You're not the type of fag who hearts Sunday Brunch...

...but you're definitely not the type to turn down a Mimosa. And, thankfully, you don't even have to wait outside in some horrible line with, quel horreur, children, because you're going to a friend's apartment for a mandatory, cocktail-infused, mandatory Sunday meeting of the Boy Luck Club.

You wake up in Hellsea, more specifically in The Cuddler's arms, and you freak out when you open one surprisingly non-hungover eye and realize that it's already noon. Not only don't you have time to go home and accessorize, you barely have enough time to shower and put on last night's outfit, which, thankfully, is actually semi-appropriate for daylight. Well, appropriate enough for a gay brunch with the Boy Luck Club.

You race over to your friend's loft during a Nor'easter (meanwhile, you wish someone would explain exactly why you're not allowed to pronounce the 'th'?) but all your friends have long since beaten you there. The Host immediately pours you an Eggnog (which you protest until he retrieves the container and proves that it is, indeed, low-cal Lite Eggnog.) You sip on that during your annual B.L.C. Holiday Porn Swap. You all nibble on bagels, lox and whitefish salad, but switch to Mimosas as the conversation turns to proper Manhunt nettiquette. One of your HTML-challenged friends switches the topic to who's naughty and who's nice on Craigslist. This is followed by a heated debate over when rimming is, and is not, appropriate. Eventually the B.L.C. comes to a consensus and you agree that rimming is strictly "we-just-met-and-haven't-shared-a-bathroom-yet" behavior, which, on the relationship time-line will last just about as long as Public Hand Holding. But then someone pulls out a shiny object and you all ooooh and aaaah over how easy it is to scroll through a portable porn collection with the swipe of a finger on someone's new iPod Touch.

When the champs is all gone, The Host cracks open a bottle of Stoli O' and toasts the Boy Luck Club with a simple, "Here's to being gay!" You all clink glasses as someone wonders aloud, "What do you think straight people talk about during brunch?" The whole Boy Luck Club thinks about this foreign concept for maybe a nanosecond, and then with a collective shrug you all move on to discuss the puzzling conundrum of the life-philosophy of a Bug Chaser. Anyway.