Live Tweets and Rooftop Drunks

Life-Changer

Monday of last week was life-changing, and I am not just saying that because I am an overdramatic gay boy — I am serious. For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter (Why? Why don't you follow me? Don't be mean — follow me here.) I go through spurts of tweetering. Most days they are nonsensical tweets about how much caffeine I have had or the fashion faux pas I am constantly accosted with on the streets of DC. On Mondays though, during RuPaul's Drag Race, my Twitter feed becomes like a flaming, rainbow-infused, gay unicorn man.

(I told you he would be back.) 

I am overcome with the need to tweet every single thought that comes into my head. I become vicious and protective over my favorite queens, and I'm overly dismissive of the ones I dislike. Last Monday, I was overcome with joy when I discovered that Sally Jessy Raphael, the 90s steamy talk show host, watches the show just as religiously as I do. She tweets at the cast, and they respond, and she has even tweeted back and forth with Queen Bee Ru. (Mama Fab was not a fan of the show and did not like me watching it. Sooo... I watched it every single chance I got. I was enthralled.) 

I decided to randomly tweet at Sally (we are obvs on a first-name basis) at the beginning of the show to let her know I was excited for her updates. I often tweet at celebrities like we are old chums and have casual online relationships. I have thanked Jason Mraz for writing songs from my diary, Justin Timberlake for reminding me what lust felt like, and Barack Obama for the whole gay marriage thing. NBD — we are besties.

Ok, so, I tweeted at Sally, who didn't respond as per usual, and I went on with my business tweeting about the show. Mid-show, I decided to tweet at my old bffl Sally again because she had written something that made me lol, so I told her I adored her. THEN... OUT OF NOWHERE... SHE TWEETED AT ME!!! LIKE WTF!!! 

(She. Adores. Me. More. So. Many. Gay. Claps.)

I, obviously, had a conniption and tried to send a photo of the tweets to anyone who would respond. I don't think anyone could capture just how much I was tweaking out about this magnificent talk show host who tweeted at me. I tried to calmly go about my business for the rest of the night. At the end of the show, I sent a simple tweet off aimed at the show, because it isn't going to be on next week. AND THEN THE SHOW TWEETED BACK AT ME. WHAT THE WHAT IS HAPPENING??

(I'M CLAPPING WHILE I POST THIS.)

Right, so, I obviously had an intense Monday night and I am going to be reeling over this for weeks. I am basically a different level of fame that I wasn't expecting. (Statement dripping in sarcasm.) 

Housewarming

I moved to DC a solid two months ago, and I decided recently that it was finally time to show my place off to my friends. I wanted to make sure that it looked the best it possibly could... or fairly close. Honestly, my apartment could be a poor man's Target ad. (I'm not even saying that for you to feel bad, I am really proud that it looks as good as it does. Seriously. I can't afford a lot... but I got thrifty. *cue Macklemore*) That date was set for April 13th, and I even made a Facebook event... and invited 100 people. CAUSE THAT'S NORMAL. 

(I practiced this in the mirror. I'm going to start moonlighting as a 1950s actress... I think I've finally watched too much Drag Race.)

People began slowly clicking that they were going to attend, some letting me know they weren't able. Out of nowhere, a few weeks prior, I chatted with the parental unit about the party and let them know that I was having it... they jokingly said they were coming. I decided, because they are ridiculous, that I really did want them to come. After a lot of badgering by me (and some convos I made up/promises I claimed they made), they decided to come. I immediately updated the event and let the world know that they were coming and that they were bringing food and sangria... because. they. are. party. animals. (gay claps included) 

I thought I was solid with most of my friends, but the minute I put that Mama and Papa Fab were coming, the flood gates opened. I went from 20 people attending to more than 50. PANIC ENSUED. My friends from NY decided they were going to caravan down, my friends from Baltimore unanimously joined forces to come, and friends of friends were coming. My parents went from being casual attendees to being the main event. Their presence upstaged the whole reason for throwing the party — ME. (Because I am vain. And I like me. Duh.) To be honest though, I was more excited for my party now that they were coming... they even got a hotel room across the street so they could party like rockstars. 

(If Lindsay had my parents, she would be able to party and show up for work. #justsayin')

When the party day finally came, I was a wreck and began to think that no one was going to show. Luckily, I had my NY BFFL, Swifty (She is more than casually obsessed with Taylor. It's, like, a thing), with me to calm my nerves and feed me alcohol. People filtered in and before I knew it, we were up on the roof and my parents were helping me host the housewarming. Papa Fab was on the grill, Mama Fab was making sure people had food, and I was letting people into the building.

My favorite moment came when my Twin's sister rolled into the party with 10 people, all varying levels of drunk, and she freaked the freak out when she found my mother in the kitchen. She immediately began saying that the three of us needed to take a shot together and take a photo to send to Twin (who was in Chi-town... boo hiss). I was positive this was not going to happen, Mama Fab doesn't do things like shots. It doesn't happen. And then. It. Happened.

