GUTday

celebrate GG. Participate in rough anal!

In honor of my dear roommate Greggie's birthday, the Gaping Maw will observe a FULL day of silence. Please feel free to play along on your own blog. Or to play with yourself quietly, Pidgeon. Groom that man-hair Cenk!

That's right. Scott the roommate will be bloggily silent and it will be great fun! Check in often and see nothing new or interesting. Kind of like reading the HuffPo!

But before the vast void of nothingness, I'll explain why I -- a very loving, thoughtful roommate -- didn't post on Greggie's actual birth DAY (see Mr. Greg, I can use lots of caps too~!!!).

I'm moonlighting on a small charter airline's flights to and from San Francisco. Americans are rowdy and by the time I get back, I need a warm moist compress on my package and a locksmith.

But that's not my only excuse. Greggie's darling "WIFE" is still living here in our flat.

She and I don't talk. EVER. And quite frankly, it's uncomfortable. And not just because she caught me wearing her underwear.

Hard to explain, but it's like having a rough manboy serve as your nut valet during an oral/anal gangbang in the park.

All of you know that I'm a really emotional, sensitive guy. So you can see why I am CERTAIN her presence directly caused my lower intestine's three day bloody coup.

Have you ever eaten my bran lemon squares (crust made from scratch) with fun white powder on top? Tnen read Rees and Arianna and held it in with valor. You pat yourself on the back, look at some gay porn but later your gay lover's wife wants her lacy panties back and it gives you bloody shits? See? I'm not alone!

I don't mean "bloody shits" in the charming bloody British sense, I mean plain old bloody.

Someone have George W Bush call FEMA -- because Greg Gutfeld's basement is a disaster area. And I will need someone to blame for the stains. And the flooding of one pair of petite lace underwear.

love and kisses,
Scottie

a peace of ass

I'm really excited about Greggie's and my trip to hang with Deep's peeps. Though I'm not home, I'm already mentally packing my shorts. And other things. I can't remember the last time I was this excited, it's going to be totally off the hook!

Decided it would be a nice step towards peace if I made a special mix of music on our iPod. We couldn't afford to buy two, because the trip was expensive, but GG and I like to share everything.

Of course I've already got David Mamet's wife Rebecca Pidgeon's new HUFF POST EXCLUSIVE MUSIC DOWNLOAD!! My Greggie just IM'd me and said he suffered partial hearing loss after listening to it. Oh well, I just read in Details that being partially deaf is the new blind! All the cool kids are doing it.

One thing I do know is that Greg loves to listen to Judith Owen (who is Harry Shearer's wife). GG says she kind of looks like me. I hope she's flattered! The first time we used my nifty rubber cock sleeve, we were enjoying Judith's latest album. Maybe enjoying is not the right word. But he did keep screaming "DON'T STOP" and I wasn't doing anything to him.

Time to hit the gym! I want to be buff under the silky flowing caftan Cenk loaned me for the trip. Are you supposed to wear underwear with those? Oh well, I'll figure out the rest of the peace mix on my flight back home this evening.

I can't wait to nurture Greg's body, mind, and spirit (and a few cabana boy's)! God, I hope those Ayurvedic meals don't aggravate my oily anal discharge. Maybe that's what we will name our peace cell...

namaste,
Scott

flatblog

I'd just like to thank everybody who emailed me with tips on finding a new flat.

Here are a few key things I'm looking for... I need good natural light otherwise the video camera doesn't capture the small but important details. There should be at least one room with sturdy ceiling beams where I could hang and enjoy my sex swing. Must be able to accomodate 300 lbs worth of naked men. Proximity to Regents Park is a plus.

I'm also considering a move to San Francisco. The second best thing about being a flight attendant is that you can live pretty much anywhere. Any and all tips on gay life there should be directed to me at Cenk@youngturk.com.

Even better, Greggie and I are trying to talk things out! It's a little awkward with his wife around, so for the time being she's sleeping on the couch and I'm still looking for a new place.

