Sports Bar Saucy

Hot boys, scandalous gals, 2-4-1 drinks and, um, darts: It's a Tuesday night at Roscoe's

"So how did you and Christian hook up, despite his now obvious preference for the fellas?" I ask.

"He and I used to go to church retreats together and stuff like that," Kim confesses. "This is when we were younger. I was like 16. Anyway, that's where we dated for a brief moment. It's also where he started experimenting with men."

"What denomination?"

"Catholic," says Kim.

"Of course!" I state. "It's the world's sexiest religion."

"Christian, tell us what went down in the bunkhouse with all the boys at these retreats," queries the J-unit.

"Yeah, I did it with this guy named Kevin," grins Christian.

"So did you introduce him to, uh, Christian love?" I crack.

"Sort of. I was desperate and very horny. Everyone else was off on their little praying session when it happened," he confides.

"And he was doing a different kind of praying," I smirk.

"Well, he was on his knees . . . ," Christian trails off.

'Bout this time, Jen announces that she has to bounce. Unlike us knuckleheads, she's got an important job, as a medic for the Scottsdale Fire Department, and is on the front lines treating her fellow fire-persons as they battle those intense summer wildfires. Big ups to Jen and all her comrades for risking their asses for us.

"Kreme," whispers the AC/DC Rachel Bilson. "Look at those two hotties over there. Let's hogtie 'em and take 'em home with us."

We approach said twosome, force 'em into a corner, and have our way with them. Which, for us, means a photo and an interview.

The first is a Latin looker named Ramon. The other is a white boy named Ethan. They're about to leave for a bite at Hamburger Mary's when we stop them. Muscular Ramon is a dance choreographer, wrapping up his degree at ASU. Saintly Ethan is studying nutrition. This night, at least, Ramon is Mr. Personality.

"I want to be in a company for modern dance," Ramon tells us. "I want to go to New York, Chicago, or anywhere in the Bay Area."

"What do you think of Paula Abdul?" asks Jett, out of nowhere.

"I think she's great," replies Ramon. "And if she had sex with that American Idol contestant Corey, that's even better."

"He has a thing for a different judge on American Idol," offers Ethan of Ramon.

"Who?" inquires the Jettster.

"Simon," admits Ramon. "I would do him so hard. I love his hairy chest. I'd make him my bitch. Though Ryan Seacrest is hot, too."

"Hey, I wanna run an idea by you guys," I say. "You know that new MTV channel for gays called 'Logo'?"

They both shake their heads, unaware of the channel, recently released by MTV's parent company Viacom.

"Anyway," I continue. "What about a gay sports channel, like a gay ESPN? Not that many of the athletes would be gay, but maybe the announcers. And the advertising would be gay-friendly. That way the announcers could ogle Lance Armstrong."

"Yeah, he only has one testicle, but he's hot," purrs Ramon, dreamily. "One's enough, though."

So much for the test marketing. You listening, Viacom execs? Remember, Kreme gets 10 percent.

The Jettster and I go back to the bar to cash in our chips on a couple more vodka-cranberries. There we run into revelers Chad and Tameia, out celebrating Tameia's being off for the summer from teaching sixth grade. Chad's got a smokin' bod, and seems to have some Latin blood running in him. Tameia's a gorgeous black woman with skin like dark, creamy chocolate. They're pals, and I ask if they've had luck hooking up lately.

"Me, I don't hook up with anyone," says Chad.

"Well, I'm very happy because I just met a nice Rastafari man," Tameia relates. "I met him at that club Next in Scottsdale."

"Just let it be said you've got to watch out for Rastafaris," advises Chad. "You know why, don't you?"

"Because they smoka tha big spliff, mon?" I answer.

"No, because they have big dongs!" he cries.

Tameia just rolls her eyes. "I don't know. I've never dated a Rastafari before. I have dated a man from the Islands in the past, from St. Croix. I just find them very gentlemanly. They're not like guys from the States. And the accents, oh my God!"

"Not that what Chad's talking about would be a bad thing," suggests the Jettster, rubbing her jaw with a perverse gleam in her peepers.

"But what about inner beauty, Jett?" I suggest, however facetiously. "Emotional maturity, compassion and intelligence. Surely all that's more important than our external attributes."

"Is you crazy, Orson?!" exclaims the J-unit. "Who would you rather be reborn as -- Stephen Hawkins, or Brad Pitt?"

"You mean Stephen Hawking," I retort.

"See, my point exactly, most people don't even know the guy's name!"

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