Shit, I'm funny.

This took years to realize. My brother is pretty funny. Well, actually he's witty. And mean. Growing up it was hard to feel funny because a) my brother always seemed funnier b) especially compared to my sense of humor which was always 7 years behind his.

People tell me I'm funny. I swear. I've been out a few times recently with a nice young gentleman who says I'm funny. And gorgeous. And rich. And built like a brick shithouse. (Note to lonely gay friends: Hang outside of the Braille Institute on Vermont. It's a proven fact that cripples are disproportionately gay, probably a result of their parents trying to self-abort at some point during gestation. The Brailies are clearly good boyfriends. Great for the self-esteem.)

Now, of course, he's only known me a few weeks so he gets to see Brian when he's on. But so far, he's convinced. Or just high, a distinct possibility.

His opinion of me is relatively immaterial in the scheme of things because it will always be less than my opinion of myself. And I am funny as shit.

I am probably one of the few bloggers to do this, but let me steal my own comment off of Rick's awesome blog, Mondo-Ricko. The post was about the RRRROSAS lady in West Hollywood.

I always imagined that during the day, she's like a stockbroker or trial lawyer. That she lives in this fabulous house in the Palisades and does the rosas things to stay connected to the gays because her first husband, the love of her life, was a closeted homosexual who died of AIDS in 1986 before being able to be honest about himself with her.

Turns out that she's actually only 3'9" tall. (She wear lifts in her shoes.) Suffers from a crippling case of diabetes. Sleeps in Allen's closet and lives off the scraps that she wrestles away from the cats. Hidden in her rosas are small pieces of papers with notes that she's hoping someone will pass on to the authorties so she can be freed from her miserable life in slavery. Unfortunately, the stupid fags always throw their rosas away, or leave them behind in the bathroom, before ever discovering the notes.

Now that's funny right? Hopefully the new fellow will think so, especially when I use it one night on a date, and he thinks it's totally spontaneous.

Of course, I'm such an egomaniac that I've already told him about the blog, and I am pretty sure he reads it regularly, so I probably won't be able to pull this one off. At least he's cute!

PS: The photo is demonstration of the high-quality of my sense of humor.