The Bitch is Back

Guys, I am exhausted. The past month and a half has found me all over the East Coast, and I made my first foray into the Midwest. (Hayyyy Chicago, you be good gurl.) Should we take a little journey to see where I went and how fabulously lost I still am??? BLOKAY, sounds good!

Miami

Gurl. GURRRLLL. Gurl DOWN. 

(Gone. With. The. Wind.)

Have you ever been to Miami? No? Because it's not a real place, not even a little bit. It is the land of beautiful people, topless swimmers, outrageous night clubs, and expensive restaurants. Miami also has the Ke$ha-esque ability to turn any atmosphere into a glitter filled, alcohol infused, parental disappointment worthy party. Of course, all of that being said, the first night that I was there on "vacation," my friends and I promptly fell asleep at 9:30pm and slept until 9:30am. Like they always say, when in Miami.... sleep for 12 hours? 

(I've never been so refreshed and disappointed in myself at the same time. Blarg.)

We spent the next couple of days making up for it by laying by the pool and drinking many a "Bucket-O-Liquor," which was the specialty of the hotel we were staying at. I can honestly say that I feel like I did everything I wanted to do in Miami. It's a ridiculous city that I am glad I visited... but I don't know if I'll go back anytime soon. The one thing I did not do was find love in that place. I realized, unlike most strippers, I do not tend to do as well in climates that require less clothing. I am one of those people that would do really well in a place that involves sweaters and layers, like Canada. (Its aboot time I move further north, EH? I'm done. I swear.) 

DC Pride

Holy crap ballz. Last year, for DC Pride, I drank far too much at brunch and ended up falling asleep at 8pm. I saw some of the parade and ended up with a press-on tattoo. (On. My. Face.) This year I wanted to do Pride the way it was meant to be done. I wanted to remember everything. I wanted to feel the pride of my people. I wanted to enjoy adult beverages. I wanted to attend the parade. I wanted to dance at the gay clubs. I wanted to see the festival. I wanted the weekend to leave me bleeding rainbows. (I said all of those in my head like Veruca Salt. You know, from Willy Wonka.)

(She understands what's important in life. Ain't nobody got time to be good.)

I decided to throw a little pre-parade BBQ for all of my lovely gays. We dabbled with drinks, danced in the heat, and pounded some meat. (Ew, pervs, I meant burgers and hot dogs. Grow up.) The parade was spectacular and over-the-top, like it should be. There were bears on bikes, Mormons in cars, gay boys in underwear, cowboys in ass-less chaps, and Wonder Woman (literally — Linda Carter) leading the parade. The true fun, however, began after the parade and post-survival nap. My friends and I owned the night by pre-gaming at my place and then dancing up a storm at Cobalt, in the heart of the gayborhood. What I wasn't expecting was my lovely departure from classy, upstanding citizen to drunken, dancing floozy. 

(Too soon? Sorry, Reese.)

After a few (many) drinks at the bar, I decided it was time to make my way to the bathroom. Unbeknownst to me, on this simple walk across the bar I would encounter two gentleman friends. One of these gentleman I knew from a previous date, whom you have never heard of. (The date had gone well... I can't jinx that shit!) When I got semi-close, he pulled me in and began to dance with me. I shimmied and shook and maybe even Mac Daddied it up with him a little. Once my confidence was boosted, I realized my bladder had slowly begun to take over my entire body. No matter how much I tried to Vulcan Mind-Meld my bladder into disappearing, I had to abandon my impromptu make-out to take care of nature. 

On my way out of the bathroom, I went a-searchin' for the man of my dreams (for one night only). Instead, what I found was his friend, who decided that it was now his turn to shimmy, shake, and Mac with me. I decided that all this attention was a gift from the Pride gods, and I needed to accept my new fate as the Pride Vixen, otherwise, I would be disappointing the fates. Much to my chagrin, the original shimmy shaker walked up and decided to throw a hissy fit. Unfortunately for me, it was not because I had made out with both of them, rather it was because the both of them... WERE DATING. 

(Mothertruckin' ass dogs.)

Other than assisting in being a homewrecker, the rest of DC Pride went perfectly. I saw Icona Pop and Emeli Sande play the festival, and I took home a new award in the amount of sweat one person can sweat in a 90-minute period. It's really a gift. 

