"Every day I fight a war against the mirror, I can't take the person starin' back at me. I'm a hazard to myself..." I sang along with the CD playing over my car stereo.

I try to keep it a secret from everyone, but the truth is that I'm a huge fan of the singer Pink. I've been a fan ever since her first single "There You Go" came out. Her first album was great, but her second one is even better. Come on, I dare someone to listen to "Get the Party Started" without at least bobbing their head to the beat just a little bit. It's catchy as a motherfucker.

But this one... this one might be my favorite. It just, I don't know... spoke to me.

"Don't let me get me, I'm my own worst enemy, it's bad when you annoy yourself..." Pink sang as I drove toward the office.

I think sometimes we can all be our own worst enemies. We (certainly I) tend to get caught up in our own heads and do end up annoying ourselves. Maybe that's why I like reading comics, because I can immerse myself in those colorful make-believe worlds where a muscle-bound hero in tights saves the day. I can understand Michael's obsession with them.

Why do I keep my love of this pink-haired, tattooed R&B/Pop/Rock diva a secret? For the same reason I keep my love of Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Celine Dion, and other contemporary female pop stars a secret.

Yes, I'm a fag, I like a stiff cock up my ass from time to time, sure, but I don't want anyone to know that I'm THAT gay.

"Doctor, doctor, won't you please prescribe me somethin', a day in the life of someone else? Cause I'm a hazard to myself..."

Everyone knows that Emmett is the nelly queen of our little group of gay misfits... I mean, you only have to take one glance at the guy to know that. He's certainly the one most likely of us to get up in front of everyone at Woody's, grab the karaoke microphone, and belt out "I'm Every Woman" or something else equally embarrassing for someone in possession of male genitalia to sing in front of people. In fact, he had done just that a few nights ago and had only drank one Cosmo so far. It was a bit out of his vocal range, but he still rocked it with his flair.

But me? Yeah, I grew up as a gay boy in the era of Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, and Whitney Houston, and I'm not shy about shaking my ass on the dancefloor of Babylon to whatever might be thumpa-thumping, including "Let's Hear it for the Boy" or "Dancing Queen"... but I should at least listen to something a little manlier in my own car, right?

Maybe some Ozzy Osbourne? Motley Crue? Judas Priest (yes, I know their lead singer is a fag, shut up)? I usually have some Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, or The Cure playing when I have a passenger in the Jeep. A straight man would probably approve of those groups. But when I'm driving alone? Nah...

I've been listening to Pink's newest album on repeat for at least a month and I'm not sick of it yet, at all. Before that was Britney's Oops!... I Did It Again and the Backstreet Boys' Millennium. I usually remembered to take an embarrassing CD out and stow it under my seat. One day in my BSB-on-repeat time, I had volunteered to drive Michael and myself to Babylon, since I needed to make it an early evening to get back home to do some work and knew that Michael could get a ride home later with Ted. I'll never forget the surprised look Michael gave me when I turned the engine over and "I Want It That Way" blared out of the speakers.

"Uh, Justin must have borrowed the Jeep and left that in there," I claimed as I fumbled with the buttons on the CD player to eject the offending disc.

"Justin, right..." Michael replied, knowing I was full of shit.

It's odd how some of us get so embarrassed over certain songs and movies that we like... I guess that's why they're called guilty pleasures.

"Oh, I'm a hazard to myself. Don't let me get me!" I trilled along with Miss Pink.

Just then, my cell phone started ringing. It was Sunshine calling, so I hit the pause button on the CD player before answering.

"Yes, Dear?" I said.

"Hey, are you at work yet?"

"I'm about two blocks away, why?" I asked.

"I forgot my sketchbook with the drawing I was going to turn in today. I thought I put it in my bag before we went to bed last night, but I guess you distracted me before I could...."

I sighed. It was going to take me nearly an hour to drive back to the loft for his sketchbook, take it over to the PIFA campus, and then drive back to my office. But he was right, I had "distracted" him while he was in the middle of packing his messenger bag... with my cock.

"Alright, I'll go home and get it. I'll call when I'm close to the campus."

"Thanks, I'll repay you tonight."

"You better... Oh, uh, Sunshine?"

"Yeah?"

I don't know why I suddenly felt compelled to tell him this, but I found myself saying, "I like Pink."

There was a pause. "Huh?"

"You know, Pink? The singer?"

"Yeah, I know who she is. You... you like her?" Sunshine asked incredulously.

Shame rolled through my body. "I mean, she's okay..."

Sunshine chuckled. "Yeah, I like her, too. I usually listen to ‘You Make Me Sick' whenever I get pissed at you."

"So like, daily?" I asked.

He laughed heartily. "Pretty much."

I smiled. "Okay... see you soon."

"See ya," he said before hanging up.

I put my phone back in my jacket pocket before pressing the play button. I cranked the volume on that shit and sang, "It's bad when you annoy yourself. So irritating. Don't wanna be my friend no more. I wanna be somebody else..." as I pulled a U-Turn and drove back towards the loft.