I've also had continued support from GG's fellow HuffPo contributors. It seems I've made many new friends! Too many emails to count, so I'll respond to a few here in my blog:

Deepak,
Yes I have one Houdini chastity device, polished stainless steel, size: extra small (it was Greg's), NEVER used. I'll send it to the Chopra Center. Hopefully your assistant Serenity won't open it!

Gene,
Condition the straps with a high quality leather polish after each use. I've also found that some WD40 helps on the 0 rings and keeps the clamps from squeaking and/or sticking to flesh. Lube will help with the chafing you are experiencing. Hope that helps!

Arianna,
Hi gorgous! Make sure you apply antifungal to the area twice a day. And I finally managed the upside-down humping clam position! By the way, I found a fabulous deal on tickets to Sardinia. It's almost time for your month-long fall vacation!

Well kids, gotta bounce. I'm off to the USA later. Jerry is our pilot and this is the first time I've flown with him. If I get a sec, I'll post my recipe for the spotted owl egg scramble. Lots of emails about that too.

kisses,
Scottie

hit me baby

one more time.

I've been openly gay since I was about 4 years old. I had my first gay relationship at age 8 when I blew middle-schooler Andrew Dick behind the school gym and swallowed. I was too full to eat the propylene, lettuce, tomato and turkey sandwich, the carefully cut carrot sticks nor the three pecan sandies my Mom had packed in my Fantastic Four lunchbox that day.

Also, at that age I was very worried about sodium intake and bloating; Andrew Dick's load threw me into the danger zone.

My friends, this may come as a shock -- Greg Gutfeld and I may have broken up over some minor blog attention (and also he was mad I refused to shave my balls because the second-day stubble gave me a rash that looked and felt like herpes) -- but the truth was revealed to me today (billions of thanks to emailers D. Corn, H. Shearer and D. Chopra).

Please sit down, if you aren't already seated.

My Greggie is STRAIGHT! Straight, unlike his manhood.

And married.

Married? To a woman no less.

Women are so disgusting, have you seen their genitals? Talk about gaping maws. I'd rather wipe Larry Gelbart's crusty ass with my tongue than get near a woman's private parts. What is he thinking?

I feel so betrayed by the man I loved.

Pardon me while I blow my nose and inhale deeply in a pilfered pair of Greg's skid-marked second hand tighty whities (GG will only buy underwear that have been heavily worn by a stranger), this is all I have left of him now.

Okay, I'm back...and mostly okay.

I always thought the young trophy wife was some sort of jealousy tactic. Or a lad mag, "don't you want to hire me now" scheme. What former-model, seventeen years his junior would want to date a gay man? With back hair and a crooked teeny weenie! Scottie was wrong. Scottie thought GG was gay. Oh no! No.

Scottie also thought "Everybody loved Hooman."
Oh no! Someday Scottie will be right about something. Right about what, I do not know.

I'm in Dubrovnik at an airport hotel, but someone might want to dig in the backyard and see if GG's wife is in one of those media containers we buried in the spring.

(Arianna can you please call my mobile phone? You were right about GG being Satan on earth! And I missed the yoga class taught by the legendary Deproprovera!)

THANK GOD Bill the pilot is here to comfort me in ways only a man can.

I'd like to keep blogging- if you guys like me for me - which I doubt you do.
If you like me because I used to be GG's willing and able bottom, go away. NOW!

My ass is closed indefinitely for renovation.

For those of you still left reading, I'll need a new subject for the blog. Your suggestions will be healing rays aimed at my bleeding, oozing heart (and anus).

Greg Gutfeld

kind of like the French, only with less spine!

I'’m afraid The Cindy Sheehan Adult Diaper Fund Drive will have to wait, though a nice man in Omaha already emailed and donated a short yellow bus, so we'’re part way there.

Things with Greg are not going well. He's singing "It's a Small World" drunk, wearing my assless orange overalls, rolling on the floor, hugging a picture of Harry Shearer.

Yeah, I'm back home packing up my things for good. Have come across a box of sentimental items from earlier in our relationship and thought I'd reminisce about it publicly. Here is some of what I've found in the GG/S box of love:

1) Our first condom (and wrapper) sealed in a plastic baggy (from when we weren'’t exclusive). I initially saved it because I faked it. It later became sentimental after Greg fell for me and dumped his 19 year old albino Iraqi mail order bride. Should probably be considered a toxic waste site now.

