Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess. She lived in a gigantic apartment with two bedrooms, 1.5 bathrooms, and a kitchen MULTIPLE people could stand and sit in at once. It was a glorious place. "I could finally write my dissertation after two years of ambivalence and procrastination," the princess thought as she arranged her new office, straightening the picture of '90s Hillary Clinton meant to inspire hard work. Her patron (a fantastically bearded man who also happens to be her husband) suggested she stop the receptionist/administrative assistant temping she'd been doing for the last few years while unsuccessfully applying to dozens and dozens of full-time jobs to focus on writing. What an opportunity! Temping is the worst! Being a receptionist is nearly as soul-sucking as being a grocery store cashier!* Writing is the best!
The princess spent her time getting her new apartment all nice, checking many more books out of the library, and talking a big game about this dissertation proposal. She read and took notes and even came up with a possible argument and chapter ideas. "I'm going to write this proposal by Thanksgiving!" she said, thinking maybe she could actually do it. Then she got a little sidetracked sleeping until 2:00 or 3:00 p.m. everyday and helping raising a shit-ton of money for her improv theater, and then struggling to do anything besides lay under a blanket because anxiety is an asshole and does not mix well with food or productivity. Also, winter had arrived in the kingdom of Minnesota. Living in Minnesota is pretty much like living with that one chick from Frozen, but with less singing and very few magical creatures.
So the dissertation proposal has been stalled at one paragraph and now it is Thanksgiving. The princess tries not feel too bad about it because that feeds into the anxiety cycle, which is probably caused by a jealous witch's curse or something. The princess, who is now undeniably completely nocturnal, wants to get writing, for school and for fun. So perhaps a dissertation proposal will materialize by Christmas. This is the new goal. The princess also has plans to write some more vice presidential posts for this blog and to consult with The Sexy Gay Jesus on how to be more fabulous in her everyday life. At the very least, she has an unopened Frost & Glow highlighting set in the bathroom, and everyone knows that being blonder always makes one feel better.
*This is one of her patron's current jobs and one of the princess' former jobs, so she knows what she is talking about.
Due to popular demand (in that one person emailed me out of the blue), Our Most Fabulous Lord and Savior the Sexy Gay Jesus is back to answer your life questions. Feel free to email me if you feel you need His Divine Guidance.
Dear SGJ, I'm in a long-distance relationship (well, sort of...it's complicated--being omniscient, you know how it is) and we're having lots of great virtual sex using e-mail and g-chat/video chat. Great as things are right now, I'm always on the look out for tips to keep things HOT! Having been around so long and doing that whole long-distance from heaven thing, I thought you might have some ideas for me.
Sincerely, Counting on Your Sexiness P.S. Thanks for dying for our sins and shit. That was really awesome of you!
You're welcome for the sacrifice, ain't no thang. And you are right, my child, I never lack for hotness in any of my relationships.* It sounds like you are already adept at the technologically-facilitated types of DOIN' IT, so you don't need my help figuring that out. I am pondering on ways to help you keep things "fresh," though. Let's think about my followers. How have I kept the Jesus™ brand hot for nearly two millennia? Many people may call something like this an abomination, but what I really think it speaks to is my versatility--by which I mean a broad-based appeal based around my deity status, not JUST this kind of versatility. Conservatives love me, hippies love me, even bigots love me! And while I would never personally visit some (many) of these people or get drunk with them or anything, I am both an advocate of free cultureand kind of a slut. So what I'm saying is, as long as people want to get down with the J.C. is some form, I don't feel the need to stop them because all that worshiping makes a redeemer feel good, you know?
This is all to say that while I don't think you, CoYS, can or should try to be all things to your long-distance buddy (or to anyone, for that matter), you can mix things up a bit. Perhaps you and your LDR partner could try some role-playing? I feel like virtual sex is particularly well-suited to this activity! I personally like to pretend I am a sexy feathered serpent or a mischievous blue guy who enjoys banging lots of milkmaids or whatever sometimes. But you should not limit yourself to deities! What kinds of things are you and your LDR buddy into? Nerd stuff? Probably some type of nerd stuff. Or maybe you're kind of into that Justin Bieber/Nicki Minaj song and are intrigued by the sexy possibilities of this musical pairing?** Or you could pretend that one of you is a ghost! I don't know! Get in character! Make elaborate costumes! Write slash fiction that you inappropriately send to each other during the workday! I believe in your ability to get creative. If you don't always want to put on an elaborate show, it is okay to do the sexytimes just as yourselves, obvs, because that's why you like each other and all, but these are some ideas about how to get more freak in your freakin'.
The other thing I gotta throw out there is that while I certainly don't have time to listen to all of them, a well-timed prayer of thanksgiving or song of hosanna goes a long way in keeping my mood up. And while I don't recommend you necessarily make shrines and/or start cults worshiping one another, you and your LDR pal should keep in touch, expressing your appreciation for one another's Chrissie behinds*** even when you're not cybersexing (or whatever you kids call it). It sounds like you've got this under control, CoYS, but I appreciate you turning to me before a disaster strikes or something. I don't only want to hear from you when your grandma dies or your car gets stuck in a ditch on a deserted murderer-friendly road, people! Good luck with your long-distance lovin', CoYS, but know that if it all becomes too much work, this is a time when the non-in-person breakup is totally allowed.
