Gays Seek Abortion Rights Under Obama's Healthcare Plan

Shame on Congress for bowing to the whims of a tyrannical madman like Barack Obama. I'm speaking, of course, of the recent victory for health care reform. How dare those lofty leftwing liberals in their ivory towers try to hold huge multinational conglomerates to ethical standards. The American people are smart enough to know when they're being ripped off, right? Just like I don't need the FDA forcing dairy farmers to keep their milk free of bovine tuberculosis. I've been around enough cows to know what clean milk tastes like.

Now Barney Frank is crying to the media over being called 'faggot' by Republican demonstrators. He knows what he is. He likes being called a faggot. If he didn't, he wouldn't have chosen that lifestyle, and put himself in the company of so many Republican tea baggers. It's like young girls acting shocked when a guy calls them 'slut'. They know they're sluts and they're secretly happy that they're being recognized as such. Why are they sluts? If you only knew what they were doing in Mark Foley's imagination, you wouldn't even ask.

And why buy the cow when you can get your bovine tuberculosis for free? That's what John McCain and Rudy Giuliani did. Both Republicans left their wives for younger, newer, faster versions. These men were faced with the decision that all men are faced with; whether or not to have sexual relations with other men. Unlike Barney Frank, they made the right decision and opted to let out their sexual frustrations with women they kept on the side. And now that the government is giving away free abortions under their new health care bill, I wonder if Frank will turn from his homosexual ways and start milking cows.

Camila Alves and the Folks of "Shear Genius"

I'll blame it on the hormones, but for some reason my wife insists on watching the new season of Bravo's Shear Genius almost religiously. Sure all the flashy clothes and brash characters provide a good 30 minutes of sensory stimulation, but after the flash is gone, what substance is their? It's like a crib mobile for adults. It's nice to watch for a while, but eventually I start to get cranky.

I will admit, however, that I'm in love with host Camila Alves. How brave of her to refuse speech therapy, especially when it comes to the two words she uses the most, 'stywists' and 'congwaduwations'. And forget all this talk about President Obama and if the health care bill gets passed. The only thing I want to pass is time. That way I can start watching season 4 before I start to lose interest in season 3. Which, of course, happened about three episodes ago when I realized that Janine is unstoppable.

Hopefully, though, Ms. Alves will get picked up to host the next season. If not, the only entertaining factor left on the show will be the two pieces of Laffy Taffy around Kim Vo's mouth. I think he calls them his lips.

The Battle of the Bulge

The last thing I want is for my son, Lukas, to grow up to objectify women in the same sense that his father does. You objectify women, Michael? Sadly, I think I do. As pointed out by my loving wife, the last three posts on this blog have contained pictures of overly suggestive cleavage. I understand that women are more than sugary eye-candy, that’s why they have vaginas. Form meets function.

So to balance the massive amounts of mammaries promoted on this website, I present to you the male bulge. What better way to counteract your own sexist tendencies than to objectify yourself. And by ‘objectify myself’, I mean objectifying someone who has a much larger penis than me. And if Real Woman Have Curves, do real men have small penises? I don’t know, just ask Prince Gomolvilas.

And if real women have gestational diabetes, then I suppose I’m married to a dude. Thankfully my wife, Bekki, received a positive result from her glucose tolerance test. Now we can have our cake and eat it, too. She was still referred to a dietitian, but told to ‘take it easy’ until the appointment. Luckily, my wife responds to ‘take it easy’ the same way as I respond to ‘no, Michael, my feet hurt’- ‘thank God it’s just your feet because I really want your vagina’.

President Obama and His Radical Homosexual Agenda

There are alot of people talking right now about how President Obama has let them down. I might as well be one of them. So here it goes; President Obama has let me down. And it's not the usual petty politics that has me so upset. It isn't the economy. It isn't health care. And it certainly isn't LGBT rights. All of which, coincidentally, are the reasons I voted for the man in the first place. His failure, or 'lack of progress', in these areas might be enough for the average left wing nut job to doubt our commander in chief, but it takes more than that to rile my tail feathers. And it isn't his lack of patriotism as Glen Beck might have you believe, but rather his lack of facial hair. On a side note- Barney Frank, if you're really a homosexual, where are you hiding your moustache?