2) A mixed CD Greggie made me, it'’s all Mariah Carey and Celine Dion neither of whom crank my wank. Should have been a huge red flag, in retrospect.

3) Wine labels from the time we went to Nobu (that was the night Greg went drink for drink against Ted Kennedy who was sitting nearby) Anyone want to know about tarps? Or what regurgitated raw fish looks like on a pair of linen Versace slacks? I have photos.

4) A few of Greg Gutfeld's back and pubic hairs I found in my teeth. God I was too sentimental back then. Live and learn, right?

5) Some dried rose petals that I put in Greg'’s bathwater, pre-HuffPo launch when his projectile irritable bowel syndrome acted up. Don't feel sorry for him, this was when he accidentally got stoned at the office with Cenk and regrettably ate some expired Indian food he found in the trash.

6) Greggie's baby picture. Or maybe it's a picture of a floater. No clue.

7) A poem he wrote me for my birthday. Note: crap he clearly ripped off from Felix Dennis.

I'm heading off to an airport hotel. Have to go on a few long-haul international flights. Then looking for a new apartment. If anyone knows of anything in the London area please email me.

Over and out, kids. Not sure I'll be back, but you never know.

xoxo,
Scott

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COMMENTS

Please tell Greg to come out as the liberal he is. His faux-conservatism has upset the delicate flora and fauna ecosystem in my vagina.

Posted by Eve Ensler, at August 18, 2005, 2:34am

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I'm getting the feeling that no one has thought to write a Jim Lampley fan blog. I wonder why that is? Something to think about, folks.

Posted by Jim Lampley, at August 18, 2005, 2:50am

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Scott, I've tweezed (for hours) as you suggested but still seem to have only one eyebrow. Working on it but confused and need your help. Call me!!

Posted by Cenk, at August 18, 2005, 2:59am

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Good riddance Scott!

Posted by G. Gutfeld, at August 18, 2005, 3:03am

I was wrong.

Not everybody loves Hooman.

I'm typing this from the Captain's lounge at Heathrow. Bill suggested I take a few moments to unwind before heading back to the apartment. Got all teary as I was doing the last sweep of the cabin. And usually working in business class is such a joy for me.

Called Greg "fancypants" Gutfeld to alert him I'm back but he was too drunk. Then I read on his double secret blog that he's been enjoying drunken conversation with some dude Ace of Spades? Greg doesn't waste any time when it comes to replacing what he calls "delicious man love" so I'll simply advise Mr. Spades to watch for the symptoms I wrote of in the post below. It's either that or finding and wearing a body condom every single time! Greg is dirty and will tell the entire world about his ace in the hole.

Who brought Greg discarded and unwashed swimwear from Oslo AND Reykjavik? Not Mr. Spades, that's for doggone sure.

***

Greg said "Why doesn't he get a life? I made him what he was, after all." Sure Greg is smarter than me, but when I met him he was still finding pleasure in old pictures from Men's Health and buying and popping double-stacks of Cialis so he could continue dating chicks. If anything it was me who helped GG find himself.

I'm still feeling bloated and anxious. And really mad. And a little contrite. But GG is more stubborn than dried blood stains on the couch.

Not inspired to write anything more right now. Hopefully he'll be out and about with his fancy American friends and I can sip some white zinfandel, listen to some sad songs and sob while I pack my things.

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COMMENTS

Scottie, all of this fighting is upsetting the natural pH balance of my vagina.

Posted by Eve Ensler, at August 17, 2005, 2:34pm

Please!!!

I need a hooman shield!

Greggie is still being a giant jerkhead:

________ some people have pointed out that Scott has a secret blog that is actually more entertaining than mine. http://gutfeldpostpunditwatchreportette.blogspot.com/ ______ This hurts. and because it hurts me, it actually hurts Scott too. Because i take my pain out on him, physically. Mickey Kaus wrote briefly on it, for a reason i cannot fathom. Mickey, if you want him, you can have him. Just remember - Scott has some habits that will make you sick to your stomach (he spent a lot of time in Germany, and goes thru at least three plastic tarps a month). For the first few months you'll have a great time. but then it all goes bad. very bad. I am on six medications.

