The Freeze

I was doing a bit of Pinteresting awhile ago when I came across something interesting.

When I was done laughing hysterically at Velma's sassy ass, I stumbled upon something a bit less enjoyable, but probably more useful to my life.

Instructions and tips for a month long spending freeze.

30 days of no spending (beyond necessities like food, gas, rent, and such). No eating out. No nights at the bar. No random trips to Target that end in a bag full of glittery sponges, pomegranate flavored/scented something or other, or rainbow striped socks.

And way less wine...

I mean, obviously there's going to have to be some wine.

I didn't actually read any of the tips or tricks, because reading headlines and then adamantly asserting my knowledge of a topic is kind of my jam. Seriously, don't ever believe me if I start a sentence with "I was actually reading an article about this the other day..."

I wasn't. At most I accidentally stumbled upon a Buzzfeed on the topic while looking for more eye rolling gifs.

It couldn't be that hard to figure out though, and it's not like I have 28 years of anecdotal evidence pointing out that I wouldn't be able to achieve this goal, so I decided to go all in on the spending freeze. I just needed to figure out when to start.

September obviously wasn't going to work with the wedding and wedding preparation. October was out because of Halloween and Halloween related activities. I'd need to start my Christmas shopping in November, and by December I'd need to quit just buying myself presents, and actually do Christmas shopping. I couldn't commit to January because I like to drink the real good shit on New Year's Eve. Unless something really changes before February, I'll need to buy myself an "I'm Single and Happy" gift for Valentine's day (and an "I'm Single and where the f#%! is my life going" pizza for Valentine's night). Then there's March which is Birthday Month, so that's obviously no good...

And then I realized why I'm a poor person.

So I committed to October. I'd already decided on my Halloween costume, so I would just need to buy that before the first of the month, and then I could just consider Halloween night a celebration of my victory over financial irresponsibility, and a kickoff to a new era of smart spending and frugality.

It was about he 4th of the month when I remembered that this was going to be a thing.

It was a pretty big inconvenience.

I'd made a commitment though, and I was going to stick to it. The first part of my plan involved going grocery shopping, and not like the grocery shopping that I normally do where I buy a family size box of brownie mix and rice cakes and assume that they cancel each other out. I picked out recipes to cook for the week, I made a list, and I stuck to it.

The first thing I decided to make was my mom's chili. She'd written out directions for me a few years ago, but I hadn't attempted it until now. Aside from an especially painful conversation in which I tried to get her to quantify a "glug" of vinegar, it went really smoothly, and the finished product was delicious.

I brought my friend Emma over to share it with, and she brought over a $50 bottle of wine to share with me. The free shit this girl gets for her blog astounds me, including this fancy ass bottle of wine (check her out here).

Clearly I'm doing it wrong.

The wine was good, but I think I'd enjoy 10 bottles of $5 wine more...

So I did a pretty great job on that first day of living frugally. I mean, I bought groceries, I filled my gas tank up, and I stopped for a latte after work, but none of that counts really since they were all necessary expenditures (and that latte was a small).

And for two more days I did super well. I ate leftovers twice and I didn't even consider walking to HyVee for generic Doritos and mini tacos. In fact, the only money I spent was buying footie pajamas and a giant crayon on Amazon, but those were for my Halloween costume. I'd forgotten to buy it in September like I originally planned, and if Halloween weekend was going to be the big celebration of being able to spend money again, I had to have something to wear.

Obviously.

I ran into a problem the Thursday after I started this experiment. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't be going out all month. It was a waste of money, plus I really needed to be spending more time sleeping on week nights, and less time, slurring drink orders at bartenders (or random people who look kinda helpful).

I'd forgotten how much I really like going out to karaoke though.

So went out. I wish I could say there was some sort of internal struggle over the decision. There wasn't. It happened like every other bad idea I have does. I promise myself to make the smart choice. I commit to making the smart choice. I'm 100%, no question, absolutely going to make the smart choice, until I think, "Or maybe..."

"Or maybe I could just go out for one." And then it's 2 a.m. and I'm dancing with a 21 year old on a Tuesday night.

