Gay Drama - Tumblr Posts
Brad and Chris were like soap opera stars. You could switch them out of a scene, put in new peeps to play the same characters, and for whatever reason, people are ok with that.
Chris was scared. He didn’t like this ‘thing’ Brad brought home last night one bit.
Brad forgot. Was Natalie Imbruglia’s new line of jeans called Pumped or Ripped? Then he remembered Pumped was a restaurant. That’s where he wore his dinner jacket. That date with Chris went really well. Like really well. At that precise moment, the photographer captured the campaign’s flagship photo. Super happy with the shoot, for three hours Natalie became Brad’s first and only female friend.
Chris couldn’t tell so he snapped a selfie.
Brad replied, “Well. That’s the right arm right? So you must be driving. You look like a woodchuck Chris.”
Chris: “Yeah you like that?”
Brad: “How much wood, would a woodchuck chuck?”
Chris: “A lot of wood.”
Brad: “Like how much wood?”
Brad: “How much wood Chris?”
Brad: “Wood.”
(Two minutes of garble from Chris’ phone)
Brad: “Chris?”
Jim on Chris’ Phone: “Hi Brad? This is Jim. I’m a medic at Ceaders. Chris has been in an accident.”
Brad: “Was he driving?”
Jim on Chris’ Phone: “Chris was in the passenger seat. No one was behind the wheel. We’re trying to figure that out.
Brad: “Us too. Hey can you put Chris on the phone? I need to finish off this wood business.”
Chris pulled Brad in the shot to balance things out. In reality, it was the only thing keeping Brad from falling over the Cliff. He was 6'4", hunky and just out of frame. Yum.
Mermaid or Merman or anything in between, Chris didn’t care. It looked like Brad was growing scales.
Looking in the mirror, Chris’ found his nightmare coming true. He woke up more perfect than the day before. Chris neared a panic. He needed to pull himself together, but wasn’t that part of the problem!? UGH! What was he doing?!?
That’s when Chris just stopped believing in winning all together. Like Santa Clause, it was fun to a point. Then it seemed cruel. Now, it just doesn’t really make sense. It was also really, really, REALLY expensive.
How was it you had to lie to make money to buy Christmas gifts AND to give them?!? NO THK U.
UGGGHHH. It was official. Winning, perfection and Santa Clause all sucked donkey butt. GREAT. Now what?
Maybe Brad would suck his butt? That would be nice.
Right after watching the show Brad got a text from Chris with his review. “Nailed it.” Minutes later they nailed eachother in the dressing room. Both were thankful it was opening night. Brad said it would be from here on as well. Chris was bummed. He thought it would be hammer time. That’s when Brad and Chris’ neighbor Luke piped in and said according to the footage on his phone, they each screwed over the other twice already. It shouldn’t be a big deal what they call it. That’s when Brad asked Luke how he got in the dressing room. Chris asked how harsh the shadows looked on film. The make up mirrors weren’t the best. Luke said the door was open, not bad and that he needed a ride home. Luke ended his date immediately after this wretched gay Flashdance show he was taken to. Unforgivable. This little sex show on the other hand, Luke could get used to. What were Brad and Chris doing backstage anyway? Chris was floored. “HELLLOOO!!! Luke. U just filmed it.”
Brads hip tattoo was bothering him again. How long would this sun dial on his hip smile and wave at him? It was getting creepy.
No one liked Luke’s new boyfriend Mark. He claimed he didn’t own a speedo & his out of control beard felt more than suspicious. Mark’s antics were ruining Eqypt. What was the point of traveling 1000s of miles if they couldn’t enjoy the bounties of the river?
Chris gave the relationship two, maybe three days. They’d all be home by then. Brad asked Chris if maybe Mark was in chastity. Luke’s ‘lost” the keys before making his boy’s act all strange. Chris said that was unlikely. Mark used excessive punctuation in his text messages and was 22.
