It's My Party

It was time for me to return to the real world. I was trapped at home for almost a week before I had the full-energy to see work and people again. And these gorgeous people in which I call my friends, happened to be swimming in Citos that long-weekend Friday. It was late already while I was taking care of some business at the office. The trace of discomfort that could be felt in my ankle-region was purposely neglected in order for me to meet and greet the citizens of this capital. I would go insane if I was to be confined in my room for another day. Bakerzin was then chosen as the spot of relaxation after the water-flirt sessions at the pool. After ordering our cute drinks and mouthwatering desserts, right away a very interesting preposition was being thrown in the air. Thus, the brain-storming session began.

One of us started with, “Okay people! (Ting ting ting – the sound of a fork being slightly clinked to a goblet). I was given a task of producing a great party for people like us. Be it gay, discreet, in denials, and everything in between. The rules are very simple: It has to be unique in a way, would attract 100-200 invitees, it has to be viable, and it shall be held around the vicinity of this city”

We were having a blast as wild ideas came to our hands: Gym parties, bunny parties, ayam (cock/ rooster) party, Hershey chocolate party, construction gang party, spa & massage party, bubble & towel party and many many more fun ideas.

Well, the Martha Stewart-cum- Nigella Lawson in me wanted this very chic intimate party that would go from mild-to-wild within a couple of hours.

Invite & Line-Ups

The invitation will be etched on laser-cut square acrylics. The design should be extremely feminine with lots of flowers and garlands (all in monochromatic white and silver) with the information below written on one:

Dear Mr. ______________________

You are cordially invited to

THE WHITE BALL

Date
Friday, the Twenty Fourth of August

Venue
(Somewhere like)
Kebun Raya Bogor

Programme

9.00 PM
Opening of “Body-Works” an intimate experience by
a new and upcoming fashion-photographer,
Lucious Armstrong. Lounge atmosphere would
be directed by dj. Hero.

10:00 PM
A special appearance by Genma Boys,
a performance troop consisting of Japanese beefcakes,
in their most intriguing project,
“Thoughts and Desires”.

11:00 PM
Another spectacular special appearance by
the hunky dj. HIM, of Twilite, New York
in the White Ball Special, “House of the 90-s”
in remembrance of the day when we could both
dance and sing out loud to the rhythm

Hosted by
The ever enchanting
Ms. Sara Bellum

Dress Code
White Ensemble Garden Party

Décor
“Pretty in White” somewhat, again, feminine, wedding-inspired atmosphere, white floral arrangements with greeneries, white tents and gazebos, white candles, white beads, white Christmas balls, monochromatic theme: silver and white color scheme. Except for the amazing lighting-system for the dancehall.

F&B
Finger foods, cocktails, mocktails, wines, champagnes

Attributes
Servers and runners shall be hand picked men, dressed only in string belt, white-linen Capri pants, with nothing else on the top and absolutely nothing underneath, with bare feet or leather slippers at the most.

“Oh this is so last year!” some of you may say. But hey, I like it chic and simple, intimate and amicable, artsy yet sexy.

So guys, what kinda party would you like to have? Your ideas may be the dream party that they would actually produce at the end (of course all the credits will be entitled to you as a recognition). Don’t forget the details (venue, theme, décor, f&b, line-ups, dress-code, etc).

Hint
The juicier the better!

Let’s get rolling people.

Auto Mania

Call me Red. Thank you kind Sir for choosing me. I bet my cousin Spider couldn’t handle the lingering mist of pollution above the chimney skies of the capital. And thank God, you are the one who’s driving me. Remember earlier this morning around the Puncak downhills? You knew exactly how to time my almost uncontrollable downshift with this monster engine God has given me. Twitchy, people asked? For some yes, but not for you able Sir. I need more drivers like you. For power is in my DNA, I had to proudly represent the town of Modena, where my founder was born. Even when the new lines of evo-s are churning up, yet you still choose me: The perfect stimuli to start-off this week. But I have to warn you Sir: Traffic is being served right up - for this IS Monday morning. Sir, you just passed 8000, we will hit the red line soon, slow down your horses! Not that I mind…

I know you wouldn’t loose your cool Sir. It has been raining outrageously since this morning. Traffic is everywhere this evening. But then again traffic is the pulse of Jakarta or any other megapolitan. Without this we may end up dead. How did your meetings go Sir? I bet the day at the office was actually good this Tuesday. You look content. Of course you would, I am enveloping you in a very sumptuous nappa, warmed you a bit in this rainy day to the perfect temperature of your command, and you even did a little head-banging to the rhythm of drum & bass I have on your playlist. Oh No! Sir, there are other ways to get to the gym. Don’t! Sir, the flood is about half a meter! Sir, are you crazy!! Gosh. Ok, I’ll shud-up. Don’t give me that smirk Sir! I knew I can handle a wee bit more water-play, for my name wouldn’t be Range Sport. Didn’t like the “older” Rover? Hated the “married with two kids” Discovery? Bah, sometimes I just don’t understand these younger generations of landed gentries.

