De-linting Andrew before the fundraiser

"Thank god you're here! I need your help!" I let Ernest in. He's looking very dapper in his leather trenchcoat and suit.
"Cute shirt, Andrew!" he says, "But what's all that fur -"
"That's what I need your help with! I can't find my lint brush and this shirt is covered with cat hair... I met this artist guy a week ago and well, I tricked with him and I think we took our clothes off in the livingroom, and his cat must have slept on my shirt..."
The buzzer rings again. I buzz Philip in.
"Hey Philip!"
"Cute shirt! But it's covered with hair -"
Philip is looking quite handsome too in his black tie.
"So, here is a roll of masking tape... can you both help me de-lint this shirt?"
Ernest deftly covers Philip's right hand with masking tape (sticky side out) and then does his own, and they both start pawing me. All over my back, chest, shoulders, abs...
"This feels really good! Don't stop!" I say playfully. It really did feel good.
Pretty soon the cat hair is gone, my shirt looks perfect, and me and my two dates are in a cab heading to the event.
"You didn't really lose your lint brush, did you?" Ernest asks.
"No. But you have to admit, it's more fun to de-lint someone with masking tape..."

Stefan, Bobby and other miscellaneous drama

STEFAN> yt?
ANDREWJ> hey sup Stefan...
STEFAN> Last night Bobby walked out on me.
Not again, I think to myself. Third time in the last 2 months.
ANDREWJ> Oh no. what happened?
STEFAN> I'm so distraught :(
Yea but you like drama, honey.
ANDREWJ> Sorry to hear...
STEFAN> Honey, why is my life always filled with such pain and ...
misery and anguish?
STEFAN> misery... and anguish!
ANDREWJ> It's not, honey. You're fabulous, and wonderful, and charming
just that you're a dramaqueen.
STEFAN> I can't bear life any more. I feel so... persecuted. like... like Princess Diana.
ugh here we go.
STEFAN> Or Eva Peron...
ANDREWJ> Princess Grace...
STEFAN> Or Sonia Gandhi...
Sonia Gandhi!?! That's a new one.
ANDREWJ> It'll be OK. Give him a day, and I'm sure he'll call. He's a good guy.
STEFAN> Honey why do us beautiful people suffer so much? :( :( :( All we do is give, give, give... and
Dude, I have to get back to work.
STEFAN> and remember those men who were screaming at me after the Bunny Jam...
ANDREWJ> they weren't screaming, honey... they were horny and drunk and besides you were a cute, half-naked guy in a bunny outfit.
STEFAN> and back at Kensington Palace when I -
I roll my eyes. There goes my afternoon.

Does Aaron read your blog?

Aaron lets out a whoop. "Oh my God I can't believe you told them that!"
"Told them what?" I look up from the dining table. Aaron is laying on my sofa, laughing to himself as he scrolls through my latest blog entries. He is naked except for boxers. My boxers, I notice, slightly irritated.
"And you should add a link to the Candyman video. It really is her best song." His eyes light up as he hums a few bars. "It's way cool how she's the blond, brunette and the readhead... " he giggles.
OK. Just for you, cutie:
Click here for Aaron's favorite video
Damn song'll never get out of my head now. Tarzan and Jane were swingin' on a vine...
"And you had to tell them THIS?"
I move to the sofa and peer at the screen. His hand finds mine and he pulls me down beside him.
"It doesn't matter, cutie. Besides, you're better looking than me. They know that."
"Yea but... I'm only slightly smaller than you..."
I just smile. Men are all the same.
"Are you going to finish telling them the Troy thing?"
"Yep... as soon as -"
"And Vincent wasn't all THAT hot but he was - hey who's Jeremy?"
You know... the tall, geekish-looking guy -
"Oh, and you should do an blog entry about the book I'm reading..."
OK.
"And another one on..."
Hey wait a sec, whose blog IS this anyways?

The man with the cat

- David Hockney."
"You like Hockney?"
"Yea... I've got a huge poster of Mulholland Drive at home. Not to mention the painting of Percy and the cat..."
He gets his David Hockney reference book off the shelf and comes and sits down beside me, this time a little closer than before.
"It's a great piece," he says, opening the book to the painting. There they are, Mr and Mrs Percy, and their white cat sitting erect on Mr Percy's lap, lookingforlorny out the window.
"I saw the original a an exhibit last year in Los Angeles". I kick my shoes off and stretch a bit. His sofa is comfy.
A big orange cat appears from the kitchen and walks languidly- almost seductively- towards the stairs, where it stretches and yawns. He looks towards us expectantly.
"Wanna sleep upstairs? My bed's comfier than the sofa..."

Good times

Ahhh... there he is. I make my way to the back of the bar, passing cruising stares and many cute men. Some of them are making out. Many of them are shirtless.
"Hey cutie," I say, putting my arm around Aaron from behind and giving him a kiss on the back of his neck. Aaron disentangles himself from the embrace of the rather tall, muscly guy he was making out with and turns to me.
"Andrew! This is... uh..." Aaron starts.
"Vincent." The muscled guy smiles at me and offers his hand.
"Nice to meet you," I say.
And in a split second, I have looked him up and down and sized him up. Cute, well built, aggressive looking, but at the same time sensitive. Nice strong arms. One of his hands is still on Aaron's naked waist. This vaguely bothers me.
"I'm heading home." I have to work tomorrow, and I'm feeling tired.
"Oh, OK. I'll see you later," Aaron says.
"Want the rest of this?" I say, handing him my unfinished Cape Cod.
On the way home I pass Hot Cookie. I see Jeremy inside closing up for the night. Jeremy is all of 22, and is preparing for his GRE. His study guide usually lies open on the counter near the cash register. I wave at him, but he doesn't notice.

Every single part of Aaron's body...

Aaron is already at Speedo Mountain with his group of friends.
"Hey cutie," I say, sitting down with him. "Need help with that?" I ask, taking the bottle of sunscreen from his hand and applying it to his back.
"Thanks" he says.
"Hiiiiiiii Andrew," says Darlene, slightly slurring her words. She's usually never sober after 2PM.
"Gonna get comfortable?" Aaron asks, tugging at my shirt and putting his hand down my shorts. I pull off my shirt and unbuckle my shorts.It's a scorching hot day, and I'm glad we're in the shade.
Carlos passes me a glass of champagne. I take a sip, and as I do, realize I just got sunscreen lotion on the back of Aaron's speedos. The squarecut bright blue ones I love so much.
"Sorry," I carefully wipe the sunscreen off his ass cheek and apply it to his thigh. I've kissed every single part of this boy's body, I think to myself. The champagne is hitting me.

Sweet-talkin sugarcoated candyman! (candyman!)

Aaron lets out a sudden yelp of joy.
I look up at the screen... and sure enough it's Candyman. One of Aaron's favorites.
The lighting changes, and so does the energy in the club. Little squares of purple light reflected off the discoball, and blue flashing strobelights illuminate the walls and the people to the beat of the music. A cloud of dry ice appears above us and dissolves into the crowd as it descends. The dancefloor is soon packed with a sea of men: cute, 20to30-something, out-on-a-Tuesday-night OMG-I-just-LOVE-Christina-Aguilera hotties.
Aaron is now jumping around in a trancelike state. Smiling from ear to ear, writhing in joy, really feeling the music.
I try to keep up with him but can't.
He's in his own little world.
And it's absolutely adorable.