After reviewing conversations with Mark on both of their phones, Brad enacted a plan to strategically ‘bump’ into Mark from behind to cup a feel for a belt. While the first attempt yielded nothing, a second and much slower go from the back dictated evidence that Chris was indeed correct. Unexpected, Luke was likely versatile.
When Brad and Chris asked Luke about playing multiple fields he replied ‘no’ then motioned to the water around them. Brad said Captain Obvious couldn’t touch that with a 6 foot pole. Chris then told Brad he could touch his pole. Just like that, Luke was back on top. Then Mark walked in wearing a speedo.
Enlightenment wasn’t what anyone expected. You could see everything, and oddly it took nothing away.
Chris didn’t want to answer the question. Then he found himself saying fat instead of puffy. That shoot ended quickly. Y didn’t he say puffy?!? ARG!!!
Chris stopped to look around. Whew. No gay pirates. He really didn’t need this day 2get anymore awkward. At least he jumpstarted sensitivity training 4 the Tampa shoot. There would be no puffy coats there either. Thank god. They really freaked Chris out.
BTWs - the best part about Tampa... inexpensive earrings. Ohhh that’s a “Just The Fashion Tip.” Someone text that somewhere.
Trevor Signorino by Marco Ovando 2020
WOAH WOAH WOAH... OK. THIS was all too much. Brad could see these BOX's were throwing him, Chris and the gays for a loop. It had to stop if they were to clear their heads. With that Brad got scissors and Chris got laid.
OK. THIS was inhuman. Chris didn’t know how to 'pretend' like his wet white shirt wasn’t see through. It was. He could C it. HELLO!?! Chris couldn’t just brush off reality @ someone else's whim. No one was thinking about what they were asking Chris to do. The last thing he felt was considered. Was this a professional commercial acting job or did Artificial Intelligence officially take over??!
It was then and there the Director realized Chris was 4 real. No one ever quite understood or knew to appreciate the miracle Chris still existed
Brad was pretty sure he called skins. He also liked the color red more than Chris.
Yep. So far 2 4 2 "brah."
Werd.
Ok. It was official. The party was a bust. Chris was on his way back down 2 Brad still on the back patio 2 break the news:
1) No free drinks on the house, 2) the roof wasn't on fire, 3) nor was it made of tin OR rusted.
NONE of the claims true. WTF?! Who lies about THAT stuff? Whatever...
Just as Chris cleared the roof, disaster struck again. Chris’ package popped out of the $68 Andrew Christian Slim Swimmer Super Support Thong underneath his speedo. His bulge flooded outta control.
Oh great… U know, the LAST thing Chris needed was to give himself a black eye.
Brad knew the second his hands touched his coife, he’d inadvertedy knocked his stellar Jill Biden scrunchy right off his head. Dang. That’s a redo.
AGHHH! Gustavio. The man was gorgeous but seemingly EVERYWHERE.
What was he doing in an abandoned building ...and in full coverage underwear? Then again what were Brad and Chris doing there in micro-thongs?!
No one knew. No one complained either.
Chris felt fat. Maybe he was on organic overload. Until he was sure, eggs were officially back in the ‘bad’ court along with all the other flip flop foods.
Chris then wondered if eggs were included in the ban on thongs at the beach. Eggs were not explicitly mentioned on the sign. Then again, in this time and age ANYTHING could b explicit. U can’t even sneeze!
..Wait! Was THAT Y Chris felt fat?!? Looking back, Chris hadn’t sneezed once during the whole pandemic. He wasn’t like Brad who snotted every time he laughed really hard.
Ok. He’d def text Brad to c if FTD delivered. First, he needed 2 ask Siri if there were still enough bees 2 make flowers.
With their blog still market explicit, Brad and Chris’ rub a dub dub photo mix stunt seemed to only highlight their dirty minds not clean them.
Two weeks later, It would dawn on Brad brains were like cats. Neither could handle water. If only he could lick his brain. Then he could imagine clean exotic Tumblr-friendly things like crisp linens and liquid origami.
To his credit, Brad did sport liquid shorts… and who doesn’t secretly loathe linen?!?