Let's be a group of gay friends gathering for a long weekend at Palm Springs

I'm the inevitable trip down to Arenas Road.

I'm the cocaine!

I'm the poolside bloody marys.

I’m old.

I'll be the official photographer!

I own the house next door. I'm just one of the neighbors who called the cops to get you all to STFU.

Suck on it: I didn't pay a fortune for my place to listen to you assholes. Lights out and noises off after 10 pm.

I am the leather sling the guest brought from Oklahoma City to use.

I'm control freak, bossy bottom Mike, and I organized and coordinated this whole entire trip, and I'm trying to keep these ungrateful bitches on a planned itinerary.

Now everybody up early in the morning so we can be the first on the Aerial Tramway!

I'm the 60 year old who passes for a 40 year old

The funny thing is, without Mike, everybody would spend the weekend sitting by the pool doing nothing.

I'm the couple who only have sex with each other if a third person is involved. We call it "keeping things interesting", but some of our bitchier friends call it "not wanting to divide assets".

I'm the bottle of poppers

No glasses by the pool!!

I like Mike!

I'm the Syphilitic Chancre you're taking home!

I'm the inevitable cry of "who has any Kwell/Rid/A200"? (Along with pointed fingers and accusations of "no tricks in the house' from Mike.)

I will be the cause of many an acrimonious "meet up" after the week.

Of course I get the master. I organized this trip!

Did we say whores or no whores this time?

"I TOLD you, you need to be ready to roll at 7:17PM if we are going to make our reservation. I'm not giving up our patio table just because some lazy queen can't get her act together. Any you can't wear that shirt where we're going."

I'm the myriad of shampoos, hair products and lotions that have overtaken every inch of counter space in the bathroom.

Im the 4 different bottles of vodka in the freezer..

I'm the cockblocking.

I'm Rosa the maid and I get to try and fumigate the lingering smell of poppers and cum leftover in the bear couple's bedroom.

I'm the trip down to Sherman's Deli at some point.

I'm the middle-aged guy with a dad bod who thinks he's average-ish looking, but has an easy masculinity and is a top. I'm intimidated by how stylish many of the others in the group are, but we've been friends for years and met at the bar when we were all young, so we're just part of a group. I think everyone is checking out my stylish friends, but hoards of bottoms are actually checking this guy out more than the over-primped queens he's with. One lucky bottom who hits on me gets to try out my 8 inch cock.

"Guys, I just went to the grocery store and bought little nibbles for the week. Your share is $287 each."

I'm the unicorn float! And the flamingo float, too.

I'm the queen who insists Koffi is so good while everyone else wants to go to Starbucks.

I'm the inevitable group shot Instagram post, with oh so hilarious hashtags.

I am Juan Carlos, wandering if 20 dollars is enough to be blown.

I'm the family-friendly group shot uploaded to Facebook

I am Datalounge. Everyone will be surreptitiously checking me out and posting on a thread about rude houseguests.

I am Viagra. I'm hidden away in the suitcase along with my cousin Cialis

I'm 67, their average age.

I'm the trip to Toucans.

I'm the minoxidil.

I'm the one that actually owns a passport and has traveled extensively. Never again will I let my sexual orientation dictate where I 'absolutely must' visit. This town is really boring after 12 hours, and frankly I'm over hanging with my friends in such close quarters after 24 hours.

I'm the gin and regrets by Monday morning.

I'm one of the guys who cheated with his friend's partner.

I'm the gin fits in the morning!

I'm the midcentury modern art tour that Mike insists we all go on.

I'm the anus that won't stop bleeding. Please, please, PLEASE won't someone drive me to the hospital.

I'm the bottom that cries when he's had a drink.

I'm the queen doing bumps in the bathroom in between martinis at Tropicale.

I'm the 45mg daily Mirtazapine we're all on.

Sounds like the most depressing trip ever from these comments

I'm the doctor's office level volume of music which is not allowed to go any louder due to the noise ordinance.

I'm the croissants from L'Atelier Cafe

I'm the Coachella pre-planning discussion that Mike has initiated.

"Guys, I just went to the grocery store and bought little nibbles for the week. Your share is $287 each." —Mike

I'm the dumb, pretty millennial flavor of the month twink that one of the guys insisted on bringing along at the last minute who obvs doesn't fit in with the rest of the group.

The rental car is in my name and you should have told me when I made the reservation that you wanted to be added as a driver. Only I can drive the vehicle! Use uber if you want to go get more gin, I'm not getting off this chaise lounge.

Palm Springs: the end of the road for gays.

I am the afternoon at the Canyon Club.

I am Juan Carlos the gardener again and heading back to the house for my second 20 and second blue job. I am hoping this guy removes his teeth like the last one did.

Only $20 for a blue job? I'd ask for more than that.

I'm the gay rolling on adderall and drinking too much who will later puke behind a palm tree.

I'm the Speedos which really shouldn't be being worn.

I like blue jobs.

I'm the poolside bloody rectums.

I'm the most unattractive guy who insists on being nude in the pool area.

I'm the stream of brown wafting through the pool water from the backsides of several of the old timers who have trouble maintaining bowel control after an impromptu fucking.

"I'm 67, their average age. "

I'm 27, the average age these deluded queens think they are because all their friends say they could pass easily for someone 40 years younger.

I’m PREP.

I'm "don't need PREP', thank you ! We're all POZ!

I am the lesbian couple two houses away ready to call the cops.

I'm the matching Hollister clothes Sugar Daddy and Boy toy will wear to Hunter's Video Bar tonight.

I'm the relentless dry heat.

I'm the shit stains on the 1,200 thread count sheets, by day two I will be legion...

...and I'm the relentless dry HEAVES

I'm the sad drag show at Oscar's featuring cringy RPDR failure Venus D'Lite as the headliner.

I'm the realization that hell is other people

I'm the wine vomit with guacamole chunks in the hot tub.

I' m the local guy who is rather touched by the flyover gays who can walk down the street holding hands.

Im Rosita, the hispanic cleaning lady eye-rolling all you queens but secretly grateful how neat and clean you all are

I’m off to Bangkok instead this year

Can Mike be a new DL favourite?

I'm the Russian River. I'm sad and longing for the days when groups of gay friends used to make the trek out to visit me!