"Or maybe I could treat myself to just one Little Debbie snack." And it's a week later and I'm wondering how it's possible that there are seven empty Zebra Cake boxes in my apartment.

"Or maybe he's not a killer and I'll be just fine." And then I'm giving a vaguely hot (in a "might steal my hubcaps, but could also probably help me fix my blinker" kind of way) guy a ride home after he approached me in the dimly lit Shopko parking lot.

Does anyone else ever wonder if maybe they would be better off if someone else was in charge of their life?

I gave up after that night.




What? You thought I'd do better than that?

#RVBWedding

Remember when I said that Gay Bachelor Parties were the best?

I lied.

Guys, Gay Weddings are. the. best.

A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to be able to help celebrate my friends Jamie and Simon's wedding. The boys threw a helluva party, but I'm honestly still a little wiped out from the minimal amount of responsibility expected of me in my role of groomsman on Jamie's side of the wedding party.

When Jamie asked me to stand up with him, I was super honored. I'm pretty sure I was almost brought to tears. I didn't really consider that I'd need to, like, be places, or do things, or not be super drunk.

I have to wear pants?!

You're kidding me. Not like all weekend though, right?

The Thursday before the wedding I went in for my final tux fitting.

It went rather less well than anticipated.

I really did mean to workout before this wedding. I went so far as to pull my gym bag out of its 6 month hibernation in the trunk of my car and wash the clothes that were still in it from the last time I went. I imagine most of you are probably pretty grossed out. Well, me too, and I'm the one who actually had to open the bag. It wasn't cute.

I got pretty involved in anything I could possibly think to do instead of working out, though, so I ended up going with my usual plan for any big events: Eating two salads the week before and indignantly claiming that it's just not possible that I've gained any weight.

Should I have been shocked when the jacket didn't button at my fitting two days before the wedding? No. Did I have a meltdown worthy of being aired on a Bravo reality TV show nonetheless? Oooooh yeah.

Guys, I cried while eating a chicken tender melt from a gas station.

I also texted a guy who I'm not really all that interested in because I knew he'd tell me I was pretty, and I blew off plans with a guy I am kind of interested in so I could go get drunk instead.

I'm shocked that people still like me.

Silver lining? The next day, at the rehearsal dinner, I didn't even question whether or not I was having dessert. They're overnighting the fat tux? Where's the pie?

I took a half day on Friday to give myself enough time to get ready for the rehearsal and also to make myself available in case Jamie or Simon needed any help with set up. As the only person in the wedding party who lived in town, I felt it was my duty to help out whenever needed, and I fulfilled that duty by sincerely and enthusiastically offering to help as soon as I was pretty sure they'd already taken care of whatever needed to be done.

To be fair though, they seemed to have things pretty damn under control every time I talked to them. Maybe they were stressed out, but it certainly didn't seem like it from my perspective. I'd stop over at their place and Simon would wave his arms and say, "Look at these thirty centerpieces I made, they're right next to the hand painted card table signs, and the perfectly wrapped wedding party gifts."

I'd have delegated the shit out of alllllllll that business.

The only job that I was tasked with was helping set up tables for the rehearsal dinner after I got off work on Friday, but by the time I got to the house Jamie had already taken care of everything and was sitting around anxiously looking for something else to do. Apparently the way he deals with nerves is by keeping busy. I briefly considered sending him over to my place to deal with dishes situation happening in my sink, but then I remembered that this weekend wasn't about me (plus there wasn't so many that I couldn't just hide them in the stove).

It actually worked out nicely to have that extra bit of time in the afternoon. I had a lot to do...

The rehearsal dinner went off without a hitch. Or maybe there were some hitches. Maybe there were tons of hitches. I don't really know. I got fed, got free booze, got a present from the grooms, and then got to go out to gay karaoke for the kick-off of 'Kato Pride.

That's a pretty epic party from my perspective.

Saturday morning should have been an easy morning. Jamie didn't have me scheduled for anything until 11, but the night before he'd brought up a promise that I'd made when we were in Vegas.