(Uhhhh DURHBLURP WHAAAT)

There are just absolutely no words. I knew, in that exact moment, that my party was going to be a success no mater what. I took a shot with my mother... and then we took another. Not only did she take a shot of Fireball, she said, "Mmm... cinnamon, that's not bad".... #idie. The night only got weirder from there with the neighbors I met, invited, and welcomed into my home to the shot that my parents took to the rousing round of Slap the Bag (a college game in which you take a bag of Franzia, slap it, and then suck as much of it out as possible). The night was an overall success.

We did, however, receive a noise complaint from the management company on Monday. I knew it was coming: We were loud, we had music playing, we were spread out across my apartment and the rooftop, it happens. My favorite part actually came later in the day on Monday when some of the residents had an unofficial resident BBQ. I sheepishly went up to introduce myself and potentially apologize to anyone who had to hear the party. Instead, when I got up there, I was met with a group of people who eagerly wanted to be included the next time. 

(YASSS *the homosexual way to say "Yes"*) 

Sally Jessy Raphael: My Newest Idol

Gay Unicorn Boy: Just replaced my inner child

Mama and Papa Fab: 10x cooler than me

Fabulously Lost: Flaming Party Throwing DC Homosexual

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)

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I love that the month of June is Pride month (even though I wish it were during a cooler month), and that there are parades and festivals across the country. During a time like this, when change is eminent, it is good to gather, be loud, and be proud of who we are to show the world. But holy ballz Batman, if Pride were every month my liver would be shot, my body would be constantly broken, and I'd have very little memory of what goes on in life. This past weekend was, dare I say, crazier than DC Pride...for me at least. If you have been following my stories at all, you understand that there was no way that Baltimore Pride could have been tame, considering I have dated more than half of the city. (Do we like how I refer to my experiences as "dating" people...) This is my Baltimore Pride Experience, for better or worse...

 I decided for this past weekend's experience that I wanted to actually make it out during the evening and not pass out at 11pm like I did for DC Pride. I was going to stay in and get crap done the night before and then make it to Baltimore by mid-afternoon. But as we all know, I can never resist a request for a good happy hour or night out on the town. Some of my first friends from freshman year of college asked to gather, get drinks/food, and get weird. I, of course, felt the need to oblige since I am nothing if not a people pleaser. Plus, when I was a freshman they were juniors in college and they had apartments and were getting ready to be real people and closer to 21 than I was. Basically, they were super cool to me and they liked having me around, ever since then they have been the "cool kids" to me...any opportunity to be invited to their "lunch table" was always exciting.

It ended in shambles and Mexican food. We  proceeded to share rounds of shots like we had discovered the last remaining bottle of tequila on Earth and if we didn't drink it, the recent outbreak of cannibalistic zombies would eat our faces off. (Too soon?) Things get hazy, Mexican food was randomly purchased, and a cab driver took us for a tour of DC because he assumed we didn't know where we were. All of that caused a late start for this tuckered out gentleman and pushed back my arrival to the gay parade.

When I finally arrived into Baltimore at my gay bffl's place, I was ready for the rainbow festivities begin. We got a quick drank before he suggested that we walk from Harbor East to Mt. Vernon (where Pride was being held). For those of you who are unaware of Baltimore geography, that is a bitch of a walk and completely unacceptable for someone like me, who sweats...a lot. (Annnd I wonder why I am single). Almost as quickly as he suggested it, I jumped in a cab and told him and some of our friends to have an enjoyable walk and made my way with two of my lady friends to the festival of colors.

Within moments of arriving  I was accosted with several people I have "dated" over the last year. First we had Betty Boop, who literally just stared at me with his mouth open as if he'd seen a ghost. Now, I had prepped myself for the fact that it was inevitable for me to run into some of the cray crays of my past, I also practiced many reactions and faces so I wouldn't look like Betty Boop did. I gave a half smile before scurrying off into the crowd and hoped that was the worst run-in of the day. (Hahahaha, we all know I do not poses the luck of the Irish, these run-ins would only get better from here)


Baltimore Pride is like one big clusterfuck on Charles Street in between the two main gay bars in the city. Everyone was just outside, drinking, eating, drinking, dancing, drinking and being ridiculous. I ran into some old gays from high school in the process. (Shout out to my Howard County Gays!....that just felt lame to type...) Before I left for the day my mother said one thing to me:

Mama Fabulous: It would be nice if you could find someone at this event. I mean...there will be a lot of options.


Yup, its gotten to the point where my parents pity my single life. I patted her on the arm and assured her I would keep an open mind up about meeting someone. When I met up with some co-workers at the block party I told them about the  request for me to meet someone and instead of laughing at me they asked me what I would want....sooooo now everyone is over my single status. JOKES ON ME.

Co-worker: What's your ideal man, absolute perfect person.
Me: Ethnic
Co-worker: I don't know what to do with that, I need more.
Me: Tall, ethnic
Co-worker: This is why you are single. 
Me: Ughhh.... 6'-6'4", black/mixed, light eyes, more masculine than me, hunky
Co-worker: I should've guessed that. 
Me: I mean....you asked...whatever....he doesn't exist. Single foreverrrrr
Co-worker: Glad to see you aren't dramatic, I'll keep my eyes open.