Generally people would think of Wednesdays as the dullest day of the week. But if you still had to go through Wednesday, you might as well do it with a little style. My name is Number 0045. For AMG only cloned 3000 of me per-annum, you forced your way to get me earlier this year. And you did specifically choose that number, for I know, you regard the number 9 as the highest in its rank. Ah, my perforated sport seats, my 482 mm light–alloy wheels with a firmer gripping wider tires, how about those large air inlets and those heavenly quadruple chromed oval exhausts? There is no four-door coupe as mean as me (well, remind me to kill M6 soon). Park me there Sir, yes, right in front of the club doors, I wasn't made for regular parking lots nor grubby basements. I know that look you gave people while disembarking the cabin, a proud owner of a CLS 55.

Another day is dawning. It’s early. Have you even slept yet? Where to Sir? Oh, Bogor? Ok. Another golf morning with the “boys”? The route against the morning traffic was pretty empty. Oh, yea, I may be big, but I am not clumsy. Feel the road. Feel me Sir. Push me harder. Yeah, like that, I have a lot of love to give under the hood. Come on, you can push me more. Just 80% will do lah, my torq caps is “only” 630 N.m. You didn’t get this 6.2 lt v.8 for nothing no? Oh come on I am more equipped than your other “Italian lovers” in safety precaution standards. Crumple zones? Three points seat-belts? Collapsible steering column? Strengthened cell? ESP, DSC, TC and what nots? ABS? Sandwich platform? Pre-safe 2002? Of course you knew it. I am built only for the Sonderklasse, a very special class of people. Those Germans shorten me for an S-Class. As you of are a connoisseur Sir, lovingly you call me W221. But of course you sent me to AMG tuning first as usual. Didn’t even need my newborn emblem, the S 63. Cuz what’s inside that matters eh?

Friday is what I call a super-ego day. Where the super-egos are exhibiting their powers and might (in the form of their super-cars) to the world of -well, the same pool of other-super-egos I presumed. Of course you didn’t wanna look “shabby-chic” dear Sir. You want hard-core attention and I… am your perfect penis extension for the night. Like the true bull of a devil, my name derived from. Twenty-three strokes of sword-blades didn’t kill me back in Cordoba bullring in 1879.Go ahead, swing my door open, these gull-wings of pure evil will flip those rich bastards back to hell. One warning tho. I don’t think the Sudirman-Thamrin strip will be equipped to handle 300 mph in any condition. But of course for the super-egos there lies the challenge no? Even the super-heroes in Batman Begins and Transporter agreed on this. But of course, I am extremely bat friendly: Murcielago, look me up in any Spanish dictionary. Now, are you ready? Write your wills first, sign your waivers off, and you may floor me to the limit. Oh I am so evil. You’ll see how my 6.5 V12 engine of an LP640 will raise your adrenalin rush to a whole new level. Not bad for a son of a Diablo.

Buon giorno. Mi chiami Enzo. I provide sweet rides, and I really mean that! Ken Okuyama pimped up this Berlinetta at Pininfarina. Hey, stop calling me F60! My younger siblings will be inaugurated soon for the special anniversary, not just yet tho. However, I will be your best friend on this very beautiful Saturday... Vroom… vroom… Call me again in about 3 hours, my master demands his joyride! Now, now... Leave him alone will you? He needs a little solitude with me, number 396, the fourth of the last Enzo-s to be built ever.

Wild weekend is almost over. Let’s go back to some sense of normalcy. NOT. Nice isn’t it? Feel my tractions darling. This bucket is supporting every move you make, no? How about that 3.7 seconds you just did to reach 100 kmph? Fun right? This turbocharger wasn’t made for the faint hearted. Sure its high-rev power would fit a larger charger. But if we can fit it here for your enjoyment? I’m sure you wouldn't mind. Talk about that flexibility factor. Ahh, just like the sudden burst of wasabi in your mouth with that tuna sashimi. Wanna push me harder? Motor Trend did it not too long ago in 3.2 secs! Just flip to the triptronic S transmission. I promise you, I wont blow-up. That’s what these water-cooled engines are built for. Internally, I am aka 997, the variant. But why complicate matters? Let them be jealous. How many of them will even be allowed to test-drive a 911 Turbo?

