Manana Republic

Here at Gayvorites, we like to think of ourselves as an equal opportunity employer. But how can we deem ourselves as such when our staff is comprised primarily of homos? With the goal of improving our diversity rating and leveling the gaying field, Gayvorites posted two positions for “Straight Consultants” on monster.com, and to our surprise, we quickly received over 200 applicants. With that many resumes, we realized that we could never get through the paperwork alone, never mind the interviews and the mandatory in-seam measurements. That’s when we decided that we needed what every serious company has, a good ol’ fashion Human Resources Department. In the style of HBO's Entourage, we shamelessly asked ten of our most organized friends with positive moral values to head up our team. Who could refuse such an alluring offer, especially when your only responsibilities are to water the patio planters every other day and pretend you’re doing paperwork? Coincidentally enough, all of those we “on-boarded” happened to be named Emily, henceforth resulting in the creation of the Human Resources Har-em.

With the help of the Har-em, we were successfully able to weed out the dead weight and select the hairiest, most testosterone laden, baritone-voiced heteros for hire. At long last, we will have some strapping lads around the office to chop our firewood, open up even our most-stuck jar lids, and move our 500 lb shipping pallets. Most likely they'll just sit around and belch the alphabet or work on their slapshot, but we'll let that slide. We are proud to welcome our new recruits, Richard Ironhardd and Manclaw Lazer, to the Gayvorites team! Shalom, boys!

So with gentle and swift pats on the behind, we assigned our new eye candy the Sisyphean task of trying to turn traditional gay cuisine straight. And yes, we realize this undertaking is like asking grilling and boxing legend George Foreman to promote Bethenny Frankel's new SkinnyGirl smoothie line, but we had to try.
________________________________________________

I awoke in the middle of the night with my shirt wrapped around my head and a zip lock bag full of chocolate clenched between my thighs.

In our minds it was simple, there is nothing quite as gay as a chocolate covered banana (CCB). While others would have been quick to judge this dessert as irreversibly homosexual, we put our sexuality on the line and set out to prove that this queer delicacy could be made straight. When presented with the challenge of turning fag food into something even Rush Limbaugh would stuff his face with, we knew we would need to begin with a trip to the Gayvorites Heterosexual Research Facility.

With help from hi-tech imaging software provided by the US Army and the National Rifle Association, we were able to bring the secrets behind the CCB out of the closet. This is when we realized we’d bitten off more of the proverbial banana than we could swallow.

We put our manhood at risk to make a gay food straight.

You see, traditionally the CCB is served on a stick. We knew then and there that the stick would have to be the first thing to go. A real man gets his paws dirty. God forbid the CCB be inserted tip first past the lips of such beacons of heterosexuality as ourselves. Our solution to this problem is straightforward; our banana would have to be consumed laterally.

Our final observation was that this fruity delight is most often prepared and served from a wheeled cart. What could be gayer? The only things sold on such carts are Dior sunglasses and Dippin’ Dots. The last thing we wanted was for our treat to be confused with the concessions stand at a Coldplay concert. Our dessert would have to be assembled in the most masculine of settings: and just like any self respecting straight blooded American man knows, there is nothing more manly than the wilderness.

With bananas in our backpacks and chocolate in our hearts, and after our usual meal of steak and blood pudding, we set off into the wild.

The raw goods. Gay!

We hiked many miles, killing any wildlife that crossed our path and when we finally emerged from the dense forest, we found ourselves on a beach. We set aside our hefty sacs and sank our toes into sand finer than the 600 grit sandpaper in our toolboxes and set up camp.

The first step of preparation was to melt the chocolate; first we used a process of applying fire to wet kindling and breaking the last of our remaining matches in order to prove that it is impossible to create heat anywhere outside of a Weber grill, save for sexual intercourse with a woman. This step was critical to preserving our manhood in case someone should suggest we had used fire in conjunction with a double boiler, a tool we did bring along just in case (a man always comes prepared).

We filled our double boiler from the waters of the Atlantic.

Our next move was one that could only have been conceived by the likes of us Eagle Scouts. We determined that the best way to convert the chocolate from its solid state to a creamy consistency capable of lubricating a long sturdy banana was to use the heat already radiating from within our strong loins.

Boilers are for fairies, we melted chocolate with the heat of our loins.

Naturally, we climbed into our sleeping bags and placed our backpacks between us so we wouldn’t accidentally bump into one another in the night. This was something we’d learned from our Eagle Scout days when we spent extensive amounts of time in close quarters with other men after dusk. Confident as can be in my sexuality, I secured a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips firmly between my legs.

As the waves calmly lapped the shore nearby, we drifted, side by side, into a peaceful slumber. A heterosexual slumber, mind you, filled with big-breasted dreams.

We awoke at 2 am to the screeching of mosquitoes in our ears. Our faces were covered in the insects sucking our iron rich blood. It was at this point of our meal preparation that we found ourselves in our prime. You see, in the metropolitan world we attract women by the dozens. In the wild, nature itself is lured to our man musk. Knowing that if we lingered here too long they would suck us dry, we left the chocolate behind in the warm folds of the sleeping bags and spent the rest of the night strolling the beach, assessing our strengths and checking each other for ticks. Then we sat in the sand in silence and watched the stars disappear and the sun rise.

When dawn had finally broken, we returned to camp to find that not only had the chocolate hardened, but the bananas had been bruised and violated in the midst of the night’s tussle. With uncontainable man-rage, we hurled the bananas into the sea. Finding ourselves too bitter to stay, we packed and began the trek back to our proud patriarchal society.

In the end, one thing was obvious. Chocolate covered bananas are far too gay to contaminate these straight, supple lips. In any case, as we munched on our victory pancakes in the comfort of our hunting lodge, we found ourselves asking; what kind of a man would even want to be caught with such a phallic treat in his mouth in the first place?

Good to Know: We knew it would be a hard task, but at this point Alchemy is easier than this shit.

The Bottom line: Like Cher’s Greatest Hits CD there are some things in this world a straight man must never tamper with.

Rating: St Patrick’s Day and domestic violence.

Gayvorites Exclusive: Leaked photos!

Warning- Explicit content below. The following photos were submitted by a reader who wishes to remain anonymous.

Looks like Lazer and Ironhardd put the boys from Brokeback Mountain to shame.