Indulgences?

I'll need to ask you to indulge me for a moment here. Last year, as faithful readers will recall, I ventured briefly in to the world of reality television. I was left on the cutting room floor of the lesbo-fest known as Bravo's Work Out. I'm really fine with that.

What I'm not fine with is sleaze ball reality show-trainers being rude to me. My "date" was none other than shallow gay Jesse (not cool gay Doug, who passed away this year), and he was really cold when the cameras went off.

He was cute enough, and I thought as a trainer probably had a decent body. He was moderately charming, if not that quick, but not on par with his female counter-part. While I don't have a trainer's body, I think a nice fag from Los Angeles should consider a date with me a positive experience.

I ran into him at the Abbey just when the show was starting. He was in an undershirt and jeans. I remember kids in grade school getting picked on for wearing undershirts like real clothes, but I digress. He was just as rude to me then. Bitch.

Well, I may not have a trainer's body, but it should be a moot point because, frankly neither does Jesse. We are watching the drama of the "fatty-fatty 2 x 4, can't fit through the dressing room door" unfold this season.

My final question for you, dear readers: If you could choose, who would you want to take home? (Totally disregard how charming you already know option B to be.)

VS.