Distraught

So I just spent the last couple of days working on a piece about my recent date with Jake the Jew. When I went to post 5min ago...THE ENTIRE THING DELETED. I am overly distraught and in an emotional place. I planned my day around being able to finish this early and go on with my day. WHO IS SUPPOSED TO BAKE COOKIES?!?! WHO IS SUPPOSED TO COOK FOR FRIENDMAS??

Instead I am going to dance until the world ends and I will write a lot this weekend. Because I have been slacking. Uggghhh stop hating me. ITS CHRISTMAS. 

LOOK: It's Buddy! 

UH-OH, what shenanigans are going to happen with these two crazy snowmen. Silly Snowmen

PUPPIES: Look, they are wearing hats! Dogs don't wear hats, hahaha!

LOOK: It's Buddy again with Mr. Narwal. We know where this tale ends up...in the CANDY CANE FOREST. 

Sooo you really can't be upset with me anymore because I just posted some ADORBZ and HIGHsterical photos. 

Ok crazy kids, I want you all to have a HAPPY HOLIDAZE. Feel free to read about why I will be tweaking for the next few days. CLICK HERE

Fabulously Lost: #blogfail

Christmas: Cures everything 

Jake the Jew: A HIGHsterical story you can read after Xmas. Promise day after.  

Britney Spears: A constant presence in this blog. 

Moving: A Horror Story

Guys...shit's getting real. Like RULLLLLL RUL. I mean like...what does that even mean? Welp, what it means is that I have been focusing every waking moment (when I am not working or drinking of course) looking for an apartment in DC. I'm losing my mind and I feel like it should be easier than this. BUT IT'S NOT. (Whenever I write or say "It's Not", I always, without fail, repeat it in my head as "IT SNOT" and then giggle because I have said "Snot". THIS IS WHY I DON'T HAVE A BF OR AN APT).

(I practiced making this face for awhile. My head kinda hurts, but if I were you, I wouldn't wanna piss me off. I have a new cray cray face)

Did you know there was this thing called "Roommate Interviewing" that exists in DC. I have heard of it in other cities, but DC really takes the cake on this one. You basically have to sell yourself to these people in emails first, try to make yourself sound cool but not too cool, fun but not an alcoholic, clean without being Monica Gellar, and awesome without being cocky. ONCE you have sold them on your sweet writing skills you are given a time to go infront of the council of roommates and meet them all. Where. They. Judge. You. I feel like this is some cruel joke that is being played on me where I have to relive all of the insecure moments I had in middle school over, and over, and over again. 

So I have been to some crazy places over the last couple of months and since I have some of the coolest roommates out there (shout out to Mama and Papa Fab, you be real cool), I am not rushing into anything. It's not like I have a deadline of when I have to be out (though they have been giving me the side-eye recently), so I want to find a place that is just right. One of the places I looked at recently had this sweet ad and was located in this amazing apartment building in Columbia Heights. Three girls, 2 Jewish (Half-jew PRIDE), and a private balcony. What more could a glittery gay boy want?

(SO MUCH HAPPINESS. Obamz, you and me, just giggling through life)

There was one snafu in the email and it said that the room was a "shared space" but never clarified what type of shared space. So I arrived to this swanky building and was escorted by the nice jewish girl to the apartment. Along the way, she showed me all of the wonderful amenities. I was in heaven....until we got into the actual apartment. As soon as I walked in, I realized how tiny the place was. The kitchen, living room, and sitting area were crammed into this apartment like sardines in a can. Immediately when I walked in I was accosted with the site of one bedroom that had a small twin sized bed sitting on the ground and a table extremely low to the ground. There wasn't a window in the room and the bed didn't seem to have any blankets on it. (I am convinced it was a prisoners room and they let her out to show the new "roommate" how normal and well adjusted they were)

After short, awkward, conversation, one of the girls piped up that it was time to show me the room. She took me up a windy staircase where I was met with a medium sized open space that had a desk, dresser, and a full sized bed that took up most of the space. The nice girl then said "This is the space you and I will share if you choose to move in"

(Why yes, yes this is Harry Styles from One Direction)

I was in utter shock at this point and had no real control over how my face was going to react to this ridiculous news. These girls were all in their mid-twenties and there is absolutely NO reason to be sharing a room at that age. She kept trying to sell herself to me as this person who could share a space and be "unavailable" if we needed to have "house guests" over. (Granted, this was a concern of mine. But only momentary because, as we all know, #celibacy2012/3). I listened to her talk for awhile before I walked down the tiny staircase trying to contemplate why they thought it would be appropriate for someone to share a room in this apartment, let alone pay $800 for it. (Did I forget to mention how expensive this "room share" was?? Again, I say, biiiitch puh-lease)

I did find one I was really into recently and they strung me along until tonight pretending like I was there top choice, then going radio silent at the last minute. I was so nervous about getting this place but then I ran into one of the roommates on Saturday night outside of the liquor store (because that's where all roommate relationships should start) and she told me that I was their top choice and I should hear back at any moment. Unfortunately, I was told by the house manager I would hear by Monday night and I am still waiting on her email. (Seriously, I am refreshing my email inbox on the reg, looking at it and not willing to accept that I am like the girl who was stood up on prom night. Looking all pretty with no place to go.)

