Liebster Award!

Before I explain what the title of this post means I want to explain where I was last week. You see, I have this issue where I work too much for my own good and I get really tired. After I got back from New York I worked nonstop and by the time I got home, all I wanted to do was veg out and watch some Sabrina the Teenage Witch (Yes, grown adults can watch a T.V. show about a teenage witch. No, I don't feel weird about it. You're the weird one. #rude) Anywho, I was also really sick the whole week, so I whined a lot and spent a lot of time wearing my "Look! I've given up on life" clothing. It wasn't pretty. These are all excuses for my extreme laziness....but...HERE I AM!

(This is what I imagine all of you doing when seeing that I have posted. Also, based off of commercials, this is how I feel it must be to have a tampon.)

Ok, so, you may be asking yourself what the hell is this Liebster Award and why on God's green earth should you care, right? Welp, I asked myself the same thing and I was honored to find out my good friend and fellow blogger Arielle nominated me for this lovely award. (She lives a rad life on a yacht working as a nanny and traveling the globe. She blogs about her travels. I hate/love her. #heyjealousy) It goes to up and coming bloggers and is a way for us to share each others blogs with our audiences. It's a good way of promoting each other, but also a fun and new way to be vain. Blogging is already pretty vain because we assume people are going to enjoy reading our work and we assume we are talented enough to write. I get it, I embrace it, I am vain and I do think this song is about me. (Ughhh I just want you to like me... please don't judge me) Part of receiving this award is writing a post where you answer questions about yourself and post facts about yourself. Below you are going to get to find out so much info about me! GET EXCITED! 

Here are the rules of the post: 

• When you receive the award, you post 11 random facts about yourself and answer 11 questions from the person who nominated you.
• Pass the award onto 11 other blogs (make sure you tell them you nominated them!) and ask them 11 questions.
• You are not allowed to nominate the blog who nominated you!
• Make sure the blogs you chose have 200 or LESS followers

I'm adding a challenge for myself - Each fact will turn into a future post, promising you 11 posts in the near future. BOOM. CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. (I just overwhelmed myself. I need more coffee): 

11 Facts: 

1. The first time I ever left the country was in March 2010 when I went to Oman and Qatar in the Middle East. (Facts: They don't like gay people. Facts: It's hard to contain fabulousness.)

2. The first time I went to NY without my parents was on a field trip in 10th grade. I lied to my teacher and told her I knew my way around the city. We ended up walking from 79th and Columbus to 28th and 7th. (If you are slow with math...I made them walk 51 blocks because I was too proud to admit I was wrong)

3. I spent 6months in high school using my homosexuality as a way to climb the social circuit. (I fancied myself the gay Regina George) To this day, I have never been as cool as I was during those 6 months. 

4. To lose weight in college I would make my "drunk food" before going out. I would save money and then I wouldn't feel as bad about eating, because it was a sandwich or a salad. (The bag of chips I devoured to accompany it never helped)

5. I worked at a gym in college and refused to conform to the dress code because I didn't think black polos did anything for my body type (Read also: round). So I would wear button downs underneath the black polo's to add "pizzaz" and I wore boat shoes instead of sneakers. (Sometimes I hate/love 18yr old me)

6. I am in the process of planing a trip to Spain to visit one of my best friends from college. Our similar interests include: Tequila, Spanish men, Will&Grace, European Men, Tequila, gay clubs, Tequila, and Patron. (This will be happening in April/May. Updates to come)

7. I have always casually wished my life were a 90s sitcom/teen dramady. (Literally, that's just a fact. No need to explain further)

8. When I picked up my coffee this morning the Starbucks barista hit on me because I am wearing a California sweatshirt. During the hitting on process, he told me he has no car, lives with his parents (Shut it...I'm moving out soon), and would like to live a drifter lifestyle. He asked if I wanted to hangout sometime....I said yes and gave him my number. (Facts: I have no standards)

9. My ultimate life dream would be to be on a talk show. If I could be Regis Philban, I would literally die of sheer happiness. 

10. I have a list of celebrity women I would go straight for. (Ehhhh...women I would love to be best friends with is probs a better description)

11. I have three songs that I am convinced I can sing and would get me a record deal if the right people heard me sing them. I cannot sing any other songs. I would be a three hit wonder. (One of the songs is from Rent...so a 2-hit wonder)

Answers to Arielle's questions: 

Where is your favorite place you’ve been to so far?

