An Urban Safari Through Vancouver's Commercial Drive

As the lone gay exits Vancouver's SkyTrain station on Commercial Drive, he tentatively darts to the nearest coffee shop in order to obtain a beverage with which to adorn his hand, so as to grant himself safe passage on his way home. After leaving the coffee shop, he walks down the street past the grocery store, where we can find the high school drop-out obtaining his means of sustenance. We exchange cold glances that show we are both in unfamiliar habitats.

A short walk further and I encounter one of the two species native to this area: the hipster. Frightening and annoying to members outside of their pack, these animals tend to congregate in coffee shops, vegan-friendly restaurants, thrift stores, and less well-known/"underground" clubs. They often decorate their thin forms with garments that have had multiple previous owners, or were at least manufactured by American Apparel. These beings rely entirely on their sense of sight to identify another member of their pack. Alone, these beings do not present much of a threat; however, when among other members of the pack they can be deadly. Their judgement will scorch the shit outta you and their tongues can cut gaping holes in one's self-esteem. Upon encountering a pack of hipsters, one must take one of two approaches. The first is to beat them at their own game and try to look more apathetic to the whole situation then they are. The other approach is to put yourself into a category that is beyond usually out of their area of judgement. Being gay is one such area (unless encountering the gay hipster, in which case, go for the first approach). Noting no gay hipsters, the gay opts for the second approach and sashays away from their judgement.

Nearing the end of his journey, the gay begins to relax before encountering the other species native to this area: the lesbian. Being a related species, the gay has little to fear as long as he does not bring up any of the following subjects: vegan lifestyles, why people have started spelling the word woman with a "y", and the lesbian "U-haul" in a negative way. Safely navigating this encounter, he flees down his side street to the protective rainbow cocoon of his basement suite.

The Accumulation of Stuff!

I remember a cartoon from when I was a kid where the hero was luring the villain with a note saying "Come to this spot, we've got gold and jewels and stuff". The villains response was "Stuff?! I love stuff!" which was technically the punchline. My problem with this is that after packing all of my things to move I have come to the realization that I have a hell of a lot of stuff. The sad thing is that I know where each particular item in this pile of stuff came from and when. I can't remember the answers to an important question on a test but I can sure as hell remember where that penguin handkerchief came from (It was a gift from a guy I went on a date with last on the 28th of October, 2011). Another item I have a ridiculous amount of if lip balm/tint/gloss. The lip products alone have their own bag. Lord save me from my habit of buying a new lip product whenever I feel like I need a new one. I really need to just use up this whole pack that I currently have first......the likelihood of me doing this however will be quite slim. On the other hand I have fabulous lips. Go me.

Gaydar

Gaydar has become virtually obsolete in the city of Vancouver. The only way these days that you can know for sure if a guy is gay is if you see him with his tongue down the throat of another guy on the street. I sit in my lecture hall just observing and notice that no one is for sure. It's no longer just is he gay or european (a common North American phrase due the lack of style the straight male portion of this continent has been afflicted with for decades). These days it's is he gay or hipster? Is he gay or Asian? Is he gay or metrosexual? Is he gay or has his girlfriend just gone shopping for him? Is he gay or has his best gay friend gone shopping for him? The possibilities are just endless these days. I remember when I went back home to Australia for a holiday for the first time in 4 years and I noticed that the men seem to have a thing for tight short shorts that reach their mid thigh. Having spent 4 years with limited exposure to fashion I remarked to my friend: "Is everybody gay?" (note the hopeful tones). Her response was "Nah it's just how guys here dress". After a few more questions I gave up even attempting to guess if they were when it was revealed the man in the lace backed shirt was straight.....yeah I know right. Now I understand this post may seem particularly shallow, stereotypical and judgmental but in the defense of my position. Fashion has been a key part of gay culture. When homosexuality was still illegal in the west gay men developed a style and a subculture that had a particular style which allowed them to identify similar members of their group. Yeah, that fabulous sense of style was not bred into us. This sense of fashion that straight men are embracing is great as it expands the horizons of men's fashion and brings in new varieties of clothing but for a simple gay man trying to to figure out if the guy he is interested in is ok to hit on it can be confusing as fuck.

