Brazilian Adventures, Part 2

Remember how cultured I was at the end of the last post? You know, cause I had wooed a woman with my boyish good lucks and sparkling charm? Yup, that happened. I wonder if she is sitting down there in Brazil wondering if I will ever show up to her hotel room. I am sure she is...cause what woman wouldn't want this hunk-a-burnin' man love. (The answer is most...most women don't want to bed a flamer thats been burning bright since '88)

Now that we have that little RECRAP out of the way we can delve into the meat of my trip. (Jokes for days. DAYZ I tell you). You may remember me mentioning my co-worker Daddy Raids (his name needs no explanation, other than that I promise he isn't a pedophile. Or a rapper. Or a rapping pedophile.). Well he is partially the reason for some of my adventures down in good ol' Sao Paulo. You see, Daddy Raids and I have actually known each other for many years. We met through mutual friends in college, then later became coworkers. Since we are around the same age, we tend to be around each other at work functions and at younger people work functions outside of work (See also: copious amounts of drinking activities). 

Anywhoz, Daddy Raids and I also work with a man who can only be described as one of the most suave men I have ever met. (And I have met many suaveeee men). Casanova holds a very high position in our company and has lived a life that many of us would kill to live. He is married to a gorgeous woman, they have an adorable child, they live in NYC, he has lived all over the world, and travels constantly for work. Back in a previous life he had lived for some time in Sâo Paulo, and it is because of that that he decided to grab me, Daddy Raids, and Sharif (another colleague) for the adventure none of us would've every predicted for ourselves. 

(Ugh, great movie. Also, similar to my night.)

Casanova separated the three of us from our larger group to show us the "real Sâo Paulo." He told us about the hotel he was staying at in the downtown portion of the city, Tivoli. 

Casanova: Last night, as I entered the elevator to go to my room, I saw five of the most beautiful women heading to the bar at the top of the building. We must go.

Me: Yes, well, you know how I like to follow the most beautiful women to bars. 

Casanova: Brazil is full of beautiful people. You will have so much fun. 

Once we arrived to Arola, the bar/night club on the top floor, we found out that there was a guest list for a private party. Casanova took everything in stride and explained that we were on the guest list. (In case you were wondering...we weren't anywhere on that list.) Without missing a beat, he leaned over the table to help the girl find his name, and just pointed at a random person and said it was him. The woman, completely flustered, handed him a wristband and he began to walk in. We started to follow before she stopped us. 

Dainty Bouncer: You cannot enter unless you are on the list....

Casanova: They are with me, they come with me 

Dainty Bouncer: I am sorry they need to be on the list

Casanova: They are on the list, that is Webhnar *points at me*,  that is Campillo *points at Daddy Raids*, and that is Brunier *points at Sharif*

When he picked his name off the list he picked three other names off the list quicker than lightening. Just like that I was Gustavo Webhnar. 

(This is how I now looked in my mind entering the party. Dreaming never hurt anyone, bitches)

Without a moments doubt, all three of us were let into the party and we made our way directly to the bar. Laughing hysterically we all ordered drinks and realized we were the first people to this private party. We took a spin around the club to see the almost-360 view of Sâo Paulo before we took a stance just out of eyeshot of the front door. Being the nervous nellie I am when I am put into those situations, I had my back facing the door so I wouldn't have to view the people filtering in. I heard people making there way in and someone had commented that they were waiting for the beautiful girls to show up. Then Daddy Raids tapped me on the shoulder...

Daddy Raids: Hey fab, can you turn around for a second...this party seems a bit...off.

As I slowly turned my head, I was met with something I have only dreamed of. There, in front of me, was a sea of amazingly attractive, well dressed, well groomed gay Brazilian men. That's right, we crashed a gay man's 30th birthday party. 

(Best.Surprise.Ever)

I was beside myself. All of us couldn't stop laughing because it was the complete opposite of what Casanova had been promising since we had separated from our group. All of the beautiful Brazilian men were also all staring at us, because we were most obviously not the Brazilian men that we pretended to be to get in the club. Though, none of them called us out and I'd like to think its because we brought the attractive foreign men thing to this wild and crazy party.