Not since William Howard Taft has a president had the audacity to dawn facial hair. Sure you're the first black president, but without a really cool set of mutton chops, does it really even count? Shaft didn't seem to think so. And what about Isaac Hayes? Sure he would have still been funky without his signature beard, but he wouldn't have been superfunky. And in a world where politicians get up every morning and shave their man-fur, we need superfunky. But I suppose that looking presidential is sort of your thang, Obama. So if you're not going to walk the walk, the least you could do is talk the talk. Let's go back to Barney Frank. The man is probably the 'talk the talkiest' person in Washington. He's not afraid to speak the truth. If he's not going to fix the economy, he doesn't say he will. In the old days it was called being a 'man of your word'. Hell, even those closeted Republicans could learn a thing or two from Frank. If you're going to choose the homosexual lifestyle over a normal and moral lifestyle, at least own up to it. Don't organize witch hunts and condemn your fellow sinners. Instead, these Log Cabin Republicans choose to arrange phony marriages to women in order to appear more electable. Shame on these women who marry politicians only to hide their gayness. What do they call them? Oh, yeah, beards.

Hunting for Strange Ass at the Grocery Store

Flowers. Hallmark cards. Heart-shaped candy and boxes of assorted chocolates. Is there anything that sums up February more than Valentine's Day? Well, besides black history? I doubt it. The fact is, February is for lovers. And why should I be denied love just because I'm married? That's why I've decided to throw my hat into a couple of the better known dating sites; Match.com, eHarmony.com, ect. I'm hoping to find someone who looks like the Sun Maid Raisins lady. And if that doesn't pan out, I wouldn't mind having lunch with the girl from the Santitas bag.

The wife is strangely unopposed to this idea. Perhaps she's too distracted by the ungodly creature that's tap dancing on her bladder. Whatever the case, I'm overjoyed by the opportunity to bring disappointment and regret to a new generation of women. I say women, because I was under the impression that these dating sites are strictly heterosexual. I'm just waiting for a few queens out there to prove me wrong and point me in a more flamboyant direction. I wonder if the Brawny guy is available.

Oddly enough, my son is also for sale. The wife and I have been pimping out his baby registry info to anyone and everyone who will listen. Well, are you listening? #43691882 at babiesRus . And if unrewarded generosity is as unappealing to you as it is to me, I'm offering the consolation prize of naming my son. The first person to buy something from our registry will get the honor of naming our son. I'm not just talking abut the first name, either. I'm talking about the whole shabang. How does Louise Larsen, Jr. sound? Or Prince Gomolvilas, Jr.? And, Prince, if the Brawny guy is available, I'll take the one from the 1980's. I can't resist a guy with a moustache.

I Wish I Were Gay

There are so many perks to being homosexual that I can't help but to think that life would be monumentally easier if I were gay. For instance, gays can't get married. Some would view this as a 'restriction on civil rights', but I like to look at it from Tiger Woods' perspective; if you never get married then you can never get divorced. The second you stick your penis in a dozen or so glory holes, she will take half of your money and your children and move back to Sweden where they live in Igloos and eat blood pudding. Seriously, they eat pudding made out of blood. They're like vampires that make really crappy furniture.

Also, guys don't spend hours applying face paint and body contraptions to make themselves look like they did in the fourth grade. A guy will wash his face and hair with the exact same bar of soap that he just washed his ass with. Grooming is a necessity, not a hobby. Guys do not spend excessive amounts of time on unimportant activities. Instead, we spend our entire Sundays watching football and talking about cars we'll never be able to afford.

Most importantly, guys don't turn down sex. A guy will not get all huffy and slap you for asking for road head. He will punch you in the stomach if you drink the last beer. That's understandable. But you will then respond in kind by punching him in the stomach. One of you will cave and drive to the store for more beer. The problem will then resolve itself as you both drink and laugh about the fight extensively. That sounds preferable to weeks of analyzing every bump and vocal tic used in said argument.

Being gay does have one drawback, though. It's slick, cylindrical and about 8 inches if you're lucky. Apparently, if you're gay you have to enjoy some degree of strange penis interaction. I say strange, because playing solitaire in the shower is probably more heterosexual than actually having intercourse with a woman. Cock fear aside, I'd still rather give Tiger the old tug and pull than babysit his vampire children. Vampires really freak me out.

Pit Bulls and Pregnant Women

After weeks of seeing advertisements but never actually getting to catch the show itself, I finally saw the new show on Animal Planet, Pit Bulls and Parolees. Basically, a husband and wife team own the largest pit bull rescue group in the country. The twist is that they are both ex-cons and employ parolees to work on their 10 acre rescue. It's like American Chopper, but with dogs instead of motorcycles.