How short is too short?

When people get out a relationship that they had a lot of motions invested in and where they felt hurt as a result of it ending, how long until it is acceptable for them to begin dating again? And by dating I don't mean going on dates I mean moving into another emotionally committed relationship. This seems like a very Carrie-esque question but I feel the need to ask it. My last boyfriend broke up with me a month ago and I keep having guys that want to have relationships with me.....first world problems right? But seriously in the so called 'gay world' dating different people in a fairly quick succession can lead to a hell of a lot of judgement. That judgement can put a lot of unnecessary pressure on someone who may or may not be somewhat emotionally fragile. This relationship may be a way of not only building a strong connection with someone else but also as a way of healing themselves and even in some cases the other person. To all those that say dating when not long out of a relationship is a bad thing, I say who made it your business? Are you the one with the broken heart? No. Maybe you like to be alone when you have just been dumped but not everyone does. The miserable bitch syndrome is not for everyone, even if it is for you. I am now going to drown my sorrows in a tub of ice cream....my lactose intolerant stomach is going to be pissed. Night!

I wish I had the same problems as the girls in Sex and the City

My husband left me.......now I only have enough money to get FOUR Louis Vuitton bags a day as opposed to EIGHT. O woe is me boo hoo and all that shit. Honestly, I love these movies and the TV show that spawned them because trashy comedy is god's gift to the world; but seriously, I wish after my last boyfriend dumped me I could of gone to Mexico to get over it and then come back and redecorate my house with $300 pillows. Yeah this is a bitching blog. It's times like this that make me realise why I love Confessions of a Shopaholic so much. The bitch gets in debt! And not only that but we watch her claw her way out after being publicly humiliated. It is a far more empowering story than these damn movies. Especially for these economic times where (from what I've heard) 25% of college students have had to turn to some kind of sex work in order to pay for college tuition. Yeah this is the generation of the prostitute. Viva la red light district. Hoes fo life! Yeah I think I may be too tired due to the fact I just started using ebonics to communicate a point. Night all!

I can sell shit like a boss!

So gurrl I gotta tell you somethin. I can sell shit. I can sell multiple kinds of shit. If given good shit to sell I can make people expand their budgets to buy them. I sold a vibrator today that increases in intensity the more pressure you apply to it. The woman had a budget that was half of what the vibrator cost but I managed to talk her up to buying it. I managed to sell about $500 of stuff in a half hour. It was freaking awesome. So awesome in fact that I rewarded myself with my first real poutine. For those of you who don't know what poutine is, it is an invention from Quebec which is fries and cheese curds covered in gravy. Heavenly? Yes. Fattening? O god yes. But it was like a foil tin of joy and happiness. I felt like a mermaid had risen from the sea and punched me in the mouth with the flavor of an Angel's thigh meat. So my literary skills are not perfect today, but any who I'm now off to go watch doctor horrible's sing along. Good Evening.

Pictures of Jujubee

O Juju you so fierce

Pictures of Latrice Royale

 A Latrice and Ursula hybrid

 Latrice in all her glory

Skyfall and Blasthood

O Adele. Where is this Skyfall place you speak of? I feel like going there could be a real blast, although as one who has not left his room today I feel like my idea of a blast does not keep up to society's idea of a blast. On that note, what elevates a mere party into full blown blasthood anyways? It seems like something has to happen like maybe the right alcohol to crazy people ratio; or the correct amount of Florence + the Machine vs Rachmaninoff; maybe it all depends on how many drag queens show up without a booking fee being offered up in tribute to their sequined needs. From now on I'm going to make it a life goal to see if one of Rupaul's Allstars will show up to a party of mine without monetary reward. If I'm lucky I'll get Jujubee or Latrice Royale. O what classy ladies those bitches are. For those of you who don't know these goddesses I shall post pictures for the world to admire their glory. Any who I'm all tired from lying in my bed and not eating so I think it's time to get all dressed up and go to a fabulous nerd bar in the downtown area of Vancouver. It should be lovely. Good Afternoon to you all.

*So I later saw the movie and decided that Skyfall was kinda quaint......until they blew it up. Ah well c'est la vie