(JUST LIKE ME. Or I will ugly cry like Anne. Don't put it past me. I am not above it)

I was so stressed out about this apartment that I actually had a dream about it last night. I woke up in a cold sweat because the house manager emailed me back to tell me that they were going with someone else who was a DJ. Her reasoning was that they had always wanted a house DJ and this guy claimed to play lots of metal music. I apparently didn't seem like the "metal" type and they really needed that in their lives. I was devastated and unsure of what to do with my life. (Reminder: This was all just a dream). When I woke up I began writing these possible roommates to let them know I was considering getting into metal music. It wasn't until I was half-way through the email that I realized that writing this would make me seem, essentially, NUTS. (Not that I am not crazy, but I don't let my freak flag fly right away. I am a classy lady.) 

Anywhoz, I am in this mad search for an apartment and thanks to some lovely facebook friends, I have a few more prospects to look forward to. Onward and upward my dear friends, onward and upward. 

DC Residents: Judgey and possibly insane. Here's lookin' at you kid 

Fabulously Lost: Homeless (metaphorically) 

Mama/Papa Fab: Sweet roomies who provide free food. 

The Next American Idol

So yesterday I mentioned, in my Award Winning Blog (I am going to ride that one for awhile, just an FYI), 11 facts about myself that you may or may not have known about me. I also promised that I would write posts about each of these facts because they warrant further examining by you lovely people. Well, I would like to take some time to address fact number 11.

• I have three songs that I am convinced I can sing and would get me a record deal if the right people heard me sing them. I cannot sing any other songs. I would be a three hit wonder. (One of the songs is from Rent...so a 2-hit wonder)

 Basically, I am going to be the next American Idol...or extremely close.

(Just me and Simon, fighting off the haters.)

 So these three songs, when they are on, sing to my soul. It isn't because I can directly relate to them or because I feel like they are musical gems in the grand history of music. It is because every time I hear them, I sing with every fiber in my body and I feel as though I have hit every single note perfectly, sometimes better than the original artist. Is this a little crazy? Yes. Is it plausible that I can hit all of these notes and be the best singer that no one has ever heard? No. But in my head, I have a Grammy and a Tony. Soooo...Jokes on you. 

This is such a big deal for me guys. I have never told anyone my secret fact about the songs I am able to sing. You can't request them. I can only sing them when I feel moved...or when I am alone. Ok, here it goes. Judgement free zone, right? (I can feel you nodding your heads with your fingers crossed behind your backs. Scoundrels.) 

1. Will I? - Rent : Real talk, I am obsessed with this musical like most musical theatre nerds. (Why yes, that is the theatre snob way to spell THEATRE. Suck it). When I first saw this musical I was 13 and I fell in love with every single character. I don't think I fully understood how dark and depressing a majority of the musical is. (For those who don't know...it's about a group of young people in NYC dealing with the HIV/AIDs crisis of the 80s. SUPER uplifting for a confused gay teenager). Anywhoz, it wasn't until my junior year in high school that I had this magical gift to sing this song. It is the simplest song, lyrically, in the musical but had the most profound impact on me. I began putting it on all of my mix CD's (because that was a thing back then. PRE-ipods/playlists all you young whippersnappers) I would belt it as I drove down the road in my 1995 Nissan Altima with a rainbow bumper sticker plastered on the back. (I was big into "Statement" pieces). To this day, when the song comes on, I lose all focus on what else is going on and begin trying to match the pitch of the artists singing the song. 

(Holy ballz guys, when I found this video of Canada's "So You Think You Can Dance" team doing it...I just about lost my shit. I also just lost 20min of my life doing the arm movements at my table. I am a dancer in training) 

2. White Christmas - by Any Male Artist - This one should come as less of a surprise for you guys considering your vast knowledge of my intense love of Christmas. This was another high school discovery of mine (STOP THE PRESSES... Angst ridden teen finds himself in theatre and music.) Growing up my voice has always held itself slightly above what is considered "normal" for boys and men. (I am all for redefining "normal" but when I was 14....my voice was far from the "normal" octave) The only time that I found my voice actually sounded better normal was when I was in musical theatre. My teacher in 9th grade told me to sing in more of a tenor or baritone (i.e. fairly low)

Around Christmas time, again my junior year, I was joking around with my bffl and singing this song in the car. She freaked out (in a good way) because my voice hit an all time low. Well, I joke sang it at lunch the next day (because I wanted the same attention) and this kid, Mike, turned and was like "SHIIIIIT, I want you to sing at my wedding one day." I laughed it off and told him he was ridiculous...then ran home and wrote about it in my journal. (Facts: Mike got married earlier this year. I was not invited to sing at his wedding. Asshole)

  3. Back Here - BBMak - What? How can you not remember this wonderful British boy band? Yes, they may have been one-hit wonders. Yes, this song did come out almost 13yrs ago. Yes, I first heard this song on Now, Volume 5. (Ugh, that Now was so good! N*Sync, Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, Aaron Carter, Jessica Simpson, Mandy Moore, Destiny's Child, and 98°. I think they peaked on Vol. 5) So, you may ask, why did I choose Back Here as the song I would hit every note and sound like an angel while singing, when I had so many other gems to choose from? Well, the answer is simple, I DIDN'T CHOOSE THE SONG! It chose me. It. Chose. Me. Sorry, I'm not sorry about this. 

