Ha ha ha... Wait... What did he just say?

I was extremely excited last night. I am a member of the Crescent Club at the new Snoqualmie Casino in, you guessed it, Snoqualmie and with that membership come some amazing perks. Each month I get sent a mailer with coupons good for cash - actual cash - that they hope I'll put right into their slot machines.

Along with those coupons (usually on the back) is a calendar of coming events. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that the comedian Gallagher was going to be doing a show at the casino and that I was eligible for two complimentary tickets. Oh, did I forget to mention that perk, too? Yeah, they also include the option to get free tickets to select shows. How cool is that?!

When I saw the offer for the Gallagher show I immediately called and claimed my tickets. I had always enjoyed Gallagher's shows when I was younger. While the smashing of food is always thrilling, I remember his shows also being filled with interesting observations on life. An example would be along the lines of questioning why we park on a driveway and drive on a parkway. He has always been good at bringing things up that you don't really think about until he mentions them.

The night of the show finally arrived! I offered my extra ticket to a co-worker and former roommate (yes, the very one I sometimes complained about on this blog, don't judge me; he has a car and I needed a ride). We went to the box office to get our tickets, I went to the cashier to exchange my coupon for $10 cold hard cash, and then we hit the buffet.

I'm not sure if I have described the buffet at the Snoqualmie Casino. It's good. The chocolate fountain, though; the sweet cascading richness of heavenly joy? That, my friends, is to die for. I was a little worried that my building up of the chocolate fountain was a little much, but when my former roommate took his first bite, he agreed that it is very tasty.

We had left our jackets in the car and my friend decided that we should probably have them since the show was out doors. Sure, it's summer here and everyone in the country seems to be living with triple digit forecasts, but this is the Seattle area and it was overcast with a little breeze. Since our tickets were in the general seating section, I offered to go get the best seats I could find while my friend went to the car.

Shortly after I had found great seats, I noticed that a group of guys were posing for pictures. I figured that they were just taking future Facebook profile pictures and deciding on captions like "Me and the boys at the Gallagher show!" However, one of them left the others and started down the aisle in front of me. As I looked at the man, I suddenly realized that I had seen him somewhere. But where? He had long hair in the back and was bald on top. He looked like he was somewhere in his 60s. Man! Where had I seen him before.

He was almost past me when I realized that Gallagher was walking right past my seat! He smiled down at me as he passed and turned back when he realized I was staring at him. I asked if I could get a picture with him and he said, "Only if you're not going to give a camera to someone who has no idea how to use it and takes forever to get the picture." I held up my cell phone and said, "No, I can just hold it out in my arm and take it that way." I think the picture above turned out nicely!

He then signed my ticket stub and I thanked him profusely and returned to my seat where I sent the picture via text messages to my friends and family. I also called my friend and told him to forget about the jackets in the car and hurry to the stage area if he wanted a chance to meet Gallagher.

Up until he went on stage, he was posing for pictures, signing autographs and talking to his fans. I have NEVER seen a comedian do that before! The lady sitting next to me commented that it's just good PR and I agree, but I was very impressed that he was out connecting with his fans right before his show.

My awe didn't last too long, unfortunately. Gallagher hit the stage and chastised us for not giving him a big enough welcome. To be fair, he kinda just walked out without a big announcement or anything, so the audience was a little taken by surprise. We tried cheering again and his critique was "Well, that was a little better." What followed was the most interesting comedy routine I have ever witnessed.

I am used to shocking comedy. I'm a huge fan of Kathy Griffin who is no stranger to controversial comedy. I have a sick and twisted sense of humor that made me a fan of Kevin Smith's movies. But as I sat in the audience watching Gallagher perform, I was questioning many of his comments and jokes.

He had barely started the show when he noticed a guy in the audience heading toward his seat. "Hey, faggot," Gallagher called, "I notice you've got your hat on backwards. Is that because you aren't sure which way to go?" Within ten minutes, he pointed out two other guys and commented on their "faggy" attire. Later in the show, he called a guy up on stage who had on a "faggy pink shirt". When the guy got on stage and corrected Gallagher, saying the color was "salmon" Gallagher's response was "Call it whatever faggy color you want, it's still a faggy color."