Love and tequila shots,
TheSexyGayJesus
*I don't endorse the sketchy mustache, but Pastor Dan knows what I'm talking about. **I can't be the only one thinking about this. ***Did you know this is a Chrissie Hynde reference? I always thought she was saying "prissy" before I just Googled it.
Sexy Gay Jesus here. Some of you may have heard the latest news that some ancient piece of papyrus caught me referring to "my wife." And we all know there's been long-time debates about whether or not I had a special lady in my life. Here's the facts, people: as your Most Fabulous Lord and Savior, I have vowed to try everything at least once. I even try absinthe again every few decades to make sure it is still the Devil's Brew. So Mary Mags and I got a little bit wasted one weekend in Galilee when I was turning, like, ALL the water into wine and we found ourselves an amenable (if slightly shady) rabbi and got ourselves married. Mostly we were best friends, and I'm not saying we never hooked up, but mostly we got and stayed married because we hung out all the time anyway. Doesn't mean Peter and I didn't keep our thing going though, guys. Those pre-crucifixion days were a little crazy. Don't judge. Because I don't.
I've been busy being not in school and being unemployed but now temping and anyway whatever. Now that America has been destroyed because of our metrosexual black Abe Lincoln president, The Sexy Gay Jesus was like, "I've got to take a vacation." This happened:
Note 11/6/15: Three and a half years after posting this political cartoon by Mr. Fish, I was informed by Google AdSense that this post violates their policy against "hate/anti" speech. Which: WTF? This is, like, a comedy blog. I'm assuming it's the comic. I don't know if someone complained or if it was a really slow bot, but whatever. This is pretty par for the course on my entire blog, so if I get another notification, I may have to get rid of that ad spot over there on the right side that I have not earned any money from. (Google won't send you a check until you earn at least $100.)
BTWs, the best Freddie Mercury 'stache on television is like, "Hello, we're Persian!"
What I think our society is really lacking is discussion of people's physical attractiveness. Several weeks ago now, I impulsively purchased this year's Sexiest Man Alive issue of People and was annoyed to see Bradley Cooper staring at me. Don't get me wrong, I thought he was cute when he was Sydney's sidekick/roommate/almost boyfriend sometimes? on Alias, but I have too high of standards to fawn over the star of the Hangover franchise now. Anyway, though a few of the men featured herein were included in the magazine, they have clearly not consulted me. This post is aggressively heterosexual and probably more personally revealing than necessary. ENJOY! I will now present you with my own list of sexy, sexy men for the looking at:
RYAN GOSLING
Let's just get this one out of the way. He is a sexy man who makes anti-patriarchy statements and is a devastatingly good actor (see: Half Nelson, Blue Valentine). I've never seen The Notebook for obvious reasons, but I am quite the RGos fan.
I particularly like him sketchy: chain-smoking with scruffy facial hair.
I guess he cleans up all right, too. No wonder there are so many tumblrs devoted to him.
Looks good in suit; can grow nice beard.
He's also in this, which just endears him that much more to me.
DANNY PUDI
Mr. Danny is the first on this list that one might consider a prime example of my "type." Tall, skinny, big-nosed, best known for playing a really awkward character. But so what? Everybody's got a type. And when he breaks out of Abed-face and actually smiles, OMG. Apparently he and his wife are expecting twins soon, which is also fucking adorable of course.
Oh yeah, I run marathons in my spare time. Do you like my rolled-up shirtsleeves?
Oh, I also look pretty fucking amazing in a suit.
Oh, this skinny tie? Yeah, I know I'm rocking it.
I also enjoy his impressions of his Polish relatives:
ROBSON GREEN
There is a good chance you do not know who this fellow is, but I cannot fathom why not since clearly there is a large demographic overlap between readers of this blog and extreme fishing enthusiasts. I am more interested in his acting pursuits. I first fell for the generously-nosed but pocket-sized British actor in this wonderfully cheesy Masterpiece Contemporary movie. But then I discovered Wire in the Blood. If you have not watched this yet, can I ask you, why are you not watching this yet? It is dark and suspenseful and he's all brilliant and emotionally unavailable. So good.
I'm analyzing you like I would a serial killer right now.
I hope I don't get kidnapped and tortured by the killer we're trying to catch again.
Did somebody say "shirtsleeves"?
ADAM SCOTT
The love theSexy Gay Jesus and I have for this fellow is well-documented. Yes, his hair is kind of ridiculous (Though not Robert Pattinson ridiculous) and he kind of looks like he's twelve without a bit of stubble. But adorable? And he is so pocket-sized and also real-life best friends with also-quite-handsome man Paul Rudd who I will always have a crush on as Josh in Clueless.
So what if the top of my hair gets really tall and wide? It's fucking adorable somehow.
Oh, did you just ask me about my stubble?
CUTEST TV LOVE INTEREST EVER.