I’m the House. I remember when I was purchased by Bob and Troy, such nice guys with such nice friends. They threw the best parties. But since Troy passed, Bob can’t do the drive on his own so now he rents me out. One group of toxic queens after another. Different people every weekend, but still, they’re all really the same. My one joy is hearing Rosa and Juan Carlos talk about the guests behind their backs - years in PS have made both quite catty, and it sounds so much better in Spanish.

One thing we all agree on - we wish Mike came more often, and that he should make a play for the dad bod, we think his name is Danny. We think they’d be real good for each other.

I’m the 12-hr. Day Pass that one of the partners got, so that he can cruise over at C.C.B.C., after telling everyone he’s going to “check out the shops downtown.”

I always thought many of the street names in Palm Springs sounded like drag queens: Vista Chino, Sunny Dunes, Warm Sands, Tanque Verde, not to mention their pimp, Ramon Road.

I’m the hair dye applied liberally before the trip.

I'm the denture adhesive tube in every bathroom.

I’m the sliver of poo on the sheets.

I’m the dildo at the brunch

I'm the way way too tight white denim shorts on Randy.

I’m the jacuzzi filter, slowly filling up with stray back hair and gray pubes along with cum clumps from the sad drunken hot tub fourgy last night.

I’m the shopbottoms

I’m the undisputed whore of the group. My mission is to antagonize the undisputed prude of the group and make his week miserable.

I'm the giant scorpion just over the edge of the pool about to sting the bald guy's fingers.

I’m the DUI that will Mike will receive on the night he insists driving everyone home from the bar because he refused to let Drew (20 year A.A. chip) drive home from the bars because he refused to add him as an additional driver.

I’m the much discussed hike in Joshua Tree abandoned after discovering that Marnie is playing on Turner Classic Movies.

I'm Edward giving a warm hello hug to my dear friend Jonathan.

I'm the front door to the rental house. Come on in!

I'm the ghost of Liberace. I used to own this place. if your balls tingle that's me saying hi!

We didn’t discuss any of this in our pre-planning meeting. You guys promised!!

I'm the rattlesnake sneaking up to bite the bald guys friend in the ass in r90's pic.

I am the hot palm tree groomer with the big work boots, huge thighs and very tight work pants that harnesses his beautiful bubble butt in front of you all, then starts to climb, as you have your faces plastered against the sliding glass door slowly heading to the floor to get a better look from below..

I'm John, arriving a drunken mess from the Arenas Rd. bars, trying to sneak some cheap trick into the house at 3 am, and making loud commotion, much to Mike's wrath.

r99 So John is a john?

I'm the fucking nuclear meltdown Mike has when he smells a tiny whiff of cigarette smoke coming from the patio outside.

I’m Juan Carlos, the house poolboy. Ok, cards on the table? My name isn’t Juan Carlos, hell I’m not even Latino! My real name is Johnny Caprio, just an Italian boy with a nice tan from the OC, and a nicer uncut piece these queens all love. I majored in Spanish at UC Santa Barbara, and now I’m a HS teacher during the year. Rosa is the only one who knows the deal here at the house - she laughs at me for teasing the old guys with what I barely wear doing the pool.

I only do the pools during the summer for the extra cash Bob and the other owners pay me. Plus, I can usually pull in a grand from these eldergays who are always eager for some private time with “Juan Carlos”. At $200 a pop, it adds up! My little side deals pay for trip to Mykonos every year, so win-win I say!

The only downside, is there’s never any tops in these groups! I have to be the top for all these queens usually, but this group has this one kinda hot dad who looks like he’s seriously packing, I think he’s a top since the nelly bottom house mother Mike is always flirting with him. I think his name is Danny, and I need to get his attention - I need some practice before Mykonos!

I'm the fun kitschy home decor of a rental home (sassy signs that say "It's Margarita O'Clock") that's actually cheap shit because I'm scared you bitches will steal real stuff. I'm also the posters for Palm Springs Weekend in multiple languages to seem cute and camp instead of lazy.

I'm Suzanne Somers, sitting among the gays and laughing at Tropicale even though I'm a Trumppublican.

I’m the striped tank top on Stephen - best way to show his overly veiny arms. I’m also the goatee on his face (to conceal the lipoatrophy), the gold pirate earring he’s had since 1989, and the protruding nipples.

Im the inviting city pool next to the library just waiting for folks who want to lap swim but most so called locals are unaware of my existence (or keep ing it a secret to themselves)

I'm the one who knows this guy who blew Chris Pine.

I'm the leather bears in the corner of the bar patio smoking cigars and discussing "A Star is Born."

I’m the frosted tips and pooka shell necklace. Hell, it’s worked for 25 years, amirite?

We’re the Palm Springs locals out at the bars. We get great amusement out of all the renters who come and go.

There’s this one group out tonight, they’re renting our dear friend Bob’s place, the outfits alone! A stripped tank top on veiny, withered arms? Novelty tee-shirts? Short shorts? The only decently dressed one is the hot dad type in a polo and a pair of walking shorts that show a large VPL!

Ugh! The chubby nelly bottom house mom in a too tight unicorn T-shirt and too long cargo shorts is waving his finger at the group while slurring his words bitching about smelling cigarette smoke. The hot one is kind of distancing himself from the scene as striped tank is yelling back that nelly can’t drive. Drama, at their age, too sad but funny from the outside looking in.

Maybe we should wave the hot one over, buy him a drink. But just him, not the others.

I'm mid-century modern, just like the house.

I’m a dog eared copy of Douglas Coupland’s ‘Generation X’.

I featured Palms Spring prominently way back in 1991, before it all happened.

I’m Mike, slamming the kitchen cabinets and noisily putting away the breakfast spread by 9 am because everyone is still sleeping and our plans for visiting the outlet malls today are basically ruined. Since the week is almost over I guess I’ll post the assignments for cleaning.

I'm the vodka Mike pours into his orange juice before anyone else gets up.

Thank God they have misters on the outdoor patio at Las Casuelas. Mike always has the best restaurant recommendations. We saw Greer Garson here once. And Sonny Bono -- well, before he skied into that tree.

I'm the salt tray platter Mike brought for Margaritas....there's pink salt, black salt, grey salt and the rare & endangered magenta salt.

The cruelty, satire and truth on this thread is vintage!