Chicago

I'm not gonna spend a lot of time discussing Chicago. 

NY Pride

DOMA was repealed four days before NY Pride happened. I can say, from the bottom of my heart, I have never cried so much during a parade in my life. (Except for that one time in Disney World. We still don't talk about that.)

The night I arrived in NY, Swifty, her husband, and I made our way downtown to the West Village to go to a gay bar or club. We found ourselves, first, at Pieces, where the bar was completely and totally overcrowded. To our surprise, there was a coat check available at the front of the bar... a coat-check in JUNE. Turns out it wasn't a coat-check at all, it was a CLOTHING-CHECK. That's right: You could check your clothing at the door and walk around in your boxer-briefs, briefs, or JOCK STRAPS. 

We stayed standing for an hour (obvs oogling) before heading to the next bar. We decided to head to Stonewall... yes, of the Stonewall Riot fame. For those of you who know me, I am more than mildly obsessed with social media, so it should come as no surprise to you that I am an avid user of Foursquare. (Because it isn't creepy that someone can track your every move.) Well, I went to check into Stonewall and was surprised to see there was an event I could check into. The event was titled "LESBO GO-GO."

First I felt: 

Then I was all like: 

After I realized it was dancing, I was like: 

(Cause, bitch, I DON'T PLAY with my music)

We rolled into this history-making bar and bee-lined to the upstairs and downed a few drinks. I don't think I have been around that many dancing lesbians ever in my life. It took me a few minutes to get over the fact that I had changed the color of my shirt with my own sweat. (I'm impressive like that.) Just as I was getting over this not-so-secret fabric changing power I have, my friend Nomad (she, like, travels lots, duh), showed up and immediately pulled me up on the stage in front of all the lesbians. Much to my surprise, I danced like my life depended on it. At one point, whilst on stage, I thought I was so impressive I could definitely try out for So You Think You Can Dance... or at least their drunk bar version of the show. 

The weekend only got better from there. Brunching, dancing, and lots of eating ensued. There was the emotional Pride Parade — Edie Windsor was the Grand Marshall of the parade. I got ramotional. It was quite the weekend. 

Match.com

So, over a year after I originally talked about it, I finally took the plunge and purchased a membership to match.com. When I originally dabbled in it, I didn't pay for it and kinda let it hang by the wayside. On Sunday, however, my good lady friend Simba and I had our own little Sunday Funday that ended with buying a SIX-month membership. I don't know how things got so aggressive. 

(THIS IS WHAT MY INSIDES FEEL LIKE ABOUT DATING.)

The six-month membership comes with a guarantee; the site guarantees that if you do not find love within the six months that you paid for, then you get a SECOND six months for free. Because I am half-Jewish, I casually want to not find love and get another six months for free. (Hey, it's a deal! Gimme a break people.) I'll be sure to let you know how it goes. 

Miami: A new meaning to Hot Mess

DC Pride: Politically incorrect and loving it 

Chicago: Shhh

NY Pride: Am I a lesbian now?

Match.com: Jesus, Joseph, and Mary

Welcome to the Jungle

Guys, guyssss, GUYS! I'm in a little bit of a panic because I haven't spoken to you in 2 weeks. Whose fault is that? Why didn't I write more? Who drugged me for TWO WEEKS and told me not to write it out? These are all mysteries of the world at this point. I do know that I packed, moved, and set up my new apartment in DC and have already had some interesting adventures.

(Ohhhh hey, gurl... I'm into it)

There are certain things that I forgot about myself from when I lived on my own (and not with the greatest roommies ever). Can we talk about some of them? I mean...do you have a choice? I like to list things out because...well...because lists are fun. (Cahmmm ahnnnn, get on board with me)

1. I am the next Tyra Banks...

This is a ballsy statement. I know it, you know it, effing Tyra knows it! (Does anyone else notice how often I bring up Tyra?) I, in no means, mean that I am going to be a high fashion runway model, nor do I mean that I am going to have a reality show about models. I did notice, though, that on my new commute to and from work, I am doing a lot of walking.  On these walks I constantly have music playing, like I have a soundtrack for my life. During these walks, every once in awhile (read also: every single time), I come across a crosswalk and out of nowhere my body is overcome with the unnatural urge to glide across it like a runway. That's right, you read that. I strut my stuff like all eyes are on me and I am OWNING that crosswalk. 