Since I was the most prepared person on the trip (or possibly just the gayest), I was the only person who thought to bring a beach bag, and subsequently, I was the only person who ever had anything with me. "Chris, do you have that sunscreen?" "Chris, where is my wallet?" "Chris, can I leave my phone with you?" After the tenth or so request, I joked to Jamie that this should just be my job for the wedding. I could just have things.

In the future I need to remember to be sure my friends are blacked before I go offering to be responsible for things.

On Friday night he mentioned, in passing, that he'd have a few items that would need to be added to my bag.

So then I had to set my alarm for 8 in the morning to go out and try and find a f#%!ing bag.

I could say that I thoughtfully considered every possible scenario that could have arisen and packed the bag accordingly, but I pretty much just ran around my apartment grabbing everything in reach.

And it worked.

"I've only go the one pair of scissors, so you'll have to wait until I'm done."
"Don't worry, I brought extras!"

"Shit, I don't have a pen."
"Give me a second, I've got one here somewhere."

"Oh man, my stomach feels weird..."
"Do you need Tums?"

"Does anyone have a nail file?"
"I have a glittery one!"

I was so accidentally well prepared that I'm pretty sure I got some random dude laid. After the ceremony, as I walked to my car, I passed a couple having a super romantic picnic in Sibley Park. I mean, they had candles lit, like three courses of food laid out, Frank Sinatra playing, and the dude was in a bow tie. All of the stops had been pulled out, and yet bow tie dude's girlfriend was sitting there was a pretty intense bitch face going on. As I walked by their blanket, he had just gotten up and run to his car. He was about to drive off when he rolled down his window and asked me, "Dude, do you have a corkscrew?!"

A part of me wanted to ruin their afternoon. I mean, I'd just attended a gorgeous wedding ceremony, and I was feeling single as f#%!. Witnessing their adorable date wasn't helping, but I did in fact have a corkscrew, and I'm just not the type of person who will leave someone in the middle of a wine emergency.

Speaking of that gorgeous wedding ceremony, it was absolutely perfect. The weather was great, the location was beautiful, the dog was well dressed, and they kept that shit under 20 minutes.

I was ready to get to the reception, and I was ready to drink. I'd spent the entire morning being helpful, accommodating, and selfless (or as selfless as I could be). I needed a vodka soda, some damn cake, and I needed to dance with two "a"s and a "y."

I needed to daaynce.

Luckily we only had seven and a half hours worth of pictures to take still.

Okay, so it wasn't quite seven and a half hours, and I totally knew it was coming. Jamie was nothing if not thorough with his itinerary. I just thought I'd enjoy it more. I'm an ego maniac, and I was wearing a tuxedo. Typically I'd want ALL THE PICTURES taken of me.

I used to pride myself on being able to find my angle and whip out a well rehearsed smile on a moment's notice. I was once so good at this that I'd learned to sense anytime I was in the background of a photo and pose myself accordingly.

Moments before this photo was taken, Emma was asking, "Wait...why are we laughing? What's so funny? Am I missing something?!"

A half hour into pictures that day, however, something changed.

It was like I broke my damn face.

I completely forgot how to smile. I was suddenly super conscious of how much teeth I was baring, worrying that I looked like an agitated weimaraner in a tuxedo. So I put all of my effort into the perfect adorable smile, ignoring everything else and looking like a dead eyed monster (but a really happy one). So, I grew concerned that I wasn't "smizing" (thanks for that, Tyra), so I focused entirely on what my eyes were doing and ended up completely forgetting what mouths look like when they're happy and excited for their friends.

At one point the photographer (who happened to be my friend Katie, and who had also been warned to watch for this) shouted, "Chris, do you realize you're side-eyeing someone right now?!"

"Yeah, but I was puckering my lips too, so it's cute...right? RIGHT?!"

Sorry if I ruined your precious memories, boys...

The reception was held at the Kato Ballroom, which has long been one of my favorite venues in town, largely because of the fantastic retro marquee above the entrance.

Let me tell you, I could get used to that Head Table stuff. I want to take all of my meals on a raised platform, lording over everyone else in the room. "Sorry all you peons had to go stand in line for food, I'm already halfway through my chicken and it's delicious."