After a couple of more drinks, we decided it was time to leave before the people who truly possessed the stolen identities showed up to their good friends birthday party. That little taste of gay Brazil helped to solidify my decision to go back to Brazil sometime in the near future. (As if I NEEDED a reason to come back. Ugh guys, I am going through Portuguese withdrawal) 

Post-Gayzilian experience Casanova had us make our way over to Hotel Unique, which is a massive hotel in the center of town that is in the shape of a ship. Like...a huge Noah's Arc...in the middle of the city.

(If the bible ever repeats itself, I will jump on that ship and be one of the two gay men Noah has to get on the ship.)

On the roof of the hotel is this exclusive restaurant/rooftop bar. Because of the exclusivity there was a massive line that wrapped around the corner of the hotel. Casanova wasn't going to have any of this. 

Casanova: I don't do lines. We will get around this. 

Daddy Raids: How exactly will you do that.

Casanova: I offer some money, see if they listen, and get us around it. 

I just don't know how to be this confident. I would've seen the line, contemplated going in, and then convinced myself that I could probably find an episode of Dawson's Creek that I have only seen once. (Facts: There aren't any episodes that I have only seen once. More facts: You are finding out so many reasons why I am singleee...so am I.) 

(Dawson just knows)

Instead, what happened was Casanova walked up to the hostess at the door and began speaking to her in English and Spanish. They went back and forth for a bit, he kept asking to get us a table at the bar and saying we would get bottles and such. She wasn't really having it. 

Dainty Hostess: I am sorry sir, it is 90min wait in line, 40min for a table.

Casanova: Yes, but that will not work. We would like a table now.

Dainty Hostess: There isn't really a way around it. 

Casanova: Ok, I will check in at the downstairs restaurant. 

Dainty Hostess: There is a wait there too, sir. 

Casanova: We shall see about that

And with that, Casanova rounded the corner and made is way to the entrance of the restaurant. He said something in Spanish to the security guards and breezed through. He stopped momentarily to tell us he would be back to get us within 5 minutes. Less than two minutes after he walked through the door the Dainty Hostess came running around the corner and told us she had a table for us immediately. What did he say? What did he do? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. We all stood there flabbergasted and trying to explain to her where he had gone and that we needed a minute. 

Just as quickly as he had entered the restaurant, he returned and let us know we now had options. Let's just recap for a moment. Five minutes prior we were being told we had to wait 40-90 minutes to get into this club, now we were being told we had TWO different ways to get into this club immediately. HOW DOES THIS MAN DO THIS??

Then again, who am I to question any of this? Onward I went into the next place I had not intended on going to, nor would I have gone had Casanova not been there. Boy am I glad he he was there. As soon as we got up to the bar we ordered drinks and I took in my surroundings. It was an absolutely gorgeous evening and the view from the top was breathtaking. As if he could tell I was getting comfortable in my surroundings, Casanova decided it was time for him to go on a mission. Casanova's mission was to get Daddy Raids and Sharif women for the evening. 

(Me too Obamarama, me too)

One thing is for sure, when Casanova puts his mind to something, he will most certainly get it. We scoped out the scene and eventually found two gorgeous girls who turned out to be Brazilian Sisters. Bing, bang, boom! We were left speaking broken English and Spanish with these girls who just kept giggling and laughing. They took to Daddy Raids and Sharif quite quickly...but they also found me amusing. At one point I was trying to explain what I "liked" because one of them mentioned finding me someone.

Me: They *points at Daddy Raids and Sharif* like...girls...ladies. I don't.

Brazilian Sister 1: They like? You dont like? *Points at self*

Me: No, no. You are nice. I like you...just not *Points at lady parts*

Brazilian Sister 1: Ohhh One minute

Me: One minute? What do you mean one minute?

BS 1: I knew one minute

Me: You knew a minute?

BS 1: I knew you like *points at man parts* after one minute

There you have it, I am an international Rainbow. Apparently the Polish Girl was severely slow, because these sisters knew after one minute of broken English that I was not trying to check out their Brazilian waxes. (Also known as "Waxes" down there...jokezzzz). The conversation only got better from there. Brazilian Sister 1 then began stroking the umbrella pole.

Brazilian Sister 1: You need some Brazilian dick tonight

Me: Oh, no really its fine. It's 2am, I have to be up in a couple hours. 

