My mother’s guests’ son showed up wearing high-waisted black tights, a crop top, and body glitter. I have been desperately searching through my closet for my “GAY” NASA shirt because I do not wish to be so grandiosely out-gayed in my own home.
Did you out-gay him, son?
No. I can’t find my shirt!!!! This calls for desperate measures… time to break out the unseasonably warm Denim Jacket With Rainbows Pouring From The Nipples and High-Waisted Jeans.
It’s 8 PM and I wanted to change into my Data Star Trek Pajamas but those aren’t gay enough.
God dammit! Now he’s playing some kind of bubbly Carly Rae Whatshername pop. What do I do??? How do I relaliate….? Is Janelle Monae enough to save me? Joan Jett? Lads, I don’t think I’m gonna win this one.
Update: his mom inadvertently tipped the scale a little in my favor by saying, “Oh, nice jacket! Jake, come look at this jacket, you’ll love it!” and then I got to explain that I painted it myself:
I don’t think Janelle Monae helped much because the only songs of hers I have downloaded onto my phone are the ones about robots. I know robots are gay culture and all, but does he know that???
But then he pulled ahead of me by striking a pose in my dining room and I swear to god, his thigh muscles rippled like Glittery Gay Gaston. Ugh.
SCORE!!!! I switched to playing MIKA and moonwalked aggressively down the hallway and his own grandmother stepped out of the bathroom and said, “Oh, I thought you were Jake!”
Clearly she mistook my powerful gay energies for his, because we could not look more different.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Time to Sit In A Chair Funny.