I'm Barry, the retired school teacher from Milwaukee. Believe it or not, this is my first visit to Palm Springs. So far, the vacation has been great, but I have noticed that a box of Metamucil Cinnamon Wafers, my favorite fluorescent cock ring and Volumes 5 and 6 from my Golden Girls DVD box set are missing from my room. Not pointing any fingers, but really.

I'm the salt that was rubbed into Mike's undies (for a lark) by Nigel and Barry after they became blotto on one too many margaritas. Joke's on them as Mike is uncut!

I'm the double dose of antioxidants Mike is taking after last night's five-second exposure to a puff of cigarette smoke. How does his skin look this morning? He's going to go check in the mirror.

I'm Rick, one of the ungrateful friends complaining about how controlling Mike is when he's out of earshot.

“What I am, michael, is a 42 year old pockmarked Jew fairy, and if I take a little bit of time, and a I smoke a bit of grass before I show my face to the world, it’s no one’s goddamned business but my own! And a good morning to you, michael. . . “

I’m the lines from the Golden Girls recited in silly voices.

I’m the token non-Caucasian in group. No one knows who invited me.

Holy Mother of Gd, R110! I know the second one from the right in your photo! (Not Biblicly, of course).

I'm the gay guy who lost his San Francisco rent controlled apartment in the Haight after living in it for 30 years and now forced to live in Palm Springs.

I'm the field trip to the dispensary out by the Tool Shed. Weed, concentrates, edibles. Wow!

I'm a 44 year old go go boy and I'm the closest thing to a barely legal twink in this town!

I'm the empty shelf where the Crisco is displayed at Ralphs on Sunrise.

Haven't we all had a Mike in our lives at some time or other?

I’m five digits. I’ needed to represent the combined lifetime number of sexual partners of the guys staying in this household.

I'm Mike, already making plans for next year, and crossing Neal, the alleged smoker, and Raymond, the reason we won't get the security deposit back, off my list. And Steven, I still need that $287!

I was Mike. We were at some swanky restaurant on the strip, maybe about 2001, for the White Party. About 10-12 of us. They were very slow with the tasting menu, but real fast with the red wine. Lots of red wine. I told the servers twice to speed-up the food, but they saw it as a cash cow, and they really refused to do so.

Then I went downstairs to complain. I still remember what I said, knowing my friends,. I said to the staff: “You don’t understand. You have to bring the food quicker or things will get out of hand...”. Then I had a smoke. As I was returning to the table, my friends were all headed downstairs. Apparently, somebody tipped the tables over. The red wine bottles and glasses went all over everything, and they had a beige rug! I am so glad I wasn’t sitting there at the moment.

We’re lucky we weren’t all arrested.

And this is why Mike is invited back every year, to keep this to a minimum.

I’m dvd box of The Golden Girls. I will be watched all night and everyone knows my every line.

Im Rosita, the eye rolling housekeeper. I take it all back. I've never seen a cheaper group of queens in my life and BTW someone left a loose BM by the toilet...next time leave a bigger tip or all your toothbrushes will be swished in the can!

I'm Mike's 16 oz cannister of oxygen harvested from the arctic circle...all the Versace and Jimmy Choo colonges are harming his bronchioles.

PS, like LV, is fine for two days, NO MORE.

I'm Mike's silent crying in the shower.

I'm constant naming of one another as Sex and the City characters

Someone please tell me Danny left at least ONE man with a big smile on his face while visiting Palm Springs! Maybe Juan Carlos coaxed him into the pool house and sucked his big cock? Swallowed that hot load of spunk? Perhaps there was a man in downtown who smiled and made some small talk with Danny while the guys were out doing some window shopping in town? The smile and small talk led to Danny's "white lie" that he was going to go for a run which was really his opportunity to fuck the hot 58 yr old hair guy he met in downtown. Hopefully Danny has a small realization that he was the attractive and personable man in the group.

R140 Why must you ruin this thread for everyone with your deep lack of humour?

I'm Mike, about to have a screeching bitchfit because the kitchen counter is a mess. A MESS! You are all grown men, why can't you put your fucking dishes in the fucking dishwasher?

[quote]You are all grown men, why can't you put your fucking dishes in the fucking dishwasher?

Because I'm busy putting my dick in the fucking dishwasher. (I think his name is Pedro.)

[quote]I’m the token non-Caucasian in group. No one knows who invited me.

Mr Go Asian, is that you?

R122, just for you.

I'm Mike, having another screeching bitchfit over the phone with the rental car agency over some minor problem.

Who didn’t clean the ensuite?!?

I'm Rick and I swear to God if Mike gives me the side-eye and makes one more snide, pissy comment in my direction I'm going to light up a cigarette right here in the fucking kitchen and I hope it chokes that controlling little bitch until he can't breathe! Fuck him!

I didn’t have time to read this, but I’m the dead boy in the pool in the morning. TIA!

Don't worry all. Cody couldn't read anyway.

This is Rosita your token housekeeper. Mike, you're a fucking cheap pain ass...please don't ever come back. No one wants to listen to your play list of Mighty Real and Midnight Love Affair over and over...the 70s are over. .The neighbors have done nothing but complain to the owners since you and your elder friend have left...never again!

R138 Perfect!! LOL

I'm a night of sing-a-long showtunes at Quadz (formerly Spurline). I'm the genuine joy and cheer from patrons young, old, and ancient that lead a mid-30s gay to believe there can be happiness and community in old age.

I'm the subsequent to Hunter's an hour later. I destroy everything positive gained earlier in the evening.

I'm the chubby Asian guy blowing your partner in the hot tub.

I'm the cries of "Girlfriend"! as the week begins.

By midweek, I will be replaced with cries of "bitch", "whore", "shop bottom" and (just for Mike) "tight ass control queen"!

[quote]I'm a night of sing-a-long showtunes at Quadz (formerly Spurline)

Spurline was formerly Rainbow Cactus, known fondly as "Rainbow Casket."

I'm the stylish serape Polo shirt that Huston was wearing when he arrived. Now it's all damp and dirty and bunched up under a chair in the corner of his room.

I'm the colorful swim briefs worn by Devon laying wet and balled up on top of Huston's shirt.

"gathering for a long weekend"

I'm very, very LOADED.

In a crowded field, I'm the thirstiest guest.