Brazilian Sister 1: We take you to gay club and find you man

Me: No really, I think I'll probably just go sleep

Brazilian Sister 1: NO. We get you Brazilian dick. Tonight.

They are a forceful people and they do not take no for an answer. Out of nowhere the semi-mute sister, Brazilian Sister 2, decided to chime in with something in Portuguese. I had completely forgotten about her but all of a sudden Brazilian Sister 1 began laughing and telling Casanova to translate. They went back and forth about whether he was going to translate or not, but seeing as these girls were determined to get their way, Casanova never stood a chance. 

Casanova: *points at me* You do not like the Brazilian pussy to ride, we get you Brazilian dick to ride. Tonight.

(Thanks Degrassi for this gem)

Well....I just...I had no words. Nothing she said was false, but nothing she said felt right. It also felt so weird to hear it out of the mouth of someone I work with. With the awkward laughter that ensued, I must've blacked out and agreed to go to this gay area of town to get me a man, because off we went. Brazilian Sister 2 made us get into her car and she began driving, sans Casanova who decided to venture back to his hotel room because it was now 2:30am. Somewhere along the way our two heroines decided they wanted drunk food more than they wanted to find me a man. They stopped random people on the road and in their cars and asked them where Burger King was. Drunk food in Brazil is apparently the equivalent of a fine dining restaurant for Honey Boo Boo. (HAD to get a reference to my favorite tyke in here).

I was slowly waning interest in our impromptu tour guides and my traveling companions seemed to have joined me. It seems none of us had really thought through going on an adventure with two girls who could barely speak English, who "forced" us into their car. (This is how 20/20 specials happen...). We decided to part ways with the lovely ladies and I promised them we would come back and visit them in a month or two to get them to stop yelling at us for leaving (Spoiler Alert: I will not be visiting them). Daddy Raids and Sharif both macked it with their respective girls before we got into the cab and I talked to a random homeless woman who looked like she was going to poor peoples Mardi Gras.

(Helena has always looked a bit homeless. But this is pretty much what I talked too, add a little more dirt)

We finally ended up back at the hotel it was 4am and we had to be up in a few hours for the final day of our conference. We were met, unfortunately, with a fellow colleague who was pacing the lobby and obviously not feeling well. We made the executive decision to take him to the hospital near by...because what night isn't complete without a trip to the good ol' ER. When we got there we were met with a slew of people who couldn't speak a lick of English and a waiting room that was sub-par. Luckily after a solid 2hrs their our colleague in need was feeling good enough to make his way back to the hotel and sleep off the rest of the pain. The real wining part was that we were able to skip over him getting his blood taken by the woman who was coughing violently into her hand and wasn't planning on using a glove. (It's the little victories)

So that was it. That all happened in one night. I felt like it was my own version of The Hangover, except I was only casually drunk the whole time and I remembered everything that happened. My next business trip will be in December to North Carolina (womp, womp...not really the best follow up to Brazil. Whatever..its a free trip.) and Daddy Raids and I will be road tripping down there from the DMV. This seems like a good idea, right?

Fabulously Lost: Brazilian dick-less and okay with it

Daddy Raids and Sharif: Brazilian Sister winning 

Casanova: The only constant winner. 

Brazil: Just plain fabulous

Brazilian Adventures, Part 1

Holy fuck Brazil was awesome! Pardon my Portuguese! (See what I did there...get it? ohhh yeah). Guys, I am super cultured these days because I just spent a ridiculous 4 days in a country full of beautiful people, beautiful weather, and delicious food. I can't even put into words how much fun I had...butttt I am going to because thats what I do. So really I am a liar. I can put it into words and here begins the saga of Brazil.

(nom on some margs)

The last time I left the country was in 2010 when I went to the Middle East with a UMD sponsored trip. I didn't really worry about booking my flights, hotels, or making sure things got to places when they needed to because everything was planned for me. Luckily, a lot of the same things were true for me on this trip because it was all for work. I booked my own flight but the hotel and most of the activities were taken care of for me by my job. What I wasn't expecting was the intense and dramatic way in which I would finally ended up in Brazil.