• I am going to answer this based off of places outside of the country (cause I love 'Murica and I have to many fav places here). I would have to say, at the moment, I had the most fun in Muscat, Oman. I was 21 and was with an amazing group of people. I snorkeled in the Arabian sea...surreal. 

What is one of your pet peeves?

• I have actually written a piece about Things I Arbitrarily Hate, but I have lots of pet peeves. One of my biggest ones, and I blame Papa Fabulous for this one, is chewing with your mouth open. The answer is no, I don't like "See-food" (HAHAH GET IT. No. I hate you food showers)

What are three things you can’t live without?

• Christmas, my Family, and cheese. (I fucking love cheese and I'm proud of it)

Where is your least favorite place you’ve been to so far?

• This is very specific. I disliked the Milwaukee Airport in Wisconsin. Why, you might ask? Because my flight to LA last year went through there and when I arrived at 8pm thinking I was going to get a nice meal during my 3hr delay (due to an irrational amount of snow) I found that EVERYTHING had closed. Like literally, the airport shut down around 7:30pm. I asked if this was due to the snow...and they said they just closed every night at 7:30pm. HOW? How is that a sustainable business model? I shake my fist at you Milwaukee. 

Where have you been that surprised you in terms of what you were expecting?

• Ummm...I would say its more so the people I was surprised by. There are these two fabulous Pakistani girls who I met in Qatar that I have stayed in touch through Facebook. I never told them I was gay when I was there, but since they are my fb friends, they see all the flamboyant things I post. They have liked and commented on a lot of my posts about equal rights. #swoon

What’s your favorite book?

• I love reading. If I had to choose one...I would have to say Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris. My parents got me a signed first edition copy of the book. Also...Kathy Griffin's book made me pee my pants a little. 

What is your favorite animal?

• Hippogriff 

What has been your proudest moment so far?

• Ugh, DEEP question. I would have to say being asked to be my best friends Man of Honor was a pretty big deal. Breaking gender stereotypes and getting to stand next to her on her wedding day was big for me. (So emotional. Ugh)

What is your favorite food?

• See also: Things I cannot live without

What is one thing you regret?

• I ate pop-tarts and cheetos right before getting a stomach virus in middle school. I have never been able to have either one of those things since. I wish I had had something like brussel sprouts or kale. 

If you had three wishes, what would they be?

• I would normally go the route of the beauty pageant and say "World peace" or some shit like that, but I'm gonna go ahead and say what everyone is thinking and not saying. 

1. I want to do dirty things with Ryan Gosling and Usher at the same time. Then I want to live a polygamist lifestyle with them.
2. I want Adele to sing at my unconventional wedding to Usher and Ryan Gosling
3. I want to be best friends with Emma Stone and Taylor Swift. (We can write songs and make each other laugh and discuss Christmas Tree Farms. Plus Emma and I can discuss Ryan Gosling's rockin' bod and she can tell me how he talks about my sweet love making skills on set. #dreamz)

                                                                                             

(Ryan is obviously eagerly waiting me)     

        

 (OMG I sweat too Usher! #twinsies)

                    

Now: 11 Q's from me to my fav bloggers: 

1. What is your spirit animal? (Betty White is my main one, but I have a couple)

2. If you could be rich and famous like the Kardashians, would you be okay with a sex tape being released? (this one has boggled me for years. I'm still not sure)

3. In a fight to the death, who would you bet your money on: Taylor Swift or Miley Cyrus? Why?

4. Favorite Housewife from The Real Housewives series?

5.  If you had to go blind or lose the ability to walk, which would you choose? YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE ONE.

6. What would be the one food you could eat every day for the rest of your life?

7. Favorite song?

8. Harry Potter or Sabrina the Teenage Witch - which type of magical powers would you like to have?

9. If you could be the most amazing dancer or singer in the world...which would you choose? (I go dancer because I can already sing three songs pretty amazingly)

10. Who is your favorite diva?

11. What is your most embarrassing moment?

11 Blogs I love (or however many I name...cause idk if I can name 11):

http://ericajmoss.com/

http://lizzybess.blogspot.com/

http://joshuavjohn.com/

http://www.jennpedde.com/

Real Talk: I read a lot of mainstream blogs that have way more than 200 readers. HELL, these blogs above might have more than 200 readers. I think I need to start being more hipster about my blog choices....more things to work on. 

So, as you can see, this was a total vanity piece...BUT...I have also promised to elaborate on the 11 facts from above. I will start....TOMORROW. Look out for a post about one of the 11 facts. 

