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

Gay Urban Dictionary

Over the years I have always prided myself on the fact that I have been completely and totally honest with all of my friends and family. If people ask me about my coming out experience, I have gladly recounted every detail (because why wouldn't I want to talk about myself endlessly?). There are some terms in that are very specific for the gay community that we have decided to adapt to mean new and weird things. It's away of further segregating ourselves into groups within our own, already segregated, group (SUPER HEALTHY). I just thought it would be lovely to include all of you in on these terms, because as we begin to force equality on America...these terms might become more prevalent. Basically I am your "Gay Mr. Miyagi", except 10x cuter...and not Asian...or ancient. (fahhhk, ok I am just your gay sansei. OK?) So here it goes, here are the terms of the gays.

(RAINBOW SHOOTING CHOPSTICKS!! ok I never claimed to be good with photoshop)

1. Twink: Does this term sound weird and made up to you? That's because it is, we made it up. When most people here "Twink" they usually think it will finish with "ie", you know, to make it "twinkie." Alas, that has nothing to do with what we use the word for. A Twink is a young looking skinny gay male, usually in their early 20s with absolutely no facial hair. Most Twinks are also a little more feminine in nature. Try saying Twink over and over again without smiling at the ridiculousness of the word and the definition. I DARE YOU.

(Little Jesse McCartney was such a twink. I was in love with him at 15. I don't wanna talk about it)

2. Bear - This is where things get a little weird. (Whaaaat??? They weren't weird with Twink??) For some reason, unbeknownst to me, many moons ago the gays decided that their subgroups needed to be aligned with animals. Maybe it is because we are animalistic creatures who enjoy a good time. Maybe it's because we got lazy after coming up with Twink, that the idea of going all Shakespeare on the gay community was a little too much for us. I will never know the right answer, but I can most certainly report on these oddities and their definitions. Anywhoz, a Bear is generally a bigger, hairy, gay man (Think lumberjack). There is some debate within the community about whether someone who is not "bigger" can be considered a Bear if they are just muscle-y and hairy. Due to the inner feuding over this prestigious title, you will hear someone who has lots of muscles, but isn't overweight, being referred to as a Muscle Bear. Either way, you kinda get the picture. Bears are manly men. (oh, and if you are a young bigger guy, you are referred to as a Cub)

(This is a real movie. It is available on Netflix. I thoroughly enjoyed it, so suck it)

3. Otter - What is with this madness around animals??? I have no idea. Anywhoz, an Otter is a skinny hairy man (We realllllyyy focus on the hair thing). This is a term, frankly, that I discovered middle of last year. I chuckled when I heard it....

(Um, so you can probably imagine a skinny hairy guy. LOOK AT THIS CUTE OTTER? What a darling)

4. Drag Queen/ Transgender - The reason I put these two things together is because they are two completely different things that people seem to confuse on the reg. A Drag Queen is a man who dresses up as a woman (Did you see how I didn't use a "gay" man...cause straight peeps do it too). A person who is Transgender is someone who identifies with the anatomy of the sex they weren't born with. Therefore a Trans Man is a man who was born with a vagina, but their gender identity is that of a male. BOOM. MIND BLOWN. YOURE WELCOME. (Also...don't use trannie, it is super derogatory.)

(Fabulous show. Ridiculous contests. AMAZING guest hosts)

5. Gold Star Gay - This refers to a gay man who has never slept with, or really done anything sexually, with a female. Some gay men will try to make themselves seem more experienced with women by calling themselves "Silver Star" or "Bronze Star" depending on how far they have gone with women. It's another foolish competition that I have most certainly fallen into the traps of. I am pretty much a Gold Star Gay. At this point in my life I am fairly allergic to vagina. 

(Vagina free since....well for a very long time)

6. Breeder - This may come as a shock to some, but this is a gay term for straight people. It's kind of like our way of calling straight people Muggles (cause everything comes back to Harry Potter). If you haven't figured it out yet, straight people are called  Breeders because they are able to procreate the traditional way. Some say it out of disgust "Ewww, this place is crawling with Breeders, let's go." While others, like myself, use it in a very matter of fact way, "I have many breeder friends who are not ready to breed just yet."

(the gayest superhero duo to ever exist...)

7. Fruit Fly- This is another term that generally refers to a straight person. This is a much nicer way of saying F** Hag, which I loathe with every bone in my body. Basically, a straight female who spends all of her time with gay men and seems to attract gay best friends on the reg can be referred to as a Fruit Fly. Some famous Fruit Flies include Kathy Griffin, Cher, and Grace Adler. 

(But, like, I love her. #typical)

Let's go ahead and treat this as a Gay Urban Dictionary, Pt. 1, because there are plenty of other terms that we use and categories we separate ourselves into to make life more complicated. 

Also...I think I am going on a second date with an OkCupid guy... WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TOO??? I'll explain more next week. 

Gay Community: Full of hierarchies that all finish with someone on the bottom *wink, wink, nudge nudge* (Get it??hehehe)

Fabulously Lost: Just looking for my love connection and maybe a fruit fly or two along the way. 

Breeders: Welcome here, but not everywhere. (HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL??? Ok, so if you are reading this blog, you probably aren't the ones who are unwelcoming to gay people. I get it. I'm sorry. Now I feel bad. Ughhh)