I’m one of the Coachella Valley’s many cockroaches. When Mike sees me scurrying around on the kitchen floor, his shriek will rival the Princess Diana Scream.

I'm the Forever Special Specialist Soul Deep Friend: the subject of Tom Bianchi's Deep Sex Chapter 624.

Or is it 932?

I forget. Wanna fuck?

I'm the hot British tourist someone succeeded in picking up at the bar who is wearing the most appropriate clothing in the entire house.

I’m the asian publicist from LA getting wild and taking lots of sassy fun insta pics and acting like everything’s great but no one wants to fuck me.

I'm the unemployed desert hick who lives across the road. Everyone in the guest house has decided I have a winning charm! In no time at all, they've made me the focus of the most touching charitable outreach endeavours. Dang!

R141's response to R140 has me confused... why is it humorless to want Danny to get laid and appreciated?

I am the amyl burnt nostrils.

I am the annoying random that everybody claims they didn't bring, but I copped a gob of all the guys, including Mike!

I'm the talked about next long weekend trip that gets abandoned when someone shats their pants.

I'm the hipster gay friend that only came for the modernist architecture tour that doesn't eventuate. I end up contemplating marrying a girl from film club to avoid becoming an old queen in Palm Springs.

I'm the Barry Manilow face lift that everyone is politely ignoring.

I'm the hole presented.

I'm the hole withdrawn.

Did someone tell BILL TAYLOR R/140 to turn off his caps lock?

I'm the butt and back hair clogging up the plug in the shower. Mike is having a nervous breakdown now, even though some of it is his.

I'm Max, the neighbor's great dane. Mike's friend, Todd, looked at me with predestination when he was complaining that men don't satisfy him like they used to.

I’m Earle E. Passout

I’m the white linen shirt Mike made us all buy for his farewell white party theme by the pool. “Coordinated lewks are a must”.

I'm the 58 page "fun" guide that Mike wrote when he should have been working.

I’m the radical faerie doing nude yoga on the lawn at sunrise.

R179 = cuties

Hilarious, disgusting thread. And a warning to avoid a "Palm Springs Weekend" unless it's a 1940's/50's or 60's movie. As a middle-aged gay man, myself, I loathe most other gay men in my age range. Damaged bores. (as I turn on my maribou mule heels and stomp out of the room) . :)

I’m Danny - the guy they make fun of for being too hairy, having a “dadbod” - and I’ve grown to hate these trips.

I met most of the guys 30 years ago when I was newly out, and dating Mike’s then roommate. When we broke up, I got these guys while he got a sugar daddy in Malibu. These guys used to always make me feel bad about myself - I never wore the right clothes, I’d never seen “The Women”, I watch and play sports, I don’t know any of words to “The Ladies Who Lunch” - all that gay culture stereotype BS. I used to buy into, think there was something wrong with me, that I was a “bad gay”. I moved to NYC 15 years ago, and honestly I’m a confident, successful, happy gay man but once I’m back with these guys, damn, they still do a number on my confidence, make me second guess myself.

So what that I’m hairy, that I’m beefy, that I dress for comfort. The guys in NYC don’t seem to mind and I know all of you bitches know what I’m packing and would love a shot at it. But guess what? Ain’t going to happen seeethearts!

I’m not saying I go without during these trips - God knows I need to work out my frustrations and get a boost spending time with these guys. Nigel bought his latest boyfriend Barry - Barry is kind of a solid bear type, and according to Nigel’s bragging, a “total top”. Well, Mr Total Top was on his back moaning for me the second day. Mike was screeching about not getting the deposit back because Nigel and Barry broke the bed - guess what, that was me nailing Barry. Oops! Then the other morning I said I was going for a run, but really I was meeting two of the guys who bought me a drink the night before at the bar. Real nice guys and a lot of fun too. Just this morning I had “Juan Carlos” in my bed, waking me up with a BJ, and eventually sitting on my cock. What a great ass on this kid! He confessed he’s not even Spanish! He just plays it up he is because he knows that’s what these guys like - the Latino Poolboy fantasy. He asked if he could come back later for some more - who am I to say no?

Thank God this week is nearly over! Sure, I got some play, but these guys are too much. I swear if I hear “hand in your gay card” one more time or if Mike tries to feel me up again, I’ll be the one screaming!

Oh! You know about the bed, and Mike screeching about that - well, you know how he’s been blaming Rick and Neal for the cigarette smoke? And Stephen for leaving the messes in the kitchen? Guess what? All me! HaHa! I know it’s totallt passive aggressive childish BS, but this is what these guys drive me to!

I can’t wait to get back to NYC - sure, there’s nasty bitchy guys there too, but these guys take it to a different level. Ok - time to go smoke outside Mike’s window while he’s napping...

Brevity; wit.

R183 wasn't the guy in your pic a user called something like _he_fixes_the_cable on Reddit a few years ago. I miss his posts in r/chesthairporn

R183 = author of the 58 page PDF.

DArn it, I was going to be the poolside Might Real impromptu poolside dance party but apparently I was nixed.

And Midnight Love Affair, where have you been all my life?!?!?

describe Mike's partner

^^i thought Mike was ending up with Dad bod Danny?

I'm that one partner that just doesn't fit in anywhere....I find nothing funny, nothing interesting. I only speak if I'm spoken to. Don't drink either.

We had a hilarious thread about that Provincetown PDF a few years ago. A few posters knew the queen who wrote it.

Please post the PDF.

The PDF that was linked at R179?

I was hoping for the thread that went along with it, alas it was deleted.

I'm the crumpled up post-its with passive aggressive notes signed 'Not Your Mother' written by Mike that fill up the recycling bin and (much to Mike's disgust) the garbage bin in the kitchen by the second day.

r195, Mike = Mike Pence?? EEWWWwwwww.

I'm the bulging vein in Mike's forehead when he sees someone dropping a few muffin crumbs on the carpet.

Has anyone even bothered to read R183?

Don't. It's aggressively boring.

I'm the desert heat drying up all of their wizened mussies.

I'm the date shakes and Bill's Pizza, which they will sample at some point.

I'm the non-existent Top.

R183 I like you, pookie

Im the cock sock

Didn't all the dudes going to Ptown already know all that stuff in the PDF?