And if ranting about dogs bores you, just wait until this kid pops out. The ultrasound, by the way, is scheduled for December 21st and we're super excited to find out the sex. My mom and dad are actually coming up from Charleston to celebrate with us (and buy baby stuff)! We bought some cute bodysuits and, believe me, I'm eager to show them off. I've been trying to post a video that shows the bodysuits, but to no avail. I tried asking fellow blogger and professional mentor Prince Gomolvilas for help, but he just fed me some hippie bullshit about looking inward.

My wife, Bekki, is feeling better now. She still gets bouts of nausea, but I do believe that the three month long morning sickness is officially over. She's starting to show and she looks radiant. She would strongly, strongly disagree. The baby is due towards the end of May. I'm hoping it will be a Taurus for obvious reasons. Bekki says that it will probably be a Gemini and that wishing for a Taurus is wishing for premature labor.

I'm secretly still pulling for a Taurus.

Why Are Americans So Hung Up About Sex?

I wrote a new post for Bamboo Nation.

Read "Why Are Americans So Hung Up About Sex?"

Stedman Graham: The Loneliest Man Alive

Poor Stedman, quietly masturbating in the bathroom while Oprah and Gayle drink White Russians and give each other mammograms. It would be a tough scene to imagine; having your emotionally distant wife* fall in love with her best friend, but it's a reality that Stedman Graham lives with every day. That and he has to live with Oprah's money.

Now that Oprah has announced the scheduled demise of The Oprah Winfrey Show, will she finally shed the charade and reveal the dyke within? Or does her delusion run so deep that her ego will never let her admit to those hot nights when her and Gayle put their wiffers together and scissored like crazy?

How can a man live without human connection? It's unnatural. I honestly feel bad for Stedman. Well, I suppose he is married. Therefore his situation isn't really that uncommon. But he can't even smile at a pretty waitress without the tabloids catching wind. And by the time the magazines hit the printers, he will have beat himself up over it so much that there will actually be blood. And we all know that Oprah can smell a drop of blood from over a mile away.

*They're "spiritually married". If that isn't gay, I don't know what is.

Zombies Use Cell Phones to Eat Your Brains

I'm not what most people would call a technology guy. I don't have 3G wireless coverage. I don't have GPS that tells me when I'm lost, and I certainly don't ignore the company before me to text someone a thousand miles away. Truth be told, I don't even own a cellphone.

I know, how can a guy claiming to be so technology illiterate run such a beautifully laid out blog? Truthfully, Prince Gomolvilas met me a few years ago at a pool hall, killed me in a bathroom stall and stole my identity. He uses my moniker as his pen name and my life as his inspiration. He's a nice enough guy, but don't ever give him pointers at the billiards table.

I went out to eat the other night (celebrating the end of the 1st trimester) and a group of youngsters were sitting at a table together texting. None of them would speak, they just kept texting. They were like zombies! I know I'm suppose to be the zombie (remember, Prince killed me and dumped my body in the Hudson River? Stay with me, people). These folks, however, were like lifeless corpses plugged into the matrix.

The photo at the top just goes to prove that people in third world countries are more technologically adapt than I am. Ssh, don't tell anyone, but I've never texted(sp?) anyone.

No Women, No Gays, No Jews

How gracious of the Pope to extend open arms to the splinter sections of the Episcopal Church. It's wonderful that they can create unity through exclusion. I'm speaking, of course, of the Catholic Church welcoming conservative members of the Anglican faith who are unsatisfyed with how their church sanctions gay unions and ordains gay and female members. Who would've thought the Catholic Church would be common ground for the social elite?

New York Bishop Suffragan Catherine Roskam replied with, "We appreciate the welcome the pope extended to those in the Anglican Communion who are disaffected. We for our part continue to welcome our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters, both lay and ordained, conservative and liberal, who wish to belong to a church that treasures diversity of thought." That's Anglican for "bitch, please".

Read the full article here.

Hello

Dear Readers,

My old blog, Bad Sum Bitch, has been long deserted, but a few hopefuls still insisted that I dust off my keyboard and forge onward. My wife was the first to protest. I can only assume that hours of my undivided attention was too much for her to handle. Quin Brown and Prince Gomolvilas were other supporters. The latter left a moving quote in the comments section of my last entry. I feel compelled to include it here:

Martha Graham said:

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and, because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.... No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."

As inspirational as this has been to me, I find it surprisingly odd that even when he quotes the words of others the term 'queer' inevitably surfaces. I hope this new blog will be half as entertaining and enjoyable as the last one was.

Sincerely,

Michael DeAntonio