(Get. It. Ty.Ra)

I didn't realllly realize I was doing this until the third or fourth day, when I struck a slight pose at the end and looked to see if anyone noticed. I realized a moment after that that I really wanted someone to notice. To be honest, I have always had an unrealistic dream that someone is just going to "discover" me wherever I go. (No, but seriously.) So, basically, if you ever are walking around Washington, DC and you see a gay man strutting his stuff like it is New York Fashion Week...you have probably discovered me. 

2. I think I am the worlds greatest chef

One of my favorite YouTube channels is My Drunk Kitchen. It basically is run by this awesome woman, Hannah Harto, and she just gets drunk and cooks things. (She is, casually, everything I hope to be when I grow up) Anywayz, since I have been in my apartment I have decided to drunk cook no less than 4x. I am not sure when it happens, but I get this urge that takes over in my altered state of mind that I need to forage and provide for all of my friends. I need to prove to all of them that I could easily win a challenge on Top Chef or Chopped. Unfortunately, it never turns out that way. 

(THIS IS HANNAH. SHE DRINKS TOO!)

On a recent post-8hr boozy brunch experience, I decided I needed to make chicken I had purchased the day before. I took the chicken out, I tried to season it and this is pretty much where everything went down hill. Since I am Italian, I like to put garlic on everything, unfortunately for me, the garlic powder I have has a faulty top that I didn't remember it in my boozy haze. So with wine glass in hand, I poured a solid 2 cups of garlic powder on 4 pieces of chicken. BUT WAIT, it gets better!!! (No, not like the charming LGBT anti-bullying campaign. More like the feeling you have when a horrible event has just occurred and even though something terrible is going to happen, it's not as bad as what just happened. You with me? Whatever. I get it)  

I, if I'm being honest, had not used my oven before this event and didn't really know how to turn it on. After a valiant effort, that lasted 2min, I decided that I was going to make all of the chicken in a frying pan. Just to recap what has happened so far for you, I poured garlic all over my chicken and now I was going to fry it.

(He dun did it)

This whole debacle ended with me burning 5 pieces of chicken, setting off the fire alarm...2x, and making the most terrible salad I have ever made in my life. Salad is impossible to make terribly...it's lettuce and toppings. I ruined it with garlic burned chicken. (Ru.In.Ed *gay claps*)

3. Eggs are appropriate food at all hours

It is no shock to anyone that I enjoy a solid brunch just like any other resident of our nations capitol (and anyone else who is good and right in this world). I have taken this to a whole new level. Beyond the fact that I have boozy brunched twice since moving to the city and it hasn't been two weeks, I have really embraced the ease of making and eating eggs. My parent's set me up with a good amount of food when I moved in (because I'm mildly spoiled. I own it), and the thing I ended up utilizing the most was the 18 eggs they got me. 

(Gimmeeee gimme gimmmeee)

I have officially had eggs at breakfast, brunch, lunch, linner, dinner, and late night snack. I make omelets like its my job and will put everything in them. I have put normal things in them like cheese and bacon. Then I got feisty and put cream cheese in it. Then I put turkey lunch meat in it. THEN I STARTED PUTTING RANDOM FOOD IN IT. (I typed that in all caps because then I feel like you judge me less). In one of my quests at becoming the next Drunk Top Chef moments, I decided to take a Harry&David "Buffalo Blue Cheese Dip" and put it in the omelet. I can tell you, right now, without a doubt, this is the one time that cheese was NOT the right choice. It had a weird consistency that made me feel weird at the beginning of my consumption...by the end of the entire thing (because I ate it like a CHAMP bitches), I was convinced I had ingested a large amount of snakes.  