ADRIEN BRODY
Some people are like, "Adrien Brody is not handsome" or "His nose is crazy" or or "He looks like a Holocaust victim." And I am like, "Duh, what do you think I like about him?" Like, I cannot even handle his hotness. Like when he was all vulnerable and lonely in The Brothers Bloom or when he put on a fake British accent and worked as a self-loathing gay punk stripper in Summer of Sam or when he is just so hot all the time?
The page I took this from called this look "bedraggled." Well, call me a bedraggliphile, because HOT.
Oh, who's weird looking now? Yes, I have resorted to posting shirtless dudes on my blog. Though I wish he'd left the chest hair alone. Adult men with smooth chests kind of weird me out.
Oh, are my sad eyes sad enough? How about now?
Sexy suspenders, obvs.
IDRIS ELBA
You may need a minute to recover from the Adrien Brody hotness, but what comes next is worth waiting for. He is British. He is dreamy. He plays a troubled London detective with a heart of gold on Luther, which if you are not yet watching you are basically dead to me. SRSLY:
I like to think he just saw me scrolling by and was like, "Whoa."
As Luther. God I wish I were an endangered teenage prostitute so he could rescue me and then let me move into his apartment.
You get it now, right? BTWs, his hotness decreases without facial hair.
LAURENCE FOX
Were you like, Lauren why are there so few British police drama TV actors on this list? Because here's another one! Laurence Fox is so gangly and he does that mumbly thing Hugh Grant used to be famous for and he also looks like direct sunlight would cause him to break out in boils. He is hot, is what I am saying. As sergeant to the eponymous Inspector Lewis on the Masterpiece Mystery! series, Laurence Fox brings adorableness, quirky charm, and an amazing deadpan delivery.
Did I mention he looks good in a suit? Of course he and his more-famous wife are deliriously happy and expecting their second child soon.
With Kevin Whately (Inspector Lewis). That popped collar.
Yeah, I know he looks like a spoiled prep school bro like the one he plays in the terrible movie The Hole.** However, Sgt. Hathaway will turn you around on that one.
LIRON LEVO
It is difficult to say if there is a HOTTEST fellow on this list, but if I had to choose one, it might be Liron Levo. He's an Israeli actor full of hot hot hotness, basically. Netflix has pegged me as a sucker for foreign forbidden romance films, and I discovered him in Strangers:
Was that not enough to convince you? Because there's this in there too:
I might have this whole "skinny ripped dude" fetish or whatever.
Oh, can he grow a beard? OF COURSE HE CAN. I think they exile you from Israel if it takes you longer than a week. Liron actually shaved like 45 minutes before this photo was taken. I HATE his hair long, though.
Sorry, did you want more beard? This photo is from, like 15 minutes later.
Yes, smoking IS sexy. When sexy people do it, anyway.
The SGJ wants me to mention that Liron Levo has actually played the Lord Himself in a 2001 documentary series which, if the SGJ hadn't promise to refrain because I would be too jealous, could totally turn into a Jesus-fucking-Christ situation.
*The Sexy Gay Jesus may have provided some input for this countdown also. **This awful film also features Keira Knightley in one of her earliest roles and Thora Birch putting on a terrible British accent. Oh, did I mention that it also features full frontal nudity of our friend Mr. Fox? Because that happens too.
I, the Sexy Gay Jesus, have once again been reading Dear Abby. While the Abbster's advice is largely inoffensive, there are things she will not say that the poor letter-writers really need to hear. I will now share some of my favorite recent submissions and answer them myself, but with more swearing and maybe a little bit of casual blasphemy:
Question 1-
DEAR ABBY: When my sister's husband comes to our house for a family dinner or other event, he immediately asks where he can take a nap. He then goes upstairs and sleeps for a couple of hours. This has been going on for more than five years and is not related to any medical condition. Should I mention this to my sister? I think he is being rude. -- "SLEEPY'S" B.-I.-L.
Dear In-Law of the Seven Dwarves,
Just be grateful you're not forced into awkward small talk with this guy. Maybe he has a social anxiety disorder, maybe he's just rude. By all means, have a couple of glasses of wine and ask your sister WTF already, but I'm just saying that there's a chance he's boring or homophobic or is a closetalker or something, and at least you're being spared having to spend time with him!
Question 2-
DEAR ABBY: I am a caring, loving husband. I enjoy my time with my wife. I think about our future a lot and want our marriage to last for as long as possible.
I make exercise a priority in my life, but I can't get her to understand that she should, too. I love her for who she is, but I want her to be in great health.
I am a very straightforward person and have told her in ways she didn't respond well to. She becomes defensive. How do you tell a woman she should exercise without offending her? -- FIT IN AKRON, OHIO
Dear "Fit":
You are Chris Traeger. Chill out:
P.S. If you think a woman who lives in America doesn't already know she "should" exercise, than you are an oblivious douchebag.
Question 3-
DEAR ABBY: When I married my husband 30 years ago, I was the only girl he could get. He was a great catch by my standards -- and still is. But back then nobody else wanted him but me, which was fine with me. I don't like competition.
We have had a great life together up until the last 10 years or so. Mason is aging gracefully, and there's something about him now that every woman is suddenly interested in. They all treat him like he's a new toy. They fawn over him and I become invisible.