Fabulously Lost: Casually vain, hardcore interested in being Regis Philiban

Arielle: Awesome fellow blogger

Nominated Bloggers: I have only told one so far...others still in the dark

A Family of Weird

Quick update: I went on a lame date last week with a teacher. I don't have anything to write about...the whole thing was super vanilla. He wasn't a bad person, or weird, or anything. He just existed. I kept trying of things to make the date witty or fun, but it was just there. We went to dinner, we talked a bit, we went home. NO SPARKS. I am, however, going on a date with a lovely British man this Monday...

(I say lovely...but it's a blind date and we all know how well they turn out for me.)

I have a lot of weird tendencies and I am generally a pretty "eccentric" (read also: nuts) person. We all know this and have made peace with this (read also: therapy), but all this wonderful craziness had to come from somewhere...right? Well it did. A lot of my oddness (which I also like to refer as "lovable quirks") comes from Mama and Papa Fabulous. You see, they have been an ever present force in my life from the time that I was really little. They are obnoxiously accepting and are also an amazing role model for what marriage should be about. (They have also ruined my expectations of what should be "normal"....jerks.) They have actually gotten weirder as my brothers and I have gotten older, thus making me feel it was safe to let out all of my weirdness. (I'll show them weird! #stillsingle #celibacy2012).

Until very recently I have been under the impression that Mama Fab had never really drank too much in her younger years and that the one time she did, she got very sick and never had beer again. (To her credit, she doesn't ever drink beer.) The stories began to shift and change after my younger brother turned 21 and we were all above the drinking age. All of a sudden we began drinking a bit more as a family and discussing things that had only been briefly mentioned in passing. We, as a family, enjoy a beverage...or two...

(The blue one looks like a very good bad decision to make.)

Anywhoz, two weeks ago, when I spent the weekend submerged in other peoples love stories, I had a breather moment from weddings and engagements where I was able to go out with my date for the weekend, British Cowgirl. (She was born in Philly, spent 7yrs in England and now fancies herself a life in the wild, wild west.) When we got back to my parents house from one wedding function, we were geared up to grab a cab and go get drunk with some townies. Instead, we were met by Mama and Papa Fabulous who were giggling as they were decorating the house for my older brothers engagement party.  It took me only a few moments to realize that they had been going to town on my box of wine that I was given by my Twin for my birthday. 

(Slap-a-da-bagggg. The only way this moment could have been more perfect is if they were doing this)

There was logic that went into their choice to devour the boxed wine and it was truly flawless. They wanted to have a classy brunch for the engagement and having boxed wine on the counter would detract from the classiness. (A notion I will readily disagree with, but it wasn't my engagement party. And also may be why I am single) Because of their sound logic, British Cowgirl and I decided it was only right to help them out on this quest to rid the house of my prized Franzia. We filled goblets up with the savory Chablis and sat down for a 90min pep-talk with my parents. 

British Cowgirl and I had been making jokes that we were going to form the "Singles Room" at the party, knowing full well that we would be the only singles at the party. I guess my parents didn't take kindly to this, so they began telling us about how we will find love that we deserve. Honestly, it was such a self-esteem booster because they believed everything they said. We sat there and listened and squeezed the bag dry before we left them to finish their decorating and go out. The next morning all parties involved were a little hungover and forced to entertain for hours. However, I will never forget the night that I killed a box of wine with Mama and Papa Fabulous. 

(THEY HAVE BOXED WINE TASTINGS!!!!! It's the little things in life)

Papa Fabulous has other quirks outside of drinking boxed wine, he has also planned out how his funeral should play out and what he wants our grandkids to call him. (Not in that order. Thats creepy.)

When my brothers and I were younger we would ask really weird questions of my parents on our trips up to Maine. One year, right around when I was 9 or 10, we asked our parents how they would want to be buried/where they would want to be buried when they died. (Looking back, we were morbid weirdos...who wants to plan their parents funerals??) Mama Fabulous has always been a bit like the perfect mother. She used to sing us lullabies, held us when we were sick, read us stories with different voices, and volunteered her time at our schools. Her answer to the question fit perfectly in line with what we would have expected. 

Mama Fabulous: I don't want you to have to go visit a grave to "see me." I would love it if you had me cremated and then planted a tree and poured the ashes over it. Then, whenever you see a tree like that, you will see me. 

