Justin le...

Justin left for italy 3 hours ago... what will I do for the next 2 months with no Gay cohort at the pool? Come home soon!

People are people...

I love Live Journal... so much so that I don't think I will renew my account. Here is a short list why:*Live Journal is a little world of it's own... real people do not exist here*Most of the people who use LJ are ugly, and have no social skills*I'll bet you 10 bucks that if I saw any of the guys who make rude, gay remarks, smarmy as they are, wouldn't do shit if I saw them in person... a false sense of confidence is pathetic.*People are crass, people are boring, people are taultry... and so are their journals.*People are ugly... and so are their pictures... the ones brave enough to show their face.*If the opportunity for a LJ party came about, no one would go, except for maybe 3 or 4 people I know personally, because some most would stay home anxiously awaiting the first post to comment on.*Although, the golden few of you are hot as shit... you know who you are!While I am not deleting my account, no sir, I will no longer pay for something so lame. That money is best spent in the real world...or on porn sites.

I ha...

I have gotten way too much sun for it to only be the third day of summer.I am the same color as my DARK BROWN UGG BOOTS! This was pointed out to me by my waiter at Chevy's... I need to NEVER LIFEGUARD AGAIN!

Fun thing...

Fun things going on in My life...* Hot new lifeguard is a possible Mo* Two days into summer and I ain't sunburnt!* Moving in four days... It's cute, it's pink, it's "La Bunderosa Grande!"* Blair got us a pink couch to match!* In the shower yesterday I saw two interesting things... a. The smallest penis on a man EVER... his naked son's was twice the size (the son was 4 or 5) b. One of my gym crushes was also naked... and a little chubby for showering!*There is a retarded kid who comes to the pool, each day his care taker brings in a new, SUPERFUCKINGHOT guy to play with the kid. I want her job! * Jenn and Brad were spotted again at CantinaThis is neither fun nor amusing... I have no life... I work too much... can't wait for next week when everyone comes back!

Too much sun!

Last night, after a strenuous day of lifeguarding and swim instructing, I dreamt I was in a horrific fight with my good friend/employer David Beckham. Who knows what the fight was about but it was big enough that I wanted nothing to do with that fucking selfish asshole ever again. But poor Victoria... all she wanted was for us to put our petty differences behind us. Not for the sake of my babysitting career, but for our friendship. I woke up before I had made up but I feel we were moving to resolve things.Anyways, the real point of this story it just to say that when I glanced at this months Vanity Fair all I could think of is how I missed babysitting for Posh and Beck.

If I Were Straight...

Tonight I went out to see all the crazies on State Street. As was expected, the cheering throngs were spilling out into the street. Consorting with this confounded gaggle left me with one very strong feeling, that being the fact that if I were straight, I would NEVER get laid!As I am standing at the bar at Q's Sushi-A-GoGo a nice young girl approaches me clad in a hot pink college skirt. We get to talking, classes, profs, Isla Vista... the usual. But then she stops me dead sentence and exclaims "wow, you have beautiful teeth!"What do I say? "Yeah, I know."I get a strange look and she is gone in a huff of J Lo Glow. What did I do? How did I kill the mood? I am at a loss. But then it hits me... Oh, she was working her "game." She thought our mind-numbingly banal conversation was flirting. Haha... no mam... not in the slightest. You see, if a gay boy were to tell me I had good teeth, he would also want to know what kind of bleach I use to keep them pearly white. He would also know how painful my braces were and guess that, like a 13 year old, I sleep with a retainer, every night. It goes the same with "nice body/hair/tan/clothes/shoes/etc" comments. We know the cost of beauty and thus, complimenting it in a "wow, you are sure purty" does nothing to degrade our hard work. No one has to tell a pretty gay boy that he is pretty because more than likely he knows its cost in money, sweat, and tears.So if that is how you straights do it, I would rather take my hand-on-the-crotch-as-I-pass-by-because-I-couldn't-find-a-better-place-to-put-it=wanna-make-out? flirting any day. Leave your small talk for the boys who don't know how to match because I just don't get it.

Patchwark Pants...

Tonight, in the midst of my finals studying madness I received an email from a Brandon... he wanted to meet up and talk about the UC London program. I was to meet him at Java Jones at 930pm... he would be the one in the "Brown Patchwork Pants." Fag!As I arrive I search the scene for the alleged BPP's. There he is, cute as a button in brown tweed, tight as shit, patchwork pants. And we are both wearing shirts from True Grit (for those who don't know Santa Barbara shopping, True Git is an Immensely expensive, yet sort of above the trend store that bi weekly robs me of my parents hard earned money... please see entry on G-Star sweatshirt for more info) Anyways, he must be gay, I could smell it in the TTYL on his e-mail.We get to talking about London, the housing, the food, school, travel, you know, bull shit.But then he brings up clubs... finally something I am truly educated in... I tell him about the hot spots, Trash, Heaven, Nag Nag Nag, G-A-Y, Ku Bar... and then he drops the bomb..."so did you, uh, hook up with lots of chicks in London?" What the fuck, are you kidding me sir?I had to spell out my homosexuality for the first time in my life. I had no idea how to even start. "well, all those clubs are pretty much GAY... hence Club G-A-Y!" Come on BPP... I almost liked you. Please, go to London and let me be the first one you email when you unsuspectingly sit on a dick![Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<img [...] "http://www.beeyeglad.com/bear%20pants%20side.jpg">') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]Tonight, in the midst of my finals studying madness I received an email from a Brandon... he wanted to meet up and talk about the UC London program. I was to meet him at Java Jones at 930pm... he would be the one in the "Brown Patchwork Pants." Fag!As I arrive I search the scene for the alleged BPP's. There he is, cute as a button in brown tweed, tight as shit, patchwork pants. And we are both wearing shirts from True Grit (for those who don't know Santa Barbara shopping, True Git is an Immensely expensive, yet sort of above the trend store that bi weekly robs me of my parents hard earned money... please see entry on G-Star sweatshirt for more info) Anyways, he must be gay, I could smell it in the TTYL on his e-mail.We get to talking about London, the housing, the food, school, travel, you know, bull shit.But then he brings up clubs... finally something I am truly educated in... I tell him about the hot spots, Trash, Heaven, Nag Nag Nag, G-A-Y, Ku Bar... and then he drops the bomb..."so did you, uh, hook up with lots of chicks in London?" What the fuck, are you kidding me sir?I had to spell out my homosexuality for the first time in my life. I had no idea how to even start. "well, all those clubs are pretty much GAY... hence Club G-A-Y!" Come on BPP... I almost liked you. Please, go to London and let me be the first one you email when you unsuspectingly sit on a dick!<img src "http://www.beeyeglad.com/bear%20pants%20side.jpg">