Did this deter me from making eggs? NOPE. Guess again! Instead I went back to the chopping blocks and decided to take part of a pasta Lean Cuisine and make an egg pasta dish. (Yup, yet another Drunk Chef moment) This one, surprisingly, ended up being quite delicious. I am not sure if it was good because I am actually a genius or because after drinking all day all you want is food in your mouth no matter what form it comes in. What I am trying to say with all of this is...I effing love eggs. Eggs and cheese. Two peas in a pod. (mmm maybe Ill put peas in my next egg concoction. Gotta write that down for drunk me) 

DC: Homo sweet homo

Bravo: My guide for living life

Fabulously Lost: America's Next Top Egg Chef Model. (new category of awesome. I'll email ya soon Andy Cohen *wink, nudge, nod*a)

Train Wrecks: Reality T.V. Edition

I think life is filled with little moments that allow us to feel good about ourselves for things that we have done or things we are about to do, but there are a lot of moments that are also just...there. I think it's readily apparent at this point that my life is a beautiful disaster filled with lots of "WTF" moments and a side of "OMG Really?" moments. Whenever I feel like I am getting too down on myself or I start to wonder if life is always going to be a little bit of a joke, I turn to my T.V. Why, you might ask? GOOD QUESTION READER! Well, because our T.V.'s are filled with people who are massive train wrecks and they make me feel wonderful about my life. Does that make me a terrible person? Probably, but I don't give a flippin' flipper because its there for me and I revel in getting to watch the lives of these people played out on the boob tube.

I'd like for you to take a journey with me on my favorite train wreck's, both on T.V. and in real life. (Shhhh...just let it happen..shhhh)

(Ohhh Thomas)

1. Rock of Love: Ok, granted this show isn't on anymore because Brett Michael's became an "artist" again. (meaning he got back with his baby mama and recorded a song with Miley Cyrus...artisssst). But this show lasted for three wonderful seasons and provided me with more entertainment than most of the people in my life (not apologizing for that comment...you need to watch and you'll understand). He took a bunch of trashy women and put them together to compete on who would get a drunken make out session with him. These women came from all walks of life and represented most of America really well. HAHAHAHA Jk lolzzzzzz. Most of these women were strippers, are currently strippers, or became strippers after the show. I am currently putting a petition to get the show back on the air because Mr. Michael's and his baby mama just broke up. I shed many tears....OF JOY! Cahmmmm ahnnn...the last season he had all of the girls living on a tour bus. A. Tour. Bus. Like, really? You couldn't spring for the mini-Bachelor Mansion? Who am I kidding? I LOVED the Tour Bus Season. Also this show spawned some other notable mentions: Daisy of Love, I Love Money, Megan Wants A Millionaire, and Rock of Love: Charm School. Thanks VH1 and don't worry you are prominently featured on this list. 

   

(This was a contestant. This show happened in the '00s, not the 80s. This contestant was a stripper. Facts.)

2. Celebrity Fit Camp- Now, I have had my fair share of struggles with weight (I'm like an 'effin yo-yo. A bright up, glittery yo-yo used in the 90's yo-yoing competitions...but still a yo-yo.), so this one may seem insensitive, but it's not...I swear! So the first season of this show was fairly bland but was still "motivational" at times. This show lasted a solid 7 seasons and kept bringing me more joy with every one of them. The only purpose of this show, was to take D-List (I am being kind by saying they were even d-list) and have a trainer yell at them while trying to help them solve their psychological issues...which all stemmed around them not being relevant anymore. (HOW COULD I NOT LOVE THIS?!?!)

 But, real talk, the last three seasons were reality television GOLD. Season's 5 and 6 featured Dustin Diamond, who is better known for playing Screech on the beloved '90s sitcom Saved by the Bell (I am upset with those who don't know him. Real talk). Screech is the epitome of a disastrous train wreck. Since his stint as a teen star he has gained a lot of weight, released his own sex tape, and pissed off the entire Saved by the Bell cast so badly that they didn't include him in their 2006 People Magazine reunion cover. Shit. Got. Real. for him. Anywhoz, Screech proceeded to be the drama queen on both season's he appeared on. He screamed at the judges, showed up drunk to challenges, complained that people didn't take him serious after he released the sex tape (shockerrr), and even went off on Marsha Brady (Yup, the oldest sister from the Brady Bunch was on the show...such good t.v.!)