I arrived early to the airport on the day of my departure to give myself enough time to make it through security and met up with one of my coworkers, Daddy Raids, who was traveling with me. (What I really mean is, I got there early so I could get casually drunk before my flight.) We made our way to our terminal and were pleased to find a Green Turtle not too far from where we were going to take off. After several beers we boarded our plane and just sat. We sat for a few minutes and then they made the announcement that there was paint on the antenna and that they would need an hour or so to replace the antenna. I want to repeat that for you. There was PAINT on an antenna and they couldn't fly....

What this also meant was that my coworkers and I were going to miss our connecting flight in Detroit (No, it doesn't make sense why I would fly North to go South...and no, I didn't question it until much later.)  that would get us to Brazil. We scrambled for a few moments trying to figure out what we were going to do and finally found flights that would take us to Atlanta that would then connect us to Brazil, having us arrive only one hour later than originally planned. This seems perfectly normal and calm, right? Welp, don't you worry your pretty little heads....nothing in my life is ever even remotely calm. The flight out of Baltimore was at 7pm and the flight out of Atlanta was at 9:35. My plane would arrive at 8:57pm and give me a little less than 40min to get off of my plane and get from Terminal A to Terminal F, which is only accessible by train. (I hate math. I hate math so incredibly much.) 

By the grace of some higher being we made it to Atlanta earlier than expected, but not that much because that would make my life easy. I ran through the mother effing airport and was sweating like...like....like an animal that sweats a whole freakin' lot. Now, this is a big deal because I have very strict rules about when I will and won't run. Usually the rule is that I will run from wolves or I will run towards chance encounters with gentlemen friends. (Surprisingly, I will run towards a chance encounter with Taylor Lautner...the only wolf I will let pounce me).  I now have to make an amendment to this rule and add "Will run to make flight", which I don't feel good about, but I will let it slide. Mainly because I made it onto my flight with moments to spare.

(Ohhhh yeah...lets be a wolf pack of 2. Shut up...you know he's legal)

Anywayz, we got down to Brazil and were promptly left without our bags for a couple days. Luckily for us, Delta said they would pay for us to go shopping for clothing for our conference. So, my momentary drama queen freak out about not having my bags turned into sheer joy over my ability to go on a shopping spree in Brazil. (I'm a fickle pickle who loves free shit, sometimes my half-jew really sets in)

Once I was settled in with my new wardrobe and a solid shower, I was ready for the opening dinner and the night that would follow. Everything went off a lot smoother than the previous 12hrs had and I got work tipsy off of Brazils national drink, the caipirinha. (Wait, did I just say that right. Do they have a national drink? Why, yes, yes they do. #inlove). I literally had died and gone to heaven. Not only was I sent to Brazil for work, but then I have the luck of finding out that there is a NATIONAL drink. I just...I just couldn't. Unbelievably happy. Life was good. 

(Foreign men, free clothing, and a national drink...its like Christmas morning)

The next day came a little too soon, but was interesting enough. Meetings galore and an unbelievable amount of food was served. (Seriously, I think I might've consumed an entire cattle farm while down there. And I would do it again...suck it vegetarians. Jk, lolz, power to ya). When the evening time rolled around I ended up going out with a group of colleagues to a bar called Wall Street in downtown Sao Paulo. The prices of the beers depend on how many people are buying them that night, the more people buy a beer the higher the price ends up being. Every once and a while there will be a "Wall Street Crash," where all of the prices are brought back to a basic price. What was great was that all of the beers were 40s. (Did I mention heaven yet?)

The best part in the evening came when I was leaving one of the rooms with one of the women on my trip when this beautiful Polish girl interrupted us. 

Polish Girl: You speak English, no?

Me: Excuse me? Yes?

*My colleague proceeded to walk away without entertaining any of this.*

Polish Girl: Oh no, I made you girlfriend made, no?

Me: HAHAHA, no she is not my girlfriend. Not like that at least. 

Polish Girl: Oh how good, no?

I was confused, I was lost, and I was intrigued. (Sounds like the first time I kissed a boy. ZINGER to 15 year old me! BOOM. 2004 Burn...yes, I am still single.) This girl then kept hugging me and holding onto me, finishing all of her sentences with an inquisitive "no" that continuously made her less and less attractive. 

Polish Girl: You're from America, no?

Me: I think I am answering you....yes, I am from America

Polish Girl: You have fun in Brazil, no?