I was working on my British accent at the time (because my phone was ringing off the hook with people wanting to hang out with me) and I just felt an extreme connection to the three lads singing this song. For the last 13 years, when I hear this song, I am immediately brought back to my childhood bedroom where I sat on the floor reading the lyrics off the pamphlet insert, memorizing every single word. I sing for that 11yr old boy. I sing to cure broken hearts. I sing to stop world wars. I succeed. 

Chorus: Until you're back here baby, Miss you, Want you, Need you so. 

I mean, I don't really know why they didn't get a Grammy. It's mind-boggling to me. 

So there it is, those are the three songs that define the early part of my life and are what will, one day, gain me fame and glory among the music community. Don't you worry your pretty little head, this guy is on his way. WATCH OUT  BIEBER! 

Fabulously Lost: The next Kelly Clarkson....or Rebecca Black 

Rent: A positive musical about AIDs

White Christmas: Magical in so many ways 

BBMak: Truly fabulously lost in the pile of one-hit wonders  

Liebster Award!

Before I explain what the title of this post means I want to explain where I was last week. You see, I have this issue where I work too much for my own good and I get really tired. After I got back from New York I worked nonstop and by the time I got home, all I wanted to do was veg out and watch some Sabrina the Teenage Witch (Yes, grown adults can watch a T.V. show about a teenage witch. No, I don't feel weird about it. You're the weird one. #rude) Anywho, I was also really sick the whole week, so I whined a lot and spent a lot of time wearing my "Look! I've given up on life" clothing. It wasn't pretty. These are all excuses for my extreme laziness....but...HERE I AM!

(This is what I imagine all of you doing when seeing that I have posted. Also, based off of commercials, this is how I feel it must be to have a tampon.)

Ok, so, you may be asking yourself what the hell is this Liebster Award and why on God's green earth should you care, right? Welp, I asked myself the same thing and I was honored to find out my good friend and fellow blogger Arielle nominated me for this lovely award. (She lives a rad life on a yacht working as a nanny and traveling the globe. She blogs about her travels. I hate/love her. #heyjealousy) It goes to up and coming bloggers and is a way for us to share each others blogs with our audiences. It's a good way of promoting each other, but also a fun and new way to be vain. Blogging is already pretty vain because we assume people are going to enjoy reading our work and we assume we are talented enough to write. I get it, I embrace it, I am vain and I do think this song is about me. (Ughhh I just want you to like me... please don't judge me) Part of receiving this award is writing a post where you answer questions about yourself and post facts about yourself. Below you are going to get to find out so much info about me! GET EXCITED! 

Here are the rules of the post: 

• When you receive the award, you post 11 random facts about yourself and answer 11 questions from the person who nominated you.
• Pass the award onto 11 other blogs (make sure you tell them you nominated them!) and ask them 11 questions.
• You are not allowed to nominate the blog who nominated you!
• Make sure the blogs you chose have 200 or LESS followers

I'm adding a challenge for myself - Each fact will turn into a future post, promising you 11 posts in the near future. BOOM. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. (I just overwhelmed myself. I need more coffee): 

11 Facts: 

1. The first time I ever left the country was in March 2010 when I went to Oman and Qatar in the Middle East. (Facts: They don't like gay people. Facts: It's hard to contain fabulousness.)

2. The first time I went to NY without my parents was on a field trip in 10th grade. I lied to my teacher and told her I knew my way around the city. We ended up walking from 79th and Columbus to 28th and 7th. (If you are slow with math...I made them walk 51 blocks because I was too proud to admit I was wrong)

3. I spent 6months in high school using my homosexuality as a way to climb the social circuit. (I fancied myself the gay Regina George) To this day, I have never been as cool as I was during those 6 months. 

4. To lose weight in college I would make my "drunk food" before going out. I would save money and then I wouldn't feel as bad about eating, because it was a sandwich or a salad. (The bag of chips I devoured to accompany it never helped)

5. I worked at a gym in college and refused to conform to the dress code because I didn't think black polos did anything for my body type (Read also: round). So I would wear button downs underneath the black polo's to add "pizzaz" and I wore boat shoes instead of sneakers. (Sometimes I hate/love 18yr old me)

6. I am in the process of planing a trip to Spain to visit one of my best friends from college. Our similar interests include: Tequila, Spanish men, Will&Grace, European Men, Tequila, gay clubs, Tequila, and Patron. (This will be happening in April/May. Updates to come)

7. I have always casually wished my life were a 90s sitcom/teen dramady. (Literally, that's just a fact. No need to explain further)

8. When I picked up my coffee this morning the Starbucks barista hit on me because I am wearing a California sweatshirt. During the hitting on process, he told me he has no car, lives with his parents (Shut it...I'm moving out soon), and would like to live a drifter lifestyle. He asked if I wanted to hangout sometime....I said yes and gave him my number. (Facts: I have no standards)

9. My ultimate life dream would be to be on a talk show. If I could be Regis Philban, I would literally die of sheer happiness. 

10. I have a list of celebrity women I would go straight for. (Ehhhh...women I would love to be best friends with is probs a better description)

11. I have three songs that I am convinced I can sing and would get me a record deal if the right people heard me sing them. I cannot sing any other songs. I would be a three hit wonder. (One of the songs is from Rent...so a 2-hit wonder)

Answers to Arielle's questions: 

Where is your favorite place you’ve been to so far?

