Blitz & Shitz - All posts tagged 'wtf'
Thursday, December 10, 2009

Sketchy Santas

For the record, I find the following Sketchy Santas to be a very disturbing website. Some of the photos are funny disturbing:

But others are just plain fucked up. I mean, what the fuck is going on in this photo? And no, I really mean it. What. The. Fuck.


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Monday, October 26, 2009

Mo' Homo & Glenfiddich tasting

WTF? No homo? Nay, I argue Mo' Homo.

A friend of mine Facebooked this video last week and it's more than worthy of a posting here. The L'il Wayne reference is particularly captivating.

 
And in other news, there is a Glenfiddich tasting event tonight at Elixir Bistro in Yaletown with Ian Millar (the Glenfiddich Global Ambassador). It's definitely worth checking out.
 
What: Elixirʼs Special Glenfiddich Whisky Tasting Led by Expert Ian Millar Wine tastings are common. True to Elixirʼs reputation for effortless class and distinctive flair, the chic French Bistro debuts something different. On Monday October 26th, 2009 at 6pm – a stylish Glenfiddich tasting directed by master distiller Ian Millar will take the spotlight in Elixirʼs plush Velvet Room, where novices and aficionados will explore the worldʼs most awarded whisky. Along with specially prepared tasting plates created by celebrated Chef Don Letendre, the whiskyʼs characteristics will come to light.
 
When: Monday, October 26th 2009, at 6:00pm
 
Where: Elixir Bistro - 350 Davie Street, Vancouver, BC
 
How: Ticket price is $30.00 per person, plus applicable tax and gratuity. Reservations are required by contacting: Jessica Dunn at jdunn@opushotel.com or 604.694.2137.  

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Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Kiss and Tell: This Headless Torso isn't just a pretty face

By popular demand, here's the next installment in the online dating series:

Kiss and Tell: The Headless Torso (Sept 24)

 

In 2008, a number of articles began appearing online and in print media arguing that internet dating sites have irreparably damaged the queer community. They claim that the majority of queer youth are now socialized online instead of though more traditional methods, such as visiting bars or other gay meeting spaces, and that the consequence-free online environment increases the incidence of unsafe sexual practices across all age groups.

Searching for answers, freelance reporter Sean Horlor recently conducted a series of interviews with Manhunt.net users. To get the full story, he admits he often had to kiss in order to tell.

In the 1990s, pride parade participants marched chanting “we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it” in an effort to build community identity and force the world to see queers for who they are. Despite the queer community’s continuing struggle for visibility and acceptance, "The Headless Torso" profile picture is one of the most common types found on dating sites. At present, faceless anonymity is still preferred by the majority of men looking to connect with other men online.

This Headless Torso isn’t just a pretty face

 

He also wants to make one thing clear: “only an idiot” would refer to his online profile photo as a headless torso.  Guilty…as charged.

“If you think you’re being funny, you’re not.” He points his knife at me, arguing, “The section of the photo including my body is a torso, but it also shows part of my legs, my crotch, and part of my arms and neck. So how is that a torso?”

            For the record, most dictionaries describe a torso as the body excluding the head and neck and limbs, though since I’m within stabbing distance, I decide to keep my mouth shut and quit while I’m ahead.

He goes on to tells me that because he is wearing a gray shirt and American Apparel briefs in his photo that disqualifies him from fitting into any particular dating profile stereotype. “If you go online and look up headless torso profiles, you could probably find hundreds. I challenge you to find one that’s similar to mine.”

            Before I left my apartment to meet up with this guy, I checked to see how many headless torso profiles were currently logged into Manhunt. Of the 517 men online at 7:30pm on a Thursday, 92 had headless torso shots, all of which looked more or less identical when viewed in rapid succession.

That said, tonight’s Headless Torso is not one to be swayed. “In the past, I’ve posted photos of my shoulder and chin.” How well did that work? “Not as well as you’d think.”

He also wants to the last word on his photo. “Mine is more sexual than the average headless photo that you’ll find online. People think it’s too artistic and their response is: what the fuck. I need to see more.”

One of the few things he and I agree on is that this type of photo presents onlookers with a good ratio of mystery and information and that the “headless” aspect sustains a certain amount of privacy, which is why they are popular with so many men.

When we first sat down for dinner, Headless Torso asked me to use Clark Kent as a pseudonym. “I relate to the whole I’ve always been drawn to the story of Superman. Most people with any ego or intelligence feel that they are living in a community and pretending to belong to the everyday part of it.”

Is he living a double life? He claims no, explaining, “Superman has superpowers. The one that I relate to that he has is the burning vision, the laser vision. It’s a very useful tool, very powerful, very positive, but if you use it in full, you can blow [something] up or kill someone just by looking.”

His eyes bore into me. He squints. And then squints harder.

For the time being, I neither blow up nor die. I pick at my salad, waiting for him to say more. When I look up, he’s still staring. I ask him if he ever wears glasses. He shakes his head. Maybe Clark Kent isn’t the right pseudonym after all.

            Five foot ten, with freckled skin and perfectly styled hair (“dyed brown”), Mr. Headless Torso isn’t your typical redhead. He’s tanned. He works out regularly. His face is freckle free. He looks more like Robert Redford than Elmo, Archie Andrews or Beaker from the Muppets. His aforementioned “laser” eyes are black-brown and they have a habit of bugging out whenever I go head-to-head with him over his online habits.

