Chad Callaghan
Chad Callaghan
Recent Stories
GaYale, I’ve got to tell you, we’re breaking up
So this is goodbye. I know, we probably should have done this in person, or even over the phone, but now that the year’s winding down, it just can’t wait any longer. Look at it this way: At least I’m not ending it by e-mail, text or instant message. I figured we shouldn’t delay the inevitable, so print will have to do.
The Boys from Knoxville: spring flings and whiplash
The key to having a successful Spring Fling turned out to be borrowing a cigarette that I never smoked. That and four relentless wingwomen from Kappa Kappa Gamma. The only downside? The whiplash outlasted the five-day fling.
Whadda ya want: A free Queer Eye makeover?
There is a gay mafia. And if you’re not careful, we will whack you. We’re nothing like “The Sopranos.” Sure we wear plenty of tight-fitting undershirts and even the occasional gaudy gold chain. We like our windows tinted, and most of us are in therapy. But we wouldn’t be caught dead with ungroomed chest hair. Hell, we wouldn’t be caught dead in New Jersey. But we have a mafia nonetheless. And if we don’t whack you, we’ll at least gentrify your ass (and your neighborhood while we
The real problem with gay marriage? Weddings.
One of my favorite 60-year-old queens — one with a wicked wit — loathes the idea. He thinks the modern march for gay marriage is the demon brainchild of Condoleezza Rice, or someone else just as powerful, Republican and closeted.
Recapture the fun of pre-college days and get naked
I’ve never been dating anyone on Valentine’s Day. I suppose that’s not completely true; I dated someone (on and off) for a little over two years. But we were always traversing ambiguous territory in February. Something about the endless cold put a damper on the flames of passion. Or maybe it was the chapped lips and dry skin. Recognizing romance means acknowledging commitment. And commitment is not something Yalies do well.
Stroke actors’ ‘egos’ on dates, especially this actor’s
Don’t ever date an actor. Maybe I’m being a bit too specific; there are a lot of people you shouldn’t date. Lepers, for example. People who say “Um…” before telling you how old they are. Jocasta. Anyone from Manchester. That guy you’re dating right now. Or individuals with the last name Bin Laden, Kaczynski or Bush.
Mr. Fishburne, I’m not taking the red pill!
Laurence Fishburne gazes benevolently at Keanu Reeves through last season’s bug-eyed alien sunglasses. He smiles and speaks in that silky, seductive, come-hither timbre:
Hickory dick-ory dock, the adoptalogical clock
My adoptalogical clock is ticking. And this is, understandably, a tad eerie. First, I didn’t even know I had one of those. In fact, I’m still not exactly sure what it is, or where it’s located. Second, I’m turning 22 in less than a month.
Kissing criminals: A brief Yale classification
Some men are so disappointing. Scratch that. All men are disappointing. I know, I know, if I’m jaded this early, you probably won’t even want to know me in ten years. I’m just tired of all those men who promise so much and deliver so little.
Positioning yourself in a world of Eli stereotypes
Apparently straight people think gay people are narrow, or at least uninspired.