• I am going to answer this based off of places outside of the country (cause I love 'Murica and I have to many fav places here). I would have to say, at the moment, I had the most fun in Muscat, Oman. I was 21 and was with an amazing group of people. I snorkeled in the Arabian sea...surreal. 

What is one of your pet peeves?

• I have actually written a piece about Things I Arbitrarily Hate, but I have lots of pet peeves. One of my biggest ones, and I blame Papa Fabulous for this one, is chewing with your mouth open. The answer is no, I don't like "See-food" (HAHAH GET IT. No. I hate you food showers)

What are three things you can’t live without?

• Christmas, my Family, and cheese. (I fucking love cheese and I'm proud of it)

Where is your least favorite place you’ve been to so far?

• This is very specific. I disliked the Milwaukee Airport in Wisconsin. Why, you might ask? Because my flight to LA last year went through there and when I arrived at 8pm thinking I was going to get a nice meal during my 3hr delay (due to an irrational amount of snow) I found that EVERYTHING had closed. Like literally, the airport shut down around 7:30pm. I asked if this was due to the snow...and they said they just closed every night at 7:30pm. HOW? How is that a sustainable business model? I shake my fist at you Milwaukee. 

Where have you been that surprised you in terms of what you were expecting?

• Ummm...I would say its more so the people I was surprised by. There are these two fabulous Pakistani girls who I met in Qatar that I have stayed in touch through Facebook. I never told them I was gay when I was there, but since they are my fb friends, they see all the flamboyant things I post. They have liked and commented on a lot of my posts about equal rights. #swoon

What’s your favorite book?

• I love reading. If I had to choose one...I would have to say Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris. My parents got me a signed first edition copy of the book. Also...Kathy Griffin's book made me pee my pants a little. 

What is your favorite animal?

• Hippogriff 

What has been your proudest moment so far?

• Ugh, DEEP question. I would have to say being asked to be my best friends Man of Honor was a pretty big deal. Breaking gender stereotypes and getting to stand next to her on her wedding day was big for me. (So emotional. Ugh)

What is your favorite food?

• See also: Things I cannot live without

What is one thing you regret?

• I ate pop-tarts and cheetos right before getting a stomach virus in middle school. I have never been able to have either one of those things since. I wish I had had something like brussel sprouts or kale. 

If you had three wishes, what would they be?

• I would normally go the route of the beauty pageant and say "World peace" or some shit like that, but I'm gonna go ahead and say what everyone is thinking and not saying. 

1. I want to do dirty things with Ryan Gosling and Usher at the same time. Then I want to live a polygamist lifestyle with them.
2. I want Adele to sing at my unconventional wedding to Usher and Ryan Gosling
3. I want to be best friends with Emma Stone and Taylor Swift. (We can write songs and make each other laugh and discuss Christmas Tree Farms. Plus Emma and I can discuss Ryan Gosling's rockin' bod and she can tell me how he talks about my sweet love making skills on set. #dreamz)

                                                                                             

(Ryan is obviously eagerly waiting me)     

        

 (OMG I sweat too Usher! #twinsies)

                    

Now: 11 Q's from me to my fav bloggers: 

1. What is your spirit animal? (Betty White is my main one, but I have a couple)

2. If you could be rich and famous like the Kardashians, would you be okay with a sex tape being released? (this one has boggled me for years. I'm still not sure)

3. In a fight to the death, who would you bet your money on: Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus? Why?

4. Favorite Housewife from The Real Housewives series?

5.  If you had to go blind or lose the ability to walk, which would you choose? YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE ONE.

6. What would be the one food you could eat every day for the rest of your life?

7. Favorite song?

8. Harry Potter or Sabrina the Teenage Witch - which type of magical powers would you like to have?

9. If you could be the most amazing dancer or singer in the world...which would you choose? (I go dancer because I can already sing three songs pretty amazingly)

10. Who is your favorite diva?

11. What is your most embarrassing moment?

11 Blogs I love (or however many I name...cause idk if I can name 11):

http://ericajmoss.com/

http://lizzybess.blogspot.com/

http://joshuavjohn.com/

http://www.jennpedde.com/

Real Talk: I read a lot of mainstream blogs that have way more than 200 readers. HELL, these blogs above might have more than 200 readers. I think I need to start being more hipster about my blog choices....more things to work on. 

So, as you can see, this was a total vanity piece...BUT...I have also promised to elaborate on the 11 facts from above. I will start....TOMORROW. Look out for a post about one of the 11 facts. 

Fabulously Lost: Casually vain, hardcore interested in being Regis Philiban

Arielle: Awesome fellow blogger

Nominated Bloggers: I have only told one so far...others still in the dark

A Family of Weird

Quick update: I went on a lame date last week with a teacher. I don't have anything to write about...the whole thing was super vanilla. He wasn't a bad person, or weird, or anything. He just existed. I kept trying of things to make the date witty or fun, but it was just there. We went to dinner, we talked a bit, we went home. NO SPARKS. I am, however, going on a date with a lovely British man this Monday...

(I say lovely...but it's a blind date and we all know how well they turn out for me.)

