The Lion, The Witch, and the Gay Devout Catholic Who Doesn't Eat Pork

A straight girl, and four gay men walk into an Ethiopian restaurant ...

No, this is not the beginning of a joke; it's what happened this past Saturday. I went out to dinner and a movie with my best friend JohnPaul, his two friends from Florida, and their "friend" from somewhere in New York. For their safety, I will refer to the Floridians as Harry and Al. The "friend" from somewhere in New York can be called The Annoying One.

JP and I met all 3 guys in front of the IFC Theater on West 4th Street. We get to the Ethiopian restaurant and it is packed, so we decide to go to a cheap Asian massage salon around the corner to waste time until our table is ready. The Annoying One and I decide not to get pummelled by the 85 lbs masseuse, and sit in the small waiting area. At this time I didn't know if he was gay/straight. But, I sure as hell knew he was annoying.

The Annoying One is 18 years old, and just like me, he is a pale Puerto Rican. And, just like me when I was 18, he felt he needed to go overboard to validate his Puerto Rican-ness. For starters, when he introduced himself to JP and me, instead of saying "My name is blah-blah-blah, but you can call me blah for short," he said "You can call me blah, because no one knows how to pronounce my real name." Excuse you! Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot pronounce! JP and I were on same wavelength honey, because JP says, "Try me." So, The Annoying One says his name with all the rolling R's he could muster. However, it was to no avail, because JP said it right back, perfectly. Take that you smug ass! Next, while The Annoying One and I are sitting in the waiting area, all he did was talk. What did he talk about you ask? Well, let's just say he broke the #1 rule of first-time communications ... Don't discuss politics or religion.

He's a freshman, studying Latin American politics. He practically went through every Latin American country and told me the name of the leader and the friggin' crops they grow. He started every sentence with, "You know what's interesting ...." Um, yeah I do, and right now what you're talking about isn't. On a different day, yes, 'cause I loves me some political banter. But, on a Saturday night? When I just met you? NO! Any who, he starts throwing out acronyms so he can sound smart (which I'm sure he is, but it's coming off as arrogance). I try to change the subject, and ask, "So, when you're not trying to save Latin America, what do you do?" You know what this b*tch says? "I'm a member of [INSERT ACRONYM] (a Latin American political group)." Thankfully, Al emerges from behind the curtain right before I choke the sh*t out of The Annoying One. Soon after, both Harry and JP are done with their massages, and we head over to dinner. In the short walk to the restaurant, I learn that The Annoying One is gay, and ALL over Harry. I also find out that Harry met The Annoying One over MySpace, and they only met face-to-face yesterday! And, I find out that Al does not like him ... Join the club.

While we are looking over the menu, JP suggests we get the meat combo platter. The Annoying One asks, "Is there pork in the platter? Because I don't eat pork." While at the massage place, he mentioned that he was Catholic. But, I'm Catholic and I eat pork. So, all of us are wondering why he doesn't eat pork. He says, "I'm a Mennonite Catholic. We follow the Old Testament, and it's against my religion to eat pork." Okay, okay, wait. So, you're telling me that you don't eat pork because it's against your religion? Isn't being gay against your religion too? If you're so devout, shouldn't you be home self-hating? If I had my red leather glove on hand, I would have slapped him with it right then and there. I can just imagine how God will react when The Annoying One arrives at the pearly gates. God will be standing there with his palms out, looking from one to the other, lifting them higher and lower, and saying, "Hmmm, didn't eat pork, gay ... didn't eat pork, gay. You've gotta be kidding me, right?"

After dinner, we went to 42nd Street to see "Hostel." Al, JP and I stayed for the last showing; Harry and The Annoying One left to go and read the Bible, I'm sure. For those of you who know me, you know paying to see a horror flick is a huge step for me. I am a punk. My eyes were closed for most of it, but I can say that it sounded good and scary. When we left the theater, one viewer (who I'm sure is on his way to being Ebert & Roeper's protege) said on his cellphone, "There was a lot of blood and titties ... that's all I wanted."

I took a cab home after the movie, and the driver was playing hippity-hop music really loud. Now, before you get all pissy and say, "I bet you wouldn't have been scared if the driver was playing Mozart loud." I beg to differ. If you know me, you know that I don't like loud noises, probably because I want to hear what's going on around me - especially when a man I don't know is driving me home. It could have been Clay Aiken on the radio and I still would have been scared. Now, I just saw a movie about young people getting sold and cut up into itty-bitty pieces. I do not need to be in a closed environment, with loud music, at the whim of a stranger taking me home. I was scurred, y'all. What if he was planning something with the friend he was talking to on his ear-bud, but I couldn't hear it because Snoop Dog was singing about lace panties! Being the paranoid chick that I am, I took his taxi info down on my cellphone, and I prepared myself to "tuck-n-roll." Just in case. (Shut up!)

Thankfully, I made it home in one piece.