For example, after I asked whether internet dating had made his life more rewarding or less, I was reminded of the claymation cartoons my sister and I watched as children, where eyeballs would pop out of skulls just in time for an old-timey car horn to ahh-ooooo-gah in the background.

Immediately on the defensive from the more rewarding or less question, he accuses me of trying to trick him. When I insist that it is not a trick question, he tells me, “I don’t go online for sex” and then broaches the educational aspect of meeting people online.

“There are things that people are into that I would be so upset by to encounter in real life,” he says, twisting the flashy ring on his ring finger. “The most disturbing was talking to guys who participate in gift giving ceremonies where teenagers get fucked by 4 or 5 guys with AIDS to guarantee they get it.”

            He uses internet dating sites for dating only and uses three other sites in tandem to Manhunt. And it turns out he has a good head on his shoulders after all: he takes time out of his busy online dating schedule to help those who can’t help themselves. “I’ve worked with people to expose their cheating boyfriends and exposed people who were cheating on my friends.”

            So perhaps the Clark Kent-Superman analogy isn’t so far off. He brings up the double-identity a second time when he talks about travelling for work and posting online profiles in other cities. “I have probably done worse things when I’m out of town than when I’m in town.” I press him for details and he adds, “By doing what normal people think is totally normal, like hooking up quickly without much conversation or whatever.”

Still, I’m confused. Earlier, he said he didn’t hook up online for sex. Now he says he does.  He continues, “When you go out of town, it’s easy. You have nothing to do at night, you have a hotel room and you can invite guys over and that’s that.”

From my perspective listening to how he talks about his life in Vancouver and his life traveling, there seems to be a divide. He looks panicked and blurts, “I’ve only done that twice or three times. I want to be really clear though, there is not a Clark Kent thing going on in my life.”

Oh yeah. Did I forget to mention that he doesn’t believe in being gay?

“I hate labels,” he explains, waiving his fork over the Malay seafood extravaganza he’s chosen for dinner. “But I also hate people who don’t like labels.”

I make a note that the waitress who took his order managed to get the only straight answer out of Headless Torso so far. He doesn’t have a favourite movie, a favourite song or favourite activity. Although he’s a visual artist and works as a designer to pay his bills, he tells me, “I hate the word designer almost as much as I hate the word gay.”

When I first started talking to Headless Torso online, he was adamant that he was neither gay nor straight and has sex with both men and women. He told me: “I’m not out or in. I am open to anything.” Over dinner though, he has only talked about men. He also informs me that he’s never told his parents or work clients about having sex with men.

Apparently grey is his favourite colour because of its ambiguity, a word he also uses to describe his sexual orientation. Eyes bulging again, he explains: “People are afraid of that in our culture. Ambiguity is uncomfortable of people only because it’s not normal. Right now we’re living in a time when privacy is dead.” A moment later he advises, “The closer you get to sexuality, the closer you get to what is personal, individual and specific to yourself.”

All the flip flopping is giving me a headache. Where are we? Oh yes. Ambiguous. Does he mean “wanting the privilege of the heterosexual majority while abusing the sexual freedoms of the queer minority without having to sacrifice anything for his enjoyment”?

Or when he says “ambiguous”, does he actually mean “coward”?

“You can tell a lot about people by the photos they post online,” he says. “I change mine regularly. A week ago, it was something entirely different.” Though according to friends of mine who use Manhunt regularly, that’s also a lie. Headless Torso has had the same profile photo for over 8 months.

 

This was the only “date” I went on during these interviews where I felt concerned for my personal safety.

Headless Torso wouldn’t tell me his name or show me a clear picture of his face before we met. I was also asked to wait outside the restaurant, which meant standing in front of a dark alley for 20 minutes because he was late. I had heard from my friends that he would talk for hours on the telephone, deliberately disagreeing with everything they say, and then never showed for dates.

 Was it cowardice or cruelty? Was he a master manipulator or a sociopath? I took a personal risk because I thought he would deliver a unique interview.

I’m ashamed to admit that I went walking with him after dinner. Ever the opportunist, I felt sorry for him and thought I’d at least make a pass to keep up with the kiss and tell theme from previous interviews (he was a redhead after all). That’s about when he announced that the gay rights movement was like training wheels for whatever comes next and told me I was making a mistake by self-identifying as gay.

That’s also about the time I remembered what my mother, who worked in a psychiatrist’s office, used to say to my sisters and I when we were kids: “Insane people are always sure that they’re fine. It’s only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy.

 

 


Wednesday, September 17, 2008

If a tree falls in the forest...

So guess who is OCD after all? Yours truly of course. You may have notice that the best of the old site, has found itself a new home here on Up Your Alley: Vancouver's Gay Blog. If you're new to the site, check out a few of my past posts.

More than a few homos at the Goldfrapp concert last night asked me why I didn't go an see Janet Jackson, who played Vancouver on September 10th. Their questions reminded me of that age old philosophical riddle of yore: "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

Except in this case, all I could think was: "If Janet Jackson falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does anyone care?"

In other news...got teeth? If you answered yes to that quesiton, this will help you appreciate those pearly whites:


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Just call me Dorian Gay.

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