I have a lot of weird tendencies and I am generally a pretty "eccentric" (read also: nuts) person. We all know this and have made peace with this (read also: therapy), but all this wonderful craziness had to come from somewhere...right? Well it did. A lot of my oddness (which I also like to refer as "lovable quirks") comes from Mama and Papa Fabulous. You see, they have been an ever present force in my life from the time that I was really little. They are obnoxiously accepting and are also an amazing role model for what marriage should be about. (They have also ruined my expectations of what should be "normal"....jerks.) They have actually gotten weirder as my brothers and I have gotten older, thus making me feel it was safe to let out all of my weirdness. (I'll show them weird! #stillsingle #celibacy2012).

Until very recently I have been under the impression that Mama Fab had never really drank too much in her younger years and that the one time she did, she got very sick and never had beer again. (To her credit, she doesn't ever drink beer.) The stories began to shift and change after my younger brother turned 21 and we were all above the drinking age. All of a sudden we began drinking a bit more as a family and discussing things that had only been briefly mentioned in passing. We, as a family, enjoy a beverage...or two...

(The blue one looks like a very good bad decision to make.)

Anywhoz, two weeks ago, when I spent the weekend submerged in other peoples love stories, I had a breather moment from weddings and engagements where I was able to go out with my date for the weekend, British Cowgirl. (She was born in Philly, spent 7yrs in England and now fancies herself a life in the wild, wild west.) When we got back to my parents house from one wedding function, we were geared up to grab a cab and go get drunk with some townies. Instead, we were met by Mama and Papa Fabulous who were giggling as they were decorating the house for my older brothers engagement party.  It took me only a few moments to realize that they had been going to town on my box of wine that I was given by my Twin for my birthday. 

(Slap-a-da-bagggg. The only way this moment could have been more perfect is if they were doing this)

There was logic that went into their choice to devour the boxed wine and it was truly flawless. They wanted to have a classy brunch for the engagement and having boxed wine on the counter would detract from the classiness. (A notion I will readily disagree with, but it wasn't my engagement party. And also may be why I am single) Because of their sound logic, British Cowgirl and I decided it was only right to help them out on this quest to rid the house of my prized Franzia. We filled goblets up with the savory Chablis and sat down for a 90min pep-talk with my parents. 

British Cowgirl and I had been making jokes that we were going to form the "Singles Room" at the party, knowing full well that we would be the only singles at the party. I guess my parents didn't take kindly to this, so they began telling us about how we will find love that we deserve. Honestly, it was such a self-esteem booster because they believed everything they said. We sat there and listened and squeezed the bag dry before we left them to finish their decorating and go out. The next morning all parties involved were a little hungover and forced to entertain for hours. However, I will never forget the night that I killed a box of wine with Mama and Papa Fabulous. 

(THEY HAVE BOXED WINE TASTINGS!!!!! It's the little things in life)

Papa Fabulous has other quirks outside of drinking boxed wine, he has also planned out how his funeral should play out and what he wants our grandkids to call him. (Not in that order. Thats creepy.)

When my brothers and I were younger we would ask really weird questions of my parents on our trips up to Maine. One year, right around when I was 9 or 10, we asked our parents how they would want to be buried/where they would want to be buried when they died. (Looking back, we were morbid weirdos...who wants to plan their parents funerals??) Mama Fabulous has always been a bit like the perfect mother. She used to sing us lullabies, held us when we were sick, read us stories with different voices, and volunteered her time at our schools. Her answer to the question fit perfectly in line with what we would have expected. 

Mama Fabulous: I don't want you to have to go visit a grave to "see me." I would love it if you had me cremated and then planted a tree and poured the ashes over it. Then, whenever you see a tree like that, you will see me. 

WHAT THE HELL?? She is like Mother Theresa. Like that is literally the best effing answer you could've ever told a child. Mama Fab for the win! Now, Papa Fabulous took a much different route with his answers. He was also a great parent who coached soccer teams, made us Saturday morning breakfast, and came up with the lullaby "Go to sleep, go to sleep, you rotten little creeps". Anywhoz, Papa Fab took a moment to think about it and then, without hesitation, stated an elaborate plan for his funeral. 

Papa Fabulous: I would like a funeral pyre. Not just any old funeral pyre, but a viking one. I would like for you to wrap my body up, put it on a wood canoe (nothing elaborate!), and then push me out to see or to the middle of a lake. Then you will have to shoot a flaming arrow onto the boat and you can watch it go up into flames. There is no way you will be sad then...that's just cool. 

(there are some really fucked up pics when you search "funeral pyre." Just sayin')

Like...I have no words for that. We all burst out laughing and just said Papa Fab was being cooky and trying to make us laugh. The funniest part, though, is that this still stands 15 years later. We still discuss it and, in all seriousness, my father claims he wants a traditional viking funeral. 

Outside of planning their funerals, my parents also like to plan ahead for when we have children. (They want me to have lots of little gaybies.) Recent conversations have revolved around what they are going to be called by our unborn children. Mama Fab decided that instead of us wondering what our kids should call them, they would just tell us. 

Mama Fab: I want to be called Oma (German word for Grandma) It's easy for children to say and it has history with the family. 

Papa Fab: I don't want to be called Opa. I'm not German. That just doesn't sound right. 

Mama Fab: Then what do you want to be called? No one is forcing you to be Opa. 

Papa Fab: Hmm...I want the kids to call me Thor. 

