Tag: LGBT

SaturDATE: I’ve Already Figured You Out

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Sometimes people ask me on dates.  They tend to go horribly.  These are their stories.

(Law and Order Sound Effect)

Him: Come home with me.

Me: No.  Do you think this sweater is too heavy for the springtime?

Him:  Come on.  Come home with me.

Me:  No.  It’s late and you’re drunk and I’m not and I’m tired.

Him:  Come home with me.  We’ve been flirting with each other for a long time now.  Come on.

Me:  No.  9 months is a long time?

Him:  Come on. (hails a cab)  Get in the cab.

Me:  No.  I’m going home.

Him:  Yes.

Me:  Okay fine.

(Montage:  Snuggly cab ride.  Surprised cab driver.  Deli visit for food and beer. Fumbling with keys.)

Him:  Do you want a beer?  I’m having a beer.

Me:  Yes.  I’m going to start drinking at 3 am.  Good idea.

Him:  Great, I’ll open you one.

Me:  No, wait.  I changed my mind.

Him: Fickle.

Me:  More like, sarcastic.

Him:  I like that.

Me:  I like you.

Him: I know.

Me:  Don’t worry.  I don’t get weird.  I let things develop naturally.  We’ll have two kids, one Korean girl named Ellen, and one African boy, named Sh’Africa.

Him:  Sounds like you’re telling Africa to be quiet.

Me:  I’m not.  I like the names Sean and Africa.  Sh’Africa. If anything, I think Africa should be louder.

Him:  Why?

Me: All that suffering?  Isn’t there a lot of suffering and economic inequality?

Him:  I’ve never been.

Me:  Me neither.  I’m operating on what I’ve read in liberal news media and what I’ve seen in movies like Congo.

Him:  Take your coat off.

Me:  Certainly.  I’ll just throw it on the floor here.

Him:  You’re funny.

Me:  You’re pretty.

Him:  Make out with me.

(We do.)

Him:  Take your shirt off.

Me:  Yessir.

(We take our shirts off.  Bitchin’ make out session.)

Him:  Take your pants off.

Me:  Yessir

(We take our pants off.  Bitchin’ make out session.  It’s getting hard to contain ourselves.  Get it?)

Him:  Let’s get naked.

Me:  How dare you.  No, wait.  I changed my mind again.   That’s a great idea.

Him:  Are you a bottom?

Me:  What?  Oh.  Sex?  Oh!  Sex!  Okay.  Yes.  No.  I’m versatile.  I’m the opposite of whatever your favorite thing to do is…

Him:  Then you’re a bottom.

Me:  I am indeed!

(We get naked.  Bitchin’ make out session.  Then, suddenly – he loses interest entirely. The evening goes limp.)

Him:  I was afraid of this.

Me: What?

Him:  I was afraid that this would happen.  My penis stops working after a while.

Me:  No!  Stop it!  It’s okay.  Cut yourself some slack.  You had a lot to drink.  I watched you.

Him:  No.  What?  No.  I don’t have whiskey dick.  Hahaha.  No.

Me:  What?

Him:  I have a thing that happens.  Once I get someone naked and it’s obvious that I can sleep with them, I lose interest.

Me:  Heh.  You’re funny.

Him:  Please don’t make fun of me.  It’s a real problem.

Me:  I was going to say, why don’t we just go to sleep and give it a shot in the morning.

Him:  Ha.  Right.  No.

Me:  What?

Him:  I think you should leave now.

Me:  WHAT?

Him:  It’s like this.  I already got you naked.  You already said you’d give me what I want.  It’s kind of like I’ve already figured you out.  I’m not going to be interested anymore.

Me:  What?  Heh.  Ha.  I uh…  hm…

(He starts putting on clothes.  He starts handing clothes to me.  I start putting on clothes.)

Him:  Yeah.  It’s best if you just go home.

Me:  I’m much farther away from home now than when you talked me into the cab.

Him:  I’ll call you a car.  You should go home.

Me:  No.  I’ll take the train.  I should never have come here.

Him:  Oh stop.  I had fun.

Me:  Yeah it was a blast.  You’re a real great host.  Thanks for having me over.

