In My Life

Every once in awhile I like to write posts about the random things that are happening in my life that cannot necessarily be fleshed out into a post. This happens to be on of those posts...BECAUSE I CAN!   (Whenever I say something like that I start playing "It's my birthday and I can cry if I want to")

Smut-tastic 

So last week I was with my entire family and we were discussing our annual trip to the gayest town in Maine when my parents informed us that our grandparents were going to be coming with us. (Just a quick reminder: I went on vacation, went to a drag show, took a lovely walk on the beach with a VT Mountain man and then have lived in relentless judgement from my family ever since) My brothers decided that it would be good idea for our parents to join us a the Drag Show this year...which was just too much for me to handle.

Jeopardy Bro: Mama and Papa Fab, I think you guys should join us. You'd have an amazing time and the show is great. 
Rugby Bro: Yeah, the woman was hysterical! 
Me: I just don't think it would be a good idea. It can be a little raunchy and I don't know if you guys would like it. The crowds. The people. Maybe we find something else for you guys to do with us.
Mama Fab: Maybe you don't have to smut it up for one night. Yup, I said it. 

(You know its going to be a good post when I can bring a housewife into this)

But seriously, Mama Fab killed it. I had nothing to say, she came in with a zinger and we were all in complete shock. I couldn't disagree, I couldn't fight it, I couldn't do anything but say "OMG, OMG", because I reverted to a typical homosexual response to someone who calls a bitch out. Props Mama Fab, props. 

Real Time Chatting

I had a bunch of things I wanted to talk about in this post, and I will get to them, but I am in the middle of watching the Girls season premiere and I am just in shock and awe. Now, this is not because Lena Dunham's tits have been flailing since the 4th scene in, but because of the person they are flailing against. She was banging DONALD GLOVER! *crickets* Ugh, you guys are the worst. For those of you who don't know who he is, Donald Glover is comedian, actor, and rapper under the name Childish Gambino. What I wasn't expecting was for Donald Glover to be dressed and looking like a myriad of my ex-boyfriends. 

(Sorry Lena, you totes asked for it when you added an attractive black man to your cast)

(Ohhh, I'll keep you warm Donald)

Apartment Search

Holy crapballz guys. I have been talking about moving since the beginning of time. I have sweet roommates right now (Shout out Mama and Papa Fab! #single4lyfe), but I am more than ready to be living in Washington D.C. A little change has occurred since I last wrote about this last month. I am now currently looking for an apartment with one of my best friends from college. He happens to be straight, he happens to be a super feminist, and he happens to be super awesome. One of the main things that we bonded over in college was our joint love of Kentucky Gentleman...the bourbon. (Shocker, I have some straight qualities. Cowboy Fabulous) So from now on, in all of our adventures, I will be referring to him as Kentucky Gentleman or KG. (Probably KG, because I'm lazy...yet honest).  We have decided to look for a sleek bachelor pad in Dupont Circle or Logan Circle. This is going to be severely dangerous for my liver. 

(Ugh, she is so judging me)

Live, Laugh, Single

Let's discuss all of the "research" I have been doing for you guys. I have decided that the year of 2013 is my year and that involves taking more time for the things that are important to me. (And we wonder why the older generations call us the "All About ME" generation. You're welcome) Part of this whole declaration was my decision to take a more active role in the success of my dating life. I have this insatiable thirst to set up dates and then slowly talk myself out of them or tell myself how they are going to fail. This includes, and isn't limited to, lying to them about emergencies at home (i.e. I really wanted to get into bed and do nothing), telling them that I have to work late because of an emergency (i.e. I really wanted to get in bed and do nothing), or telling them I have the flu (i.e. I really wanted to get into bed and do nothing). 

(Oh Pinocchio, you little rascal)

This doesn't seem to fit in well with my 2013 proclamation, so I am reverting back to a much simpler time, a time when this whole idea of a blog came about. That's right, I am going back to 2011 when I decided that the only answer I had to being asked on dates was "Yes." It has been less than three weeks into the new year and I have already set up (and not cancelled) three different dates. One of them has successfully turned into a 2nd and a 3rd date. I don't want to jinx it...but maybe 2013 is my year??

(But like, why am I using so many Disney characters? What is the gimmick here? I'm at a loss too peeps)

Diets Are Stupid and Ugly and I hate them

I feel like the title of this section says it all but I feel like I should explain how much of a masochist I really am. Like everyone else in the entire US of A, I ate my face off in the month of December. I ate like food was going out of style. I pretended to be on a diet when I was really just joshin' with myself and really eating globs of delicious holiday food. I ate until the new year came around and reminded me that the world wasn't ending, and at that point I realized that I was going to have to pay for my grievous mistakes and the horrendous way I had been treating my body in the name of Jebus and a good holiday dip. 

(Heyyyy GURL, don't judge. You ain't no summer chicken yo self)

So last Monday I decided to go extreme and give up carbs for 14 days. 

(#gurldown)

No, but seriously, I gave up carbs. Not only did I give them up, but I have kept to it amazingly so. I haven't had any carbs in 8 days. I make a lot of chicken and eggs and salad. I have gone out to restaurants and been able to focus ordering food without carbs. I have 100% told EVERYONE I have been eating with that I am doing #nocarbs2013, because I need everyone to know I am doing big things (It's the half-Jew in me, so sue me)

Real Talk: I wanna cut a bitch. I love bread and bagels almost as much as I love cheese. So this is like a death march for me right now. Not only that, it's like I am in a torturing myself because I have gone to not 1, not 2, but THREE EFFING PIZZA PLACES IN 8 DAYS. I don't even go out for pizza that much on a regular basis, yet I can't seem to get away from them right now. I have also gone on 2 dates in the last 8 days and it is really awkward to be out at dinner and say, 

Me: No, I can't be really cute with you and order an appetizer.

Cute Date: Oh, how come?

Me: Because all of the appetizers have some sort of carb in them that I can't pick out and I am basically constantly sabotaging myself.

Basically, I really dislike dieting but I am, unfortunately, noticing the difference in my body since I started this. No one is more pissed than I am that eating better is actually better for you. (A big old eff you to my body)

(My eyes are in a permanent eye roll) 

Wrap Up

So there is my State of the Union about my life right now. I have some stories about my dating faux pas  that I will tell you about in due time. I am also in the process of planing my Gay Debutante Ball for when I arrive in DC. This will consist of a boozy brunch, oogling of men, and lots of fabulously dressed people. (Nope, I couldn't be anymore more rainbow with that sentence)

(BECAUSE WHY NOT?!?! This was an unreal find and I will probably bring this gay unicorn man back in other posts. Kind of like a Where's Waldo? of blog photos)

Mama Fabulous: Bold and fierce 

Donald Glover: Tired from runnin' through my dreamz

DC: Flirty, Slutty, and Fabulous 

Unicorn Man: Keepin' It Real

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.