We don't get out much, and I used to think I wanted to go out more -- but now I just want to stay home and hide my husband inside. The real problem is, Mason loves the attention. It could be what he always wanted. I don't know how to handle this without getting my feelings hurt, pouting and being incredibly jealous. He gives me no reason to think he'll be unfaithful, but I can't help but worry. Help! -- WIFE OF A LATE BLOOMER
Dear WOALB,
What is your problem? You only liked your husband because you thought he was too much of a loser to leave you? And now that he is doing well and people are responding to his confidence, you are jealous? Can't you just be smug that your husband is so awesome? SRSLY, just because you have low self-esteem doesn't mean he has to, too. Get some therapy, lady. Also, you mind shooting me your husband's cell number? I can't resist a Silver Fox, and I like it when people stare!
Question 4-
DEAR ABBY: I have recently found out that I'm pregnant. My problem is my husband doesn't believe the baby is his. He says he and his ex tried for 13 years to have a baby and couldn't.
I don't know what to say to him. I can't explain his past with that other woman. My doctor has ordered rest and no stress, but this is taking a toll on me. When the subject comes up, I just walk away and my husband explodes. What do I do? -- EXPECTING IN GUAM
Dear Expecting,
Your husband is an asshole. He does not understand how reproduction works. You can't just avoid the topic since, you know, that baby is going to show up eventually, and it's going to be awkward if you're still married to Mr. Denial. If he refuses to speak to a doctor/believe you/take paternal responsibility while you're still pregnant, you should probably not EXPECT much from him as your child grows up (ha! Get it?). But SRSLY, keep the kid if that's what you want, but get rid of your husband unless he cleans up his act real fast.
Sexy Gay Jesus here. It's been a while since I've written, I know. It seems nobody needs my advice anymore, so I've been hanging out with the Occupy crowd in New York, inspiring people, protesting greed, helping heal the sick and trench-footed, and circle-drumming:
I'm the guy with the beard, obvs.
Anyway, after getting evicted from the park a few nights ago, I decided to take a protest break and come back to Boringtown, Ohio to see if Lauren had gotten any life advice questions for me. She hadn't. But as I was trolling Yahoo! I saw a question submitted to Dear Abby that I think I could really add some perspective to:
Dear Abby: Whenever I receive a business communication from someone unknown to me with my first name in the salutation, as in "Dear Robert," it immediately goes into the trash.
Being addressed by my first name in this context is just plain wrong. Since I don't know the person who is sending the correspondence, I find the informal tone to be highly improper...
I have been accused of being "old school." However, there are rules and guidelines governing written communication, and it seems as though they are being ignored. Would you please inform people about the proper way to write? -- CALL ME "MISTER C.," SAN JOSE, CALIF.
Dear Mr. Cock (I just decided that's what the C stands for),
You need to chill the fuck out. You are "old school," and not in a Fab Five Freddy kind of way. Yes, sometimes people presume too much familiarity in correspondence and in personal interaction, but some (most?) of us don't give a shit if people call us by our first names (Unless they are creepy, in which case we prefer that they not know our names at all). Do you think people would like me as much as they do if I ran around insisting people call me MISTER Christ all the time? And sure, while I appreciate a good beatifying title like "Our Dear Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Son of God, Redeemer of the World, Jehovah, Prince of Peace, Light of the World, the Way the Truth and the Life, Lamb of God, King of the Jews, etc., etc.," that just takes too long for everyday use. And depending on which industry you work in, formality standards may be in flux. I am pleased to see, though, that you both adhere to old-fashioned etiquette standards AND can use the internet with some competence! It is possible that one of those first name-users may actually be an important client or contact though, so I am not sure just deleting those messages is a good idea. I'm assuming you continue to work somewhere stodgy, in which case I recommend you reply to all overly informal emails as passive-aggressively as possible. Por ejemplo:
Dear MS. Soandso,
Thank you for your email. Unfortunately, both Dear Abby and I think you know nothing about business etiquette. I prefer not to be addressed by my first name by anyone, including my wife and my parents. I am afraid your business will ultimately fail because you have mis-gauged the proper level of formality. I have spent YEARS earning my title of "Mr." through being male and over eighteen and insist it be used at all times in order to show the proper respect to a man of my status.
Get off my lawn.
Sincerely,
MISTER R. COCK
I think this could be a really effective networking tool for you.
Remember our friend the Sexy Gay Jesus? This is the latest thing he endorses:
The play-within-the-movie also features accompaniment by the Tucson Gay Men's Chorus, so it's basically a tribute to Our Homosexualest Lord and Savior. Hey, it's been a while, but if you have any queries about life, the universe, or whatever, the Sexy Gay Jesus is still open for advice-giving. Email me your questions (lauren dot chesnut at gmail dot com), and I'll make sure he gets them and answers them while at least marginally sober.