At one point, I was getting a bit too animated telling a story, and as part of the story I exclaimed, "Excuse me!" more loudly than I anticipated. A hush fell over the crowd, and everyone looked up at me expectantly.

I've never felt more powerful in my entire life.

By the time the meal was over, I was a bit of a mess. I'd been brought to tears three times. The first time during a speech by one of the groomsmen. The second because the cake was soooooo good. And the third when Jamie took his turn to speak.

He went down the line and spoke beautifully about each of his groomsmen, thanking us each for everything we'd done to help shape him into who he is today. I was teetering on the edge from the start, but when he turned his attention to me...

"Oh god, we're finally at the part of the wedding that's about me!"

In the tradition of gays taking something that was good, and turning it into something really great, the boys blew it out of the water with their reception. I've never in my life had more fun at a wedding reception. I've been told that this is likely because I was in the wedding party, and also because I had a pocket full of drink tickets, but I'm pretty sure it was because it was just f#%!ing awesome.

Jamie and Simon had given the DJ pretty specific instructions. They wanted the dance to have the feel of a night out at a gay bar. Pounding bass beats, flashing lights, and absolutely,  under no circumstances, no matter how much guests begged, was he to be inciting a chicken dance.

He played "Sissy That Walk" by RuPaul. It was perfect.

Tradition wasn't thrown completely out the window though...it was just given a bit of gay sparkle.

The dollar dance, for instance...

Or the wedding party's dance...

There was only one moment when I grew concerned that the DJ was taking the party away from the Grooms' vision. When the song "Fishin' in the Dark" came on, I immediately found my way to Jamie and asked if I needed to go shut it down.

Apparently it was on their list.

Midnight came too quickly, and the party was over. The marathon of wedding weekend was over. I was exhausted (I can't imagine what the people who did actual work felt like), but it was totally worth it. I'm so happy I got to be a part of celebrating Jamie and Simon's wedding, and I'm so proud to live in a time and a place where it is legal to do so. Love is love, and there was a lot of it that weekend.

I've spent the weeks since the wedding trying to convince the two of them to throw another one. Apparently it's a pretty expensive undertaking, but I think I'm wearing them down. Maybe we can do a Kickstarter or something?

Ooh! And if we raised extra money we can use it to build me a head table in the lunchroom at work!

Just Hot Glue the Shit Out of It

Like most of you, my Pinterest boards are positively filled with things that I'm never going to do.

Ever.

I'm never going to make Blackberry Glazed Salmon and Asparagus. I have zero intention of reading the 24 books that I must read this summer. Growing lemon seeds in a mug on my kitchen counter seems like a great idea, but like hell am I going to go out and buy potting soil for it. And I'm certainly not going to do any of the workouts I have pinned.

Just kidding. I haven't pinned any workouts.

I assumed that's what would come of the fall wreath Pinterest Spiral I fell into not too long ago. I don't recall how it started exactly. All I remember is that I opened the Pinterest app at the start of my break, and then snapped out of what felt an awful lot like a blackout, 25 minutes later (ten minutes late to return to work) with the overwhelming desire to paper mache some shit.

There was one especially cute and easy looking wreath that I did really love though. You can view the pin here. Or you can see it on it's original site, Fun Home Things. I liked the idea of using a picture frame instead of the traditional circular wreath, and the use of an initial appealed to the uncontrollable narcissist in me.

Looking at it, I started to think how annoying it was that I was going to do all of this work, but I'd only get to use it for one season, and then I'd have to start all over again. Let's be real here, I'm barely gonna pull it together long enough to make one, I'm not about to make this a regular thing.

That's when I had a brilliant idea (an idea that I've since realized is not at all original, and I'm sure I probably saw it somewhere else first). Why not make the seasonal accents on the frame removable so they can be switched out when needed? Bats and junk for Halloween, some pumpkins or whatever for Thanksgiving, and a big, fat, glittery candy cane for Christmas; all held on with a patch of velcro tucked discretely behind a neatly tied bow.

I'm a genius.