Him:  It’s a real problem, okay?  I have a problem with sex.  I’d appreciate some sympathy.

Me:  Awww… Sweet baby…  Hey.  I’m going to say something – please don’t take it the wrong way, okay?

Him:  Okay.

Me:  You’re an asshole.  I don’t mean like self-absorbed like me and my comedy friends.  I mean for real.  You’re a real, true, asshole.  I’m going to leave my card.

Him: What is this?

Me:  I want you to check out my site, but wait a few days…

Him:  Why?

Me:  Because when people act like assholes on dates with me, I put it on the internet.  Is that my coat?  Thanks.

Him:  What?

Me:  Yeah!  You’re famous!  Congrats!  And hey.

Enjoy playing mind games with someone else, Jerk.

(Surprise ending:  I laughed about him the whole train ride home.  I didn’t feel bad about myself.)

DOUBLE FEATURE!! Blueberry Double Crust Pie and Feta Quiche!!

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

I think we’re getting Blueberries from Southern California.

There are all these fruit carts in the city – just out on the sidewalks.  You can almost always find seasonal vegetables and fruits there.  My favorite time of the year is in the summer, where you can get loads of fresh berries – strawberries, blueberries and blackberries for super cheap.  They’re so ripe and fresh and they’re so abundant that they practically give them away.

But something strange happened recently.  The price of fresh berries went down.  At the end of winter.  I was skeptical, but I bought a pint.  They were fresh and delicious.

Most of the time I’m pretty conscientious about eating local grown whole foods.  But it’s the end of winter, and I’m fatigued and under sunned.  FRESH BLUEBERRIES, y’all!!!

I coudn’t help myself.  I made a Double Crust Blueberry Pie, plus a Feta, Red Pepper, Mushroom, and French Tarragon Quiche.

I put an egg wash on the pie.  Just whipped up some egg whites and rubbed it on the top crust.  Sprinkle it with cinnamon sugar, and It will make a very glossy, professional looking crust.  Wash your hands first, dummy.

The quiche came out great too.

Here’s a recipe for the Blueberry Pie Filling:

Take 3 pints of blueberries and put them in a large mixing bowl.

Add 3 tablespoons of granulated sugar.

Add 3 tablespoons of cornstarch

Zest one lemon over the bowl

Mix.

Put the berries inside the pie shell and cover with the top crust.  (egg wash optoional – WASH YOUR HANDS, DUMMY)

Bake at 425 for 15 min.  Turn the heat down to 350 and bake for another 35-45 min.  Use your head.  You’ll be able to see and smell when it’s done.

Let it cool for two hours and then refrigerate over night.  The cornstarch will firm up the runny berry juice.

What’s that?  How do you make the crust?  Funny you should ask.  I’ll be offering classes in that very thing, shortly.

You’ll be able to come bake with me at different locations around New York City.  Sorry to be mysterious, but if you’re really dying for a lesson, I offer private baking sessions too.  Email me at piefolk@gmail.com

Enjoy the Pies, Jerks.

People Send Me Stuff

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Hunter Kazorowski made this needlepoint and sent me a photo online.

People send me weird stuff online now.  Some of it makes sense, given that this is a pithy gay pie blog.  Some of it doesn’t.

But I love my readers, and you guys can continue to send me stuff.  Just not creepy stuff, okay, guys?  Seriously.  No photos of poop.  Unless, you know, it’s a miracle dump and the Virgin has appeared in it.  Then, okay.

No, wait.  Not even then. No poop.  I want zero pictures of poop.

Oh poop.  What was I talking about?

See?  This is fine.  Perfectly handsome young guy sent me a nice shot of his lean body.  It was coupled with these pies he made:

What a nice guy.  He wants to come bake with me.  Maybe I’ll let him…  He’s being pretty nice so far.  We’ll see…

I love the freedom of the internet.  I love how people are getting less afraid to live their lives openly.

I love that there’s something about my site that stirs people to send things to me.  I feel lucky.  I feel grateful.