WHAT THE HELL?? She is like Mother Theresa. Like that is literally the best effing answer you could've ever told a child. Mama Fab for the win! Now, Papa Fabulous took a much different route with his answers. He was also a great parent who coached soccer teams, made us Saturday morning breakfast, and came up with the lullaby "Go to sleep, go to sleep, you rotten little creeps". Anywhoz, Papa Fab took a moment to think about it and then, without hesitation, stated an elaborate plan for his funeral. 

Papa Fabulous: I would like a funeral pyre. Not just any old funeral pyre, but a viking one. I would like for you to wrap my body up, put it on a wood canoe (nothing elaborate!), and then push me out to see or to the middle of a lake. Then you will have to shoot a flaming arrow onto the boat and you can watch it go up into flames. There is no way you will be sad then...that's just cool. 

(there are some really fucked up pics when you search "funeral pyre." Just sayin')

Like...I have no words for that. We all burst out laughing and just said Papa Fab was being cooky and trying to make us laugh. The funniest part, though, is that this still stands 15 years later. We still discuss it and, in all seriousness, my father claims he wants a traditional viking funeral. 

Outside of planning their funerals, my parents also like to plan ahead for when we have children. (They want me to have lots of little gaybies.) Recent conversations have revolved around what they are going to be called by our unborn children. Mama Fab decided that instead of us wondering what our kids should call them, they would just tell us. 

Mama Fab: I want to be called Oma (German word for Grandma) It's easy for children to say and it has history with the family. 

Papa Fab: I don't want to be called Opa. I'm not German. That just doesn't sound right. 

Mama Fab: Then what do you want to be called? No one is forcing you to be Opa. 

Papa Fab: Hmm...I want the kids to call me Thor. 

That's right folks, he wants to be called Thor, like the mythical God of thunder. This began a semi-serious fight with my younger brother, who decided my father should be called Odin, Thor's father. (I think it's secretly because he wants to be Thor, which would make my father Odin. As I write this, I have decided to start calling him Odin. Because I am nice.) 

(Oh hey kids, there's Thor, just smiting some weird creatures.)

My family is fabulously weird and wonderful. On election night earlier this week my mother and I drunkenly sobbed on the phone to each other over the legalization of marriage equality in the state of MD. Weird or not, I am pretty lucky. 

I am currently, moments away, from getting off a bus in NYC. As you all remember, I have torrid love affair with this amazing city and I have also had some weird adventures. I promise to update Monday with the weird happenings of this crazy hipster filled city. 

Mama Fabulous: Mother Theresa with a cosmo

Papa Fabulous: A true viking 

Fabulously Lost: High standards, high tolerance, high chance of destruction 

Hocus Pocus: A Gay Halloween Story

Ho, Ho, Ho and a MERRRRYYYY....Halloween? (Well technically, at this point, it is the day after Halloween. Whatever, you get it.) Halloween is a time for children to walk up to stranger homes that they were previously told they were not supposed to walk up to, and ask them for candy, which they are normally never supposed to accept. It is a time for ladies and gentlemen to dress up in costumes they would never be caught in on any other night of the year. (except in the bedroom. *wink, wink* ughhh you're right #celibacy2012) And it is a night that I dread with every fiber of my being. Every. Fiber.

I know, I know, how can someone who loves this time of year as much as I do, dread one of the biggest holidays of the season? A lot of it revolves around the fact that I am terrible at coming up with ideas for costumes. I always choke and think of something super lame and predictable, it happens every year. When I was younger I stuck with two things I knew I could pull off...Vampire (I made it cool. Suck it Twilight) and Elvis (Because I could raise my lip in that weird way. Clever). When I got to college I realized that girls generally took off as much clothing as possible, while still covering the essentials, and guys were the counterparts to their girlfriends outfits. (Sexy Nurse/Doctor, Sexy Nun/Horny Priest, etc.). Well, I never had a girlfriend (duh) so I was left to come up with costumes on my own...and I was awful with it. My senior year of college I dressed up like the bouncers from my favorite bar....I put on a yellow shirt and shorts, that was it. (You know you drink too much when...).

Last year was my first year doing things with the gays for Halloween and it was the first year that I was mildly excited about the holiday. There was a big Heaven/Hell themed party at my favorite gay bar in Baltimore and I had a solid group of gays to go with. The only thing I struggled with was coming up with a costume that was both clever and mildly attractive (because I had high hopes for taking home a hot zombie). 