Seven hot cars for seven different days. And all these times, all I wanted was just to spend a little time with you everyday, just like them. They could feel the way you handle them, the way you take them slow while enjoying the sunset, the way you ride them full-throttle in a fury of pure driving passion. They felt needed, they felt cherished.

Argh, the agony, if only I can morph myself into a special auto.

Your not-too-secret admirer,



Prof. Utonium.
Head of R&D
Cooper S. Mini Div.

Confused

Not too far away from the present day, I was feeling very depressed on why that it seemed that I am selling myself to the wrong target, i.e potential boyfriend marketplace. Most of the people who seemed to be interested in me fell into the same category: sweet-faced, i-am-all-yours, cuddly, clingy, and obviously bottom. Maybe they were destined to be the people that I may need in my hectic life, dunno. But what I want is a completely different set of type: big, burly, masculine, and someone who can fuck like a real man. Then an ad exec friend of mine suggested a totally new campaign to market myself toward the right pool of audience. Afterward, surprising things came into place when we were discussing our preliminary research into the problem.

A couple of days ago I was reading an article on Ed Droste, the lead vocal of an upcoming Brooklyn band called Grizzly Bear, before I stumbled upon the frank nature of the interview conducted by Adam Baran:

What kind of porn do you like?
I’m not really educated on porn, but if anyone wants to send me gay porn – I really enjoy a lot of the vintage stuffs. There’s this one called American Boy, it’s the only one I’ve ever bought. I know a lot of people who give me their passwords to pay-sites mostly. But I was like, I need to own American Boy.

What’s so amazing about it?
Everyone had shaggy hair and was really cute and it was pre-condom, really hot. I like the pre-condom porn. Not that I promote unsafe sex, but…

Well, you are in a monogamous relationship so…
So we’re able to do it.

You are able to have pre-condom sex!
Yeah! No-condom sex.

That’s cool.
Yeah, me and my big bottom self.

You’re the bottom?
Totally, always have been.

A power-bottom perhaps?
I don’t really understand what power-bottom means. Does it mean like I’m a bitch like “Fuck me now.”

Right.
It’s like Melrose Place, Heather Locklear bottom. “Fuck me now bitch or you’re fired.” Power bottom? I don’t know. Not a senior executive but like head of sales.

CFO?
Quasi-power. I’m working my way up. I’m not quite like Martha Stewart. But people always think I’m the top. It’s really funny.

I think because you’re tall and big. I figured you were the top.

-0-

And the next day, I came across a picture of Reichen Lehmkuhl, the winner of the celebrated reality show Amazing Race in one of the most anticipated seasons. Boy, this hunk was actually pretty hot, big and buffed from all the hard works he showed upon graduating the Air Force Academy. I then immediately hopped on YM to chat with my brondong jenius.

How come I haven’t heard that Lance Bass of N’Sync is dating a very hot guy named Reichen Lehmkul?
They broke up already darling. He was with his “spouse” when he was doing the Amazing Race stunts. I heard that he has a habit of cheating.

Dohh, with that bod? Of course I would’ve also worn a habit of cheating. Oh, what would I have to pay to get in his pants yah?
Oh shucks, you didn’t know? Legend says that Reichen was bot, and Lance was actually the top dude.

OMG, do you have to like ruin my fantasy that I am having right now? But anyway he looked so goddarn massive, strong and capable of sweeping me of ma-feet.
That’s what we call a power-bottom darl.

Gosh, I came upon that term twice already in two consecutive days. What does it mean anyway?

Then my brondong jenius gave me an entry from the urban dictionary:

power bottom

Gay Male Term. Dominant Bottom. While a bottom is usually submissive to his partner, a power bottom enjoys maintaining control over the top and/or the penetration, the normally dominant role in gay male sex. Power bottoms supposedly have skilled tongues. (They give the best blow jobs/fellatio and rim jobs/analingus.)

Suddenly they all make sense for me. No longer I have to be confused on my own sub-genre. It’s not a fetish. It’s not a lifestyle choice. It’s just a state of being. I enjoy doing my army-look, I am not comfortable showing signs of effeminacy in public. And yes, just like Princess Morbucks and her overprotective daddy, I enjoy my man raw and strong. Damn, I now felt like I belong somewhere.

Go Go Power-bottoms!