Here’s a letter from  a guy in Montreal:

This is an apple pie,as denoted by the apple decoration.
I picked the apples myself, they are cortlands.
I have a tendency to put a blend of ginger, cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon into an apple pie, a balance that does not overwhelm the apple taste is essential.
The crust also has some old cheddar in it.
It was very good, though the application of egg wash was not very uniform.
I would bake a pie with you sometime if you would like, sometime when I am in New York.
I live in Montreal, ever been?

This be me last time I was in New York.
I like your site, very entertaining.
Tell Kazu we have a very good izakaya bearing his name in the city, people are lined up out the door all the time.
Blake

Did you hear that, Little Brother?  Blake (pictured above) says there’s a good izakaya in Montreal.

Aren’t my fellow gays sweet?

This guy is pretty beautiful, right?  He lives a few states away but he wants to come bake with me this summer at some point.  Okay, I said.  Then I said, are you over 18?  Then he said, 22.  Then I said, bring ID.  We can’t have the neighbors talking, after all…

Oh yeah:  remember that artist, Lex Millena?  He finished the watercolor he was making for me.  It’s beautiful.  Lex is beautiful.

Thanks Lex.  Thanks, everyone.  You guys are pretty awesome. Jerks.


SaturDATE: Heteronormative

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

My name is Michael.  Sometimes people ask me on dates.  Maybe they see me online and think I’m the answer to their life problems, or lonliness.  Invariably I prove them wrong:

Celebrity

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

My friends are, by and large, a bunch of would be celebrities.  That’s kind of how I like it. I hang out with would be celebrity Jerks.

When you’ve got delusions of grandeur, you sort of have to have people around to help you sustain them.

Someone who will go, no, you’re not wrong – you could TOTALLY play 23.  Other comics.

We’re a funny bunch.   Of Jerks.

Some very funny people came over for dinner and pie:

“Hi, I’m Jason Blaine.  I am an adorable elf-person.  I am  an actor and a t-shirt designer.”  I did a show  with Michael once that led to our eventual friendship.  I could never be a boxer because my fists are so tiny.

“Hi, I’m Pam Murphy.  I had  a horrible, debilitating cancer.  But  that doesn’t stop me from chain smoking all the time and making  homophobic wise cracks.  I wrote a show about what a jerk cancer is.  Just kidding.  It’s more about what jerks PEOPLE are when they find out you have Cancer!“

“I’m Enrico Wey.  I’m in this tiny little Broadway play called War Horse.  Heard of it?  Well I also travel around the world.  I love playing with puppets.  Please don’t complement me.  I will short-circuit.”

“Hi.  I’m Matt Pavlovich.  I’m on a UCB sketch team with Michael.   I love to rollerblade and hang out with my comedy and yoga friends.  Did you come to my murder mystery party?  There was a naked albino man peeing on people.  I don’t like it when it rains.”

“I’m an egg yolk.”

“I’m Tim Dunn!  I’m an actor and a comic at the UCB theater.  I’m on a Maude Team and it’s really fun.  I also do a show on Broadway.  I’m super fancy.”

This is why you let a blueberry chocolate pie cool before slicing it.  And also, maybe don’t make it.  It was not entirely successful.  Reminds me of that time I got the squirts on spring break in Mexico.

“Hi I’m Garrett Palm.  I’m a homeless hipster that showed up begging for food.  I got the idea to beg for food in India.  Did I tell you I went to India?  I totally did.  I went to India.  India.  India.  India. India.  India. India.  India. India.  India.”

“Hi.  I’m Marcy Jarreau.  What can I say?  I’m pretty damn funny.  I wrote a musical about a lesbian camp that everyone loved.  I’m also on the UCB team Badman.  That adds up to awesome.  By the way, that character on Maude that I’ve been doing?  Totally Cajun.  I swear.  SHUT.  UP.  GARRETT.”

We ate dinner and then played Celebrity.  Then we ate that Blueberry Chocolate pie before it was properly cooled.  The crust is perfect.

These Jerks won.  They were an amazing team.  Except for Garrett who was a poor sport and shat his pants on accident.

Then on purpose.  Then on accident AGAIN.