That's right folks, he wants to be called Thor, like the mythical God of thunder. This began a semi-serious fight with my younger brother, who decided my father should be called Odin, Thor's father. (I think it's secretly because he wants to be Thor, which would make my father Odin. As I write this, I have decided to start calling him Odin. Because I am nice.) 

(Oh hey kids, there's Thor, just smiting some weird creatures.)

My family is fabulously weird and wonderful. On election night earlier this week my mother and I drunkenly sobbed on the phone to each other over the legalization of marriage equality in the state of MD. Weird or not, I am pretty lucky. 

I am currently, moments away, from getting off a bus in NYC. As you all remember, I have torrid love affair with this amazing city and I have also had some weird adventures. I promise to update Monday with the weird happenings of this crazy hipster filled city. 

Mama Fabulous: Mother Theresa with a cosmo

Papa Fabulous: A true viking 

Fabulously Lost: High standards, high tolerance, high chance of destruction 

Hocus Pocus: A Gay Halloween Story

Ho, Ho, Ho and a MERRRRYYYY....Halloween? (Well technically, at this point, it is the day after Halloween. Whatever, you get it.) Halloween is a time for children to walk up to stranger homes that they were previously told they were not supposed to walk up to, and ask them for candy, which they are normally never supposed to accept. It is a time for ladies and gentlemen to dress up in costumes they would never be caught in on any other night of the year. (except in the bedroom. *wink, wink* ughhh you're right #celibacy2012) And it is a night that I dread with every fiber of my being. Every. Fiber.

I know, I know, how can someone who loves this time of year as much as I do, dread one of the biggest holidays of the season? A lot of it revolves around the fact that I am terrible at coming up with ideas for costumes. I always choke and think of something super lame and predictable, it happens every year. When I was younger I stuck with two things I knew I could pull off...Vampire (I made it cool. Suck it Twilight) and Elvis (Because I could raise my lip in that weird way. Clever). When I got to college I realized that girls generally took off as much clothing as possible, while still covering the essentials, and guys were the counterparts to their girlfriends outfits. (Sexy Nurse/Doctor, Sexy Nun/Horny Priest, etc.). Well, I never had a girlfriend (duh) so I was left to come up with costumes on my own...and I was awful with it. My senior year of college I dressed up like the bouncers from my favorite bar....I put on a yellow shirt and shorts, that was it. (You know you drink too much when...).

Last year was my first year doing things with the gays for Halloween and it was the first year that I was mildly excited about the holiday. There was a big Heaven/Hell themed party at my favorite gay bar in Baltimore and I had a solid group of gays to go with. The only thing I struggled with was coming up with a costume that was both clever and mildly attractive (because I had high hopes for taking home a hot zombie). 

(Apparently sexy male zombies don't exist...so I found a vamp. #kissmeImirish)

As I racked my brain for this clever costume, I began to realize time was not on my side, mainly because I decided to wait until the day of the party to think of a costume. At the very last minute I decided to go to the hardware store around the corner from my townhouse and get a construction workers hat and a tool belt. If I was going to be something, I should at least make it as unbelievable as possible. (Halloween - where dreams come true). I was ecstatic that I finally had something and could  make my way over to  Gay Bffl's apartment, obviously with a hammer in my belt and my favorite jeans now ripped at the knee (I needed to make it look real? Ugh, I don't know what construction workers wear). When the door to his place opened (I was trying to look as butch as possible) I was greeted by the Gay Bffl and his boyfriend dressed up like a cowboy and a Native American. Not a big deal right? Well then I rounded the corner of the apartment and found my other friends dressed up like a cop and a biker. My gay friends, inadvertently, dressed up like the Village People. 

(I had a yellow hat on. Cause I'm authentic. I also had on a full shirt. Again, I'm authentic)

But, like, that is probably the gayest thing that has ever happened to me (shhh #celibacy2012). We weren't even trying to dress up like the gayest group of men out there...it just happened. We out-gayed ourselves, which I, honestly, didn't even think was humanly possible. After we all chuckled about it for a few minutes we ended up getting all sorts of schwastey before making our way to the club to dance and drink more in our accidentally coordinated outfits. 

The night was perfect. We danced a lot and I met an attractive "Go-Go Dancer" (it was his excuse to wear as little as possible) and macked it on the dance floor with him most of the night. After copious amounts of dancing and fun, my group pried me away from my new found love interest to take me home. (In retrospect, I still am annoyed at them for that.Ughhh he could go-go anywhere with me. Getttt itttt?). When we finally made it outside as a group, there were very few cabs and lots of sloppy drunk people in costumes trying to get into them. Since my group was so large we decided to split up; I was taking a group of the very drunk people and Gay Bffl was taking a group of the drunk people. FOOL PROOF PLAN, right? False. We didn't account for the other drunkards trying to get cabs. 

As I was about to step into the cab with my three drunk friends in the backseat, this little twink dressed as a fairy ran up to confront me. 

Fairy Twink: Excuse me, that's my cab. 

Me: Um, I am pretty sure those are my drunk friends in the backseat...so you're wrong.

Fairy Twink: We had it first.

Me: Again, I don't think ya did. You were nowhere near it when we got in. So...shew little fairy. 

Fairy Twink: Bitch, thats my cab.