Look, I know that You never went through this particular bit of ritualizing on account of You were really busy healing the sick, curing the lame, cleansing the temple, and being patiently (but, you know, maybe not without second thoughts, which is totally cool, no worries) crucified, and also the marriage laws of the old-school Galilee probs weren't totally in Your favor anyway, BUT. I'm getting married in T-minus six weeks here, and instead of being all uplifted on happy clouds I'm just feeling super anxious about the whole thing. Not the marriage -- he's my best friend, love of my life, and frankly we've been married for all intents and purposes since that sunny day back in September '09 when we bought a Hyundai together -- but the wedding itself is causing me enormous worry. Will people have fun? Will people show up? Will it be special and magical and wonderful, or will I collapse under the pressure of trying to make it be all of those things before I even get down the aisle (which is more of a sandy path through the woods, but still)? I could really use some of Your perspective and calming wisdom, so I don't spend the next six weeks grinding my teeth and dreaming up every nightmare scenario that surely won't happen anyway, and arrive at the altar (er, woodsy place) exhausted. Help me get my groove back, JC?
Yours, Anxiously Engaged
Dear Anxious,
Congratulations on your impending nuptials, my child! While it is true I have never gotten married, I have been to many, many weddings. I get invited to a lot of them. I would like to point out that just because a ceremony mentions my name, though, doesn't mean I bless the union. I'm not so much a fan of virginity fetishism and/or patriarchal property (lady) transfers. But anyway, weddings. As you point out, Anxious, there are many upsides to being married like state benefits or your grandma letting you share a bed when you come to visit. But GETTING married is another story. I have a few things to contribute that I hope will help you stay cool in the coming weeks:
1. It is both normal and okay to be dreading your wedding to a certain degree. Weddings carry a LOT of cultural baggage. Like, you don't just get charged for checking a bag, but for extra baggage and they are all overweight. (Haha, air travel joke!) This is especially so for ladies since it is your "big day" and the planning is considered girl stuff that your husband-to-be can just show up to hungover with a couple of his bros in matching tuxedos. I am sure your fiance is not one of those bros, but you should definitely make sure he is shouldering his share of the planning and fretting responsibilities. You may feel extra pressure nonetheless, but that's because patriarchy is stupid (sorry, Old Testament bros).
That's all the wine you brought? Seriously people, do I have to do everything around here?
2. Delegate, delegate, delegate. Though sitting down and making a list of everything that needs to get done both before the big day and on the day itself may be super-overwhelming, you can then start enlisting friends and family for various tasks once you know exactly what needs to happen. Tell your friends they can take pictures at the reception, pick up some food, or help set up as their gift to you. Non-douchey guests will be eager and happy to help you out and make your day easier. My forte is that whole Bottomless Wine Bottle trick, of course, but you may have an overbearing aunt or obnoxious younger cousin or something who will feel useful by being assigned glass-filling or table-busing duties.
3. Just let go (as much as possible, anyway). No matter how nontraditional, simple, cheap, and/or casual your wedding plans, something will go wrong and somebody will do something crazy. There's nothing you can do to control this. When bringing a number of people together for an event, mishaps, forgotten details, and a certain amount of interpersonal drama are basically inevitable. Accept that. The wedding is not really about you, anyway. This is a day for other people to celebrate you and your fiance and your decision to publicly announce your intention not to break up. Even if not everybody you want to be there can be there, it's okay, it's not like you'll never see them again. Trust that your friends and family will make their own fun without you having to orchestrate every moment of the reception. Booze helps, obvs. If anybody judges you because some detail wasn't taken care of, then they are douchebags and deserve to have a terrible time as they eat your food and drink your booze.
Once the wedding is over, you will have photos of that wooded path, your pretty dress and/or other fabulous outfit, and all the people who were able to make it. You will also have stories of what went wrong, who drank too much, who gave you that crazy concrete cat statue, and whose father refused to help with anything whatsoever. You will also be relieved! That is okay, you do not have to have a Magical Princess Best Day Ever just because you are a bride, despite what our culture might tell you. It's a big party with lots of details and expectations wrapped up in it, anxiety is normal. In the meantime, as the day approaches, try to remember how you felt when you and your dude bought that Hyundai together. That's why you're doing this, so your loved ones can share in your contentedness. Also, people give you money and presents and shit. That part is pretty good.
There's no cure-all to make you stop worrying, but hopefully some of these tips will help alleviate some of it. I will use my best Powers of Omnipotence to grant you beautiful weather and a happy, relaxed day. I also recommend some kind of post-reception after party with just the kids and lots of irresponsible/relieved drinking if at all possible. It'll give you something to look forward to when you are being forced to hug another poorly dressed in-law you have just met.
Sexy Gay Jesus here. I did some cursory googling and found some more connections between myself and Our Lady of the Meat Dress. There's been some sweet fan art. See below:
"God Makes No Mistakes" by Thomas Clark sets up a slightly more intimate relationship between us than really exists, but I can get into it. My biceps look pretty sweet there, but I don't really like to dwell on that whole "crucifixion" thing.
Scott McGoldrick gives Gaga my blessing. I'll bless that blessing.
Blogger Kagehime has either created or found a few great pictures like the "Gagalupe" one above. That would totes go on a candle! I also enjoy the celebrity last supper one floating around:
She's also straight-up emulated pictures of me, as seen here:
That's an impressive halo. I wish people would portray me in tiny thongs more often. I suppose at least I get a lot of topless/muscle pics, though.
I finally got around to watching the "Judas" video where apparently Gaga has a love triangle with two bikers that are me and Judas.
