I don't mention this to a lot of people, but last year I choked on a chunk of pineapple lurking at the bottom of a Jamba Juice smoothie and I died for three minutes. Luckily a paramedic nearby gave me the Heimlich Maneuver and brought me back, but I was out long enough to see absolutely everything that's on the other side. It was so unspeakably unsettling that I'd just about blanked the whole experience from my memory, but on Queerty today I see some photographer has captured the scene I saw.


Believe it or not, the afterlife looks exactly like this picture. Up above there are all these absolute perfect gay men who are wandering around in towels, looking down in judgment at all the gay men who aren't quite up to snuff. Really, it's just like being at the gym. Well, except there isn't a naked old Italian guy sprawled across a vinyl chair, watching everybody change clothes with his legs spread wide open, like "Sure, I could towel-dry my balls, but I think I'll just let air do its thing."

Everywhere I look there are near-naked, oily men cavorting, screaming, hollering. I can make out some skyscrapers, and a streetlight, and I see Jesus hovering there. Toss in eight dudes dressed as stewardesses and it could be West Hollywood on Halloween. I go up to Jesus and say, "Um, I think I'm supposed to go to heaven," and he says, "Sorry, dude. You didn't hold me close within your heart, plus you've got 23.7% body fat."

So, he sends me straight to hell. Literally I'm flung atop a heap of sweaty, anguished bodies, to fend for myself. A cute Cuban beneath me says, "This is how I pictured Carnival Cruises," and I totally agree. Well, except here nobody's going to hold a Hairy Chest Contest, and even though we're being burned alive and our limbs rent asunder we still draw the line at board shorts.

Honestly, it's awful. Everybody is complaining, like "Who's the bitch who reserved all the lounge chairs?" and "I know you're busy, Lucifer, but I've really got to have an egg-white omelet." Naturally some queen brought her dogs, and let me tell you, Mariah and Whitney are absolute bitches if they don't get their Iams precisely at noon.

Anyway, I see these cherubs blowing what looks like cocaine on the crowd, so I race over there, but it's a trap. All these pigeons poop on my head and the cherubs laugh and as I realize there are no hair care products down here whatsoever I totally get what God's going for. I repent of everything sinful I've done -- asking forgiveness from all the people I've stepped on who didn't specifically ask for it -- and for the very first time since college I wake up with Jamba Juice in my mouth.