Don’t ask silly questions.  Of course we enjoyed the pie, Jerks.

ThursDATE

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

My name is Michael Martin.  I’m a baker and a comic in New York City.  I’m gay.  From time to time people ask me on dates.  They see me on the internet.  Maybe they think I’m the answer to their life problems, or lonliness.  Invariably I prove them wrong:

People Send Me Stuff

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized


From time to time people send me stuff on the internet.   Usually it’s pies, or photographs of themselves naked, or not naked.  Or all of the above.  I think I scratch some sort of voyeuristic itch, maybe, for people – and they want to share in that feeling.  To be seen.  To bear witness to one another.  Then again.  Maybe people are just pervy.

That I can also live with.

Sometimes, people send me other stuff.  Usually I don’t post it if it isn’t pie related or naked.  Those are really my two demographics, right, guys?  I’m going to answer for you, since you’re not writing this:  YES.

This is Lex Millena

He lives in California and goes to art school.

Lex desscribes himself like this:  A Jack of all trades but master of mediocrity, he strives for the idealistic image of perfection. He is a purveyor of dreams and an information hoarder. His insatiable lust for memories results in photographs, notebooks and songs all combating a fear of a transient mind strung around by shiny things. A subtle voice with obnoxious hair with the intent of being heard without saying a word.

Like I said.  He goes to art school.

Here, I’ll prove it to you:

See?

Hm?  What’s the fucking point, PIEFOLK?  Good question.  Well.  I’ve been thinking of my ex boyfriend lately.  His name is Carter and he’s a good man.  Distracted, and wonderful, and wistful.  He’s one of those people –  you  meet him and you know he’s kind before he even opens his mouth.  He and I met 3 days after 9/11, in a Manhattan bar called Barracuda.

I’m not going to post a pic of him, because he strikes me as more private than all that, but trust me.  He looks like a honey bear.  Sitting on the shelf of a well lit sub-urban market.  Glistening with perfect honey inside.

Carter’s going through a rough time right now.

Hm?  What’s this got to do with the art school kid?  Oh.  This:

Lex, the naked guy from earlier?  He made this video.  It’s really powerful storytelling, I think.  Especially the long walk up the dark stairs, and the smelling of the shirt.

I saw this and I couldn’t help but think of Carter.  I found it incredibly moving.

Lex.  Thanks for making me cry with your art school video.  Jerk.

p.s.  Lex asked me 1)if i know Zach Woods and 2)if he’s gay

Yes.  No.


MonDATE

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Sometimes people ask me on dates.  They see me on the internet.  Maybe they think I’m the answer to their life problems, or loneliness.  Invariably I prove them wrong:

SaturDATE

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Sometimes people ask me on dates.  They see me on the internet.  Maybe they think I’m the answer to their life problems, or loneliness.  Invariably I prove them wrong:

Me:  So cute!  Thanks for the drawing.

Him:  You’re welcome.

Me:  They look so happy.

Him: They are.

Me: Did you notice how you put color in everything, except the people?

Him:  Yes.

Me:  You did that intentionally?

Him: Yes.

Me: Why?

Him: Because people are all empty inside.  Is that your backyard down there?  Do you have access?

Me:  It’s the down-stairs neighbor’s  It’s their backyard.  Can we go back to the drawing?  People are all empty?

Him:  Yeah,  people are all empty.  Corrupted.  Void.  Nature is the only thing that is perfect and the people in the painting are empty.  They need to keep the yard better.  Don’t you think?

Me:  Don’t get me started.  If that was my back yard there’s be a sundeck and a garden, and then some.  Hey.  So..  the people have no color because they’re empty?

Him:  Yes.  They are void and imperfect and they are empty.  That’s how they are able to be so happy.

(long pause)

Me: Well, thanks for the drawing.

Him:  You’re welcome.

(long pause)

Me:  Maybe I’d put in a fish pond, too, if it was my backyard.

Surprise ending –  I walked him to the train instead of inviting him to stay over.  There’s a combination grave marker store/bakery (I shit you not) on my street.  He stopped to photograph it and muttered to himself what a great find it was.

Enjoy the SaturDATE, jerks.