I definitely support engaging in biblical themes for trashy pop music purposes. (Is it weird that I would totally do it with this sexy black Jesus?) But let's get serious, neither Judas nor I is really into the ladies. That whole "betrayal" thing was over him wanting to get exclusive with me, and I was like, "Why would I give up these eleven other dudes for someone as demanding as you, bitch?" Apparently neither of us handled it well, but anyway. Gaga is pulling a classic "shock people with blasphemy" gambit, but I generally support the comparisons between us. I mean, she's really popular right now, you guys.
Jesu babe, I have to ask: what are your thoughts on Our Lady of the Gaga?*
Bangin music. You surely cannot argue with that.
Great story right? Bootstraps. No. Yes?
Affirming message. Totally awesome, love that.
And she's a total stoner, so there's that.
Do you think her leader/flock trope is a tip of the hat to you, perhaps a form of ironic interpretation of your experience? Or does that give her too much credit?
I love her but have trouble with lots of what tries to say to explain her art (see her interview with Anderson). I mean, you're a student of philosophy (shit, some people think you're the genesis of human thought . . . ) It's way, way, way overcooked, right? (The art/sociology of fame??) Sometimes pop music is just fun. Maybe she shouldn't try so hard to explain it all.
Gah . . . I have to go read something called "The Conflict Helix" now. (Probably have no license to question Gags when I'm reading this nonsense for school. Maybe I shouldn't be such a critical naysayer.)
Thought I'd check in and give you a genuflect. Take care. Say hi to Lauren for me.Oh, and Happy Pride!
--Tweets
Dear Tweets,
Clearly I have neglected this letter for some time. I apologize, but summertime is a very busy time for attractive homosexual deities--there is a lot of laying out by the pool and binge-drinking to do. But I will weigh in on Ye Olde Gaga Question. First off, there are many fabulous gay bar anthems in the Lady's repertoire and no one can deny her very formidable musical talents (have you seen her play that piano in those outfits?). I will say that I'm really only into bootstraps when associated with fetish gear, but I admire her hard work also.
The Lady and I have only met in passing at Gay Community meetings, you know. I find it unlikely that she is deliberately emulating me, though I certainly couldn't blame her! I am pretty awesome, in the literal, awe-inspiring sense. I actually find it quite adorable that she calls her fans "little monsters," which is way cooler than anything Jesus fans have ever been called.
I do think she may be thinking a little bit too hard about her art, despite the fabulousness of her music and her audacity in fashion. She may or may not be friends with Slovenian postmodern theoretical darling Slavoj Zizek. Though I grant her musical efforts are a little more sophisticated than, say, Ke$ha's, K-Money clearly doesn't take herself too seriously. Neither of them wears pants, I think they should be friends. I also find sincerity uncomfortable. I think it's easiest to just take the songs as they come and ignore the philosophical grandstanding. Thus saith the lord.
I hope you aren't working too hard on your silly homework. I know I'm up to no good this summer.
Love and tequila shots,
TheSexyGayJesus
P.S. Lauren says hello and happy belated Pride to you, too!
*If no one's done it yet, please, please, please, internet, bring me a Lady Gaga devotional candle.
First off, HUGE fan of your work. The whole water into wine thing? Well played, SGJ. You have the whole classy with character thing going on and I like it.
Something not so classy happened in my apartment last week. No, no sexual deviance- just a missing ipod. I went out of town for the weekend and when I returned, my ipod was missing but my case and headphones were left behind. The ipod was last seen in my idock, in the bedroom. My housemate had some friends over that weekend and they were going through my room to get on the porch, someone passed out in my bed for a while. Housemate did not stay awake for the whole party and there was a lot of drinking.
I searched my room, moved everything around and searched the rest of the house. I looked at work, in my car, friend's car, etc. But really, I didn't bring it with me for the weekend so I knew it had to be in the house. Housemate has asked friends (mostly co-workers) if they have seen the ipod, no one has any recollection of it. No one has confessed either. I have no idea what happened to it for sure, but I think it was taken because a) case and headphones were here, ipod was gone. I would never take it anywhere without a case, especially not camping. b) quite a few people were going in and out of my room when I was not home c) it just simply disappeared, where else could it have gone?
I'm afraid this will be a housemate/friendship ruiner if I don't approach this the right way. I love my roommate and she is a great person. I'm planning to talk to her about respecting space when someone else is not home and you have guests over but I'm not mad at her, I just feel like she was negligent. I am however, really fucking pissed all my music is gone and I want my ipod back. It was pretty expensive for a broke kid like me and I feel like something should be done about it. Does roommate pay? Half? How do I approach such a delicate topic? What to do if roomie flat out refuses? Is it my problem and I should stop being bitchy and pay for it myself?
Please help me, SGJ! You're my only hope.
Yours Truly,
Suzy Sadface
P.S. Tell Lauren I say "Honk if you love Presidential board games."
