Like any of you fucking care. I had a knock down drag out with The Hellcat today. Basically, I called him on his "poor me" bullshit and told him it's time to stop laying around in bed until 5 pm, only to move from the bed to the couch and then back to bed again. I told him that if his life sucks it's because he let it happen that way. I have much more to tell you, and my goal is still to get this user drug addict out of my apartment and out of my life, but for now, hopefully, I've put the fear of god into him. This isn't over. Far from it. I will have to throw his sorry ass out eventually but for now (I hope) it seems I'm (more or less) safe.
In other news
We mourn the closing of the classic gay go-go palace The Gaiety. -via towleroad
I'm too lazy to find it myself, Mr. Hell's Kitchen has reprinted a letter to the The New York Times re: the non-story story about The Cock
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