That PTown pdf is brilliant, you can tell that nerdy DC queen was quivering with excitement at the thought of the trip (when he should’ve been working), too cute

I’m the bulge enhancing Andrew Christian briefs emblazoned with “Trophy Boy,” “FCUK,” or “Qween.” Unfortunately even the most strategic underwear can’t make Mike’s package look large.

I'm Mike, swearing I'll never organize a trip with these ungrateful bitches ever again!

I a Deep Well coyote that ran up to you all and scared the living shit out of you that Mike thought was a lost dog when you came back late from Arenas Road. The shrieking set off car alarms,

I'm Mike, pissed that everybody is STILL not ready to go to brunch. It's already 10:00! Mike is waiting for exactly FIVE more minutes, and then he's just going himself and everybody else can just find their own way there.

I'm the vicious face slaps

I'm all the group sex that is going on among members of the household while Mike is going on a toilet paper run or getting his beauty sleep. I am brief and uninspired, but sex is sex.

I’m the sex toys in the dish washer

I am the damage deposit that was lost on the first night when someone spilled Cabernet on the sofa.

I'm the spilled cornflakes all over the kitchen floor in the morning that Mike no longer gives a shit about because last night Dadbod Danny threw him a sympathy fuck.

Danny found Mike quietly crying out on the deck last night as all the passive aggressive jibes from the others had finally broken his resolve to stay in control. Before Danny knew it Mike had moved his head from his tear-stained shoulder to his lap and was releasing those tasty 8 inches. Hey, sex is sex, even with the world's bossiest bottom!

I'm the line of guests forming to viciously bitch slap Mike.

Mike here. I need $20 from each of you for gas money.

I'm David's new bf, Cameron, whom he invited at the last minute.

I'm good-looking in a bland way, have no personality whatsoever and am the dullest person on earth.

I don't drink, smoke pot, or like to go in the pool. I resist all attempts at conversation and disappear into the house for hours at a time, where David tries to get me out with the group.

The group shoots each other looks and eye rolls when I say things like "I don't like sushi and I've never tried it." When I'm not around, they're betting how long David will stay with me.

I'm the Mr. Turk store on Palm Canyon Drive that the housemates explore with many giggles, while Mike waits outside impatiently because "We have a reservation in five minutes and it wasn't easy to get, you know."

I'm dinner at Shame on the Moon, and I haven't changed since 1987.

Try the Appletini and the Brie/Smoked Salmon Quesadilla.

Op, if the weekend In question is during Coachella 2019, I am down!

I'm the whimsically large sun hats worn by Darren and Todd at the pool. I'm featured in every Instagram post until Darren spills a glass of sangria. I then play a starring role in a Dynasty-style slap fight when Darren drags Mike into the pool for yelling at him.

I'm the Connie Francis cassettes playing during the party, to make sure the rent boys know we like what the youngsters are listening to.

I'm the broken wine glass by the pool. Mike has blocked access to the entire pool area until the whole deck can be cleaned. Mike told them specifically 5 different times not to bring me by the pool.

But some of me is in the pool. Mike will step on one of my shards and will hobble around the city for the remainder of the trip. Mike will remember this episode and seethe with anger at random moments over the next few years. At work, before he goes to sleep, eating breakfast.

I will stay with him for a looooong time.

We're Jared and Jason, giggling at our private joke about giving Mike an ice water douche straight up his prissy ass. Why can't that bitch just relax and have fun?

I'm all the deviated septums and warped anuses in this house.

I'm the size 31 levi 501 jeans and the All American Boy tee- shirt packed away in the suitcase that will never fit again.

[quote] I'm the trip down to Sherman's Deli at some point.

Oooh, guilty.

I'm the casita.

When a group of six, eight, or ten friends rents a house, there's always, ALWAYS some couple that gets the casita because they like "peace and quiet."

Except those "peace and quiet" bitches will be grunting and groaning at 1 am when the "masseuses" they invited over are raw dogging them.

I'm the whisper that my houseguests need to speak in when we're outside after 8 pm, or else the prisspot neighbor with the pinched sphincter will call to complain about the noise.

The dude in R183 would be a chewtoy for a number of Palm Springs gays and visitors that *I* know.

He may not be catnip to twinks or muscle mary types, but who wants them?

I'm Earl and I flew out from Duluth for the party. I'm enjoying the special drink popular in his country that pool boy / gardener / bartender Juan Carlos made for me. I think he said it's called Maricon. Sounds so exotic. I can feel the sparks between us.

R231 Wait till he makes you your next drink.

It's called The Empty Wallet.

I'm the group of skinny twinks walking down Palm Canyon, casting the evil stink eye at the queens indulging at Great Shakes.

I’m the trustafarian alchie guest with the big dick who wants to be loved for himself.

I’m Gerrit. I’m one of house guests — a friend of a friend, of someone I don’t really like.. I am a very sincere person — a phrase I use a lot.. I dislike witty people, finding them insincere. I have divided the guests into insincere fake people, and real sincere people like myself — a very tiny category. As a crashing bore, I have alienated everyone.

I'm Mike, seething that nobody has emptied the dishwasher. The FIRST person who GETS UP in the morning should empty the dishwasher! What am I, the fucking maid?

I'm Jeff picking up Mitzi's dog shit near the pool. Who brought this dog?

I’m the Rid lice treatment kit that Mike found wrapped in toilet paper in the bathroom wastebasket before letting out a bloodcurdling scream. Which of you whores have jeopardized everyone’s hygiene and health. All towels in the washing machine, pronto!

[quote]Except those "peace and quiet" bitches will be grunting and groaning at 1 am when the "masseuses" they invited over are raw dogging them.

"Masseuses" are female. Not sure how they would be able to raw dog anyone.

Masseurs

I think this weekend ended long ago.

R241: Think again.

R241 Was NOT invited to Palm Springs and she is bitter.

I'm the 34 waist Speedo drying on the deck chair.

I've been on Tim's 38 waist frame all weekend.

One sneeze and this bitch right here? I'm going to become a big ball of polyester thread.

[quote] Masseurs

Whatever, Mary. They were all ordered in from DaddyHunt and none of them know how to rub anything above your belly button.

I'm Mike, pissily informing Tim that if he wants to dry his Speedo he needs to throw it in the dryer, and not have it lying on a deck chair. Don't throw clothes across the deck chairs or railing to dry, it looks trashy!

