I swear! Sometimes I think I must live in the gayest neghborhood in the world. And I'm including that one in San Francisco where you have be gay to buy stuff and walk around.
Every day I see my neighbor, who we'll just call "Steve" (his real name is Steven), prancing around like he owns the whole block - and he doesn't! He mowes his lawn with his shirt off, and I'm pretty sure that when it's time to shovel the sidewalk he'll do that without a shirt too. That's the kind of guy he is.
Also, get this, he sews and cooks! I can see pretty far into his house from my bedroom window, and I'm sure that's a sewing machine he's always sitting at. Or it might be a computer. If it is, I'm sure he's looking up gay things (sewing supplies, etc.) I can see directly into his kitchen, too, and he always, always, makes breakfast for his wife! Gay slave, anyone?
I'm all for "the gaying of America," as they say, but this guy drives me up the wall. If he invites me to one more BBQ, I'm going to call the cops on him.