(Apparently sexy male zombies don't exist...so I found a vamp. #kissmeImirish)

As I racked my brain for this clever costume, I began to realize time was not on my side, mainly because I decided to wait until the day of the party to think of a costume. At the very last minute I decided to go to the hardware store around the corner from my townhouse and get a construction workers hat and a tool belt. If I was going to be something, I should at least make it as unbelievable as possible. (Halloween - where dreams come true). I was ecstatic that I finally had something and could  make my way over to  Gay Bffl's apartment, obviously with a hammer in my belt and my favorite jeans now ripped at the knee (I needed to make it look real? Ugh, I don't know what construction workers wear). When the door to his place opened (I was trying to look as butch as possible) I was greeted by the Gay Bffl and his boyfriend dressed up like a cowboy and a Native American. Not a big deal right? Well then I rounded the corner of the apartment and found my other friends dressed up like a cop and a biker. My gay friends, inadvertently, dressed up like the Village People. 

(I had a yellow hat on. Cause I'm authentic. I also had on a full shirt. Again, I'm authentic)

But, like, that is probably the gayest thing that has ever happened to me (shhh #celibacy2012). We weren't even trying to dress up like the gayest group of men out there...it just happened. We out-gayed ourselves, which I, honestly, didn't even think was humanly possible. After we all chuckled about it for a few minutes we ended up getting all sorts of schwastey before making our way to the club to dance and drink more in our accidentally coordinated outfits. 

The night was perfect. We danced a lot and I met an attractive "Go-Go Dancer" (it was his excuse to wear as little as possible) and macked it on the dance floor with him most of the night. After copious amounts of dancing and fun, my group pried me away from my new found love interest to take me home. (In retrospect, I still am annoyed at them for that.Ughhh he could go-go anywhere with me. Getttt itttt?). When we finally made it outside as a group, there were very few cabs and lots of sloppy drunk people in costumes trying to get into them. Since my group was so large we decided to split up; I was taking a group of the very drunk people and Gay Bffl was taking a group of the drunk people. FOOL PROOF PLAN, right? False. We didn't account for the other drunkards trying to get cabs. 

As I was about to step into the cab with my three drunk friends in the backseat, this little twink dressed as a fairy ran up to confront me. 

Fairy Twink: Excuse me, that's my cab. 

Me: Um, I am pretty sure those are my drunk friends in the backseat...so you're wrong.

Fairy Twink: We had it first.

Me: Again, I don't think ya did. You were nowhere near it when we got in. So...shew little fairy. 

Fairy Twink: Bitch, thats my cab.

That's when the little Fairy Twink took his cigarette and attempted to jab it into my neck.  We allll know, I don't deal well with people trying to attack me, but before I could smack this kids hand out of the way, Gay Bffl jumped in and did it for me. Before I knew it, there was a swarm of people by our cab and the cab driver was kicking us out because he saw a storm a-brewin'. 

Within moments this Fairy Twink's friends had formed a group and were starting to shove and push my group of 6. There was some pushing and some yelling in the middle of the streets, but it soon turned into mostly screaming. (mind you, there were cops not even a block a way just watching this whole thing unfold, good job Baltimore PD). Looking back on it now, we must have looked like we had just left the set of West Side Story: The Drag Queen's Edition. 

Then, out of nowhere, it was born...The Gay Clap...

 Now I have referenced gay clap before but this was the first real time that it made an appearance in my life. When the fighting moved from shoving to just screaming back and forth, Gay Bffl and I took it upon ourselves to yell louder than the rest to get our points across. 

Me: Shut *gay clap* the *gay clap* fuck *gay clap* up *gay clap*

Gay Bffl: Move *gay clap* the *gay clap* fuck *gay clap* along *gay clap*

These gays and girls were screaming some nonsense at us about the cab, but we kept saying the same thing louder and louder. At some point, Gay Bffl, turned and noticed that someone in their posse was filming the whole thing off into the distance. That, was obviously, unacceptable. Gay Bffl took it upon himself to go talk to the kid (and by talk, I mean he went and grabbed the phone out of his hands and started a confrontation)

Gay Bffl: What do you think you're doing dawg (we all butch up during fights apparently)

Spielberg: Yo, its a free country 

Gay Bffl: I'm pretty sure I didn't say you could film us. 

They went back and forth until the wonderful Baltimore PD decided to show up and break the fight up. Gay Bffl immediately turned to the cops and claimed that our little film director had stolen his phone. The cops looked around, and in a moment of racism at its finest, looked at me to provide some clarity because I was the only white person in this massive group street fight. 

     (Ugh...terrible...but good in this moment?)