(what he wore to a weigh-in. So perfect)

So where do you go after you have Screech and Marsha Brady yell at each other on t.v.? Oh, don't you worry, the producers had a gem up their sleeves. Season 7 brought us Kevin Federline, former back-up dancer and baby daddy for the one, the only, Britney Spears. Literally, the promos came on for that and I might have peed myself in excitement. But that's not all the producers did, no, no, they had something else for me. They brought on Shar Jackson for this season as well. And who is this little firecracker? Well, Ms. Jackson had a prominent role on the '90s UPN show, Moesha, and....and...she is K. Fed's FIRST BABY MAMA. Whaaaaat??!? YES! I literally keeled over when I saw the commercial that featured both of them. K. Fed left Shar (while she was PREGGERS) for Britney. This was too good to be true...but it was true and wonderful and what happiness is made of. K Fed talked about how no one would give him a chance as a rapper because of Brit Brit (That was never happening, sorry) and Shar talked about how hard it was to watch K Fed and Britney being in love in the tabloids. I just....I just can't. It was a good time in my life. +

(He appeared on TV in underwear. Never gonna be a rapper)

3. Tool Academy- This is another VH1 hidden treasure that was on mostly when I was in college...I am still at a loss as to why it isn't on anymore. Basically, girlfriends nominated their boyfriends to be ambushed and tricked into entering the "Academy" so they can put their toolish ways behind them. Each boyfriend was given a tool nickname, like Tiny Tool, Naked Tool, Loud Mouth Tool, and Playa Pimpin' Tool. (Yes, that is what that gentlemen was referred to as for the entire season). Each week they had different challenges to complete with their girlfriends and each week had a theme, like Humility, Trust, Commitment, and Family Values. They also included a therapist on the show to help out, you know to make it more legit. Because this show was about making men more refined...the therapist was British. Facts, it enhanced the show sooo much. Many of the tool's didn't make it to the end and their girlfriends had the option of breaking up with them if they failed. Those who did make it to the end of each of the three seasons, for some reason, all decided to get tattoos of "Tool Academy" to represent the change they had made. Think about that. They had TOOL ACADEMY tattooed on their bodies for.ev.er. 

My favorite part of each season was at the end when the show would surprise the winning couple with a wedding. They threw surprise weddings for people who just finished being part of a program about being a Tool. Yes...that's right gay marriage is what is ruining the sanctity of marriage in the world, not t.v. shows that have surprise weddings for tools. 

4. Real Housewives Franchise - It started with Orange County and it grew and grew and grew. Bravo holds some of my favorite t.v. shows of all time. When I am bored, I turn to Bravo. Bravo is in the top 10 for best friends in my life...always able to put a smile on my face. This show has taken us on a roller coaster of emotions and has really provided me with a good look at what it's going to be like when I am a kept man. (This is more a "when" rather than "if" statement...facts). Ok, lets chat about the ladies for a minute from the different seasons I've watched and fallen in love with! 

• Orange County: Ups and downs are a-plenty on this show. From the gold digging Barbie doll to the over powering real estate mogul, this show had the gamete of characters. They were all blonde, tan, and fake boob-ed out. Then the recession hit and divorces happened, fortunes were lost, and everyone pretended like they still had money. This was the first show to have scandals around money issues. Terrible for them...but they did put it ALL out there on t.v.
• New York: How could I not watch this?  You had the Jewish mother stereotype, the single lady living in the city, the Countess who couldn't count, the kooky social climber, the wine-o CEO lady, and the former model. This rag-tag group of ladies started off with a bang and we followed as the countess lost her title...and her husband, the jewish mother was too overbearing and lost the single lady friend, and the social climber was shot down by everyone. The ladies have now rotated after several seasons and they are still keeping me engaged. Now they have a one-legged woman. Facts. 
• Atlanta: Seriously, like, seriiioooussssllllyyyyy? Georgia is just a mess if all the reality t.v. I watch is even remotely correct about this state. This was also the first cast of mostly black women for this franchise. The drama was more fiery and the money was less accessible, but they lived big. These women were the first to call a cat, a cat and admit, often, that this show was here to make them famous. Backstabbing, catchphrases, and attitude were present in every second of every episode. I was afraid I was going to get yelled at through the t.v....plus the women got PHYSICAL on this show. Lots of weave and wig pulling. 
• New Jersey: This came on the coattails of the "Ohemgeeee New Jerz people are so funny and trashy...lets watch themmmm do everything". I was part of this group who loved watching all things New Jersey because, well, because as a former-New Yorker (I know...Surpriseeee I love NY!) I look at NJ as the slow step-cousin who forgot to bathe on a regular basis. Kind of hard to stand but also really hard not to pay attention to. These housewives DELIVERED in every way possible. Table flipping, family dramz, and mafia threats. Staunch husbands awkwardly delivering interviews on camera and children who go tanning and mug for the camera. 
• Beverly Hills: This recently became my favorite of the housewives shows and the one I watch the most often. Why? Because they have real money. These women aren't living above their means *cough Orange County cough Atlanta cough NJ*, they are just that disgustingly rich. The poorest woman on the show is still worth about $3 million. The POOREST is worth millions. I can't. They all have hobbies and things they call work but the only job I see them doing well at is slinging insults. And boy do they know how to do that. These women do it in such a subtle way you have to make sure you are paying attention. They have mansions on mansions on mansions. There is a British bitch on the show that makes my heart sing. 