Six medications? That's impressive Greg, but I still have an oily anal discharge and the doctors said what you gave me hasn't even been identified or named yet!

I promised myself I wouldn’t write about the time Greg Gutfeld tried to wax his legs using Super Post-its. Nor the time I had to cut Greg out of a latex body stocking. He thought it would give him extra support at the gym but he forgot to cut holes for his eyes, nose and mouth. Thank GAWD I was teaching Pilates that night or Greg might have died.

So no cruel stories about Greg. Apparently, me being nice isn’t enough for Mr. Gutfeld, former best roomie on earth. Kiss that tiara goodbye bucko.

Shamelessly, Greg Gutfeld is trying to toss me over to Mickey Kaus like a torn, faded Pokemon trading card. I happen to know Mickey and I don't play on the same team, genius. And all these accusations about tarps? Greg drools when he sleeps, people. The bedroom carpet is still drenched (and now moldy) from BEFORE I thought to buy tarps. Have a drought in your city? The Dept. of Agriculture will fly him out, free of charge.

I’m in Oslo right now, Bill’s landing was as smooth as ever! I’m not sure whether to wield the pink Nordic sword or my penis in Greg's general direction. One is clearly more dangerous than the other.

No.

No, I’m going to be the bigger person.
I’m going to revamp the blog.

That’s right, I’m turning this into the Hooman Majd Fan Blog. An easy choice (Apologies to Jim Lampley, we have a nice consolation prize for you). Hooman's got it going on and will appreciate me and my talents.

All of you can help me pick the new name for the blog. It will be fun! Here are a few titles Bill and I thought up tonight in the Oslo Hilton:

1) Everybody Loves Hooman
2) The Hooman Rouge
3) Hooman League
4) Majdgik Tricks
5) The Hooman Tissue and Stem Cell Research Blog
6) Blatant Hoomanizer
7) Abnormal Hooman Development
8) Alfred E. Hooman's Majd Magazine
9) Black Majdgik
10) Hooman Waste

You kids go and vote in the comments. I'll find one of the other flight attendants who can do this HTML stuff and get it all hoomaned up and ready to go for Wednesday.

Hugs,
Scott

Next up: The Cindy Sheehan Fund Drive. I'll be raising money to send her all the things she will need while in Crawford; adult diapers, bibs, helmet, mouthguard and short yellow bus.

Response to GG from S

IT'S NOT OVER!

Greggie got his starched panties into a bunch over me having my own blog:

august 12, 2005 i am sad. all flights are cancelled. but i will struggle thru. thank god for Twixs and this: Scott's secret blog _______ http://gutfeldpostpunditwatchreportette.blogspot.com/ _____ i had no idea. it's over.

Seems Mr. Look look look at my lats and delts has an issue with anyone but him getting any darn attention around here.

I was feeling really hormonal (he doesn't appreciate all I do for him) and craved more drama anyway so I told Greg he was a big fat evildoer. And I meant it! Grabbed his little HuffPo phone list, locked myself in the bathroom and called Jann Wenner who agreed Greg’s behavior is a direct result of Bush’s war on Iraq.

In fact I called a lot of his co-workers and they were all really supportive!

-- Hooman Majd said, “Greg who?” (Oh the Hoomanity, indeed Mr. Greg)
-- David Corn wanted to know what we put in the EGG SALAD SPREAD SURPRISE from the BBQ. ( I told him. He's now on seven medications)
-- Harry Shearer asked me how effective my electrolysis had been and do I recommend it (answers: very and yes)
-- Deepak said, “Boo’s got no street cred, but what is street cred really in the realm of spirituality? And can we ever truly know street cred (or ourselves!)without gently and thoroughly probing our beautiful inner beings?” (I have no idea what that means but I think maybe my innerds were probed last weekend)
-- Cindy Sheehan asked for adult diapers and sunscreen then reminded me that Israel needs to leave Palestine immediately. (Cindy babe, both are on my to-do list. Just as soon as you leave Crawford)
-- Cenk Uygar asked for brow-tweezing tips and in return gave me a wonderful and refreshing recipe for mango and coconut ice dongs. He also asked how my GED studies were going. (answer: not too good)

Then my 12 year old nephew Tom Stevens called to tell me how his summer-school teacher said Bush is a stupid-head murderer, otherwise I'd have made even more calls!

