A very serious issue has been raised.

Namely, Genghis has gotta know:

Are TvZero and myself indulging in the love that dare not speak it's name?

My answer is simple:

In a lot of ways, I'm like Ricky Martin.

Wait.

Let me try that again.

You see, I'm of the school that wonders whether or not it reallty matters. Isn't the writing what's important here? Since Genghis absolutely had to know, let me use some examples from his life to help you decide:

Is your enjoyment of Genghis going to change either way if you find out that he likes to be dressed up as a little girl and humiliated on video? Are you going to think he's less funny if I tell you that Genghis is a sensitive, caring soul that cries when he sees a sunset? Will you, dear reader, take him off of your favories list when you learn that the man known as Genghis enjoys the occasional mouthwashing with a little Tijuana toothpaste?

Well then, if knowing any of those things change the relationship betwixt him and you, then this isn't what I thought it was. You're free to do whatever you like in your own home, so let him be. The poor man is just acting out because he doesn't have his very own Special Diaryland Friend.

You know that I'm not one for labels, but I will tell you this about TvZero and I:

He doesn't giggle when I kiss him.

Do with that what you will.

Also consider that we are two grown men who were just driving down the 101 the other night singing songs from the Simpson's at the top of our lungs.

We decided to try to reclaim our heterosexuality later by going after the same woman. It didn't help. When we got back to Zero's car, we even ignored the flyer and coupons someone had left under his wipers for a free lap dance.

I know, I know. Hopeless.

Thursday night: Jonny (TvZero) and I head downtown to a loft party. This loft party would have qualified as a party had more than four or so people showed up. It ended up being a few people sitting around watching the South Park movie. Then, the male half of the couple that lived there started throwing Snap Caps at nearly everything, including his own girlfriend.

I probably would have enjoyed that. Then I would have turned 12.

Later, we went to a beach party that was no longer a party unless your definition of 'party' is a large musclebound lunk sitting alone who wisely wore sandals to play basketball earlier in the day and sprained his ankle.

I had to use the bathroom, so we made him hobble down and open the gate to let us in. I finished and stepped out to the living room, and into the bathroom went Jonny. As I stood in the living room with Mr. Nobel Laureate, he spoke to me in some kind of weird 'Duuuuuuude' accent.

LUNK: Whaaaaay're do you live?

ME: Studio City. The valley.

LUNK: Awwwwwww. Yeeeeaaaaah. Lots of girls up thaaaaaaaay're, riiiight?

ME: I have to go.

Then Jonny and I ate some food.

Friday: The best thing about thursday night is that Mr. and Mrs. Snap Cap work at the Second City Los Angeles. So, seeing as how we could go and go for free, we did so. The show was called Funny Black People, and that's exactly what they were.

Afterwards, the oh so fun ritual of deciding where to go and how to get there began. Six people got into three cars (which apparently in LA is almost as efficient as possible, considering that the usual is a car per person) and we went to one place and then the other. We finally stopped at Canter's, an old Jewish deli.

It was there that Jonny and I were to battle for the affections of the comfortable-with-her-nipples Christine. I let Jonny have at her while I ate my potato pancakes and wondered whether that was really Tiger Woods over there (it wasn't). Then I said aloud to Jonny "Hey, tell that incredibly long and funny story you tell," and while he captivated the rest of the table with his story of stolen laundry, I began whispering to Christine, and tasted her matzo ball soup while she nibbled on my latkes.

That's no metaphor. Sadly.

It was pretty clear that the whole thing could have degenerated into me sitting on her right and Jonny sitting on her left while we each took turns going "Look how cute and funny I am! No, Look how cute and funny I am!" So, I decided to just let Jonny Boy go to town. Later, when Jonny expessed confusion, I explained how, even though it had appeared I had ceded her to him, I really hadn't, because aloofness is a pretty useful gambit in itself. Besides, it had appeared to be working, as she kept turning to me and asking me questions about Chicago.

The results of the contest are debatable. And, since she didn't invent some phony excuse to contact either of us the next morning or join us when we told her what we were doing the next night, they are also moot.

(She liked me better)

Saturday night: Jonny and I went for a hike in the Temescal Mountains. At least, I think that's where we were. It was a pretty mild four mile hike, resulting in no next day soreness for me, no contact with poisonous fauna, and no encounters with mountain goats. There was also a decent view. Then we walked down another trail that seemed to be designed specifically to break ankles.

So, once Jonny and I showered and compared outfits...

Um.

Well, once we finished getting ready to go out, out we did go. To the Improvolympic west. We bought tickets, grabbed some Thai, and went back to catch The Dana & Julia show, which I never managed to catch when I was in Chicago. They're hometown girls (scroll down to see them), so I appreciated all the Chicago references. They're filthy and foulmouthed and grab each other's breasts and do all the requisite gender skewering, but they're more than that, too.

After that, we stayed for some other shows that were free and sucked freely. Then, we went home, and our beautiful nights together were over, at least for this weekend.

And that's that. Except that I bought a bag of Doritos as CostCo today for $3.75.

And six Krispy Kremes.