Last week, my cable service was shut off due to non-payment of my bill (whatever, it’s gonna take me a couple of months to catch up from the cost of transitioning to living without a roommate, or bed bugs . . . ). One sleepy, hungover morning-after-a-wild-night kind of day, I was faced with the dilemma of what to watch. It was the kind of day when I like to melt into the couch and “m’stories,” i.e. all the various and sundry programs I DVR on a wide-range of channels from ABC to VH-1, from HBO to DIY, Bravo to Showtime, etc. What was I going to do without all that?
It’s not news that gay movies are usually crap. I still see them, or watch them on TV or Netflix or whatever, but my expectations are invariably low. As a matter of fact, I think over the years, my standards have been substantially lowered by the constant influx of dreck.
Why do I keep going back?
This weekend, the day came at last when my roommate moved out and I got to take over the entire railroad apartment for myself, after sharing it with one person or another, for 10 years.
Unfortunately, I won’t be the only living thing in the place for the next couple of weeks, because, to update you on my post of few weeks ago (Bed Bugs and Scabies and Crabs, Oh My!), it has turned out that I actually have a bed bug infestation.