Baltimore PD: Sir, what exactly is going on here?

Me: Uh...uh..That guy stole my friends phone! 

And like that, I had thrown this other guy under the bus. Gay Bffl took this as an opportunity to slowly begin ushering our friends out of this clusterfuck of terrible. The whole time the cops were searching the two people standing close to me, the group that had been previously screaming at my friends were now screaming at the cops. No one noticed that my friends had almost completely disappeared. 

One of the cops finally noticed that I was left standing alone in a sea of people who were definitely not fond of me. He looked around and then winked at me. 

Baltimore PD: Why don't we do this, if we find your phone we will give you a ring. You head out of here. 

Me: Sure sounds good. Keep up the good work.

I zoomed off to meet my friends around the corner and we left victoriously. We knew at the time how terribly twisted it was that the cops looked to me solely based on my race, but...it kinda worked out for us? (Don't worry, I have given back to the black community *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*)

This year, I decided to not partake in the shenanigans surrounding all hollows eve. Partly because costumes stress me out and partly because I'm lazy. Also, this past weekend, when I normally would have celebrated it all....I was stuck celebrating other peoples love. My Engaged Friend got married on Saturday, thus bringing him into the rank of "Married Friends", in a wonderful ceremony at a castle. (Feeling of Inadequacy: At an all time high). That same wonderful evening, in Baltimore, my practically married brother finally proposed to his lovely girlfriend of seven years. HOW IS THERE SO MUCH LOVE AROUND ME?!?! #single4lyfe (Side note: ugh, I'm actually happy for all of them)

Baltimore PD: Casually racist

Gay Bffl: My YMCA partner in crime...literally...crime

Married Friends: Multiplying....its like a zombie apocalypse

Fabulously Lost: Street Fighter, Nintendo style        

Random Tidbits

Ok, so these are all things that are going on in my life that I couldn't really flesh out into a full post. I still wanted to share them with you because they are the unfortunate happenings that lead me sit at home most nights, and eat 4 slices of pizza, and secretly wish they would bring back The Hills and Sabrina the Teenage Witch. (I lead an exhilarating life). Let's begin..

I have a boyfriend everyone.

JUST KIDDING!!!!! HAAHAHA!!! Jokes on...me? Ugh, what I mean to say is that I have a fake boyfriend at the gym who may, or may not, know that I exist. (Because I don't have enough trouble as it is finding a real one, I have to find a fake one and make him fake mine). See, I have this thing where I need to find something to motivate me to go to the gym, because obviously self-motivation to be healthy and lose weight is something that doesn't exist for me.

In college I had a couple of best friends who worked out with me and made it into a fun thing, and I like fun. After I graduated and moved home, the fun ceased and I was left with the constant urge to not go to the gym and do absolutely anything other than workout. Recently, though, I have found my own motivation with my secret fake boyfriend, who is at the gym every night by the time I get there and leaves 45min-60min after I get there. (I magically leave around the same time. Coincidence? I think...so.) I have told myself that I am a bad fake boyfriend if I don't go and see him.

(So I am a little crazy...but I've been to the gym every day this week, suck it.)

I may get arrested...

...if my odd day dream at work comes true. Recently I have been sitting in a lot of meetings and doing one-on-one training sessions with random people. During one of my sessions this past week I was sitting there and my nose began to feel weird...like really weird. I felt like there was the tiniest feather tickling the outside of my nose, taunting me to brush it away. I began to panic and think that I had a major snot poking out and that this person I was training would never take me seriously. (Being a young-20something in the work place isn't enough...I now have a snot rocket waiting to make sure I get the respect I obviously deserve.) So, I calmly decided to brush at my face in the most discrete way possible. 

(I'm like a fucking ballerina)

Here's the thing, it didn't go away with that one swat of the nose. It continued to be there, taunting me and telling me to swipe at it again. So, as I am talking, I go in again to take this tiny tickling nose feather out. And again. And again. After the 4th or 5th time of attacking my nose I started to think about what would happen if there really isn't a feather booger poking out of my nose. What would happen if I just look like I am playing with my nose? You know who also plays with their nose a lot, coke addicts. (Yup, I watched True Life: I'm A Drug Addict, I know what coke addicts do.) I put myself into an all out panic at that point. I decided that this girl probably thought I was a coke addict and after this session she was going to tell HR. I was positive there was going to be an intervention and/or the police were going to show up at my work. I imagined what the conversation would be like with my parents trying to explain to them that I really wasn't a drug addict, that I just had a frustratingly ticklish booger. (Of course I would deny it, all drug addicts do! DAMN YOU MTV KNOWLEDGE.)

