Thursday, February 24, 2011

THE GOAL: Improve in Ten Weeks


To coincide with a planned trip to Louisville, I will ramp up all efforts to push myself harder in the gym and eat healthier. I am now working out chest and arms twice a week. Any cardio will come solely from tennis. Wish me luck!

The Prophecy


The Book of Brett is a collection of truths, wisdom, and prophecies. Unlike the Bible or Qur'an, it's not filled with bullshit made up stories to influence ignorant people. IT IS THE TRUTH. All will be revealed in coming months.

As a new follower, you must first learn the Prophecy of Cuntzilla. Legend holds that a riveting event will take place in the future. A bitchy gay man cracked out on ecstasy, beer, and Viagra will be visited by a fairy.

In the throngs of his drug induced delirium with one helluva boner, the bitchy queen is granted his one true wish. POOF! The fairy makes him a female pop star.

He is instantly teleported to a concert stage in front of 12,000 adoring gay men and 800 fag hags. He turns and discovers (in horror) that his stage name is "Cuntzilla". He pauses and thinks, "Hmm... it fits..." He hikes up his skirt, twirls around and belts out the most icky auto-tuned songs the Universe has ever heard (even more cringe worthy than Kylie).

The set list includes popular dance club smashes: "SWEATY ASS ON THE METRO", "I'M A CUNT 4 U", "GIMME GIMME GIMME YOUR BOYFRIEND AFTER MIDNIGHT", and punk infused "BITCH BITCH BITCH!".

After out-sleazing rival Ke$ha, Cuntzilla receives a standing ovation. It is proudly her best moment ever... right before vomiting and waking up naked in a bathtub in DC. It was all just a drug induced fantasy!

The moral of the story:

Sister... you ain't gonna be a female pop star! You are a 40 something year old gay man who has irreparably ruined your vocal chords from years of cock sucking. No matter how high you hike up your skirt or pop out your boobs, it ain't gonna happen. All your dreams are crushed. Sorry.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Book of Brett


In an effort to improve humanity, I will be dispencing valuable universal truths. From time to time, you'll see wisdom referenced from "The Book of Brett".

It is proper, customary, and expected to reply with the following refrain: "THANKS BE TO BRETT. AMEN!" Failure to do so will get you sucker punched in the cunt. Ahem.

Without further adieu...
1."Losing is for Losers. Winning is intoxicating. If you are playing just to have fun, you are squishy, wimpy, and not very athletic."

Monday, February 21, 2011

Deviance from Norm:


Did y'all have a good weekend? I sure did. I packed up my pups and made a weekend road trip to Houston, Tx for the Robyn concert. You'd be surprised how many straight AND gay folks do not know who Robyn is. It's quite scandalous.

I had a good 'ole time merrily eating, drinking, and making mischief. It was so unlike me to let go and not worry about the next tennis match or gym workout. I actually felt joy and happiness occurring naturally in a non-competitive environment. How is this possible?!

Robyn had two opening acts. Natalie Kills and The Diamond Rings. Natalie Kills was a sexy kitten clad in leather with two female backup dancers. She had a Lady Gaga sound to her. The Diamond Rings was a one man band that sounded Depeche Modish. I enjoyed them both.

By the time Robyn came on stage, I had a good beer buzz going. She opened with "Time Machine", a song fresh off her new album. It was a cathartic experience seeing her live. Robyn dances soooo slutty. Criminal intent? It was a treat to see her rock the house with great vocals and an unlimited burst of energy.

I drunk texted Jimbo concert pics/vids. He promptly scolded me to enjoy the concert and put down the iPhone. What a dick. If a fairy does grant Jimbo his lifelong wish to be a female pop star, I hope he is instantly transported to a stage only to turn around and see "Cuntzilla" as his Pop Star name. Grrr...

Anyway, I had a great weekend hanging with buds and being human-like. I learned several lessons: Alcoholics and Squishies are people too, Happiness can exist outside of a tennis court, and it IS possible to eat (and dip) chicken nuggets with two dogs on your lap while driving. Ahem.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Tranny Trading Card Game


Grindr continues to entertain me. Do you know a fun game you can play with your friends? Take a photo of a Grindr profile from your location that makes you go... "WHAT THE FUCK!?" Text it to your buds and compare who has the funniest pic. The above picture was shared with me by my buddy Kody (Dallas). Obviously, this twink loves playing with makeup.

Do you have a funny Grindr pic that you would like to share? Feel free to text me. I may even include it here on this blog. I would love to see if yours beats out Baton Rouge's own Trixie Lixxx:

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

My Secret Life as a Super Pr*ck:


If my life was in song, it would be "The Imperial March" (Darth Vader's Theme) portraying power and totalitarian rule over Jimbo's ass -- otherwise known as "the Galaxy". Muahaha!

