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I suppose I do spend about 90% of my day thinking about some combination of sex, tits, strippers, and porn. But for the most part I use my inside voice. Those guys use their outside voice.
When I was in provincetown this summer I went to a coffee shop (dibs this is down near where you put your boat into the water) and some guy came in and ordered coffee in the most unbelievable over the top queeny way. Is it somehow repressed to say two scoops of sugar without making sexual gestures with your ass? The rest of the patrons managed to order coffee like normal humans.
“Yes, jb. dibs – I’m assuming it’s skin-on. I agree, you don’t brown skinless.”
are we talking about chiiiicken or herpes?
No skin. So wait, a skinless breast is destined to be slimy and white?
Jackal, I dunno, I see it as a bit of activism. Sort of a daily reminder of the old parade chant: we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it. Or maybe that’s just how these dudes really are.
Yes, jb. dibs – I’m assuming it’s skin-on. I agree, you don’t brown skinless.
“I dunno, Jackal. I see that as out of the closet and not trying to hide it.”
Why does not hiding it have to include making a huge public display? If you want to not hide it, when someone asks you what you did last night just say in a deadpan “oh, you know, had dinner, fucked a dude. The usual.”
I wouldn’t want chicken breast to get brown and crispy if we’re just talking the meat and not the skin. it’s not really brown and crispy, it’s hard and overcooked.
So it will brown if I foam the butter, add the oil, then drop the chicken?