(Just me an Urkel...hangin' in the slammer)

By the time I had planned my entire arrest and trial, I realized I was still talking and I didn't know what I was talking about anymore. Soooo, I literally just stopped talking and stared at this poor girl. (Obviously awkward pauses and shifty eyes now added to my nose swapping addict tendencies...ughh guys, I don't look good in orangeeee). She looked at me a little oddly and then said she really enjoyed everything I said. I really hope I didn't confess my inner fears out loud...

I got angry at my GPS

This seems like a totally normal thing, right? I was driving along and listening to my jamz (read also: Christmas music), when all of a sudden my GPS decided to interrupt and ask me if I had any commands for it. Holllld uuppppp. Excuse me, whaaaaaat? You see, I had to replace my phone on Sunday because apparently you aren't supposed to drop your iPhone in the toilet because it causes corrosion. (Who knew?) So I had to restart all of the programs and upgrade them and all of that jazz. Well, apparently, my GPS app had this update where it now periodically asks me if I need help and all I have to do is speak into the phone and it will oblige.  

What my iPhone didn't realize is that you really shouldn't interrupt my Christmas Jamz because I get irrationally annoyed. When the Barb (my name for my GPS, because thats normal) decided to block the music to ask me if I needed help. I decided the best way to handle her rudeness was to say something mean. 

Barb: Do you need any Assistance?

Me: Stop talking 

Barb: I'm sorry, can you repeat?

Me: Stop. Giving. Directions. Out. Loud. *(insert gay clap at each period)

Barb: Please repeat. Speak Slowly. 

Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP BARB. I HATE YOU. 

Barb: Commands turning off

(I WON)

I felt obscenely victorious for all of half of a second, and then I felt terrible. I felt like I was unnecessarily mean to  Barb, so I started to examine my response and I felt this terrible pit in the bottom of my stomach. I had just been  a terrible person and yelled at her while listening to the happiest music on the planet. (At no point did I think, "Hey, this is an inanimate object that has no feelings and doesn't care what you call it"...because it can't care...). I felt so bad that I ended up turning the commands back on and apologized to Barb in my mind. (Sometimes I don't realize how crazy I am until I write these posts about myself.)

I caused an accident with my good driving skillz

Literally...I was actually being a good driver, instead of the asshole speed demon I tend to be. This time of year always brings out the good within me (Except when it comes to my GPS, sorry Barb!), and I try really hard to make sure that shines through in all the areas of my life, including with my driving ways. Well, Monday morning, I was driving to work at a decent speed along Route 29, just bopping along to my music and drinking my delicious Pumpkin Spice Latte, when a Douchebag decided to ride up extremely close behind me. He was riding my tail like I was a hot piece of ass in a skimpy dress at the club on a Saturday night. (The answer is no, I don't feel good about what I just wrote...).

 I just kept going along at the designated speed limit (or 10mph over) when I saw the traffic light ahead turn red. As I started to slow down the Douchbag decided to zip around me to speed ahead. As he drove past me he raised his fist triumphantly with his middle finger waving back and forth. I turned and smiled and waved (because I am not above sharing friendly gestures) which angered him further. He turned back to the road to realize the red light was there jusssst a little too late. I stopped appropriately at the light as he slowed down and ended up in a fender bender with a Mercedes Benz SUV. 

(Not the car crash I saw this morning...but exactly what happened)

So my little Douchebag friend's speedy Volkswagen now sat with its hood curled up under the SUV. I turned over as I finally reached the light and looked at my now distraught sparring partner. As we all know, I have stopped wishing accidents on people, so I did feel bad for a moment. (Not as bad as when I yelled at Barb, she really didn't deserve that)

Wrap-Up

Alright, so my next post is a ridiculous story that involves Halloween, the Village People, the gay club, random make out sessions, and, as always, a run in with the law. Look out for it on Monday. 

Also...I am going to DC's annual High Heel Drag Race next Tuesday. I will be intoxicated and surrounded by Halloween Drag Queens...I hope to God I make it to work the next day. 

Fabulously Lost: Lady in the streets...