Me: Again, trying to understand but....yes?

Polish Girl: So much fun, but girls are prettier in America, no?

Me: Well, I think there are beautiful women everywhere

Polish Girl: But foreign girls in America are that best, no?

Me: I like diversity, so sure?

This went back and forth for a bit before she hugged me and told me she was going to find me before she left. Completely flabbergasted I turned to my group as the congratulated me on being the first person to be hit on in Brazil...and yet they were also laughing. (SURPRISE...everyone knows I'm gay at work. I apparently can't hide it...except from Polish Girls). The creepiest part ended up coming closer to the end of the night when my Polish lovah slinked over and put herself right in between myself and the rest of the group I was with. 

Polish Girl: You have fun tonight, no?

Me: Yes, I have fun tonight

Polish Girl: I see you again, no?

Me: Well, I am only here a few days...so I don't think so 

Polish Girl: I see you tonight, no?

Me: I mean, you are seeing me right now, so yes?

Then a colleague of mine stepped into the conversation.

Life Saver: Ummm, my boyfriend is with me tonight. 

Polish Girl: Oh, so sorry. We all have fun, no?

Me: Uhh, yeah I have to stay here with my girlfriend. Sorry

*Polish girl slides up and gives me a hug*

Polish Girl: You come over to my place later, no? I am staying downtown, no?

Me: I just...I don't think...

And like that she was gone with the wind. She gave me her hotel and room number as she finished hugging me and then bolted out the door. I was left questioning my life choices. I haven't been hit on by a girl since I was too young to be considered homosexual. (HAHAH...who am I kidding...I've always been considered a glitter lover). My colleagues continuously ridiculed me for the rest of the night...but I had the last laugh because I was the only person to get hit on that fine evening. 

Alright friends, I am going to have to update you on the second, more ridiculous night tomorrow. For now, just revel in the fact that I went all the way down to Brazil to meet my sexy new husband and instead got hit on by a grammatically confused Polish Girl. Apparently I would be quite the lothario if I were to move to Poland...#semiwinning 

Fabulously Lost: Newly minted switch hitter

Polish Girl: Confused and aggressive 

Brazil: Amazeballz

Just a Quickie

Hey there loyal friends and followers. I wanted to go ahead and give you a quick update about what is going on in my life and why I haven't posted about my amazing time in Brazil!!!!! (Just your average 20-something globetrotter.) Real talk: My job sent me there, if they didn't I wouldn't be able to afford JACK. Life is still in the fabulously lost state that it has always been in, I'm just getting temporary glimpses at what I would like my life to be like full-time.

(I'm like Lilo- I know what glamourous and fabulous tastes like...but I just can't seem to hold onto it. TWINZIES. Minus the jail time. Sorry Cady)

As soon as I got home from my trip on Monday at 10am (after traveling for 12+hrs) I worked until 9pm to make sure I didn't fall behind. Every day since then I have been working 10-12hrs and I just haven't had the time to write a post I felt was good enough for all of you. It takes a solid 2hrs for me to write, create, and put together something I feel that is good for you, sometimes it takes longer. The stories are all real and authentic, I just have to figure out how to word everything so it doesn't sound as jumbled as it does in my head. 

That being said, I work very hard and I play even harder. I am heading out to the beach with 18 of my closest college friends in a couple of hours. I will be the token gay friend. I am sure we will have some stories for when I come back. I promise I will have something for all of you on Monday morning about Brazil and then later in the week about this silly beach trip. 

Lets recap some of my favorite things form this week: 

1. Honey Boo Boo: HOLY SHIZNAT. I got all caught up with my favorite little caffeine addicted redneck the other night and I am PUH-LEASED. The family never disappoints me with their antics, yet I am constantly finding myself a little choked up with TLC's presentation of how close they are. 

Let's discuss for a minute why they might not actually be losing the weight they all seem so desperate to lose. They are making SKETTI with Ketchup and Butter Sauce. (just let that simmer for a minute.) That's right they combine ketchup and butter to make sauce for their sketti. It's not a little bit of butter, its at LEAST one ice cream scoop full of butter with an entire container of ketchup. No wonder Mama needs to coupon....they go through ketchup like crazy! She also said she feeds her family of 6 for $80 a week...Where the frick are they shopping? #heyjealousy. This upcoming week marks the season finale for our beloved family, and you bet I will be tuning in to see what crazy situations they get into! 