The gay "jokes" didn't end there. He noted that there are two kinds of lesbians: The ugly ones and the pretty ones. Incidentally, Ellen DeGeneres is the ugly one. As for gay men, hell they're all prettier than your wife which makes no sense because they don't even face each other during sex. Later still, while making a "pie" that he would later smash with the Sledge-o-matic he said "I got a pie for the fags, too. This here is a fruit cocktail and it says right here on the can how do to it: cock, tail.... In a sweet syrup." He then mixed the fruit cocktail with Chinese food "for the orientals who should just be mixed in with the gays."

Gallagher also had some things to say about President Obama. "The man ain't black! He's got a white mom just like I do! If he wants to act like a black man then why doesn't he have a white wife? Obama is a latte. There is definite whole milk in there." While staying away from Obama's middle name, he did note that "There's even the word 'bomb" in his name!" He even brought up the birther conspiracy idea: "You ever met a black man that was born in Hawaii before? Nah, me either! So where exactly was he born?"

The racial jokes weren't limited to our black president, either. Mexicans, Chinese, Greeks and the French were also poked fun at by the comedian. As if to offset what he was saying, every time he heard groans or displeasure from the audience, he would grab a small American flag, wave it over his head and yell "FREE SPEECH! That's what makes this country so great!" Honestly, I half expected him to add, "Except for all the damn foreigners that are here" but he never did. Before long, though, I seriously started feeling like I was attending a Tea Party rally - especially when he'd start waving that American flag.

I don't want to make it sound like I didn't enjoy the show. I actually did, but this Gallagher was not the same watermelon-smashing comedian I remembered from the 80s and 90s. I remember social commentary in his act, but never stuff like this. Sure, Kathy Griffin has made a career making fun of people, but when she does it's at the people in Hollywood that she thinks do stupid things. She doesn't stoop to the lowest form of comedy: racial slurs.

After the show I sent a text to my brother: "Do you remember Gallagher being homophobic and racist before?" He responded that he didn't and added that he was probably to young to notice if he did.

The point of Gallagher's show was to teach us how to think for ourselves, to not follow the "norms" of society. He preached that message several times. That's a message I can support, but does he mean that in doing so we should yell out racial slurs because that's not the socially accepted thing to do? If so, well, I take issue with that.

I think what I witnessed last night was an old man who is just plain angry about everything. The point of a comedy show is to entertain, and for the most part, his show was entertaining, but why try to find laughter using the lowest form of comedy? To me, that's just lazy. Anyone can try to get a laugh by making racial judgments or picking on gay people. And saying "If it's true, it's funny!" doesn't make what you say any less racist.

This doesn't mean that I went home angry, ripping up the autographed ticket stub or deleting the picture I took with him. I'm just a little disappointed that a comedian I once thought was really funny, appears to be on the decline.

Since I don't want to end this blog entry on a Debbie Downer note, I'm going to include a video that was shared with me today. This video is extremely sweet and cute and it represents what I believe to be the best kind of comedy.

The Fire Under my Butt

I am really struggling right now. I have a co-worker and friend named Liz. She was the first person that I came out to at work. Okay, honestly I didn't officially come out to her. She actually opened my closet door and asked if I was at all interested in coming out.

This happened a few months after we first met and started the process of becoming friends. I was sitting in my car killing time before it was time to clock in for work. I had just visited one of my favorite places in the entire world (the library) where I had just checked out a 6 CD set called "A Musical History of Disneyland" and I was playing one of the CD's while flipping through the historical book. I believe I was also giggling with glee but that is beside the point.

I was interrupted by a gentle tapping on my window. When I turned toward the source, I saw red-headed Liz standing outside my car with a concerned look on her face. I rolled down my window and said, "Hi."