Dear Dear Suzy,
I am so sorry to hear about your recent misfortune. Also, Lauren would honk about the nerdy presidential boardgames if she currently had a car with which to honk. But about your question: that is some shit luck, my friend. Well, there is always a sliver of a possibility that a drunk guest just wanted to peruse your music selection and then set the pod back down somewhere weird and next month you'll find it in a pile of towels or in a utility drawer. But probably not. It is gone. (Presumably your music is on your computer or something also?) And while it sucks that it happened while your roommate had people over and you were gone, you can't make her help you pay for a new one, either. Let me tell you a little cautionary tale about overreaction (you're not having one, I just want to make it clear that you should continue to not have one):
Once upon a time, my friends and I went into Jerusalem for Passover, because that's where the best parties were. We showed up at the temple (which is pretty much supposed to be my house, or at least my dad's house), and it's like a fucking hippie farmer's market up in there! Not to mention the terrible exchange rates those assholes were offering. Anyway, I got a little bit upset and may have participated in some property damage. Now nice Christian folks in Sunday School try and justify it. There are a number of different depictions of this event on the tubes, but I chose the scene from my favorite musical (obvs) because it was the gayest version:
Anyway, I felt kind of bad about it later. So you should not break any of your roommate's furniture or free her livestock even though she let strangers (to you, anyway) wander through your house who probably stole from you. I think a conversation is in order, but there's not really anything you can do about this now. Perhaps if she questions her coworkers they will come up with a suspect, but it doesn't really seem worth pursuing. Maybe she will feel guilty and offer to help buy you a new (or refurbished) one, maybe not. I don't think you can justifiably ask her to replace the ipod for you, but you can set up some ground rules about parties, friends of friends, and personal space. Presumably she never suspected any of her invited guests were thieves, but they probably brought some friends, and there was drinking and haziness and apparently the hostess passed out for awhile. While neither of you can be expected to keep track of each other's personal items at all times, you can reasonably expect one another to respect each other's things and try to make sure nobody fucks with them while the other is away.
Especially since you are friends, I think your roommate will understand that you are upset, though be careful not to blame her or make any monetary demands. I'm afraid my advice is mainly just to suck it up and start trolling Amazon for deals.
1. A friend of mine on Facebook has revealed to me the fact that Three Olives Vodka now has a "DUDE" Mountain Dew flavor. As I can attest from a mistake over reunion weekend, vodka in a can of Mountain Dew is pretty gross, but perhaps this flavor in something else wouldn't be too bad. I heard it's available at at least one bar in town, though I prefer to do vodka tastings by the bottle and in my home, so I may wait until it comes to the actual liquor store (there's only one). Anyway, bro drinks = important news on this blog.
2. Seriously, it seemed people were excited about advice from the Sexy Gay Jesus (including one particular blogger I admire who condescended to this here blog to ask Our Sexy Lord and Savior's opinion on bouncing back from a breakup, romantic comedy-style). I've had friends in person claim they would send SGJ questions, but they have failed to do so. Consider this a guilting/reminder to submit something. Clicka-clicka on my profile over there and email me (the SGJ doesn't need his own email account, he can just turn on his omniscience whenever he wants. He usually doesn't want, just like Mr. Deity--see below.) Do you want 2000+ years' worth of life experience tinged with glitter and rainbows to go to waste? I did not think so.
3. Google has offered that I can do something with the blog layout settings that will make it fancy/attractive for people who may read this on a mobile device. Do people really read blogs on their phones? Is my page difficult to view on such a device? Should I bother with this? Also: I checked my analytics stats recently and people from, like, Bulgaria and Laos have somehow stumbled upon my blog. So, Здравейте and ສະບາຍດີ to you, international websurfers! Come for the frequent use of the phrase "sexy gay" that directs traffic here and stay for the ridiculousness.
Can you please pinpoint for me, an admiring reader, your first blog reference to and/or best explanation of His Holiness, the SGJ? I want to make a link.
Kind Regards,
Alowishus Zinkerbottum
While I will not pretend that I believe that is a real name, I did go back into ye olde archives and find my earliest explanation of the Sexy Gay Jesus from way back in April of 2008: The Sexy Gay Jesus: Who's your god now? Thank you, Mr. "Zinkerbottum", for letting us all revisit that time in my life when I was mostly interested in drinking and meeting boys and using my friendship/devotion to the SGJ to facilitate such things. (I still am interested in drinking and chillin' with the Sexy Gay, but being married makes meeting boys far less of a priority.) ANYWAY, remember to send me your life advice questions and/or inquiries about the universe or whatever for the Sexy Gay Jesus. He likes to feel needed. Between well-deserved hangovers, anyway.
The SGJ and I are flattered and humbled that a favorite advice blogger of ours, Captain Awkwardhas turned to our flamboyant lord and savior for life advice. This is some real shit, yo.
Dear Sexy Gay Jesus:
I have believed in you ever since my mom sent me an Easter Card that she bought from one of the charities that helps artists who have no arms paint religious scenes with their toes. There you were, coming out of the tomb, wearing only a strategically-draped sheet, with your arms up to announce "I'm here and I'm queer!" You were so fabulous, I kept that painting of you on my fridge for years. [SGJ note: I am so flattered!]
My boyfriend and I are breaking up after 4.5 years. Fortunately we still like each other, and while living in the same house and separating all of our stuff is awkward and involves a lot of crying, there is also a lot of hugging and laughing and telling each other that we'll be okay.