2. P!nk - Ok, so I just queened the fuck out over P!nk's new album. I can't even pretend anything I have listened to has been remotely "straight" this week. She has songs called Slut Like You and Walk of Shame on the album. I listened to the whole album without looking at song titles and those two were my favorites on the album. I felt like I connected to the lyrics. THEN I REALIZED WHAT SHE WAS SINGING....and I still felt okay about my choices. (lezz be ahnist, I would love to do a walk of shame or be a slut at this point. #celibacy2012)

(I just like that I'm gay so I don't have to pretend like I don't like shit like this)

3. Brazil Preview- Just to give you an idea of what happened in Brazil I am going to break it down into four quick highlights: 

• I got hit on by a beautiful Polish girl who didn't quite understand that I am a homosexual man. She didn't understand it when I tried to explain it and she gave me her hotel information even after one of the people I as on the trip with pretended to be my girlfriend. I am one HOT tamale in Brazil....for Polish girls...
• I crashed a rooftop birthday party at a nightclub in downtown Sao Paulo. The person taking us to the club told us there would be tons of beautiful women. The party ended up being for wildly attractive gay man and all of his attractive Brazilian gay friends. I was in heaven. 
• I got into a car with two strange Brazilian girls who barely spoke english and two of my friends, so they could get lucky. They took us to a random part of town where there were people swarming the streets drinking and partying at 3am. I didn't die...but I almost did. 
• My night ended in a Brazilian Hospital. (Shout out to Daddy Raids and Sharif)

Holy frick, I am late for a very important date!!! I promise to give you full updates very soon. I don't think I will be working 12hr days every day next week. 

Fabulously Lost: Kinda cultured bitches 

Brazil: The bees knees

P!nk: Ugh...my fav

What is my life?

Ok, so it seems like I am always telling you guys that my life is hectic and I don't have enough time and blah, blah, blah. But....its reality...so stop judging me! In the last couple of weeks I have been all over the east coast visiting people (because I love forcing people to have to deal with me for several days in a row. Center. Of. Attention.) But now I am taking my travels abroad. I am leaving today to go to....

(for those who aren't as in to flags as me...) BRAZIL

My life is all sorts of unreal. I am going for 5 days with work and I am leaving today. I have known for a little bit about it but I didn't receive my visa until late last week. (Thanks Brazilian Consulate. Your people were just LOVELY to deal with). Anywhoz, I have been rushing around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get things together. 

Before I left I wanted to leave you with a few quick things that have been going on in my life, just so you know I am still a mess and this may be the only fabulous thing that is going to happen for a bit. 

1. Philly

         Last weekend I went to Philly for a night to see some old high school friends and party it up. As I have been able to do recently, I slyly convinced them to go to Woody's, a gay bar/club, to dance it up and oogle at beautiful men. I had no intentions of meeting anyone that night I just wanted a night out with a couple of old friends. Well, because girls seem inept at peeing without someone holding their hair or something, they left me alone on the dance floor to wait for them and I met a random attractive man. Our conversation went from normal to creepy in about 45 seconds. 

Philly Man: Hey handsome, are those two ladies with you or withhh you?

Me: Well, if I understand your middle school speak, I would say they are just with me. I am unable to be withhhh girls. I'm allergic to vagina. Sad but true.

Philly Man: Haha you are really funny. *puts hand on the small of my back and guides me closer to him*

Philly Man: So why are you all alone?

Me: I am from out of town, just visiting for the night. Why are you all alone?

Philly Man: So I don't feel obligated to stay with friends. I can go home with anyone *Winks* *Puts hand down the back of my pants and pats my ass*

Me: Well, after that kind offer and violation of all things that belong to me I am going to go vomit and hope to forget what you just did. 

FACTS: What the fuck Philly? Where did you produce this man from. Now, I have never claimed to be a classy lady, but I also save any "under the clothing action" for places that aren't swarming with sweaty men and women. 

(Wanna come hang in my basement?)

