Glutbusters

in my mind white shoes = Jerry Seinfeld

i did not have you pegged as a white shoe kinda guy

hmmmm......

Loafers, not sneakers.

Let me make that perfectly clear: NOT. SNEAKERS.

I seem to remember an incident on a bus where you and another unnamed party were accused of being pooftas - and upon denial being met with the irrefutable: "go on, youse ARE!!"

Perhaps the general public knows something... white loafers and musical theatre?

If it wasn't for the hot redhead and a somewhat agressively heterosexual reputation maybe they'd have a point.

Indeed, that is true. On that occasion both myself and the unnamed party, I recall, were wearing scarves and had our legs crossed lady-style. I think I need to re-think my wardrobe.

And when it comes to my "reputation" - you know as well as I do that it is all hat and no cattle.

"somewhat agressively heterosexual reputation"
"all hat and no cattle"

*uncontrollable laughter*
*wipes tears*

Oh boys, you crack me up.

Pete, you're as metro as they come, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. As someone occasionally hit on by women thanks to the way I dress, I share your dilemma. There's nothing worse than being slightly outraged/offended while at the same time falling over yourself to say, 'Not that there's anything wrong with that.'

So the next bloggers drinking session starts after 11pm, in the backstreets of Collingwood?

For both Peter & Jelly, the response you're looking for is 'thanks, but no'. Unless of course you're in some imminent physical danger, in which case you just scarper.

Mr Mongoose Curry and I were walking down Smith St one night, having unsuccessfully hit on various same-sex strangers, and saw a carful of blokes slowing down and hanging their heads out the window. We did what any sensible queer would do - we started snogging. They drove away, totally fooled by our display of hetrosexual couple-ness.

Hmm, to clarify - I certainly don't feel outraged/offended by being *hit on* by women (it's rather nice to be hit on by anyone, really, she says wistfully), but less fun to have 'dykes' shouted at you and girlfriends while in Thornbury or whatever northern hotbed of sinful open-mindedness I find mysely wandering around of an evening.

Even I'm confused, now. Why do my comemnts here always sound so retarded, Peter?

Oh God, now I've offended retards. And Christians.

I didn't read it that way, Jelly. And I didn't intend the post that way. It was meant to be a general musing on vilification, and how it's nasty even if one doesn't have a stake in it. Eg, being called a poof sucks even if one isn't a poof, and is presumably far more unpleasant if one is.

Kate, in many ways you've helped make my point. I appreciate your foolproof way of avoiding vilification (a hot lez willing to pash boys at the drop of a hat?! Bring it on!!) but ideally you shouldn't feel as if you have to.

And to clarify, I am often flattered to be hit on by men. It's nice to have one "in the bank", as they say, should the ladies stop biting. (Ladies, plural... Bah, who does he think he's kidding?)

People always think I'm gay. I don't correct it, if it amuses them to think it then congrats.

I didn't think you were ooutraged Jelly, merely grappling with the age-old problem of letting people down gently, which sucks regardless of the gender and sexuality of anyone involved. Having anything yelled at you from car windows is unpleasant, some young men seem to be under the impression that it makes them tuff. You can just quietly hope that they aren't concentrating on the road and crash into a pole.

Oh, and Peter, how do you know that I'm 'hot'?

Kate, Glutbusters has a very strict door policy. Burly men and fearsome women have pre-approved your entry and continue to strive towards achieving a perfect hotness balance.

I didn't know Virg's coding was that sophisticated. I am, once again, in awe at her talents.

I demand updatage.

Damn all you lazy bloggers. What am I supposed to do on a slow day at work?

Score twice before you cut once... Mary

What must be, must be... Garnett

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