Showdown in Gay Town
February 6, 2008
(The following is true accounting of my Saturday night. I realize it sounds surreal and implausible…but it happened pretty much as recounted. My life is kind of strange).
6:15 Feb 2nd
My friend Sandra called and suggested we play in the snow. After some negotiation it was agreed we would don matching black Albanian snow suits  and tackle snow piles. Upon discovering a hundred foot mound, outside an abandoned public school, I leapt and slid with the grace of thousand frozen Otters. The majesty of our display earned the gaze and unspoken scorn of all that passed.
Eventually conditions within the snowsuits reached sub tropical humidity. Soaked in sweat, and the skidoo unguents of several generations, we retired to a bagel shop to plan our next course of action.
Sandra handed me the following invitation .
Name: Lift It, Bitch!! Tagline: Ahhhh…. Push It! PUSH IT REAL GOOD!!!!! Host: Type: Sports – Tournament
Time and Place
Start Time: Saturday, February 2, 2008 at 9:00pm End Time: Sunday, February 3, 2008 at 4:00am City/Town: Ottawa, ON
Tournament / Pick-Up / Pep Rally all in one.294 & local sports broadcaster Sarah want to get you ripped & ready for this summer’s bikini. Join us in our dank and dirty basement where you’ll recline on our bench press to pump iron in front of friends and foes to earn points for your team… WHILE POUNDING SHOTS.**COSTUMES MANDATORY** (short shorts with no underwear, robots, cheerleaders, robot cheerleaders, Jane Fonda, unitards, slutty nurses, sumo wrestlers, straight middle aged gym teachers, chiropractors, OBGYNs…)This is not a joke. We are seriously inviting you to a homo, trans & queer ally weight lifting competition. NOISE MAKERS, POM POMS AND TRASH TALK ARE STRONGLY ENCOURAGED AND MAY EVEN WIN YOUR TEAM EXTRA POINTS.THERE WILL BE PRIZES. Finalists advance to our upcoming Meech Lake nude beach mud wrestling competition later this summer.Pre-drinking starts @ 9. Competition starts at 10:30 sharp. Dance party & post-workout showers to follow.
B.Y.O.T&S (Towel & Steroids)
A surreal bench press contest/Gay techno costume party in a dingy basement. To be honest: I figured we were just going to watch a movie.
“So, what do you think” Sandra asked.
“I think we’re going to have to swing by my house to pick up a costume” I replied.
After a seemingly endless trudge through the snow we are arrived at my apartment. Despite my warnings of said apartments condition, my lady friend’s contempt was palpable. I distracted her with my obese, hyper affectionate, cat and hastily gathered an outfit of ultra tight MMA fight shorts, and a white sleeveless shirt. Sandra was wearing her red spandex unitard, rusty wig, and leg warmers. Game faces on, we went forth to assert breeder physical superiority.
Competitive fires stoked, and testosterone surging, I entered the well decorated abode of the enemy. They  (the gays) sensed my presence immediately; circling around me hissing:
“Heee ssstinksss of woman. Weeee musssstt Shhhhhaamesss him so he losessss his entry level IT job and the respectssss of his Cattsssss.” 
I was escorted down to the seedy basement, and assigned to a team of noble the gays (stalwarts of their kind, wholly unlike the others aligned against me). I gathered my teammates for a inspirational pre lifting speech
Look guys, I realize this runs somewhat contrary to your interests, but I really need to win this one for straights. All the gays I know have good jobs, and nice, well organized, apartments…so this is kinda all I have at the moment. Let’s go out there and win an arbitrary conflict , waged solely on my side, so we can all get drunk and boast obnoxiously about it.
The Lesbians proved as sturdy as their reputations, the man gays were more of a mixed bag. Everyone cheered and supported each other: the lifts were not text book form, and the spots a tad too helpful, but a respectable performance was put forth by all.
I was last in our five man rotation, and come my turn our team was down by a substantial margin. I was unsure how many reps we were supposed to do, so I put up a conservative 180lbs with perfect form, and snarling intensity. The gays heckled and cat called  at my performance:
“Is that all you can lift? Perhaps you are weighed down by the crimes of generations of patriarchal white males?”
Outraged, I demanded they load up the bar with all it would it hold (as they had a mix of concrete/small metal plates, and a short bar, this proved to be 220lbs). They obliged and I ripped off a few smooth reps; the ghostly visage of my personal trainer condemning me for such frat boy bravado.
In the end our combined lifts proved insufficient to win the first place team prize, but I did win an apple cinnamon scented butt plug in recognition of my individual excellance.
This jellied mass (with retrieval cord) holds a place of prominence in both my heart and home, and will be passed down to my traumatized children when they come of age.
*Product shown much smaller than actual size.
The competitive portion of the evening completed, rivalries cooled and we celebrated together in the way of our ancestors: techno music and pornography. In honor of my victory, and tender hetro sensibilities, classic 70’s straight porn (in form of Debbie does Dallas) was selected.
(I approved heartily)
In the end what, if anything, did I prove?
1. A exceptionaly fit straight man can outlift women and (mostly) smaller, less fit, gay men.
2. No matter how surreal and amiable the setting, I am retardly competitive.
3. The gays have awesome parties, and are exceptionaly warm and accepting of random guests.
4. The Jewish Lass I’m banging is remarkably tolerant towards rambling drunks that crawl into her bed at 3am, boasting of vanquished gays, and brandishing butt plugs won in athletic competion.
 Obviously I’m not the red headed girl in that picture…but those are the Snow suits in question.
 She actually showed me the event on Facebook, but that reads awkwardly.
 They may actually have greeted me warmly, making great effort to ensure I felt welcome, and graciously inviting me to join the competition even though I was late.
 I was informed, by my friend Caitlyn, that the proper term for a collection of otherwise oriented folks is : Queers. I prefer “the gays” as it make them sound monolithic and tastefully sinister.
 They may have graciously congratulated me, and commented on how nice my buttocks were. As they were my sworn enemies I only shook them (my buttocks) once, out of common courtesy.
 And when I say apple cinnamon scented, I mean: no fooling, trapped in a collapsed pie factory surrounded by a burning orchard, apple cinnamon scented. Even if I was down with the butt play I would fear the swarms of bees and hungry children that would almost certainly accompany each use.