2. Driving Blows

         My car has recently decided it is going to slowly fall apart and cost me an arm and a leg to fix. This has led me to decide to move to DC and give up driving by the end of the year. (I am not kidding. Sorry Baltimore...we'll break up in a later post). In the mean time I have decided to try and curb my angry driving and I have taken on a new way of cursing people out. 

Recently I was driving through the outskirts of DC and a woman blatantly stopped following the rules of the road and I kindly honked at her to let her know of her mishaps. She decided to go in an all out screaming match with herself (I don't think she realized I couldn't hear her, nor was I in the car with her. Silly girls). So I followed her for a bit (because we were going the same way....not cause I'm a creeper! JEEZ people), until she finally needed to turn down a different road and I pulled up beside her. 

Crazy Banshee Driver: WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE HONKING AT ME ASSHOLE. I FUCKING HATE YOUR ASS. 

Me: I really don't think you should hold that much hate in your heart. I also hope you get so many speeding tickets your car is taken away from you.

Crazy Banshee Driver: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY? DID YOU THREATEN ME?

Me: No, I just wished bodily harm on your wallet and bank account, as well as, hoping your car would be repossessed by the state due to your inability to pay your tickets. 

Crazy Banshee Driver: I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE FUCKING SAYING. YOU'RE A FUCKIN' FRUITY DICKBAG. 

The light then changed and I felt I had accomplished a lot. See, when I was 16/17 and someone would've done that, I would've wished that their tires blew out or they would get into a minor car accident. I decided recently that it's bad for my juju, so now I just wish that they get lots of speeding tickets and get in trouble for that! (LOOK MA, I'm growing up!)

(this man is not finding his inner zen...)

3. When I get back from Brazil, I am supposed to go on a date with a Middle School Art Teacher. Now....I felt like it was a good idea to message back and forth with this man a week or so ago after I had finished a bottle of wine and was feeling lonely. As the week has progressed I am starting to feel like he is....just too....well...he is too wholesome? He doesn't really drink. (How are we supposed to do boozy brunches and go out dancing...and be happy?) He lives in a suburb and really enjoys it. (I just..who does that to themselves at 24??) He teaches children and seems like a do-gooder. (I am really only a good person when the weather is right and the moon is full. I pretend the rest of the time)

I just have so many concerns and I feel like I need advice. Do I go out with him and see what this settled down lifestyle is like? Do I try dating a white, teacher, who loves the 'burbs and talking about art? IS THIS THE RIGHT PATH FOR ME?

Alright friends, I have to head off to the land of Brazilian Nuts and Brazilian Waxes. (Hopefully I find more of the nuts. *WINK, WINK, NUDGE, NUDGE* Get it??? #dirtyjokes). Hopefully I will come back with a story or two for you. Mama Fabulous wants me to bring home a nice, attractive Brazilian man and not a story. She wants me to try being classy while I'm down there. SHE DOESN'T KNOW ME.

Fabulously Lost: Losing it in South America. 

Philly: Creepy McCreepson needs to be exiled 

Banshee Drivers: Watch out, I have some strong words for you

Just Your Average Phoebe Buffay...

You know how how it always seems like there is some sort of formula that goes into making a successful T.V. show? Friends was always one of my favorite shows and it is one of the most formulaic shows out there. You have the neurotic one, the sarcastic one, the beautiful one, the dumb one, the nerdy one, and the kooky weird one. The reason it works so well is because everyone connects with one of the characters, and up until recently I thought, for sure, that I was the sarcastic one. I thought I was Chandler. I wanted to be Chandler. Unfortunately, I just figured out I'm more of a Phoebe.

I discovered this a couple weeks ago when I was taking stock of my life as I flitted between DC, VA, and Baltimore. I was planning my weekends and focusing on boozy brunches, bar crawls, and birthday extravaganza's. All of my events revolved around my single friends and our mutual singledom. Then I received a wedding invitation from a good friend of mine from H.S. and was given the opportunity to bring a date. (HAHAHA...a plus one is a lovely thing...or a reason to sign up for more therapy sessions.) It's then that I started to realize that maybe I wasn't Chandler anymore. 

A couple days later the same friend invited me over to dinner at his new townhouse outside of Baltimore. I was a bit hesitant at first, mainly because I found out it was going to be my friend, his fiance, our other best friend from high school, her husband, and me. It was at that point that I realized that I am the Kooky Drunk Single Friend.

