No Style No. 30: Someone needs a checkup from the neck up.
Click to view full-size.
…yes, that’s pretty much the extent of my acknowledgment that it’s Christmas eve. Oh woe, etc., blah blah. Shut it.
Bonus points to anyone who can name the film that line came from.
The haircut is quickly becoming less and less of an option. The longer it gets, the more I start to look like a drag queen (…though that shirt probably isn’t helping…) or a sad little twee attempt to copy the purple-prose travesty that is Wraeththu. No bloody effin’ thank you.
I think everyone out there has that one friend who’s had a crush on you since time immemorial - or at least since you’ve known them - and who doesn’t give up hope no matter how many times you gently, carefully say no so as not to hurt their feelings so badly that it destroys a valuable friendship. One of those friends, for me, is R. R’s the big guy who’s embarrassed to admit that he cried during Waiting to Exhale; he’s a big teddy bear with a great sense of sardonic humor tempered by a sweet streak that’ll give you cavities, a gorgeous body, handsome face, and hair I could play with for hours. If he didn’t have a pot habit, I might consider dating him…but that’s a big, fat no in my book. I’ll look the other way when my friends do it as long as they don’t do it in my presence or bring it into my home (you’ll find yourself on the welcome mat staring at the closed front door so fast you won’t know what hit you), but I refuse to date anyone who routinely tokes up.
Not even if he offers to quit for me.
Especially when I don’t exactly trust that he’d stop that when he won’t even stop his at-times-amusing efforts to get a foot in the dating doorway. I still can’t believe he whipped out the mistletoe while we were curled up on the couch watching Vongo downloads on the laptop Saturday night. (By the way, if you ever get the chance to see The Quiet, take it. It’s not exactly profound cinema, but it will startle you with its depth and the direction it takes. I was expecting it to be awful, but was pleasantly surprised.)
I’ve even told him why we wouldn’t work out, beyond dating briefly; he’s too nice, and I’m too mean. I’ve been down that route, dating nice guys who have an outwardly thick skin but who secretly get their feelings hurt by the tiniest teasing comment, even if it’s said out of caustic affection by someone who isn’t comfortable openly expressing affection, feelings, etc. (what? I’m a guy; don’t give me that look just for being typical of the species). I’d break the poor boy just by being myself, and the worst part is that he’d keep forgiving me over and over again. Not only that, but he’d spoil me.
No, wait, wait - that’s a bad thing. Trust me.
See, when someone spoils me, I rise to the occasion. I can be a bit of a brat on a normal basis, but the more I’m spoiled, the more of a brat I become, until eventually I’d be able to score a 100% on the Diva Quiz with my eyes closed. Not good. Not good at all. It’s nice to be treated well, little thoughtful gestures and such, but taking it beyond a certain level will just bring out the diva in me and make me impossible to deal with.
I’m impossible enough already, thank you. As my friend Kate loves to point out: we are monsters, we are unrepentant, and we are glorious.
R, I know you’re reading this. I know you’ve heard all this before, too; it’s not news to you. I’ve told you why not a thousand times before, and I know you’re over there shaking your head and smiling, because you’re a persistent bastard. I’ve just about given up on getting you to quit; I guess it’s my turn to start smiling, shaking my head, and shoving a palm in your face every time you move in for a kiss. Guess I’m stuck with you. I could think of worse friends to be stuck with. Call me; we’ll go see Sweeney Todd next weekend.
And if you try to grope me in the theatre, I’ll break every last one of your knuckles, one at a time.
The rest of you: Merry Christmas, if you celebrate it. I’m out of here. There’s some brandy-laced egg nog calling my name.
Addendum: I don’t know why, but the Akismet spam filter recently started eating everything, and I can’t turn it off. Sorry if your comments don’t seem to show up on first try; I’m checking the filter periodically and fishing out the legit comments from the spam.
no style, gay comics, webcomics, humor, gay comic strip, unrequited blah-de-blah
Listen to DR Streaming Radio
December 24th, 2007 at 12:52 am
[...] No Style No. 30: Someone needs a checkup from the neck up. [...]
December 24th, 2007 at 1:00 am
[...] Check This Out! While looking through the blogosphere we stumbled on an interesting post today. Here’s a quick excerpt: If he didn’t have a pot habit, I might consider dating him…but that’sa big, fat no in my book. I’ll look the other way when my friends do it as long as they don’t do it in my presence or bring it into my home (you’ll find yourself on … [...]
December 24th, 2007 at 5:54 am
Merry Christmas all of you =D
Yesterday I went out with friends for a birthday, and suddenly one of them asks me why I can curse better in English than in Dutch. I told him I have a great mentor xD
Oh, and: R, whoever you are, you seem like a nice guy, so quit killing your braincells, damnit!!! *evil eye* Merry Christmas.
December 24th, 2007 at 8:44 am
Enjoy the holidays. At least they’re usually a couple of days off from work =P You can use them to watch more cartoons with crazy bats…
December 24th, 2007 at 11:04 am
Merry Christmas! Holidays make me happy.
December 24th, 2007 at 12:41 pm
Ugh. Happy Holidays. They make me manic; I’ll be glad when they’re over. I’ll actually be able to get a decent sleep-schedule going again.
December 24th, 2007 at 12:59 pm
Dude, that line is TOTALLY from Fern Gully.
Merry Christmas to you too, you crotchety old bastard.
December 24th, 2007 at 3:02 pm
*is mildly disappointed that Wraeththu seems to have nothing to do with Lovecraft. Also, what’s with “Storm Constantine?” Can you get any lamer?*
Oh, and Merry Christmas.
December 24th, 2007 at 3:28 pm
Merry Christmas, Adri!
And someone beat me to say it was FernGully.
December 24th, 2007 at 4:33 pm
Merry Christmas right back at all of you, even the manic ones, again.
And Indikaze, you think the author’s pseudonym is bad, you ought to read the story itself. I used to read excerpts out loud to friends to traumatize them, especially the parts detailing the transformation of the male organ into a multipetaled fleshy thing resembling an orchid, with pretty glowing racing lights in special customized colors down its length. And let’s not forget describing orgasm as a snake biting a star, and don’t even get me started on conceiving a child through hermaphroditic union that transports one to astral fields of lemon grass where together you call out to the soul of your unborn child…
Yyyeah. And yet somehow? What manages to bother me the most (beyond the flowery, pretentious prose, the obsession with fashion, and the shallowly-drawn parallels to gay male subculture that glorify an irritating culture of beauty-obsessed youth) is that Constantine stole so, so much from Native American two-spirit and tribal traditions as the foundation for her story ideas, and passed it off as original.
December 24th, 2007 at 11:34 pm
Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, brother. Here’s to another year of glorious, unrepentant monstrosity. Be safe.
Ps. I’m going to make an effort to get that paper in the mail to you Wednesday before I leave for my vacation; if it doesn’t work out I’ll do it in the first few days I’m back. Life has been crazy lately.
December 25th, 2007 at 12:16 am
I’m one of those unlucky souls to whom Adrien read bits of that thing out loud.
I’ll never be the same again. -weeps-
December 26th, 2007 at 10:48 pm
*jaw hangs open at that and realizes she’s actually ‘intruiged’ by such words* My brain….it bleeds!! stop drop and roll! *does so*
December 31st, 2007 at 1:02 am
[...] < < previous | archive [...]