With promises of a quick and easy craft project, I got my friend Emma to join me, and we went to work collecting supplies. I'd need a frame, glitter, and a bunch of other stuff that I didn't even bother writing down on a list, because once you've got the glitter, the rest of the project just kind of comes together...probably.

What should have been a forty five minute shopping trip turned into a 5 hour long adventure in which the following phrases were all uttered:

"I need to look at a hedgehog pretty much right now, can we swing by Pet Expo?"
"Obviously I don't need it, but it has a swirley straw!"
"Well, I know I shouldn't be shopping at Hobby Lobby, but I'll be damned if their glitter selection isn't the best in town."
"And, yeah, it's on Netflix, but I would just feel better if I had them on DVD too...you know, just in case." (in reference to Keeping Up With the Kardashians seasons 1 and 2)
"He's a little f#%!ing freak." (in reference to a 4 year old boy)

Also, in related shopping news, while I was out shopping with Julie earlier the same day, she called me out pretty hard on my bed sheet snobbery.

"...and I simply won't sleep on anything that isn't Egyptian Cotton at this point."
"'Cause you saw it on Uptown Girls, right?"
"...yeah."

Emma and I wandered around Michael's for quite awhile looking for inspiration. We came up with a bunch of ideas, but it wasn't until I found some sequined spiders in the Halloween section that I really started having a vision of what I wanted to do. I got everything I needed for the Halloween theme I'd planned on doing, but when I started considering putting together the autumn theme that I'd switch it out with I was absolutely exhausted by the idea. So I decided I'd just do the one for now and work on another later.

The metallic pheasant artwork in the thrift store frame is my favorite.

I started by painting the frame and the letter white...well I started by putting The Simple Life Season 5 in the DVD player, and eating half a bag of cheeseballs, but the painting was the first craft related task.

Then I moved onto the glitter portion of the job which was just putting down a layer of Mod Podge on the letter and sprinkling on silver glitter. Emma remarked at how simple it was, and I responded with a maniacal look in my eye and an exclamation of, "YEAH!! YOU CAN GLITTER ANYTHING!"

It was at this point that I realized that the idea of removable pieces was some real varsity crafting shit, and I was not talented enough to be making that team (I'm much better suited to being the team manager who just takes stats but still gets an excuse to go into the locker room after the game). So I gave up that dream and decided to just stick with making a Halloween themed wreath. The realization freed me to up start adding more glitter accents, namely the purple ribbon that I bought with absolutely no clue as to what I'd use it for.

Please excuse the dirty microwave that I took a picture on without thinking wipe down first. My life is a joke.

We'd been working on this stupid project for hours by this time, and Emma and I were both looking for whatever shortcuts we could find. That's when our theme for the night came about.

Just hot glue the shit out of it.

And hot glue the shit out of it we did. I'd never used one of these magical tools, but I'm in love now. I feel like I could craft anything as long as I had some glitter and a hot glue gun. The rest of the wreath came together really quickly, and I'm beyond thrilled with the finished product!

Cute, right?!

While I was giving up on my dreams, Emma stood by the original plan doing both an Autumn and Halloween theme that could be switched out. Her finished product looked super adorable as well!

Kudos to her for finding a way to hang it up already too. That's an added annoyance that I didn't plan for.

One downside to tiny removable parts is the ease to which they can be lost. Emma learned this the hard way when she lost them immediately after leaving my apartment. She got all the way home, realized they were gone and had to drive back to search for them in my parking lot by the light of her cell phone.

I should probably start taking people's phone calls in case of moments like this.

In the Kitchen With Chris: Honey Soy Pork Tenderloin

Are you guys aware that Kris Jenner is releasing a cookbook that's ALSO entitled "In the Kitchen With Kris"?! What kind of chance do you think I have with the lawsuit I plan to bring against her?

I moved out of my comfort zone this week. I've been fairly successful in the kitchen since I began taking on these culinary experiments. I've been successful at cooking chicken, and chicken, and chicken, and chicken, and chicken.

I picked a Honey Soy Pork Tenderloin, largely because I have the sense of humor of an eleven year old, and the word "pork" kinda makes me giggle, but also because I bought soy sauce for another recipe awhile ago, and I don't know what the hell else to do with it. I found it on Pinterest (obvies), you can find it on my Pinterest boards here. Or you can view the recipe on the site where it originated at Add a Pinch.