This Love Story Sucks

“Good afternoon passengers. This is your Captain speaking. My name is Captain Rob Gangreen, and we would like to welcome you to AerAnaLingus, flight EIA 405 destined for Dublin. How are you this afternoon? I hope everyone is in good moods for this journey. However, the command tower had just informed us that there would be a slight delay before we are able to depart, due to a quick repair on the second runway. On behalf of AerAnaLingus we would like to apologize for the inconvenience, but we still hope to reach Dublin International in due time as best as we could. For the mean time while waiting for the taxi, let me tell you about my recent love affair. Now don’t expect any sweet and cuddly moments dear passengers. This love story sucks…”

Desperate is a very good way to describe my state of mind recently. While every one in my vicinity tried to convince me that being single is fantabulous, however, I -the relationship-whore- don’t seem to agree with them. I have calculated my being single ratio at about 2.5 months after breaking up with any of my past. But as of today, that respected milestone had been broken, twice. Yes, your looser captain here has been single for more than five months passengers.

So in desperation I called my acquaintances to set me up with any guy whom they think would suit me nicely and vice versa. Then a mutual friend introduced me to Brad. Well, this Brad isn’t exactly the Brad Pitt type. He was rather slim (in which not really my type), and he was not exactly the-most-masculine-person that I hope he’d be (in which again, not really my type). But he was nice, very nice indeed. He made me feel special and wanted. Just by looking in his eyes I felt a very strong urge to hug and care for him.

Suddenly I had a light gout attack, yet I was feeling extremely frisky. Called him to cancel the movie date and went straight for lunch that Saturday. Afterwards with no apparent difficulty I managed to return home with him beside me. Note, that was going to be our first time in this more intimate manner. I noticed that the more comfortable he was around me, the less masculine he became. It irked me so much, yet I still managed to act cool about it.

Right away I was a bit shocked as I removed layer upon layer of clothing items he had on: He turned out to be really skinny and wiry, which was such a big turn off for me. But I didn’t want him to feel bad. The sex was on the border between bad and a non-sexual way. He refused my oral service, then he refused to be rimmed. Yet he didn’t offer those services either. Furthermore, Brad didn’t seem to want to penetrate, yet he didn’t ask for any penetration either. I was like, hmm, what other options do I have left? The answer came in a frottage-esque bundle. He got off by simply rubbing himself on my rather sexy tummy. Immediately, the thought that he was a follower of an asexual cult came to mind.

He felt asleep afterwards. Upon awakening, I asked him to shower together in a hope that I would be able to deliver him home as immediately as possible. Well you want to blame me after the ordeal that I had to go through? On the way he asked for dinner in which I granted in a silent protest. Then later, on the way to the garage where he parked his car in, he asked for a detour: To return to my place in the hope that he could stay over. I was like, “Dude, I will be busy tomorrow morning, that wouldn’t be good for my schedule. And beside can’t you see that I am limping now?” He promised that he would manage his departure by himself. Half-heartedly I agreed.

It was about nine pm when he said: “Aren’t you sleepy? You are sick you should get some rest soon” What? It was just nine and I had to sleep like a baby? Straight away he went into his personal dreamland and I was left stranded on a bed with someone I am not really into, with eyes wide open.

As I guessed exactly, the following morning this baby needs to be accompanied to his garage. My limping was getting worse as the purin-crystals are settling, blocking the blood streams near my left ankle. He didn’t stop me at the gate of my compound, he didn’t stop me along the way, he didn’t even stop me from entering the garage when we finally arrived. The thing was, I did’t need a baby then, I didn’t have time to baby-sit anyone.

Such a bummer of an experience.

Monday came and calls from his office were neglected, sms-s from his phone were ignored. Tuesday afternoon arrived and an sms was received: “I miss you. Do you feel the same?” I then deliberated for over an hour in concocting a subtle yet hard blowing message: “I am sorry Brad. I don’t think I feel the same. I tried and I can’t feel any chemistry. I am really sorry Brad.” His reply was a relieve though I could still feel the bitterness. At least mission accomplished.

Later in the week I found out many things about him that would shock me. The fake “position” at the office, the material-boy he was, and the final blow was that he was still in a relationship with someone close to a friend of mine. And I even heard the horror story that he rented out his partner’s place as he was away for a yearlong overseas task, without the knowledge of the boyfriend!

Told ya, the ending wouldn’t be anything spiced, sugared nor anything nice. I can only thank the Lord that I cut him off at the perfect time before anything went deeper. Well, passengers, now it seems that we are ready to taxi. Thank you very much for listening. We will turn off the cabin lights shortly in preparation for take-off. Hope you enjoy a pleasant flight with AerAnaLingus. And please do inform me if you know anyone beefy, cute and single! This has been Captain Rob speaking. The only openly-gay sky captain!