(Sorry guyz....this may be me)

Now, you may be asking what it means to be the KDSF (I feel like the abbreviation is what you would find in a "personal ad"...I'll take it?). Basically it means that you have to have crazy drunken tales, go on outrageous dates, have many failed but humorous relationships, and be a generally unreal person. See, I constantly forget that I am the KDSF because I hang out with so many other KDSF (you know who you are...drinks this weekend?). Just when I am forgetting, I am smacked with that reality when Married Friends ask to hang out and go to dinner or do other Married Friend things. (These things aren't different than doing things with single friends, but they are usually done in pairs....and I am not a pair). 

Being a gay KDSF brings a whole different angle to this normal dynamic. Back in the day, Sex in the City did a whole episode on how difficult it was to be the single friend when you were surrounded by tons of other couples. When you are gay though, there is extra scrutiny put on you because you are far more fascinating...you are like a fucking unicorn. Now, don't get me wrong, I love being the unicorn (literally and figuratively). If you haven't noticed, I love being the center of the conversation with undivided attention. It's because people, especially Married Friends, don't normally have gay single (or coupled) friends who come over with stories. It's all the more interesting....I guess. 

Anywhoz, (Almost) Married Friends invited me over for a dinner and I knew I was going to be the only single one. I had to prepare myself and think of good stories to tell and also make sure I didn't come across like my life was too much of a mess...(surprisingly hard to do). 

I made my way to their house (fashionably late... and actually early in gay time) with a bottle of wine in hand and my thoughts on trying to be a classy gentleman. As soon as I  arrived, the idea of being classy went out the door. You see, the last time I had hung out with all of them I had decided not to drink and just relax. I was chastised and they were genuinely disappointed in my lack of alcohol consumption. I thought I could get by on my winning good looks (HA!) and personality, but it turns out I am wildly more entertaining after a few glasses of wine. 

So I sat down and was immediately handed a glass of wine and they began asking me questions about life. 

Married Friends: So, tell us about everything? What's going on? Who are you bringing to the wedding? Are you dating anyone?

Me: WHOA! Third degree! I am bringing British Cowgirl. I am single and mingling right now. No special lad for this guy. 

Married Friends: Ugh, tell us stories. Are you not drunk enough?

Me: I can be fun without alcohol! 

Married Friends: Yeah, but more fun with it! 

(btw British Cowgirl went to h.s. in England and thinks she is a country girl because she is attracted to cowboy type men...there is no joke, just facts. It's becoming contagious...)

They didn't say that exactly, but it was implied....it.was.IM.PLIED. They guilted me into having another glass of wine before the male half of the engaged couple, and the one who was my h.s. friend, decided to challenge me. 

Engaged Friend: I drank more than you last time, I can drink more than you this time. 

Me: You don't want to do this, you really don't. 

Engaged Friend: No, seriously! What has happened to you? I can definitely drink more than you, I went to college. 

Me: When was the last time you got drunk?

Engaged Friend: I don't know...I don't keep track of that. 

Me: Oh, well, I got drunk 2 days ago. I think I can hold my own. 

Engaged Friend: Then lets go for it.

And that was the beginning of the end. We went drink for drink. We went from wine to rum. Before we knew it the night was over. We had laughed our way through most of dinner as I recounted my unreal, but very true life stories and my life as a part-time serial dater. The actual Married Friends had to leave around 1030/11 and the drinks kept flowing, then out of nowhere Engaged Friend hit a wall. He began getting violently ill and continued to do so for about an hour and a half. Somewhere in all of that I passed out on the floor and was generously woken up and shown the way to the guest bedroom. 

As I slipped out the next morning and drove home, I began thinking about how easily I had fallen into the KDSF ways. I wasn't disappointed in any of it, I had an amazing time and wouldn't mind doing it again. Although, I think I am still trying to figure out how to transition into becoming one of the coupled friends and move out of this Kooky Drunk Single Friend role that I have perfected. Until that happens, I think I will continue out drinking Married Friends and living this ridiculous thing called life...because everything is more fun when you are living life looking for your next adventure.

Fabulously Lost: You can call me Princess Counsuela Banana-hammock 

Married Friends: A riot in their own way...and terrible at drinking contests 

Friends: Best show from the 90s