It's another crock pot recipe, so I figured I could do my shopping on Sunday night after work, run home on my lunch break Monday afternoon to throw everything together, and when I got home that evening I'd have a delicious meal waiting for me.

And that's basically how it happened...with a few hiccups along the way.

It was nothing major, considering the troubles I usually run into. Like, if we're comparing forgetting my grocery list to that time that I almost died from all the smoke pouring from my oven when I tried to make Grilled Cheese Pull Apart Bread (I'm just promoting the shit out of my old posts this week), this week was a breeze.

I got off work at 9 and stopped back at home to change into something a little less godawful than the olive green polo and name-tag that I'd been wearing all day. My phone was beeping incessantly at me, begging to be plugged in. I figured I'd only be gone for fifteen minutes, and I could go fifteen minutes without my phone. So I plugged it in and left, honestly feeling like I'd accomplished something important.

Yeah, that's right. I don't even need to play Kim Kardashian: Hollywood for 15 minutes.

What I did need was the list of ingredients that I'd saved on my phone.

It's a testament to how easy this recipe is that I remembered all of the ingredients without the list. The only one that I had trouble with was some seasoning that I couldn't remember the name of. But after explaining to the Cub Foods employee unlucky enough to ask me if he could help me find anything that I was looking for some seasoning, but I didn't remember the name, and I didn't know what it looked like, but I was pretty sure it was Canadian; we were able to narrow it down to Montreal steak seasoning.

Here's what you'll need if you want to give this one a try yourself:

1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/2 cup honey
3 tablespoons Montreal Steak Seasoning
2 cloves minced garlic or 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
Pinch ground ginger
Pinch red pepper flakes (optional)
1 2 1/2-3 lb pork tenderloin

Then you just spray the crock pot, throw in the meat, mix up the rest of the junk and pour that on top. Cook on high for four hours or on low for six hours.

A child could make this.

So on Monday I told my co-workers I was going to take an extra fifteen minutes for lunch to give myself plenty of time to get back home, do the required measuring, and mixing, and pouring, and get back to work. I was feeling pretty confident until I unwrapped the pork loin and it ripped right apart as I tried to pull it out of the package. I was a little bit psyched about somehow having gained enough super strength to rip apart pork flesh without even trying, but after considering the responsibilities that would come along with suddenly becoming a superhero (fighting crime seems hard and scary, no thank you, please), I decided to investigate other explanations.

Turns out I'd bought Pork Tenderloin Tips instead of just a regular whole Pork Tenderloin, and I reacted in the way that I do every time something goes wrong when I cook.

Full on panic.

I immediately began trying to run contingency plans in my head. Running to the store to buy a new tenderloin wasn't possible in the time period I had. Maybe I could just order pizza tonight? I could put the pieces back together in the shape of the tube that it came in using toothpicks and the power of prayer to hold them together?

I only had a few minutes left on my lunch break though, and I did not have time to be doing slimy meat puzzles.

So I just threw the pork tips into the crock pot, dumped on the rest of the ingredients, crossed my fingers, and headed back to work.

In the end it just ended up taking a little less time than anticipated, but the finished product was so delicious, albiet super hideous.

It looked a little better once it was on the plate (and paired with some wine).

Omm. Nom. Nom.

Top Gun

Okay, you guys, Top Gun is awesome.

Of course, my opinion of this movie can probably be explained by the fact that I'm also a fan of gay porn.

Seriously though. Straight guys are getting into this movie?!

I've indignantly refused to watch Top Gun for some time now. I claimed no interest in cheesy 80's action movies. Then I was moved to tears by Terminator. I'd decided that Tom Cruise couldn't be taken seriously after that whole couch jumping period he went through. Then I re-watched Interview With the Vampire, and remembered that he is actually super talented (and super gorgeous). I also had a problem taking any movie seriously that featured 80's power ballads on their soundtracks.