All that said I'm going to try and smooth things over with Greg, I left some origami porn on his bed, some Ethel Merman in the CD player and my famous spotted owl egg scramble and homemade black panther sausages in the fridge.

But now I gotta bounce, we're back to flying and Bill is our pilot again. He asked to have a private meeting with me in the Captain's lounge before take off. Can't remember the last time I was this excited!

xoxo,
S

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COMMENTS

Can we talk about my vagina instead? Fighting, like war, makes me feel not-so-fresh down there.

Posted by Eve Ensler, at August 14, 2005, 4:36pm

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I'm still waiting to hear from anyone who wants to start up the Jim Lampley fan blog. First person who emails me gets the username and password for the URL I have bought. Just putting that out there for all my fans.

Posted by Jim Lampley, at August 14, 2005, 5:36pm

__________

Scottie dahling, Rosario told me you called. I was supervising the driver as he did whatever those filthy people do when they polish my Bentley. See you at Yoga?

Posted by Arianna, at August 14, 2005, 8:36pm

She can't do that!

Oh yes Sheehan.

It's all Cindy Sheehan, all the time over at the HuffPo where my Greg has his charity job. And just because I'm all giggly over being linked in Greg's double secret blog and also by the Mickster at Slate, it's important to focus on important things. Like this here little tribute blog to Greggie the best roomie on earth (I'm pretty sure Mickey Kaus would be a swell roomie too, he looks like the kind of liberal who's not afraid to shower or use a lot of PPPS's in a post). My kind of man.

Greg was really stressed out yesterday, Arianna's like "Greg you're fired. Oh and dahling can you reschedule my free range soy colonic for Tuesday afternoon and pick up my dry cleaning? Go away." So I end up rubbing his feet a lot and practicing acupuncture.

Did you know I located a stress zone on the forehead near the brain that is only activated by reading lefties cheer for Cindy Sheehan?

Naturally, Greg was able to characterize the liberal behavior and wrote an excellent post about the Chief Brody Slap. Be careful here. Don't confuse the Chief Brody with Chef Brody at the Alistair Grill in Stains.

Well I have lots to do tonight, darning the holes in Greggie's socks and sewing up a prototype for my restyled "Red Hot Media Workout Stripey Spandex Unitard."

Bye kids and thanks for reading!

kisses,
Scott

HuffLag hits Scott

I'm a pretty nice, reasonable guy, but it seems the bouncers at HuffPO have decided not to approve my comment on Greggie's post.

Nothing really untrue was stated, all I said was "I read a post from Hooman Majd (while on layover in Detroit) and shortly thereafter it burned when I peed."

It's simple cause and effect science, really.

Thanks to my roommate's informative post I avoided reading Cenk Uygar -- because bleeding from the ears is reason for a mandatory unpaid sick day with my airline. And I'd be too shameful to admit I was careless enough to read the HuffPo while traversing four time zones, after being warned.

Only a foolish man would do that!

It'd be like having anonymous rectal intercourse with patient zero. Though I wonder how many liberals would do that willingly, if only bambi could be saved and the barely noticeable global warming could be stopped. Personally, I can't wait to sun myself on the pristine beaches of Greenland, while fishing for endangered species of fish.

Meanwhile in NYC, the unwashed fishy-smelling liberal is NOT endangered. How wrong is that?

Greggie's Stories for HuffPo Children

My Roomie Greg is so amazing with kids. If I ever have kids I hope my partner will be Greg as sensitive and in-touch with them as he is. Anyway, Greg has a hot blog up on the Huffington Post (hi Arianna!! Your hair looked fabulously stiff at yoga last week!) and GG's post wasn't hot only because of his cute little byline photo. Winky winky.

