And Then There Were None

Where have I been? That's a really good question. I have been awkwardly neglectful and stressed about my absence. Part of it is my own fault, part of it is work, part of it is doing research. (Research? Did I just try to make myself important? DID I? Yes, yes I did.) When I say research, what I mean is that I have been tirelessly going on dates for the last month. Remember that time that I made a promise to go on a certain number of dates before the middle of May? Cahmmm ahnnn, you remember. Fine, read it HERE. Well, I want to discuss the dates with you... in detail... now.

Date One: The Peaceful Snob

The first date I went on was at the very end of April. It was casual and friendly and not filled with any of the sparks or butterflies that you would want from a relationship starting date. The guy was a hippie teacher who had spent a couple of years in the Peace Corps. (Do you see where issues might arise? DO YOU?) I had decided that this date was going to be amazingly interesting and culturally enlightening, or a complete and total whack job. 

This was kinda the opposite of everything I thought it was going to be. The date started off normal enough with us making small talk about our lives and where we are in our careers. He fit all of the basic criteria for a mate: 29, teacher, tall, seemed to be grounded, witty. Then things took a turn when we began discussing his time in Africa. Out of nowhere he became a travel snob and started discussing his family's wealth. 

(Joan is perfect for expressing CONSTANT SURPRISE and mild annoyance. Thanks, Botox.)

I was slapped in the face with this. I wasn't expecting it. How does one prepare for this? You have just spent TWO years of your life working for the needy, the poor, the down trodden and the thing you want to discuss with me is the traveling you did? Not only did he tell me all the countries he visited, he then went into the trips he was able to take with his family. I think he told me about this one kid he helped once, and it was "like pretty cool."

I wasn't really sure how to continue the date after that. We tried to move on but I was so dumbfounded that I am sure I didn't make sense. Peace Snob just went about his business and continued to bring the convo back to himself. We parted ways with an awkward handshake/handhold thing and a promise of a second date... THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN.

Date Two: The Intense Latino

So date two was a bit more promising than the first. The guy was a hefty Latino man who worked as a lobbyist. We met at my go-to place, Crios, in Dupont Circle. I go there for two reasons: (1) It's easy/close to where I live, and (2) They have fucking delicious margaritas, and if I can't enjoy the date I can at least get tipsy.

Latino Heat was obviously into the idea of a Mexican restaurant as well. We had decent conversation at the beginning and then got really deep into family shit. I usually get weird about this stuff, but I let it slide after the second marg. (Let's cool it on the judgement. Two more margs and we would have an issue.) After we finished our dinner, we slowly made our way up the street and when I turned to say goodbye, he went in for the kiss. Because I am a gentleman I didn't stop him... but I felt... nothing, literally, nothing. It felt like I was kissing one of my best girlfriends... nice to have lips on me but not really doing anything below the neck. (Wink, WINK.)

Despite the less than exciting experience, I decided to go on a second date with him to see if the sparks could be found. Unfortunately for him, our second date coincided with a massive work emergency that ended up consuming my attention for most of our date. We went to Mellow Mushroom in Adams Morgan, also not far from where I live (I'm a man of convenience), and nommed on some pizza. The sparks were far from present, and as I walked back to my apartment, I decided to let this fizzle out. 

Unfortunately for me, Latino Heat seemed to think we were a match made in heaven. He began texting me incessantly about hanging out again. I told him about my busy work schedule and then decided not to text him back. Then, in a period of 24 hours, he texted me 8 times. Eight. OCHO. ACHT. ATE. EiGhT. 

(ZOINKS)

I didn't know what to do with all of them. They ranged from normal checking in to increasingly creepy and clingy. 

Text 1: Hey, I know you are busy and stuff, I just wanted to check in and make sure you are okay. 

Text 3: Hey, I haven't heard from you. I was thinking our next date could be something casual and intimate. 

Text 5: So I really think we could have something special, let me make you dinner this week. 

Text 8: I have looked at your OkCupid profile a few more times, and I really agree with it that we are a match. I think we should make a go of it. 

I'm sorry... you are continuing to look at my OkC profile? WHAT? WHO ADMITS THAT? He might be admitting it because you can SEE when someone has looked at your profile. He actually looked at my profile every day for a week. I just... I just... I can't. MATCH FAIL. 

Date Three: Tiny and Bland

To round out this trifecta, I decided to go on one last date in May before I headed to Miami for my work/vacation trip. This guy was cute, dark, and gainfully employed as a consultant. (Read also: my dream man.) We were messaging back and forth, and he had some painfully adorable lines that swayed me into a date. The one thing that was holding me back was his height. Tiny Dancer was all of 5'6" to my 6'1" frame. 

(Just not my cup of tea.)

I sucked it up and went on the date anyways. I had somehow convinced Tiny Dancer to go to Crios with me after a rather long Friday at work. (Man. Of. Convenience.) We had a lot in common and the conversation just kinda flowed between us. There wasn't a great deal of attraction, mainly because I considered bringing a booster seat on the date, but he was nice, nonetheless. We had a few sticking points where I knew we wouldn't work out in the long run — beyond the height. 

1. He had a rule against having any alcoholic beverages after 9pm. Ever. 

     2.  He was a Republican. (No offense, Republican readers... I'm just... I... well, it's a thing.)

(This is from Aubrey O'Days stint on RuPaul's Drag Race. She, surprisingly, is not a drag queen.)

     3. Finally, the worst offense, he didn't like reality TV, especially Bravo. 

(If anyone can give a "Bitch Please" face, its Madame Hillary Effing Clinton.)

I am fairly certain he felt the same about my liberal, reality TV watching, hard partying ways. Plus, I was a giant next to him... and girl, that ain't cute. As if he needed an extra thing against me, the gorgeous host at Crios called me out. Close to the end of the date, the host swung by and stood near me, looking me up and down for a second. 

Cahhhute Host: You've come here before. A lot. You always have fun boys with you. 

Me: *shocked* Way to blow up my spot! 

Tiny Dancer: Fun boys?

Me: I hang out with a lot of gays? I like Tex-Mex. THEY HAVE GOOD BRUNCH.

Cahhhute Host: See! I told you, you're so funny! 

Anddd, another one bites the dust. 

Last week I was in Miami, this weekend is DC Pride, next week I'm in Chicago, and then I am going to NYC Pride. I want to update you on all of these things, Amanda Bynes, and the future of my liver. (Hint: It's not a bright one.)

Peace Snob: A new type of terrible 

Latino Heat: A hunk, a hunk of CREEPY LOVE

Tiny Dancer: Fell just short of being terrific. (See what I did there, DO YOU?)

Fabulously Lost: Hot Mess, since '88

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

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