Crissy has been thinking again Internettians.
A dangerous pastime, I know.
“What have you been thinking about now, Crissy?”
I’m glad you asked, Internet.
I’ve been thinking that in addition to my House Bitch I’m going to have to have an entourage too.
Now I know that all a you Internets are an entourage of sorts and I love, love, love that, really I do and if I could have sweaty sex with every last one of you I would, but I sort of would like a real entourage too. Like one so big we have to have one of these:
And I think that my entourage should include some flamboyant gay men.
Sort of like this fine fellow:
Can’t you just picture us walking into Whole Foods together?
With Girlfriend sitting in the grocery cart like the Queen of Sheba?
It’s like it was meant to be!
But it isn’t.
In all seriouslyness though, Crissy has always loved the gays and thinks that if Kathy Griffin can have a large gay following then so should she.
And I love Madonna just as much as anyone. I even blew the speakers out in my car listening to Hard Candy.
But here’s the sad truth Internettians.
Crissy doesn’t have any gay friends and it makes her sad because it’s very tragic that someone as fabulous as she is so woefully deprived. She almost had a gay friend. His name was Eric and he loved him some Madonna and even had a license plate that said MDONNA and his most favoritest thing was dressing up like her and his skin was sooooo smooth like a baby’s and Crissy was only 18 at the time and she tried to kiss him because she thought he was straight. Because he asked her out on a date and was acting like a straight guy except for the smooth skin thing and it turned out that Nooooooo. Eric was really as gay as the day was long and it lead to a very awkward moment and we never spoke again.
Crissy should have seen the signs of the gayness (I mean HELLO! How many straight guys do you know like to dress up as Madonna?) but Crissy was a stupid girl and she wishes she could talk to Eric again and say she’s sorry for the awkwardness and couldn’t he just come over and we can listen to Madonna and drink wine and make fun of straight guys together? (Sorry straight guys. I love you, but you know you’re really sort of dumb sometimes, right?)
But I don’t know what happened to him.
I’ve always wanted to be a fruit fly, a fag hag, a girl who hangs out at gay bars and comes home covered in glitter and singing “It’s raining men.” That’s what I assume goes on in gay bars but I have no idea, really because I live in white bread, heterosexual, Catholic suburbia where their idea of an alternative lifestyle is driving a car instead of an SUV or a fucking mini van and having only one kid instead of 4. The only gay guys you see around here are the sad and sorry ones who lurk around in the woods at the park.
I’m so over it I could puke.
I needs me some more fabulous and I need it in a hurry because as it turns out the red hair is not quite enough yet.
Crissy likes to go BIG.