Top Gun has changed that for me. I want Kenny Loggins's Danger Zone playing in the background every time I do anything. I want it playing when I'm brushing my teeth in the morning. I want it playing while I'm road raging at fellow motorists on my way to work. I want it playing as I shake the vending machine that my pop tarts are stuck in. I want it playing as I sit pantsless, watching What Not to Wear, elbow deep in family sized bag of Cheetoes.

"Oh really, HyVee sales associate? You're out of Three Meat Totino's Pizza Rolls?"

"Well guess who's gonna walk out of here without making a fuss? This guy."

The only time I don't want Danger Zone playing is when things are about to get sexy, in which case, Berlin's Take My Breath Away will do quite nicely.

**Spoilers ahead**

So the breakdown of this movie is 10% people dramatically removing or putting on their sunglasses,

10% the most quotable lines in any movie I've ever seen,

and 80% the opening sequence of every gay porn ever.

It's not even subtle...

I spent much of the movie with my mouth agape, honestly wondering if maybe I'd accidentally grabbed some parody version of Top Gun at the video store (Versatile Bottom Gun, perhaps?), but I'm not even sure that Family Video has a back room for that kind of movie.

 The plot of the movie seems to take a backseat to finding ways to get these men engaged in sexually charged stares, homoerotic banter, or just straight up naked and touching each other. Tom Cruise, Maverick, is a bad boy fighter pilot with a vaguely shady past who, along with his partner, Goose (who has porniest mustache I've ever seen that's still somehow kinda sexy), get chosen to enter into the Navy's most elite flight school.

(Sexual) Tensions arise the first day in class between our main characters and Val Kilmer (who turns out was super f#%!ing hot once up on a time), Iceman, and his partner, Slider. They don't really say to much to each other, but they do blow each other with their eyes.

That's an awfully limp wrist I'm seeing on that extra sitting in the back of the classroom.

The rivalry between Maverick and Iceman builds as they both insist to the other that they'll end up as Top Gun, even though you can clearly tell they're definitely both power bottoms. The whole situation comes to a head when the two duos run into each other at a bar, and Goose and Slider have this discussion about ass play and penis size.

Yeah. Something's definitely flaming here.

We're also introduced to some chick that's going to be Maverick's beard for the rest of the movie. He goes after her pretty hard, but he does it via a musical number surrounded by twenty men, all dressed identically singing back-up.

You're not fooling anyone, Mav.

There were a lot of scenes of them flying around in their planes at this point, and quite frankly I was confused by most of them. I had a hard time keeping everyone straight when they were all shouting into their walkie-talkies and wearing helmets...and pants. I'm pretty sure that the gist of it was that Iceman was in the lead in the rankings, 'cause Maverick was a rebel and super not into safety or rules.

It all boils over when everyone is standing around naked and sweaty in the locker room. Iceman calls Maverick dangerous in the locker room, and the assertiveness of the whole thing is such a turn on that Maverick just goes ahead and ssumes the position right there in front of everyone.

Look at the guy on the left checking him out. I'm not even making this stuff up, you guys.

After that whole incident, Mav starts to really look at his life, look at his choices.

Just accept it, we'll all still love you.

They shove a bunch more plot in here, but I'm not sure about the timeline of the events anymore, mostly because I'd given up on taking plot notes, and focused instead on noting every scene in the movie where I saw nipples.

Like their super intimate volleyball game.

I need someone to tell me if straight guys really behave like this. If so, I'll seriously consider going back into the closet.

Towards the end, shit got super real. Goose is killed in a horrible accident during one of their drills. It's a pretty shocking and sad moment, and it brought me to the brink of tears. Tears that I'm certain would have  spilled if the very next scene (seriously, RIGHT after they pull his body out of the ocean) wasn't this...

Dat ass.

The movie got significantly less porn-y from this point on, and I got significantly less interested. I'm pretty sure Iceman wins Top Gun, but it's fine because Maverick learned something more important about himself or whatever. Then they go off and shoot down some bad guys (at least I think they did, I'd moved on to my second bottle of wine this point).

I really think I'm going to recommend that they reconsidering leaving this DVD where kids or fundamentalist Christians can see it when I return it to the video store.

Shit, Becky.