The New Jerusalem

I went to Phoenix on a trip for work, because I am an important television producer on the go. Actually, my job is primarily just to wrangle problematic female talent, yes ladies and gentleman, I'm a eunich!

So one of the folks I was there with is a secret lesbian, so she insisted on taking me to a lesbian bar. And you're probably wondering, "Hey Guy, a lesbian bar in phoenix, what's that like. Set the stage for us Guy." Ok, imagine a sea of 4 foot tall hopi dykes dancing to rumpshaker, and me, a brobdingnagian interloper into their midsts. I felt like I was in a re-make of the lord of the rings where all the hobbits were dumpy 45 year old native american women. This was horrifying to me, until I came upon a stultifying discovery. It turns out that in a gay bar where everyone is ugly, i'm kind of hot. You know, West Hollywood is an elysian field of perfectly ripened gay ass, but I never get to reap this bronzed and well muscled harvest. But in Phoenix, the fruit may not be as firm, it may not be as lustrous. But I got to pluck it. I got to pluck all over the place.

I went to a lesbian bar for the first time, and it was amazingly dark, like, nothing but black lights, like you couldn't see anyone's face. But then I realized, if I had to date lesbians, I wouldn't want to have to see what they looked like either.

I never gamble, except with other people's emotions, because then I always win.