I'm the methy 30 and 40 something drifters, out of work since Craigslist went down, and where we can no longer advertise our massage and "maintenance man' services.

I'm Tim, fantasizing about strangling Mike to death with my 34 waist Speedo.

Someone is really beating this Mike thing TO DEATH.

I’m the Datalounger who wants this thread to become a YouTube series. I bet a fundraiser for “Where The Eldergays Are” would raise more money than the one for “West 40s” (or whatever it was called) did.

r249 It's because we've all known a Mike. He's a universal character.

Mike's dad, Freddy, here. Mike called like he does every Wednesday night and told me how awful his friends were. I reminded him that it's just like those bad boys who took his Star Wars figurines out of the original packaging and left them in the sun one afternoon.

R214 made me chuckle!

I’m the wrinkle cream that gets rubbed into the worryingly deep creases above the knees.

I'm the extra viagra

I'm the desperate search in the shops of Palm Springs for a nice shirt or two for the member of our party who didn't bring enough clothes.

I turn up empty as the shops only have

(1) An array of tacky tourist t-shirts

(2) Sex uniforms in the gear shop across from hunters

(3) Shirts that look like they were made from 80s couch upholstery in that hideous menswear shop at the bottom of Palm Canyon Drive.

I am the patio furniture that Mike has arranged, with military precision, every morning upon waking at 5am to meditate.

Sounds like Mike would get along well with the angry leather bear who demands the chairs be rotated in Ptown. What a pair they would be.

I am fuck buddy from last night. I can’t get out from Mike’s world fast enough. By the way I was not here for him. He just stood at the door and gave intstructions how to make the bed in the morning.

Just before I left for this weekend, my long-term partner told me he was leaving me for another man and wouldn't be coming to Palm Springs. He moved out an hour before you guys picked me up for the weekend. I'm going to spend the weekend weepy and sad, drinking enough vodka to make me an honourary Russian.

I'm the group of eldergays who relocated here from Guerneville. The Russian River was getting too trashy and straight, and we'd burned all the bridges in that town anyway. We see your group out and despise you. Where do we go after PS?

I'm the delusional middle-aged queens who think they can still pass for being in their 30s.

"You would be shocked if I told you how old I really am"

Um, no. No I wouldn't be shocked at all.

I am the late 30s LA queen that takes the Greyhound bus down to PS every weekend, hoping to become a trophy wife to some oldster.

In LA my time is long gone, but in PS 38 is chicken, honey!

I'm Scott, the queen next door who's come over to ask if I might be able to pick some lemons (and to inspect the goods). I'm pre -lubed.

Jesus, Scott, what's dripping out of your ass?

We are Bruce and Neville, and we have been arrested for trespassing bc we wanted to see Liberace's piano shaped pool, which, alas no longer exists.

I’m the dildo on the counter

I'm the too-tight clothing, bursting at the seams on middle-aged bodies. Bitches you ain't young anymore, it's time to stop being in denial.

I'm Rosa dusting and spraying the dildo on the counter.

[quote]Jesus, Scott, what's dripping out of your ass?

It ain't lemon juice, hon!

[quote]Where do we go after PS?

Shady Pines.

I'm the cast of "where the bears are" doing "situation shots" for their new season

I imagine the pool parties are like this.

I am the Patron Saint of Palm Springs.

I’m the sole black houseguest, having a time finding hair care products at the local pharmacy.

I'm Mike, about to have another bitchfit because there are wet towels on the bathroom floor.

I'm the antique store dripping with mid-century modern that is calling to the vintage queens in the group. Just a quick ride over to see if they have any Culver bar ware, please.

I'm the toenail fungus observed on one of the guys. Once you've seen it you stay out of the pool. Must tell Mike so he won't be invited back.

Culver? I am Culver and I want to know if you guys want have a "Put on a show night." We could do skits and/or people could do their own little piece!

I'm the hugely muscular man who works at the trendy modern furniture store.

I'm a nice man, but I've injured a few customers when I open my mouth and an entire season of purses come flying out.

I'm the Ace Hotel, where C list stars hang out with a bunch of bored, disaffected young men and women who all seem to be making either a porn movie or a TV show about heroin or meth.

I'm the ethnic hair dept. at Sally's on 111 waiting for teary r275 to find me.

I am the congenital syphilitic baby baby born to the wife of the pool boy Juan Carlos.

I'm the "special" dinner table sign requested by Mike and run off in the office at Shame on the Moon.

I'm the memories made and friendships forged

I’m the earrings

I’m the caftans

I'm the tiaras

I'm the tears

I'm the clap.

[quote]I'm the memories made and friendships forged

So that explains the stains on the living room rug. No cleaning deposit refund for you!

I'm the inevitable trip to the Everything 99 Cent store.

I'm the loud shriek and imaginary pearl clutch Mike makes when he sees Lucie Arnaz walking down the street.

I'm the Rough Trade 7-11.

I'm the CCBC resort, which was recently declared a major EPA Superfund Clean Up site.

No bleach in existence can kill the STDs that have hatched there.

I'm John (R99). My cheap trick turned out to be kind of fun, so he's sticking around for the day, and he suggested an unplanned lunch trip to the Parker Palm Spring Hotel to order the Angie Dickinson salad, just like Valerie Cherish.

I'm the shocked expression on John's face when he realizes that the average price for any lunch item at the Parker Palm Springs is around $25 - $30. Cocktails start at $16.

I'm the DVD of The Comeback that's been on since we arrived.

I'm Mike's cubicle at work. I'm a gray, dreary place where Mike answers phones and does spreadsheets. He has no power control here and he seethes with rage and resentment, which he'll take out on his housemates in Palm Springs.

I'm 60-75 years old because no one in Canada who is gay has even heard of this habit unless they're a borderline geriatric.

7-11 made me lmao.

So, Mike here again, and I'm trying really hard to be calm. But John KNOWS the photographer is coming over at noon, and if John is not in the matching pink Speedo for the group pictures at the pool then, I swear to God I will sulk in my room for the rest of the day.

And just to get in front of the question that we all know is coming, I did not get buy an extra pink Speedo that John's trick could wear. So, no, John's trick is not allowed in the group pictures.

