What to make of Senator Hillary Clinton's sudden gay-love? Not much really. The presidential hopeful on Thursday gave the Philadelphia Gay News an exclusive interview where she said that she would fight for gay rights. The next day she appeared on Ellen giving her the same exclusive news. While it's encouraging to hear Clinton speak-out more frequently on GLBT issues, it seems she still finds it difficult to give a whole hearted endorsement to the idea of full equality for us. She has made it clear that she supports civil unions over marriage for same-sex couples. Civil unions is a limited, watered-down version of marriage that has already proven inadequate in states like New Jersey. For the record, her opponent, Senator Barack Obama, also only supports civil unions.

I'm going to come up behind you at Panera Bread and pay for your peanut butter and grape jelly on rye or give you a wedgie. Keep reading to find out which.

I told you that, so I could tell you this: Voters in at least two states this November will be asked to alter their constitutions to effectively ban giving same-sex couples marriage rights. But Arizona, the only state where voters have turned down a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage, has chosen to provide health coverage for the domestic partners of state employees and retirees. And the gay marriage roller coaster ride continues.

Here's a photo of what my mother calls “a cup of sugar.”

Sally Kern (R-Okla.) had her coming out party this week. She attended a rally with about one thousand supporters in the Okla. Capitol. Sally Kern, as you may recall, is the lawmaker whose recently revealed anti-gay speech was posted on YouTube by The Gay and Lesbian Victory Fund.

It was our own Gay Entertainment Report which brought us news that the new C-Spot channel (youtube.com/cspot) is distributing 13 episodes of Owen Benjamin's Gaytown. Gaytown is the story of a straight man who musters-up the courage to come out of the closet in a town where being gay is the norm. Very funny.

I'm sitting at my desk in my office after returning from lunch, trying to decide between a vintage ivory or navy cashmere rugby-stripe v-neck sweater at j.crew.com, but neither is available in stock and I tab back to my email.

I send the following email at 2:30PM: Dan, I hit Barack-bottom today when Chip snatched me off the street and forced me to luncheon with him at his “Bottoms for Obama” meeting at Memoirs. While I applaud their ass-pirations, why are bottoms always sooo damn political? You remember gym-stalker/gawker Chip? On St. Patrick's Day he stood behind us at X-Treme thinking I would eventually turn around and say, “Hey Chipper, let's do green shots and then play find my leprechaun treasure crock!”

I receive the following email at 2:40PM: Gym-stalker Chip? Is this the same guy you tortured last summer by sending him random anonymous drinks at Double Trouble? At each round he would turn around looking to find someone to thank and then walk up and down the bar in hopes of finding some hot dude to show his appreciation to. Walter, you're terrible.

I send the following email at 2:44PM: That's 'da 'mo. For the record, the anonymous drinks were all Sloppy's idea. Damn, here comes Hill.

Hillary walks into my office and asks me about the Stone file. I reply that I'm on it and that in fact I attended an Obama event during lunch. This seems to impress her, despite the fact that Obama has nothing to do with the Stone file, and she leaves satisfied.

I receive the following email at 3:05PM: Stop calling him Sloppy! Ryan ;>)

I immediately pick up my 16GB iPhone and call Dan. When he answers, I ask, “What is he doing there?”

“Ryan brought me pizza,” Dan answers, handing the phone to Ryan.

“I'm only three blocks away, why didn't you bring me pizza?” I hiss.

“You always insist on Valentinos, that's like twenty minutes away for me,” Ryan answers.

“You're a messenger man, what's an extra twenty minutes for a messenger man?” I ask, baiting Ryan for being a 40 year old bike messenger. But instead he says he'll text me next time he passes Valentinos.

FedEx brings me more DykeTees.com promotional items. I give the shirts to Michelle. Michelle is not a lesbian, but likes to say, “I got soul, but I'm not a soldier.” Who you kidding sister, you're the whole army. Afterwards, I send Michelle to Starbucks for a venti non-fat honey latte with extra cream.

I send the following email at 3:37PM: The Barack-lash from this luncheon has given me a sickening headache. Chip insisted I sit next to him like a trophy top and wear a corny “Bottoms for Obama” pin. The portions at Memoirs are too meager.

I call Simmon on my 16GB iPhone, but get his voice mail. I leave this message, “Hey Simon, Walter. It was nice running into you at the park this morning. Maybe we could do Valentinos tonight? Gimme a call, you know the number, 233-WALT. Thanks.”

I receive the following email at 3:42PM: So, did you confess to Chip about the drinks?

I send the following email at 3:44PM: Yes, I did. Because what I need in my life is a mentally unstable, surprisingly strong, politically connected, power bottom angry at me. Was that pizza from Wal-mart?

While I'm trying to find new music to buy on iTunes, the mail boy arrives. He hands me a copy of GQ and O. And a small, plain box. I open the box and find a fake Rolex watch inside. The card attached says, “From your secret love, time stands still while in your presence.” I give Michelle the GQ and fake Rolex watch. I return to iTunes, but I already own every Abba, Madonna, and Elton John album available on the service.

I'm reading how to make “Coffee, Chili, and Cumin-Rubbed Filet Mignon” from the April issue of O in the restroom, when I receive the following text message from Simon: “W, no V 2nite, work. Got your number 233-WALL, will call.” “It's 233-WALT,” I say, disappointed, swiping the message away.

I return to my desk and briefly consider pouring Russian vodka into my latte, but decide instead to call my therapist. I dial Antonio's 24 hour emergency phone number which he gave me before I left for Wonder Rehab, but his voice mail answers and I pass on leaving a message.

Slipping on my navy blue Polo casual single-breasted jacket still clinging a “Bottoms for Obama” pin I head out of my office and onto the street.

I make my way north to Banana Republic in a desperate panic for retail therapy, but when I arrive I'm shocked to find out the store has been converted into some discount clothing outlet for urban angst-ridden teens with too much time on their hands. I call Michelle and ask her what happened to the Banana Republic store and she informs me it had closed three weeks earlier.

Arriving at home I find an unmarked package waiting for me. I tear into the cardboard on my front stoop, pulling out the Canon EOS Mark III 21.1 megapixel digital camera I had purchased online months before and glee, “Barackulous!”

Hey kids, organize your own “Bottoms for Obama” chapter with this quality stuff.

Walter Weeks is a writer for On Top Magazine and can be reached at ww@ontopmag.com. The Gay Slant pops-in most Saturdays at On Top Magazine.