This morning when I was making Greg-a-licious his morning free-range-soy omlette and pesticide-free coffee I asked him why he didn't include the children's story that I told him one dark and stormy night when he was writing that post on my abdomen by candlelight using environmentally friendly ink ...

MOMMY DOESN'T WANT YOU TO LIVE HERE ANYMORE

Little Johnny's mother was really busy when she found out she was pregnant with him. So busy she put off having an abortion for too long -- his baby head popped out before she could drive her not-too-speedy hybrid car to the nice doctor waiting on-call with a drill and a vacuum.

She reminded her now 10 year-old son of that as she packed up his belongings one late summer day. It was impossible to find a good white nanny and helping him with homework was cutting into her time better used saving the rainforests.

When Little Johnny had to say goodbye to his pals from his old school in Pacific Palisades, they asked why he wouldn't be going to school near his home anymore.

He told them, "Mother is sending me to aborting school in Vermont."

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COMMENTS

Where is the Jim Lampley fan blog? Just curious.

Posted by Jim Lampley, at July 23, 2005, 2:36pm

_______________

Darling, of course my hair looked extra stiff at yoga and my backside extra flat. Keep working on your 3-legged squatting dog, Scottie. You'll get it.

Posted by Arianna at July 20, 2:30 pm

_______________

Blow Show w/Dick

I got to help my roomie Greg with his latest post about Richard Bradley, born Richard Blow.

Not to toot my own large (and slightly sore) horn, but it was this very flight attendant who pointed out his parents named him Dick Blow. I'm not sure why Dick changed his name, because Blow is much sexier than Bradley. Bradley is that fat pasty kid with a speech impediment that you kicked in the schoolyard and then stole his lunch money to buy lipstick and cigarettes. At least I did.

My awesome roomie Greg came up with "The Blow Show! With DICK!" And I peed my pants a little. Could have been some discharge from that nasty infection. But Greg assured me a few antibiotics take care of it.

I suggested "The Blow Show, now with 150% more free Dick."
But he's the genius, I'm just here to support him and occasionally rub rosemary scented oil on his back when he gets stressed.

Typically, I will heat it in a teflon coated sauce pan for a minute or two, because Greg is very sensitive to drastic changes in temperature. He also seems to relax a lot when I play the flute along to some slow jams.

Gotta bounce...flight to Halifax leaves in a few hours. Bill is flying again. He has the smoothest landings I've ever experienced.

kisses,
S

Do like Oprah says...

Get white and think real.

I loved Oprah in Purple Rain, that movie made me cry more than that paper cut I got filing Greg's toenails. But anyway, back to current events....

How brilliant is my Greggie?

And he has a PART 2, as if he anticipated our needs, and just knew one post on Okra could never satiate us!!!!!! Well not anymore than one cheesy poof could fill our bellies.

Toodles. Got to roll out to the airport. Bill is our pilot today and I want to be there early.

Lt. Whiskers

What Greggie forgot to mention in his fantastic post is WHY I moved to the other bedroom...AKA the couch.

One dark and stormy night, after a few too many buttery nipples I awoke in both pain and incredible ecstasy. Lt. Whiskers had the head of my manhood in his mouth (it was hot and humid. So I had to abandon the support that my stripey spandex sleeveless unitard offers).

And I have to be honest, while I enjoyed having a male cat gnawing on my very private part, I was way too worried about feline HIV AND what Lt. Whiskers would think of me in the morning.

I mean, how would I EVER have explained that to Greggie?

Amber alert for an elderly man child

I read Greggie's blog for today from Des Moines. And for just a second I thought I had the missing elderly gentleman on my flight. He had the open terry cloth robe, the name Norman Mailer, and even the stained t-shirt and slippers soaked in vodka.

Couldn't have been him, though because all this Norman Mailer was speaking of was "fluvial venereal obsequies." I'm pretty sure I had that once after a few nights with a Peruvian transvestite accountant. Or maybe after sitting down to pee in that strip club in Thailand.

Someday I'll be able to help my GG in a big way. This wasn't the time.

Gotta jet. Literally. To Topeka. But fear not, I'll be watching out for Norman.