After roaming around and having a god awful fruity drink, we ended up at City Cafe at the end of one of the blocks. Drinks were flowing there and it was a good place to wait out the heat. Within moments I became friends with a rando who was wearing the same J Crew shorts as me. He was a tall black man (surrrprissseeeeee) who happened to work in the same building as me. We hit it off and even took a picture together. My follow through was terrible. We didn't exchange numbers, names, or anything beyond witty banter and some drinks. Failed attempt at love #1.


It was also at this point that Baltimore Frandz decided we were only going to drink "clear" liquids for the rest of the day. This would avoid the issue of spilling fruity drinks on our outfits and feeling bloated from too much beer. This also ensured that we were all going to be...sloppy(?) by the end of the evening. Gin and tonics also seemed like the "healthiest" choice with the fewest calories. (We did everything in our power to talk ourselves into this being a good idea)


But it was a good idea....because....because....I FELL IN LOVE. It's true. I found someone at Pride! Baltimore Frandz went into Central and went to the upstairs lounge area, where I immediately ran into MIGHTY DUCK, who literally looked me up and down, turned to the queens flocking him on either side and said "There's nothing for us to see up here...let's go". How the mother effing hell did I just get dissed by someone who wore a feather suit to the bar as "high fashion." FEATHERS!

I was obviously feeling dejected and down by this display of gay prosecution and needed a drank...fast. That's when I fell in love. A 6'2" black man with a great smile made initial eyecontact with me and we started making eyes at each other from across the bar. (which means, since I was drunk, that I was probably awkwardly licking my lips and bugging my eyes out...you know...to show my love.)

(The only time Megan Fox and I will ever look similar...)

I guess my exotic mating ritual enticed this gentleman enough to walk over and start flirting it up with me. 

PrideLover: You are so beautiful, it's captivating

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHA, I mean, HAHAHHAHA

PrideLover: What's so funny?

Me: Uhh...oh...you were serious. Umm...I was laughing....dropped drink.

PrideLover: You dropped your drink? Aren't you holding it in your hands?

Me: Person behind bar. And they. Thank you

PrideLover: Haha, you're adorable. Let me get you a drink.

I am not really sure how I was adorable in anything that I did there but we ended up talking for awhile going back and forth. We met each others friends and we even exchanged numbers. Outside of the slight intoxication, it's one of the most normal ways I have met someone in a long time. PrideLover even exchanged numbers with one of my bffl's while I was in the bathroom, to make sure we would end up going out on a date. 

I am most thankful for the fact that we parted ways a little bit later before he watched me scarf down jalapeno poppers like it was my job...and burning the entire roof of my mouth in the process. (because I am classy like that..). The next day he texted both me and my Baltimore bffl to make sure we had fun and confirm that he was, in fact, still interested. I had forgotten I had fallen in love, but was invigorated by the texting and fell right back into it. 

I told a couple of my friends about it and my Brazilian bffl had some choice words about my new found relationship. 

Brazilian Bffl: I give it two weeks

Me: But I have found true love 

Brazilian Bffl: You find love every week, you get bored, and you move on. I give him two weeks

Me: You are not the boss of my heart. It beats to a different drum

Brazilian Bffl: Mhmm, two weeks.

Obviously she has little faith in my ability to find a suitable suitor, but I won't let her get me down. (to be fair...my track record...well, I write a blog about the pitfalls of my dating life. Maybe she's right?) I had another friend semi-belittle the experience.

NJ Bffl: I think its so great how often you fall in love!

Me: I meann...what?

NJ Bffl: I just think its great you have so many adventures and put your all into them

Me: Adventures are my thing, check out my OkCupid profile...I write a whole section about my adventurous life style. 

(Read Also: I lie on my profile about my adventurous lifestyle)

NJ Bffl: Maybe you don't fall in LOVE but more like LUV

Me: Rude

It seems my friends can't decide if they are desperate for me to not be desperate anymore or if they have lost faith in my dating life. Maybe a little of both? Either way I have a date with PrideLover on Tuesday of next week....we will find out how long true love really lasts.

Also, Mama and Padre Fabulous decided to take in the Pride Festival in Baltimore on Sunday for Father's Day. I'd like to point out, that while this gesture is completely and totally awesome and wonderful....it sucks for me. You may ask why? Well, since they are so freakin' accepting of me and supportive, it eliminates the possibility of me writing about a dysfunctional background or having a deep dark past. I will never be a moody songwriter or have a best selling book about my life turned into a Lifetime Movie (Every gay boy can have dreams...can't he??) So thanks Parental Units, thank you for bringing me up in a totally normal home where I was allowed to be myself and you still liked me. Rude. Just ruddeee. 

Fabulously Lost: In love with a stripper and PrideLover and Straight CT (Sooo maybe friendz have a point)

Friends: Faithless heathens 

PrideLover: Unaware of what he got himself into

Parents: Accepting and Loving...and rude.