American Apparel's Secret

Lavurn, so sorry that I have been away from Gabby Gays for a while, but I must confess that I have been busy doing research for our upcoming musical, "Bloggin'!", which may star Hugh Jackman if I can drug him long enough to sign the contract.
Among the interest findings that I have uncovered since my last entry is colored panties. Victoria has been divulging her Secret long enough to the delight of straight men, so I figured that gay men must have an underwear secret of our own. Last week I found the Holy Grail of briefs in a store called American Apparel.

Now I know what you're thinking, Vurn. Come on! Gay men have been overpaying for undies for a decade, ever since Marky Mark giggled as he tugged on his CK boxer briefs. But this is different. Sure! Calvin Kleins show off the derriere, and 2xist have a package-enhancing design, but I'm talking about is something more important because other than the gym locker room, objects of your affection don't get to see those benefits until you're undressed. I'm talking about using the Power of the Panties to get you laid. It's had 100% efficacy for me so far! I swear gurl, it's like wearing rohypenol!

I'll just give you a small sample of what has happened to me since I have been purchasing my baby blues and kelly green AA briefs (I like using the acronym because it makes me think I'm getting professional help). A week ago I spent some time at a popular new club here in the East Village of New York City. The club was packed with hot guys, some drinking, others dancing, and there were quite a few boys whom I've unsuccessfully flirted with--the hot doctor, the young writer, the slutty bartender. You get the idea. A bunch of adjectives and professions--HOT. At one point I left my friend to go upstairs to dance. I luvs me some dance music, so I was gyrating around when suddenly I was circled me like carrion for vultures. There was the tattooed butch guy on my football team who hadn't give me the time of day all last season.

But I'm telling you, Lavurn, this guy could smell my baby blues smoldering under my jeans. He had to have me right then. And so, to make my blog entry PG-13, I abandoned my friends and had a night of passion with one of my fantasies. Two nights later, I wore my green AAs and had an even wilder time with even more men (and one drag queen).

So, this is what I'm saying to you. Don't let it out, or we may have work stoppages by the gay community which could wreak havoc in the florist/flight attendant/interior design worlds. But get thee to an American Apparel store soon and you will never have to worry about where your next bed partner is coming on, I mean, from.


The END