I'm the DVD of Death Becomes Her that's also been played on a loop.

I'm one of a group of aging bottoms who call ourselves "The Lovers." We act like we're all friends but we secretly talk shit about each other behind backs 24/7. None of us has been properly laid since 2002. Is anyone a top? Does anyone want to come over and watch reality TV with us -- that's our intellect level. We live for things like Brandi Glanville's memoir.

I'm Mike, breaking down on Palm Canyon Drive and collapsing in front of Koffi when I hear that Penny Marshall died.

I can NOT be consoled.

I'm Rosa and wondering why the men took the mirror off the wall and put it on the coffee table. Why the white dust on it?

Mike, come over and join us at Elmer's.

I’m John and I really want Mike to stay at his room for the rest of the day. No pink Speedo for me. Instead Mike free afternoon!

I bought some very expensive bottles of champagne WITH MY OWN MONEY to have a nice picture of a poolside champagne toast in plastic flutes THAT I ALSO BOUGHT WITH MY OWN MONEY. So fuck it. Whatever. I’m taking my champagne to my room and getting drunk. So no champagne for you, John. And none for your whore. And none for anyone else. Just fuck it.

Mike we love you and we're sorry. Let us slip into our pink speedos in front of you to make up x

I am the gang thinking will this nightmare with Mike never end. He is bad enough without alcohol but drunk he is too much.

We are the crabs on John’s whore.

I'm the blow job that Mike finally got after he swallowed his pride and half a bottle of Cold Duck. I was administered by 83-year old Mervyn Koscelnak, who is actually quite proficient when he takes his teeth out. Mervyn once almost got to blow one of the male singers from the Lawrence Welk show but got elbowed out of the way by a more aggressive cocksucker in the back room of the Tiki Lounge. Mike is slightly less aggrieved since he finally got some sex and is now tentatively looking at dates for next year's trip.

I'm the corpse in the pool.

Does this mean that the Mike nightmare has finally ended, R314?

I'm the gang, having a great time (finally!) with Mike being sequestered in his room, pouting.

The crabs here again. The corpse was John's trick. But we live on as his legacy.

Who is Mike? It’s MICHAEL, darlings.

See you at the gay men’s chorus practice.

I'm the sober queen who has traded my meth addiction for on-line sex apps. So you'll find me by the pool on my phone the entire weekend swiping through pics when I'm not off being a whore.

I’m Diego sans

I'm the tanned toes and shaved legs.

Life Imitating Art:

[quote]mjdempseypsych#tbt to the Palm Springs premiere of @eastsiderstv with the bestest friends and utmost creative inspiration. #finallygreatgaytv

I'm the 50 something from LA who is pissed off at my husband because he says we are getting to old to still be going to The White Party.

Im the oil slick made of suntan lotion, sun block and Santorum clogging the pool filter after 600 guys have been in the same tiny pool in less that an hour.

Lookin good Mike! @ r322 far left

R325: lolz that’s my thought exactly when I first saw the pic.

I'm the pizza boy. I deliver.

I'm the door to Mike's room, left slightly ajar so he can keep track of people's comings and goings and be alert to anybody amongst the guys hooking up together and LEAVING HIM OUT OF THE ACTION!

I am such a Mike...off to kill myself now

Don't, Mike R329

We need you for next year.

Where are the boys headed next year for their big gay Mancation?

R331 Puerto Vallarta

Guerneville, r331. They're attending Leather-Bear-Boy-Daddy-Bondage-Drag-MethFest.

R332 and R333, I like both ideas. Lots of comedic possibilities there!

R334 You think this is funny?

R335 you think this is funny?

Sexy

Is Mike available?

That thirsty couple from East Siders makes my fuckin' skin crawl. They're is nothing special about them other than how special they imagine they are.

I'm the recyclables.

I’m vodka

I'm the picture of Mike from ten years ago that someone found online. Bad, bad, skin and about 300 pounds. And, most unfortunately, polyester.

Hey, could I have everybody’s attention? Guys, shut up and listen. There are some new rules to follow... toilets, always leave the seat down, pee only when you’re sitting down, no more than 5 minutes in the shower, no group showers, no nudity outside your bedrooms and no loud noises after nine. Okay? More later. Now let’s have some fun, I have puzzles here, gather around...

I’m the chacha heels

I'm the "special" drinks invented just for the weekend:

The "Michaeltini" - Belvedere with a pinch of amaretto, no more than 6 ice cubes (becasue we are running low) in a freshly frosted glass. And donlt forget to put it in the dishwasher when you are done do I have to do everything?

The "Juan Carlos" - Tequila, with a shot of Kwell because you'll need it.

The "Warm Sands" - Extra Dry and shaken, not stirred - served after 2 a.m. only you sluts don't think we didn't hear you sneak in after curfew.

R345, love it.

I’m young Joey. I’m cute but really rough around the edges, what did he say? Not a funuk? What’s that?

I am the guy at the gay Ace Hardware on Palm Canyon, next to Gay Ralph's trying to explain to Mike how to replace a faucet you fucks broke in the rental.

I'm the box of Camels.

I am trying cold turkey, I shook so bad this morning I dropped my coffee cup and everything in it. . The housekeeper Maria, cleaned it up for me.

I’m the double dildo left on the lanai table. I have flecks of feces on me.

I’m the home STD tests Mike is ordering.

I'm the drunk 30-year-old who went home with the 60-year-old - who is waking up and realizing what the fuck I just did.

Don’t forget my artistic and very intelligent crosswalks. Only the best for us gays.

In Palm Springs how difficult or easy would it be to book a hunky escort to come and join you at a pool party at a rented villa/holiday home?

A cinch

I'm not American r356 does a cinch mean difficult or easy?

[quote] In Palm Springs how difficult or easy would it be to book a hunky escort to come and join you at a pool party at a rented villa/holiday home?

We had a group of 8 guys once, and the two who stayed in the casita - flakes who we were all glad to be at a distance from - hired "massage artists" to come for a "massage."

The "massage" was apparently an itch on the inside of their assholes, since both of them got fucked. Loudly.

So based on obvservations, it takes about as much effort as ordering a pizza.

R357

WOW r358 That easy? sounds like male hoes and beaus are in great abundance in Palm springs? Are there a lot of sugar daddies spoilt for choice out there then?

r359 Cheers

R360 I would think anyone who wanted an older man would have buyer's choice in PS.

r354 Where is that -- Atlanta?