That's when the little Fairy Twink took his cigarette and attempted to jab it into my neck.  We allll know, I don't deal well with people trying to attack me, but before I could smack this kids hand out of the way, Gay Bffl jumped in and did it for me. Before I knew it, there was a swarm of people by our cab and the cab driver was kicking us out because he saw a storm a-brewin'. 

Within moments this Fairy Twink's friends had formed a group and were starting to shove and push my group of 6. There was some pushing and some yelling in the middle of the streets, but it soon turned into mostly screaming. (mind you, there were cops not even a block a way just watching this whole thing unfold, good job Baltimore PD). Looking back on it now, we must have looked like we had just left the set of West Side Story: The Drag Queen's Edition. 

Then, out of nowhere, it was born...The Gay Clap...

 Now I have referenced gay clap before but this was the first real time that it made an appearance in my life. When the fighting moved from shoving to just screaming back and forth, Gay Bffl and I took it upon ourselves to yell louder than the rest to get our points across. 

Me: Shut *gay clap* the *gay clap* fuck *gay clap* up *gay clap*

Gay Bffl: Move *gay clap* the *gay clap* fuck *gay clap* along *gay clap*

These gays and girls were screaming some nonsense at us about the cab, but we kept saying the same thing louder and louder. At some point, Gay Bffl, turned and noticed that someone in their posse was filming the whole thing off into the distance. That, was obviously, unacceptable. Gay Bffl took it upon himself to go talk to the kid (and by talk, I mean he went and grabbed the phone out of his hands and started a confrontation)

Gay Bffl: What do you think you're doing dawg (we all butch up during fights apparently)

Spielberg: Yo, its a free country 

Gay Bffl: I'm pretty sure I didn't say you could film us. 

They went back and forth until the wonderful Baltimore PD decided to show up and break the fight up. Gay Bffl immediately turned to the cops and claimed that our little film director had stolen his phone. The cops looked around, and in a moment of racism at its finest, looked at me to provide some clarity because I was the only white person in this massive group street fight. 

     (Ugh...terrible...but good in this moment?)

Baltimore PD: Sir, what exactly is going on here?

Me: Uh...uh..That guy stole my friends phone! 

And like that, I had thrown this other guy under the bus. Gay Bffl took this as an opportunity to slowly begin ushering our friends out of this clusterfuck of terrible. The whole time the cops were searching the two people standing close to me, the group that had been previously screaming at my friends were now screaming at the cops. No one noticed that my friends had almost completely disappeared. 

One of the cops finally noticed that I was left standing alone in a sea of people who were definitely not fond of me. He looked around and then winked at me. 

Baltimore PD: Why don't we do this, if we find your phone we will give you a ring. You head out of here. 

Me: Sure sounds good. Keep up the good work.

I zoomed off to meet my friends around the corner and we left victoriously. We knew at the time how terribly twisted it was that the cops looked to me solely based on my race, but...it kinda worked out for us? (Don't worry, I have given back to the black community *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*)

This year, I decided to not partake in the shenanigans surrounding all hollows eve. Partly because costumes stress me out and partly because I'm lazy. Also, this past weekend, when I normally would have celebrated it all....I was stuck celebrating other peoples love. My Engaged Friend got married on Saturday, thus bringing him into the rank of "Married Friends", in a wonderful ceremony at a castle. (Feeling of Inadequacy: At an all time high). That same wonderful evening, in Baltimore, my practically married brother finally proposed to his lovely girlfriend of seven years. HOW IS THERE SO MUCH LOVE AROUND ME?!?! #single4lyfe (Side note: ugh, I'm actually happy for all of them)

Baltimore PD: Casually racist

Gay Bffl: My YMCA partner in crime...literally...crime

Married Friends: Multiplying....its like a zombie apocalypse

Fabulously Lost: Street Fighter, Nintendo style        

Random Tidbits

Ok, so these are all things that are going on in my life that I couldn't really flesh out into a full post. I still wanted to share them with you because they are the unfortunate happenings that lead me sit at home most nights, and eat 4 slices of pizza, and secretly wish they would bring back The Hills and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. (I lead an exhilarating life). Let's begin..

I have a boyfriend everyone.

JUST KIDDING!!!!! HAAHAHA!!! Jokes on...me? Ugh, what I mean to say is that I have a fake boyfriend at the gym who may, or may not, know that I exist. (Because I don't have enough trouble as it is finding a real one, I have to find a fake one and make him fake mine). See, I have this thing where I need to find something to motivate me to go to the gym, because obviously self-motivation to be healthy and lose weight is something that doesn't exist for me.

In college I had a couple of best friends who worked out with me and made it into a fun thing, and I like fun. After I graduated and moved home, the fun ceased and I was left with the constant urge to not go to the gym and do absolutely anything other than workout. Recently, though, I have found my own motivation with my secret fake boyfriend, who is at the gym every night by the time I get there and leaves 45min-60min after I get there. (I magically leave around the same time. Coincidence? I think...so.) I have told myself that I am a bad fake boyfriend if I don't go and see him.

(So I am a little crazy...but I've been to the gym every day this week, suck it.)

I may get arrested...

...if my odd day dream at work comes true. Recently I have been sitting in a lot of meetings and doing one-on-one training sessions with random people. During one of my sessions this past week I was sitting there and my nose began to feel weird...like really weird. I felt like there was the tiniest feather tickling the outside of my nose, taunting me to brush it away. I began to panic and think that I had a major snot poking out and that this person I was training would never take me seriously. (Being a young-20something in the work place isn't enough...I now have a snot rocket waiting to make sure I get the respect I obviously deserve.) So, I calmly decided to brush at my face in the most discrete way possible. 