Contrary to false rumor and conjecture, I am not single because of an inability to get along well with others. That's poopy cock! I have high standards. Impress me with athleticism and strength, not how far you can extend your pinky, sipping on a girlie drink, while wearing a fagulous flowery shirt.

Do you know what I did for Valentines Day? I played a foe from Grindr who said he was going to kick my ass. Do you know how to charm my pants off? Tell me you are gonna kick my ass.

I warned this Grindr foe that we were playing "Loser Bottoms". I swept the 6'2" giant 6-0, 6-2 in straight sets. I would have collected on the bet, but my Mama had already called me to come over and eat. He should thank my Mama for saving his ass from certain destruction.

It is no secret that I have a deep seeded need to conquer, WIN, and subjugate all opposition. Does this make me crazy? One treacherous soul suggested that I should consider taking an Abnormal Psych class just for fun. Skating on thin ice, he remarked - "You could get your pic in the book and be famous!"

Instead of knocking the fuck out of him, I clenched my jaw. His disrespect was duly noted. I actually gave him 1 point for bravery. Payback WILL be forthcoming. I don't get mad... I get even.

Tonight, I play the sixth tennis match in seven days. On top of all the on court terror, I have worked out with a WOOFY personal trainer four times in the same period. No, I am not crazy. I'm dedicated.

Thursday, February 03, 2011

N.H.G.


I'm a manly man. In fact, if I were at the Gold's Gym in Castro right now, I'd be pulling Moby forward by the shirt collar and telling him to MAN UP! If he didn't immediately respond with a "YES, SIR!", hell hath no fury. Grunt.

Which makes the incident that happened this morning so shocking. I was running around the house getting ready for gym and work. At one point, I stopped... flipped my wrist... and muttered "I don't need that shirt." Staring up at me in horror was my dog Boudreaux.


I was flushed with shame. "NOOOO... you didn't see Daddy do that, did you?" Boudreaux growled.

A little background information: Boudreaux is a Dachshund who has "little dog syndrome". He'll regularly fight with other dogs much bigger than himself. I have tried in vain to help him with his "Napoleon Complex". All to no avail. Tsk. Tsk.

As a man, God has graced me with superior logic and reasoning skills. I immediately fetched the squeaky rabbit toy. The challenge for household Alpha status was on!

For ten minutes, we were on the floor growling and tugging at the stuffed rabbit. My growl was louder and unrelenting. I even tapped him on the hind leg to startle him into dropping the rabbit. RAWR! WHO's THE ALPHA DOG NOW?!

After firmly demonstrating my dominance in the household, I drove to the gym and performed a ball busting HARD workout. Thankfully, the nelly hand gesture has NOT reappeared. I'm on watch, however, as the nelly alert level is apparently on pink. GROAN.

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

The Art of Soaking Cork


Ohhhh yeah... keep going baby... don't stop... that's it... all the way down... awww Gawd... awww Gawd... YES... YES... YES!!! HELL YES!!! THE LORD IS MY SAVIOR! Whew. Good boy. (pats Jimbo on the head)

Sorry about that. I had to relieve some tension. How in the hell are y'all doing? I'm good. Well, actually I've been bad. After a five month absence, I have returned to revisit my wicked past. Yup. I have been spending time in the bars with people half my age.

At age 40, I am "Daddy" to the twenty something year old set. I remember when I was in my 20's. I didn't date people my own age . My loins yearned for older "Daddy" types. Now that I am 40, I enjoy the perks of being on the other side of the equation. It's kinda fun and makes me feel younger! Next thing you know, I'll be driving around in a convertible. LOL.

Do you know a pet peeve of mine? Us older gays are not doing enough to mentor those twenty something year olds in the art of cork soaking. There is a whole generation of young gays who either do not know how to properly soak cork or do it only sparingly. You could have the meatiest Slab, and it goes unappreciated. SIGH.

I blame our culture of immediate gratification. Call me old fashioned, but how about a little foreplay? We are brainwashing our young ones to focus more on quantity and less on quality. I'm sorry, but dropping your trousers and wanting me to "put it in!" ain't cool. We MUST educate our twinks before cork soaking becomes a lost art.

On a completely different note, how many of you launch Grindr just to giggle at the funniest user pics? I do. If I were to pick Baton Rouge's most hilarious Grindr user, IT would be this:


WTF?! WHAT IS IT?! MALE OR FEMALE? I'M SKEERED!