The culture blog

Posted on October 2, 2005

3


On Friday night I went to see the Aristocrats. I know, I paid money to see a documentary, but whatever. Actually, it wasn’t my money so Boyfriend paid TWICE to see a documentary. It goes against everything I stand for. Nevertheless it was amazingly funny. In case you don’t know, the idea is that all these comics discuss/tell this notoriously filthy inside joke. The surprising bit was how just fucking obscene Bob Saget was. He’s Mr. Fluffy Family Humour. I also appreciated Whoopi Goldberg’s contribution, but no surprises there. Throughout, I continued to eat a vast container of popcorn undeterred, to Boyfriend’s amazement. He kindly acquiesced to holding my buttery hand though.
Later on, however, I would get these graphic flashbacks of the revolting scenarios described. I got horrible gross dreams. I guess it was a delayed action sort of film, that hits you in segments during the next twelve hours like the memories of a drunken night.
As we left Boyfriend suggested we walked down Church St, with blithe disregard to its gayness. It says a lot about Toronto’s thirst for culture that the street signs on Church Street are surmounted by rainbows, much like Little Italy has the lighted boots.
As we walked I started becoming very self conscious about holding hands. This must be how gay people feel. It really came to a height when someone heckled us – “Heterosexuals!” That’s what I heard. Boyfriend contends it was “heterosexual”, singular. After he said that I noticed that in fact there were a lot of guys checking him out. Not surprising, since he definitely has the best ass outside of Brazil, where it is agreed that it’s illegal not to be hot. The rest is pretty shapely too. I kind of enjoyed it, but then I felt a little nervous. He was fine with it, of course.

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