Behold, a penis. On the wall.

My dear gay friend D finally got his act together and invited me over for wine and snackies. Which I happily accepted, as it gave me a chance to wear the boots I purchased during the early days of PPD that go with absolutely nothing I own, which means more shopping, natch.

D has a luvely home in Hollywood that he shares with his husband, the well-dressed and slightly hairy David.

And speaking of hair and David, I noticed as we were sipping Chardonnay (!!) that their home boasted more than one photo of a penis. I've been to a few gay men's homes and most of them had penis art in some form: sculptures, photos, paintings. I think someone had a penis paper weight, but I could be fantasizing.

"Why are you so obvious with the schlong?" I finally blurted out. "I think everyone knows your sexual preference before they come in and sit down."

"We love the schlong!" hairy David responded. "Why do straight guys have stickers on their cars of big busted women?"

"How dare you make such generalizations. Plus, only truck drivers have those," I said. "Seriously, how many penis items do you have on display?"

"Nine," D replied. He nodded. "I know, we need more."

D and David enjoy schlong. I like schlong too. Should I put up schlong photos, I wondered to J later that evening, who summarily nixed the idea. (I am paraphrasing for space purposes).

Or should we have photos of straight couples having intercourse, so people who come over, in case they weren't sure, would know we are straight?

So many decorating options...