A few months ago I blogged about the 'Trophy Husband' - the guy who's dragged around and paraded by his wife in front of her friends. Well recently I was reminded of another type of trophy - the Trophy Boyfriend. You see, similar to the Trophy Husband, the Trophy Boyfriend is a mere fashion accessory. Hanging on his arm is a skank or some gay drama queen who just wants to show the world what a catch they've landed. Everyone else they knew before will now melt away into the background, to be called upon probably for a random favor or for the obligatory dinner invitation, which of course involves more doting and face-rubbing. Full story...
Instead of sleeping in late this Friday, I decided to get up early and head on down to the Bur Juman Pink Walkathon, an event to raise awareness about breast cancer.
I saw this in a store at Dubai Mall over the weekend - can anyone tell me the purpose of outfit #3? A Kylie knock-off perhaps?
For as long as I can remember, I hated the fact that I was single. Everywhere I looked, I would be reminded about relationships, couples, and all the warm fuzzy feelings that come with having someone in your life.
The world of customer service is truly an exciting experience, simply because it's just so diverse. At some places you get the red-carpet treatment, and people will go out of their way to make sure that you're happy and they've solved whatever problem you had.
R.I.P Patrick Swayze - you will be greatly missed.
You will burn in hell.This is one of the most common phrases repeated to gay men and women around the world.
I'm beginning to love logging in to OUT to check my messages - here's another keeper I received a few days back:
Dear Gay Friend ,This is an investment proposal concerning interested partners.
A co-worker of mine recently sent me this link which made me (and the girls in the office) absolutely die of laughter.
some books you fall in love withand remember every page wordletter printed softly on your heartsharing momentspleasing momentsas tender fingers smudge the pages,but then you forget and go on livingleft behind to gather dustit sits in lonely echoeswith only dog-eared pagesto remember you by.
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