So here's my problem. I need to turn my life into one of those montages in bad chick movies, like, yeah, you are newly single and it can be hard and scary, but look at you with your new haircut and hip single-lady apartment and how you ride your bike down the street with a baguette hanging jauntily out of your shopping bag and oh yeah, you just got your dream job while some iconic pop song plays.
Could you put together some inspiring suggestions for things I could include in this Total Life Makeover Montage and also some accompanying pop music?
I have faith in you, Sexy Gay Jesus.
Dear Captain Awkward,
I am so sorry to hear that your long-term relationship is coming to a close. I am not going to lie, as an attractive homosexual deity, I tend to do more fooling around than relationshipping, but I draw upon centuries of prayers, Lauren's own experiences with serial monogamy, the chick flicks you speak of, and a few ill-chosen partners of my own to try to help you.
First things first: I am so glad you and your ex are on good terms. This often speaks to a base level of friendship in the relationship as well as maturity and/or a healthy avoidance of conflict. However, sometimes the "we're still good friends" situation can be even worse than "s/he is so terrible I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner let's go egg his/her home." This is especially so if you are still living together for the time being and/or still have to spend a lot of time together. I know you didn't ask my advice about this in particular, but if there's any way to speed up the geographic separation process, I say do it.* It's kind of like when I died for your (you plural, not just you, Capt. Awkward) sins and then spent a few days in hell or whatever and then was resurrected. That post-resurrection period was SO AWKWARD. After most of the disciples accepted that it was really me and they got tired of thrusting their hands into my side-wounds, it became very clear that no matter how much we still cared for each other, it was time for me to go. So I ascended to heaven. Presumably you have to wait until your new lease starts or whatever, but I say spend as much time out and about and/or with other people besides your live-in ex as much as possible. It's hard to start the grieving and recovery process if you haven't fully separated yet, is what I'm saying. You have to not see your ex for awhile while you do nothing but think about him while trying to do anything but think about him.
But the asked-for advice: happy single lady montage! It is the truth that it will be for a few months probably a "trying to be happy but actually moving super-slowly montage," but you do have to start the journey before it can become real (as real as chick flicks can get, anyway). I like all your suggestions of things to include in this montage: haircut (I would also add some new outfits!), exciting new apartment with nobody else's icky body hair showing up in your shower, biking, bread products, cheesy pop songs, etc. All good ideas! Lady friends and/or sassy gay friends are necessary to this process--especially kind but honest ones who will tell you when you are either not fully processing or talking a little bit too much about the breakup or if you should stop debating and just pour another drink.
Next I would suggest projects. We can't all appear as the messiah to the future Native Americans like I did in my immediate post-resurrection phase, but any sort of commitment that requires time, effort, concentration, and/or creativity is good for making the time pass in a more montage-like fashion. Presumably you have some projects you've been meaning to work on, a friendship you have yet to explore, or any various things you neglected because your partner didn't like them as much as you and you were too lazy to do them alone. Start a book club or a regular game night! Take a class! Force yourself to exercise regularly but in a way that makes you feel mentally and physically healthy and has nothing to do with beach bodies.** I know it is not fair that I am Jesus and can just will myself six-pack abs, but going for a run or a swim or a bike ride or trying to out-grunt the bros in the weight room at the gym can still be very satisfying if you need to distract yourself. Not all your projects will be successful or turn into anything long-term, but they will keep you busy, social, and interesting.
Other recommendations: strike a balance between brooding alone time and making yourself go to social events. Get drunk and sing ridiculous songs at karaoke. Find (or make up if you have to) reasons to be angry at your ex so you can move past just being sad and start recognizing the reasons it had to end. Put Flight of the Conchords season one, Party Down, or Parks & Rec or another show that makes you happy on repeat.*** Read trashy murder mystery/fantasy/sci-fi/romance/nerdy history/whatever your not-so-guilty pleasure is in books. Develop inappropriate but un-pursuable crushes on celebrities, acquaintances, or strangers. This is good practice for when you are (one day) ready to venture into the dating world again. Call old friends. Call your parents. Let people be extra-nice to you for a bit. Maybe try out a promiscuous phase if you're feeling up to it--or don't! That is okay, too! Develop an obsession with Ke$ha and/or glitter. (Maybe start spelling Captain with a cent symbol.) And try to avoid the ex until you feel like your montage is coming to a natural close and then you can see if you will really be a part of each other's lives for the duration.
I do not feel like I'm telling you anything you don't know, Captain Awkward, as you are such a fine advisor yourself. But if you want it in a nutshell, here it is: do lots of stuff, try to be fabulous, love yourself, and always carry a baguette.
Love and tequila shots, TheSexyGayJesus
Two break-up themed songs that never fail to fill me with happiness:
Email me if you want life advice from the Sexy Gay Jesus!
*Lauren's personal note: Sometimes it is a little bit worse when you are sad about your breakup, so you call your best friend to come over and give you a hug except that it is the same person who you are breaking up with, so then it is awkward. And then you realize you need a new best friend. **"Beach Bodies" would make a good Kathy Reichs book title about a North Carolina coast spring break gone wrong. *** So what if two of these shows feature Adam Scott? He is the cutest cute thing that has ever been cute, in my divine opinion.