I'm sure there was small talk that I don't remember, but eventually Liz addressed whatever was concerning her: "Peter, don't take this the wrong way... but... are you gay? If you are that is TOTALLY cool! I'm just curious..."

My natural and rehearsed response was to emphatically deny any ties with the GLBT community. Had this been an event to be later recorded in the Bible, I'm sure she would have asked me three times, each of which would have been denied and then we would have suddenly heard a rooster crowing in the middle of the afternoon.

After denying my true self I panicked and asked, "Why do you ask? Are people talking? Does everyone at work think that I'm gay?"

She immediately tried to sooth my worries by saying, "Oh no, not everyone..."

She eventually went for a smoke and I eventually clocked in for work, did my route and went home. Later that night I thought about how easily I had lied to her and guilt began settling upon me. I was in my late twenties by this time. Why was it so important to remain closeted. Telling a few select people that I trusted didn't mean I had to jump up on top of a school bus and yell across the lot that I was a flaming queen and just thought everyone should know!

The next day after my morning route I found Liz and asked her if she wanted to take a walk. The moment we had left the work building I asked her if she remembered the question she had asked me the day before. Of course she did.

"Well, I just wanted to say... what I mean is... that is, you should know... the answer actually is yes..."

Liz immediately began jumping up and down yelling "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!" Ignoring her breasts which were bouncing all around and were completely wasted on me, I said "Okay, but HOW did you know?!"

"Well, you love musicals, you LOVE Disney, you hate sports..." All those were gross stereotypes (that just happened to be completely true) and when I told her that she added, "In all the time that I've known you, you've never stared at my tits. Unlike all the other male drivers at work, when you talk to me, you actually make eye contact."

"Well, sure," I responded. "I'm just not that interested in them. No offense."

I also addressed my other concern: who else at work pegged me for a queer. It turned out that only a small group of people in Liz's circle of friends "suspected" and I would eventually come out to all of them and find tolerance and acceptance; mostly because many of them were lesbians.

Liz and I became closer friends, though not without obstacles. Her husband was convinced that I was a straight man playing the gay angle in an effort to steal his wife away from him. While I appreciated his confidence that I was even capable of such a deed, I just didn't (and still to this day don't) like Liz in "that way". Nevertheless, Liz told me that he didn't want us hanging around together outside of work until he had a chance to meet me.

"Once he meets you, he'll realize that you truly are gay and we'll be able to hang out!" Liz assured me.

"I'm not sure I want to meet him," I told her. "If he's going to be so childish, then I don't even want to meet him!" All that was missing was "Nanny Nanny Poo Poo!" Liz rolled her eyes in that same way she often does in reference to me.

I did eventually meet her husband at one of Liz's birthday parties. I was actually very nervous. I had no idea what he was suspecting. Should I shake his hand and then offer to give him a blow job?

"Does he like getting blow jobs?" I asked Liz shortly before meeting him. It was my understanding that most men, gay or straight, did enjoy getting them.

"Of course he does! I just hate giving them." Suddenly, I found a way to prove my homosexual desires to her husband. I offered to give him a blow job so she wouldn't have to. As far as I was concerned, it was win, win, win. He liked them, I loved giving them and she hated giving them. To my surprise, she declined my offer. I kept it out there, of course, for later consideration.

I finally met Liz's husband and I gotta say, he really doesn't much take after Brad Pitt, as she described him, but then, I've never really considered Brad Pitt my "type"... Shocking, I know. Don't get me wrong, I totally would have given him a blow job had Liz reconsidered my offer.

The following Monday, after the big meeting, Liz, grinning ear to ear, found me and declared that we could now officially "hang out" outside of work with her husband's blessing.

"He was actually very impressed that you're not a flaming gay guy," she informed me. I'll be honest, this surprised me. This man had, after all, assumed I was trying to steal his gal away. Didn't he want me to be an obviously gay guy as proof of my cock-sucking desires?