R358 speaks the truth, although, his verbiage

[italic]So based on obvservations, it takes about as much effort as ordering a pizza.

I would prefer to order a few hot dogs instead of pizza. Weenies up!

Palm Springs is probably one of the few places where a 50- or 60-something guy could make a living as an escort or masseur. (Maybe even a stripper.)

I am the large brown Santorum Stain on the vintage white wool Knoll sofa the owner is going to sue you over.

I’m the one now on Mike’s shit list cuz I borrowed his rental to go to West Hollywood for some decent looking younger guys..I look much younger than I am and should’ve never agreed to come to Palm Springs...you should see the age of some drivers! Also mike is gouging us on the food and gas costs so I deserved it...

R365, that sounds sort of hot

I’m the clueless old widow neighbor inquiring if any of you good looking men are are single!

I think I’m done with the fat loser bragging about his dick size and “masc” credentials.

[quote] This place wasn't furnished at Target you leaky bitches

MARY!

SCARY

There are NO skinny twinks in Palm Springs, r233 ...

Surely you mean you're the LESBIAN employee at the Gay Ace Hardware store trying to explain to Mike, r348.

The escorts are mostly grizzled, over 40 years old and POZ, r355.

There are some sugar daddies, r360. But most of them are POZ alcoholics.

There are a number of HIV+ people living in PS but that is vastly overstated on the DL.

Then again, 90 percent of the posters here still live in the same house with Mother, using her doilies and Fiestaware, and haven't had sex with the lights on since 1978. That they would shriek about everyone Having The AIDS is absolutely no surprise.

I'm the AIDES

I'm the wet see-through Aussiebum speedo on Jeff, Danny's really boring accountant boyfriend everyone is sneaking looks at, especially Mike, who complains to the theres about about Jeff's inappropriate swimming attire but at night alone in his bed jerks off to the memory of Jeff's VPL.

*who complains to the others

R373 Boy are you dead wrong. I banged right through a bunch of them over Christmas week.

bang bang when the trollery

I’m the used condoms floating in the pool.

I’m the pregnant bedbug, slipping out of Stephen’s duffel bag that first night to lay eggs and otherwise go about my work.

In the bitter aftermath, I will be universally blamed on John’s whore. Only I know the truth, but I’ll keep my secrets, thank you.

I’m the hemorrhoids flare up that one of the friends has due to eating cheese and wine all weekend. Plus the group train that was ran on me from two nights ago has not helped my condition at all.

I'm the furtive run to the Everything 99 Cent store before it closes for lube and condoms.

I’m Mamacita, the maid.

I’m the bump.

I'm the arty chalk drawings on the patio made by Larry's twink.

I'm Mike's puckered asshole, from the stick he had inside of me.

I can pop the cap off a bottle of beer, no problemo.

You guys razz me, but you know well that if I weren't here to run things properly everything would fly to pieces!

I’m Mike’s constant reminders about his own importance.

R391 I’m Mike's ignorance.

What does Mike look like?

I'm the 'find' of a wing chair at one of the handful of second hand furniture places along 111. Sunday right after brunch the bois decided to browse the second hands joints for the great buys. Scott says he absolutely has to have me but he and Duane can't figure out how to get it back to their place in Santa Monica since they arrived in Scott's Miata. Alas, after wasting half a day until they realize I'll cost 3x what they'd anticipated once they figure in freight, I sit here for at least another week until another Scott or Duane comes along.........

That's a fabulous chair, R395. Don't they have any friends with a truck?

I’m the Go-Go pedestal at the Tool Shed that Mike, in yet another delusion of grandeur, has decided he’ll dance on. He storms off when he gets only $2 in tips.

I’m the truly gigantic mirror that’s been collecting dust in a secondhand store literally for decades because I’m too big for anyone to cart away and install. John has become obsessed with me and won’t stop discussing how to get it to his place. It’s literally all he thinks or speaks about.

Stephen is tempted to go back and hit it with a mallet in a brazen act of vandalism just to get John to shut up about the fucking thing.

Oh I fell out of character there, sorry all.

[quote] What does Mike look like?

Like Piers Morgan, but older, fatter and smellier.

I'm the plots from myriad episodes of the Golden Girls that coincidentally and uncannily play out in real life over the long weekend...

I’m the pedialyte that Stephen read works wonders for hangovers, so he thought he’d buy me just to test me out. The teenage girl at the drugstore asked Stephen if his baby is sick when he bought me, and John burst out laughing.

I'm the source of Mike's latest lust and ire...

"Godammit am I the only one who takes the fucking trash out around here and puts the dishes in the fucking dishwasher? Maybe if you all didn't sleep until noon you'd have more time to do things like this! Apparently you're content with leaving this place a pigsty so we don't get our deposit back!"

AM I the only fucking bitch on the rag around here!?

I'm Steven's trick from last night who's sneaking out the bedroom window so Mike doesn't see him.

I think Mike looks like David Venable from QVC with no snap on hair.

I am the twink jizzed over heavily in five (or was it 6?) older guys cum and I am about to wash myself clean in the swimming pool of the love juices that were not only jazzed over my face and chest but then rubbed and smothered all over my body by kind older mens hands.Not one part of my body untouched by cum and I love it! I love it so much it feels wrong accepting a tip given how generous and considerate they were towards me with man juices!

R408 does not exist in any known universe.

I'm the queen staying at the ACE wondering where all the other gays are.

R408 is disturbed.

R409 Yeah he does. He was staying at the Musicland over Christmas. Hot boy.

I’m the cd of obscure disco b-sides that Mike has playing as the soundtrack to this vacation.

Isn't it time for a spring gathering? I'm sure Mike is up for handling the logistics. One might even say he lives for it.

We're never doing another vacay with Mike after last year's disaster. Never. Again. Fuck that OCD control freak rageaholic asshole.

Mikes in rehab, didn’t you hear?

Hi boys. Scott your neighbor here again. Listen, I just saw Barry Manilow at Petco and that gurl looks like shit.

I'm the Giardia floating in the hot tub. You're all getting diarrhea soon.

R418, thanks for noticing me! I always wash my hands on the show so don't know about the diarrhea.