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Friday, May 27, 2005
This is an extremely drunk post (how 2002), but I totally met Andrew G tonight! My döppelganger! G! Andrew! Me! Hurrah!

Of course he was a bit of a cunt, and doesn't look anything like me (hello he totally has a pointer chin and worse teeth), but I met him all the same. And really, G, seeing as I have the power to unearth a couple of secrets which you clearly, CLEARLY do not want aired, you'd think you'd be a little nicer to me, and not bitch about the fact that I am unemployed the moment you are introduced to me. Also: lose the stupid-ass yellow plastic band thing. Lance Armstrong thinks they are tacky, and he had fucking testicular cancer and designed them.


I'll probably talk about this later, but I thought I'd get it out now while I can still remember. Also, I'll be away until Monday. And it's like, 11.15, but I'm off my arse already. Stupid wine and stupid martinis. Sigh. I'm losing my reputation with every word typed.

But another thing I learned (other than Andrew G drink cheap pinot noire and wears ugly charcoal hoodies): apparently poofs are more likely to have unprotected anal sex than I thought. I always thought no one did bareback anal anymore, but apparently *I'M* the freak as I don't do it with Cap Guy and we have been seeing each other for seven or so months. Uhm, whatever. I don't care if we've been going out ten years. I don't want a corn kernel under my foreskin, and I definitely don't want HIV running through my veins. Poofs are so gross.

Fun night though! I'll catch you all later.

Kiss kiss.

PS -- as my poof readership grows, perhaps you can tell me if you all do unprotected anal? Much obliged!