Yes, the Real Housewives have provided me with hours of mindless entertainment over the last six years. Each of them represent a different time in my life, a different moment of pure joy. 

5. America's Next Top Model - Tyra. Tyra. Tyra. She is the most wonderful debacle to ever live. She talks like she has lived a hard life and hasn't been a super model since she 14 years old. She gives feedback to the contestants with gemz like "I need you to smile with your eyes, I need you to smeyes." Everything she tells the girls somehow relates back to a hard time she had while modeling. Tyra will often begin with "Do you know how hard it was for me to be one of the only black girls at my first Paris fashion show?" Now, don't get me wrong, Tyra has had her fair share of scrutiny and had to deal with racism in the modeling world, but when you are talking to some girls who have never left their hometown...talking about the difficulties of being flown to Paris to model doesn't do much for you. Tyra has believed in every single one of the girls and she shows it through screaming, hugging, photographing, and putting them in weird photographs. Oh, and one of the prizes for the winner is to take a professional photo with Tyra. (There is no joke to accompany that. Just statin' facts of the show.) Yes, I love this show because you are never sure what Tyra you will get in each episode. 

6. Here Comes Honey Boo Boo- So this is a new favorite of mine. So new that it premiered tonight (last night by the time I post this...hope future me is well rested...doubtful), and it is the most glorious thing I have ever watched. The whole show is a spin-off of Toddlers and Tiara's, which I will only watch with a group of people, because otherwise it feels really weird and creepy. Anywhoz, Honey Boo Boo is based off this girl Alana who is from a tiny town in Georgia (Oh GA, things are just terrible for you on T.V.). Alana and her family are coupon saving, pageant participating, redneck game winning people. Alana is known for drinking Go-Go Juice, which is mountain dew and red bull, and coming up with catchphrases that she doesn't realize are catchphrases. 

• "A dollar makes me holler, honey boo boo" 
• "You better redneckognize"
• (when talking about her gay uncle) "He's a poodle. He's a poodle cause he's got some fruit in his tank"
• "We're going to make you a pageant gay pig."
• *Her mother* "All that vajiggle jaggle is not beautimos"

The family is just as entertaining as Honey Boo Boo, who described her sisters in the first 5minutes using their family nicknames. 

• Pumpkin, 12: "She is the craziest." And she was. She participated in a game where you had to fish raw pigs feet out of a bucket of water...with your mouth. Yup, Pumpkin is crazy.
• Chickadee, 17: "She's the pregnantest" She was probably the thinnest member of the family...and she was pregnant. 
• Chubbs, 15: "She's my best friend, like my B. F. F" Yes this girls nickname is Chubbs. High self-esteem all around in this house.

The mother is 32. Do the math. Just do it. Ok, ok, I'll do it for you, yes that means June, the mother, was 15 when she had Chickadee. Sugar Bear, the father, is 40. (Cahhhhmmm ahhnnnnn the math!) Alright, so that makes him 23 when Chickadee was born. That means he impregnated the mother when she was 14 and he was 22. (So much math in this post...but it's sooo important). Apparently that's legal in the south, you can get married very young with parental consent. It's too much. I am 23 and I have never looked at a 15 year old and thought, "He looks like a swell baby daddy, lets get him barefoot and preggers". Never. Never. Never. But, hey, they've been together for at least 17yrs!

 

I am going to try and update you frequently on this show, because it is just the best show on television. Don't worry, you don't need to watch....I will be your eyes and ears. 

Reality T.V.: Greatest thing this side of the Atlantic

Bravo: Producers of Happiness

TLC: No longer the learning channel, but sooo much better

Fabulously Lost: Missing many hours of my life, but a-okay with it