Saturday, July 12, 2008

marinist...

I'm starting to realize that I can't get any gayer. 
I'm as gay as they come. 
I'm gayer than butterflies and Anderson Cooper. 
Last night, Eve invited me to join her, Tim, Brock, Greg, Chris W. and people I didn't know at the 500 Club. If you've never been to the 500 Club, it looks much like a bar in which Erin Brockovitch would interview a resident of Hinkley. I was supposed to head to Kelsey's house warming party up in San Rafael but, as much as I love Kels, wasn't up for a drive back to the burbs and 24 year old boys doing shots. 
Tim went to grab burritos for everyone and instead of having my trainer judge my dinner, I roped Brock into driving 45 minutes to Kel's party. 
"I really should go but I don't want to go alone. And we can sleep at my folks'."
It doesn't take long to talk Brock into anything. I could've said "Let's go beat up a tourist" and Brock'd be all "In."
Brock is always in. He's the best. 
So off we went, across the GGB, all the way to Terra Linda where Kels just moved into her lovely and hard to find new apartment. We brought her a bottle of "Cleavage Cellers" and a sympathy card, on which we wrote "Don't talk to the neighbors" and "Don't burn the place down."
The whole time, we played with my new Flip Video which I am now obsessed with. If you don't want to end up on YouTube, don't come over. I'm taping everything. 
Eventually, it was time to go. I had planned to take Brock to Noonan's, but horror of horrors, that's where Grey Cloud was headed to meet Strippername, who once tried to girl-fight me in the Marina and apparently used to make out with the former boy. (I can't call anyone an 'ex' because I think it's needy)
There was no fucking way in hell I was going to Noonan's at the point. Tim's been teaching me how to box and I hold a grudge like nobody's business. I'd uppercut that bitch before she had time to reapply her drug store lipgloss for the 574th time. 
"Brock, I really don't want to go to Noonan's." I stated nervously.
"Oh my god, fuck that place. I didn't want to go there anyway. I don't care where we go. We can go to your folks' and watch movies. We can go to another bar. Who cares?"
Again, we love Brock. 
Well, shit. I have the Editor of SFist in Marin. We're going to The Deuce
Which is where Brockstar fell in love:

Appropriately, at 2am Brock and I headed up to my folks. We watched Hairspray before falling asleep on a pull-out couch in the TV room. Brock had Coke from a bottle. We made 43 videos. One was 21 minutes long. In the morning, Brock charmed my parents over coffee and Wheat Thins. In the middle of the night, I woke up and took stock of my bearings. 
Oh, I'm in bed with a homo in my childhood home. Yep. Sounds about right...

4 comments:

sfmike said...

You're right, that is gayer than gay.

Anonymous said...

That doesn't square up with Brock's assertive, cocksure online persona.

Ciaran said...

That isn't Brock. Brock doesn't leave his apartment.

Be_Devine said...

I love seeing the world through Spots' eyes.

You need to have two sidekicks with you at all times, one with a boom mic and the other with stage lighting.