So I know yesterday you were thinking, ‘omg you know Mr. Gay Hong Kong? Wow, you are cooooool.’ I was like, ‘yes it’s true. I’m marginally acquainted with lots of famous(ish) people.’ I don’t have time to go into them all but here is the story of how I came to know and, ok sort of hate, Mr. Gay Hong Kong.
Back in the day Mr. GHK was actually R.A. Rick Twombley. At OCU. If I had a life before OCU, I’m not sure what I did with it. Arriving at OCU was like having an epiphany/sexual awakening/brain aneurism all at once.
I was like, ‘what are those ballerinas leaping off the stairs? What, two guys making out with their shirts off? GLITTER FALLING FROM THE SKY??? Sahweet Jeesuz, I am home.’
I had a friend, gorgeous blond blue eyed – we’ll call him J. And one day J was all, ‘Rick wants to try on some of my thongs.’
And I of course was like, ‘why are we even wasting time discussing this? get him in here right fucking now!’
and J was kind all, ‘eeeeh, I don’t know. He’s sort of a twat.’
to which I replied, ‘how bad can he be? Thong show! Thong show! Thong show!’
J had no choice but to relent plus I told him that there was going to be a goddamn thong show in my face one way or the other. Either Rick donned the strap or I would. Looking back on it, I should have been more insulted at how quickly J let Rick in.
Oiled up Rick. I’m not even kidding. Little did I know what magic he was headed for. But at the time I just thought, ‘that’s a little weird.’ and out loud I said, ‘do the rainbow one first!’
Then I wish I could tell you what followed was a feast of thong fun but no. Turns out Rick? Was kind of a twat. He was insulting and self obsessed and wouldn’t let me bounce a quarter of his haunch. Seriously, what the fuck? You’ll parade it around but won’t let me lob money at it. TWAT.
After he left we vowed never to amateur thong show ever again. (Exceptions: Jeff Quast.) From that day forth we deemed him Twatley.
Until he shed the name for Mr. Gay Hong Kong. Here’s his facebook notes. You can see he’s really trying to bring change to a country that’s even more locked down than our own. The Chicken Feet ramble manages to be both kind of insulting and inspiring at the same time. That’s the Twatley enigma right there. I wish him luck. I wish he would release a poster of his giant flame costume so I could hang it on my wall.
Somewhere I’ve got mean pictures I drew of the Great Twatley Thong Parade. I wonder what happened to those…
Tomorrow, how I (with much help from hot people) almost brought down a famous(ish) person’s stupid little internet role playing game.