Over the years, Liz and I have maintained our friendship, though not without bumps. She is, after all, an Obama-hating-capitalism-loving-gun-toting-Republican and I am very much not. We rarely (if ever) agree politically. Liz often declares our time together a "no political zone" since any political discussions end with her suggesting we "agree to disagree" and me suggesting "okay, just as long as you realize that I am right and you are wrong".

Lately a new disagreement has fallen between us and, oddly, it isn't about the new Tea Party movement, though Liz unfortunately agrees with them on several issues.

Liz has recently started "writing a book." Liz is always trying new things. In the time that I have known her, she has tried getting a real estate license, trained to enter a triathlon and looked into the possibilities of becoming a personal trainer. While I admire Liz's propensity to try new things, she often loses interest in them, so when she declared that she was writing a book, I smiled, congratulated her and went on with my life.

For the next week Liz could be found lying on her stomach, penning her bestseller on the floor in a remote corner of our break room. By the end of the week she had written several pages in her notebook which she let me read when I finally asked. Despite changing from past to present tense many times, what she had written was pretty good and I told her so. She smiled and jumped around clapping her hands and I once again ignored her bouncing titties.

The following Monday, Liz came running at me with more excitement than usual.

"I may have a literary agent!" During the weekend she had found Writerdigest.com and had sent emails to a handful of literary agents seeking representation. One of them had responded with interest.

"That's great!" I told her. "Did you happen to mention your friend who also likes to write?"

She blinked a couple times and then said, "Uh, no, I didn't mention you to her."

"Well can I at least get her information from you?"

"Oh sure! No problem."

Later, through Facebook I got a message from Liz saying that she wanted to hold off giving me the literary agent's information and she would explain the next day. I already figured out why she wasn't sharing the information and when I finally asked her about it she confirmed that she didn't want any competition. She figured that if we both submitted our books to this woman that she might choose one of us over the other and Liz just didn't want to chance that mine would be picked over hers. I tried to explain that literary agents are only going to take on authors they think they can publish and since my book's genre is VERY different from Liz's we really aren't in "competition". Liz, however, still refused to pass on the literary agent's information to me and she was honestly surprised that this bothered me.

Now, Liz has informed me that the literary agent has submitted the synopsis of her book to a publisher and they want to publish it. I want to be excited for Liz, but frankly, I'm jealous! I have a book of my own that I have been working on since last November when I entered the annual Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) competition. I have a first draft of the book and I am now working on the revision of it. Granted, I didn't do the work of finding potential agents on my own like Liz did, but couldn't she at least throw me a bone? She did try to explain how she found her agent in the first place, but when I tried to follow her instructions for finding the agent on the website, I couldn't find any information.

Liz wants me to be happy for her and I am, but I'm pissed off at myself. Why am I finding it so difficult to finish my book? Why has Liz managed to find an agent even though she's only written like three or so chapters? Why do all the agents I seem to find demand a finished product? Why do all the agents I find seem suspiciously like frauds?

As she usually does, Liz has lit a fire under my butt to get me motivated. I'm revising like mad, trying to get a finished product that I can start shopping out. At the same time, seeking an agent terrifies me! I'm starting to feel like George McFly in Back to the Future: What if they tell me I'm not good enough, what if they tell me to quit and give up my dream of being a writer?

Then again, George McFly did end up writing that science fiction book, but hell, he had a kid to go back in time and give him that confidence. All I have is a redhead with bouncing tits lighting a fire under my butt.

Maybe that's all I need?

Lady Gaga Today Show Performance, July 9, 2010

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Vulgar vs Violent

Today, my friend Neil brought up an interesting point. He was watching the movie Hot Fuzz on Comedy Central and there is a scene where the peak of a building smashes a guy's head. He sent a text to me commenting that Comedy Central has to censor the curse words but is aloud to show that shot of pretty horrific violence.