(I'm like a fucking ballerina)

Here's the thing, it didn't go away with that one swat of the nose. It continued to be there, taunting me and telling me to swipe at it again. So, as I am talking, I go in again to take this tiny tickling nose feather out. And again. And again. After the 4th or 5th time of attacking my nose I started to think about what would happen if there really isn't a feather booger poking out of my nose. What would happen if I just look like I am playing with my nose? You know who also plays with their nose a lot, coke addicts. (Yup, I watched True Life: I'm A Drug Addict, I know what coke addicts do.) I put myself into an all out panic at that point. I decided that this girl probably thought I was a coke addict and after this session she was going to tell HR. I was positive there was going to be an intervention and/or the police were going to show up at my work. I imagined what the conversation would be like with my parents trying to explain to them that I really wasn't a drug addict, that I just had a frustratingly ticklish booger. (Of course I would deny it, all drug addicts do! DAMN YOU MTV KNOWLEDGE.)

(Just me an Urkel...hangin' in the slammer)

By the time I had planned my entire arrest and trial, I realized I was still talking and I didn't know what I was talking about anymore. Soooo, I literally just stopped talking and stared at this poor girl. (Obviously awkward pauses and shifty eyes now added to my nose swapping addict tendencies...ughh guys, I don't look good in orangeeee). She looked at me a little oddly and then said she really enjoyed everything I said. I really hope I didn't confess my inner fears out loud...

I got angry at my GPS

This seems like a totally normal thing, right? I was driving along and listening to my jamz (read also: Christmas music), when all of a sudden my GPS decided to interrupt and ask me if I had any commands for it. Holllld uuppppp. Excuse me, whaaaaaat? You see, I had to replace my phone on Sunday because apparently you aren't supposed to drop your iPhone in the toilet because it causes corrosion. (Who knew?) So I had to restart all of the programs and upgrade them and all of that jazz. Well, apparently, my GPS app had this update where it now periodically asks me if I need help and all I have to do is speak into the phone and it will oblige.  

What my iPhone didn't realize is that you really shouldn't interrupt my Christmas Jamz because I get irrationally annoyed. When the Barb (my name for my GPS, because thats normal) decided to block the music to ask me if I needed help. I decided the best way to handle her rudeness was to say something mean. 

Barb: Do you need any Assistance?

Me: Stop talking 

Barb: I'm sorry, can you repeat?

Me: Stop. Giving. Directions. Out. Loud. *(insert gay clap at each period)

Barb: Please repeat. Speak Slowly. 

Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP BARB. I HATE YOU. 

Barb: Commands turning off

(I WON)

I felt obscenely victorious for all of half of a second, and then I felt terrible. I felt like I was unnecessarily mean to  Barb, so I started to examine my response and I felt this terrible pit in the bottom of my stomach. I had just been  a terrible person and yelled at her while listening to the happiest music on the planet. (At no point did I think, "Hey, this is an inanimate object that has no feelings and doesn't care what you call it"...because it can't care...). I felt so bad that I ended up turning the commands back on and apologized to Barb in my mind. (Sometimes I don't realize how crazy I am until I write these posts about myself.)

I caused an accident with my good driving skillz

Literally...I was actually being a good driver, instead of the asshole speed demon I tend to be. This time of year always brings out the good within me (Except when it comes to my GPS, sorry Barb!), and I try really hard to make sure that shines through in all the areas of my life, including with my driving ways. Well, Monday morning, I was driving to work at a decent speed along Route 29, just bopping along to my music and drinking my delicious Pumpkin Spice Latte, when a Douchebag decided to ride up extremely close behind me. He was riding my tail like I was a hot piece of ass in a skimpy dress at the club on a Saturday night. (The answer is no, I don't feel good about what I just wrote...).

 I just kept going along at the designated speed limit (or 10mph over) when I saw the traffic light ahead turn red. As I started to slow down the Douchbag decided to zip around me to speed ahead. As he drove past me he raised his fist triumphantly with his middle finger waving back and forth. I turned and smiled and waved (because I am not above sharing friendly gestures) which angered him further. He turned back to the road to realize the red light was there jusssst a little too late. I stopped appropriately at the light as he slowed down and ended up in a fender bender with a Mercedes Benz SUV. 

(Not the car crash I saw this morning...but exactly what happened)

So my little Douchebag friend's speedy Volkswagen now sat with its hood curled up under the SUV. I turned over as I finally reached the light and looked at my now distraught sparring partner. As we all know, I have stopped wishing accidents on people, so I did feel bad for a moment. (Not as bad as when I yelled at Barb, she really didn't deserve that)

Wrap-Up

Alright, so my next post is a ridiculous story that involves Halloween, the Village People, the gay club, random make out sessions, and, as always, a run in with the law. Look out for it on Monday. 

Also...I am going to DC's annual High Heel Drag Race next Tuesday. I will be intoxicated and surrounded by Halloween Drag Queens...I hope to God I make it to work the next day. 

Fabulously Lost: Lady in the streets...

Barb: I can't apologize enough

Gym Boyf: See you tonight ;) 

True Life: One of the only constant pleasures in my life