condone drinking and driving by ANY means [and if you do it, shame on you], but I found this story kinda funny.


From the county where drunk driving is considered a sport, comes this true story. Recently a routine police patrol parked outside a bar in Austin, Texas. After last call, the officer noticed a man leaving the bar apparently so intoxicated that he could barely walk.

The man stumbled around the parking lot for a few minutes, with the officer quietly observing. After what seemed like an eternity in which he tried his keys on five different vehicles, the man managed to find his car and fall into it. He sat there for a few minutes as a number of other patrons left the bar and drove off.

Finally he started the car, switched the wipers on and off--it was a fine, dry summer night--, flicked the blinkers on and off a couple of times, honked the horn and then switched on the lights. He moved the vehicle forward a few inches, reversed a little and then remained still for a few more minutes as some more of the other patrons' vehicles left. At last, when his was the only car left in the parking lot, he pulled out and drove slowly down the road.

The police officer, having waited patiently all this time, now started up his patrol car, put on the flashing lights, promptly pulled the man over and administered a breathalyzer test. To his amazement, the breathalyzer indicated no evidence that the man had consumed any alcohol at all!

Dumbfounded, the officer said, I'll have to ask you to accompany me to the police station. This breathalyzer equipment must be broken."

"I doubt it," said the truly proud Redneck. "Tonight I'm the designated decoy."


Ahh... only in Austin.

So last night, Jasen, Greg, Justin and I went to Little Woodrow's for the 2nd week in a row to play power hour.

Remind me again why we succumb ourselves to this type of agony and abuse? And whose fuckin' idea was it to play power hour on a Tuesday night, anyway? [Oh right, that would be me.]

As expected, I woke up this morning with a massive hangover and the memories from last night came over me with a humbling force. And I thought to myself, "Fuck me, I'm never drinking again."

But now that the pain has subsided, I'm ready for more. BRING IT ON, MILLER LITE.

Hello, my name is Tammy, and I am an alcoholic.