It's a pretty interesting observation! Neil's assessment was that violence is much more damaging to the youth of America than foul language and I agree with him 100%. What makes a word offensive? Let's say I was watching one of my favorite movies of all time with my friend from work Liz and we get to the scene where Jay asks Justice if he can call her "Boo Boo Kitty Fuck." I would laugh because I get Kevin Smith's humor and I think that line his hilarious. My friend Liz, however, might not get the joke and would think that Jay is degrading women - especially when he starts proclaiming himself as "the Master of the Clit!"

For me, what it boils down to is that those infamous words that George Carlin so brilliantly talked about as the words you can't say on TV are just words. The only way those words gain the power to be offensive is when people hearing them choose to find them offensive.

Violence transcends that, though. Later in Dogma, there is a shot of Ben Affleck's head exploding. Even people who can't stand Ben Affleck would have to agree that seeing that is pretty horrific. When someone's head gets chopped off in a movie, most everyone watching it would have the unified opinion that what they just saw was really awful.

As my friend Neil put it, "We make vulgar words vulgar, but we don't make violence violent."

I'm going to be an uncle!

I truly couldn't possibly be any more excited than I am right now. I am going to be an uncle! I realize that my brother and his wife technically did all the work creating this little miracle. In a way, I feel a little bad because they will most likely never experience the joy that comes with finding out that you're going to be an uncle - odds are great that I'll never have kids. At the same time, I can't help but feel very jealous because my brother and his wife WILL have the one thing that I have always wanted: they are going to be parents.

Another thing I have been thinking about is what kind of uncle am I going to be? I live in Washington and my family lives in California. It is looking as though I'm going to be that gay uncle that my brother's kids barely know - maybe they'll see me once or twice a year and during those early years, they'll barely know me so they'll act all shy around me. I am really struggling with that. Part of me is toying with the idea of moving back to California, but then I'm not sure I could ever live there again. Plus with the current economy, it's not very wise to leave a job where I am FINALLY starting to get a little seniority and decent hours and start all over at a job down in California.

But I'm going to be the only uncle my brother's kids have since my brother and I were the only siblings in our family and his wife is an only child. Well, I'll be the only official one, anyway. My brother has plenty of friends who I am sure will adopt his kids as unofficial uncles and aunts (which I must confess makes me jealous all over again!).

I dunno, could I ever go back to living in California again?

Mike Time

This morning, something triggered a memory. I was thinking about the first crush I got in high school. His name was Mike and we had biology together our sophomore year. That was it; just the one class. I hated that class and were it not for Mike being there, I would have fully resented having to show up for it at all.

The best part of the class, was when the bell rang--not only because class was over, but because this began my "Mike time", the time that I got to walk home with the object of my affection. My family lived a block away from the high school and Mike lived four blocks further in the same direction. I soon discovered that I could get more "Mike time" by walking past the street with my house. I did that for the entire year. I would walk with Mike to his house and then turn around and walk back to mine.

If Mike ever realized I was doing this, he never let on.

Those walks, the time in class, and a couple other random moments were the extent of my relationship with Mike. We never met up outside of school, never had sleepovers (DAMMIT!), never went to a movie or anything like that.

Yet, Nearly twenty years later, I still remember well the "Mike time" that I had.

I decided to look up Mike and discovered that he has a Facebook page. He also has a wife.

I forgot to mention that during my sophomore year, I did a LOT of fantasizing about Mike. In my mind, we were going to be boyfriends by the end of sophomore year, no longer versions by the end of our junior year and making a life-time commitment to each other by the end of our senior year. Naturally, we were going to enroll at the same college and arrange to be roommates. After college Mike would continue on to law school and I would work hard to help my love make his tuition payments. He was going to make partner by our tenth anniversary together, the party for which he would surprise me with a dog. By the time we were 30, we would have adopted our first child together and a second one by 32.

I pictured us growing old together and, yes, I pictured fantastic sex.

It's tough, though, when you see that last chance of reality dying right before you and I think that is especially hard for gay people - especially the hopelessly romantic ones like me who keep falling in love with straight guys. It isn't until you discover that those objects of your affection have gotten married that the fantasies really take a nose-dive. Until that moment, there is a tendency to grasp for that last chance no matter how hopeless the cause is in reality.

I haven't seen Mike since high school, but it wasn't until today when I saw his Facebook relationship status that I was finally able to let go of the last fleeting hope I didn't even know I was still harboring. It's a painful process.

College Reunion Weekend

Last weekend was Pride in Seattle and it ended up being a reunion weekend for me. Saturday night I went to the Seattle Men's Chorus concert Glitter and be Gay, featuring the music of Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim. Also featured was the Seattle Women's Chorus who seemed to have a greater presence on stage - meaning more of them than the men's chorus. It was a fantastic show and while I do wish I'd sung and been part of it, it was exciting to sit and watch a show.

Before the show started, I was rushing across the theater to catch the attention of my ride home and someone called my name. I turned to see Missy Tade, a friend from college. It was so fun to see her again and catch up. We also promised to have dinner on our birthday (we both share the same day).

Sunday was all about the Pride Parade. First of all, the big news was that for the first time the Space Needle was flying a huge rainbow flag. I'm sure there are people who were bothered by it, but it was exciting to hear that it happened.

Another friend from college, Paul, picked me up at my apartment. We came out to each other during our last year and he was helpful in introducing me to the gay community in Seattle - aka Capital Hill. We ended up leaving his car at a park and ride and taking the bus into Seattle - between parking and traffic, I figured this was the best option. We actually arrived an hour before the start of the parade so we were in charge of finding a spot along the parade route.

It turns out that Jen, another friend from college and AMAZING straight support of gay rights hadn't even left from Everett yet - at it takes around 40 minutes to get to Seattle from Everett. Paul and I found a nice spot at a bus stop, which meant benches to sit on rather than the curb. We found it difficult to keep turning people away so we could save a spot for Jen and the four friends she was bringing - especially as the start time drew near.

If you have never faced off with a bitchy queen, consider yourself lucky. One guy told me that my friend should have arrived on time! Another lesbian got in my face and said "It's a PARADE! There's no saving spaces!" I came close to yelling back at her to go build something but I held back. By the time Jen and her friends arrived, the Dykes on Bikes were roaring along the parade route.

The half naked men were in short supply, unfortunately. We did see a LOT of topless women and a huge blow up vagina that had me swearing off tacos for awhile (which was funny because after the parade we saw someone from Qdoba Mexican Grill offering coupons for free tacos). At one point a group of people on bicycles rode by wearing nothing but body paint - literally. Only one of the guys was photo-worthy, though and I did take many pictures hehehe.

Jen had brought with her some current and former students from the college we all attended - a small Christian college. Yes, I know. The former students talked about how far the college has come in its acceptance, but it still has a long way to go. Jen works in admissions and still finds herself surrounded by closed-minded people who require her to think before she says things. We did find out that our college now has a soccer team and Paul and I both agreed we need to catch one of their games - no we're not soccer fans, we just heard that there are some really hot guys on the team.

Sadly my 4th of July was much less satisfying. I decided to rent a car to get some groceries. My plan was to do the shopping later in the day because once I returned the car I could walk and find a decent spot to watch the fireworks show put on by the city where I live. Unfortunately, the bus I planned to take was 6 minutes early and apparently the driver didn't see me waving as I chased after the bus. So I walked to the car.

Thankfully the supermarket was nearly empty, but by the time I got home and got my groceries put away, I was really tired and not really interested in putting up with any crowds. After returning the car, I got on the bus (this time actually making it) and went home. I figured I would be able to see the fireworks show from work, across the street from my apartment. Unfortunately, the fireworks didn't go nearly as high as I thought they would and all I saw were the tall skyscrapers between me and the show.

I went back inside and decided to watch some shows I had Tivo record, but for some reason the focus seemed to be on people's reactions rather than the actual shows. Why the directors thought I was tuning into to see OTHER people watching fireworks is beyond me.

Oh well, next year I know to take a nap in the middle of the day and fight the crowds to actually see some fireworks.