Barb: I can't apologize enough

Gym Boyf: See you tonight ;) 

True Life: One of the only constant pleasures in my life

My Sloth

Remember how I told you that I am that weirdo who obsessively watches random celebrity interviews? (Not ashamed.) Well one of my favorite celebrity interviewers is the constantly dancing, '90s sitcom legend, lesbian talk show host Ellen Degeneres. Now, Ellen has had many gems in her career as one of the most beloved talk show hosts of today, but none of them compare to her chit-chat with Kristen Bell. Bell is formerly known as the title character of Veronica Mars, currently as the narrator of Gossip Girl, and has always been a huge LGBT ally. (I swear to little baby Jesus I am about to make my point) Bell explained to Ellen that it had recently been her birthday and her fiance, Dax Shepard, surprised her by bringing her absolute favorite animal to their house for the party. Below is the clip. Watch it. Now.

She bugs the FUCK out over this little lazy creature. Like not even a little bit, a lot. She is sobbing and convulsing on her bed, all out of joy for the presence of this animal near her home. Welp, I realized within the last couple of months that my "sloth" is...is....Christmas.

(I just lost twenty minutes of my life looking up photos of Christmas)

I wish I could say that I am kidding about this, or that there are other things in my life that excite me more than a holiday, but I can't. I literally start tweaking when I even begin to think about Christmas. I found out that Christina Perri had released her Christmas album on Tuesday and, while listening to it, my heart grew 4x. So much so that I began to tear up. LIKE REAL TEARS. I was appalled with myself but I couldn't stop myself. (It was only like 3 tears...mmmkay?). 

You see, I started to realize that I was obsessed with Christmas at a very young age. This isn't a new thing; I am a life-long glittery Christmas lover.  I was always more excited about it than my brothers growing up and I was always more emotional about it too. (Easily attributed to the fact that I was easily excitable about...everything) I think that it really set in how obsessed I was after I found out that Santa Claus wasn't real.

I know this is comes as a complete surprise, but, I wasn't very popular when I was younger. (I KNOW! I am constantly confused by this too). Let's travel together back to a time when I was a mere 3rd grader in the mid-90s, to a time when I found a rag-tag group of kids who sat in the back of the bus. I thought that I had made it because they let me sit with them and not with the little kids in the front of the bus. Now, they let me sit with them because I was kinda like their punching bag. They could make fun of me and be mean but they also liked me to be just their punching bag, and because of that they stood up for me if anyone else was mean to me. (I found some gems. Realll gems)

(They were a meaner, less cute version of the Little Rascals. #besties)

Anywhoz, they used to tell me (read also: make fun of me) how innocent and how silly I was for doing all of my homework and wearing my cousins over-sized clothing from the late 80's-early '90s. (Interestingly enough, they are actually the reason I got into cursing, before them I was afraid to say anything beyond "darn", so I owe them something right?) Well, right around Christmas time I began getting extremely excited and overwhelmed with the impending season, so much so that I decided to bring up a conversation topic with my fellow back-of-the-bus rough and tumble group of "friends."

Me (imagine pip-squeak high voice): What is everyone asking Santa for Christmas?

One-Eye Tom (he actually had one eye): Wait, is he serious? He can't be serious.

Mini Rosie O'Donnell (Self-explanatory...unfortunate looking kid): Fabulous, you have to be kidding. How fucking dumb are you?

Me: What do you mean? If you don't tell him what you want, he won't know what to tell his elves to make you. I feel like that's PRETTY smart. 

One-Eye Tom: He still doesn't get it. What the hell?

Mini Rosie O'Donnell: Fabulous, you're writing a letter to no one. Santa Claus isn't real. I can't believe you still believe in him

Me: I...I... I don't. I was just kidding. I mean, who believes in Santa. 

Facts: I DID. I EFFIN' BELIEVED IN SANTA CLAUS. 

When I got off the bus, I marched into my house and asked to speak very frankly with my mother. (Sometimes I wonder how this all looks to a parent...like, a tiny munchkin kid with a high pitched voice claims to have something serious to talk about. What the hell is serious about that?)

Me: Mom, I want you to tell me the truth.

Mama Fabulous: Tell you the truth about what sweetie?

Me: On the bus, Mini Rosie O'Donnell told me that Santa isn't real. Is that true?

Mama Fabulous: Do you really want to know the truth?

Me *paused for a moment*: Yes, yes I do

Mama Fabulous: No, Santa Claus isn't real. I am so sorry.

Me *almost in hysterics*: WHAT ABOUT THE EASTER BUNNY??

Mama Fabulous: The Easter Bunny isn't real as well.

Me *tears streaming*": AND THE TOOTH FAIRY?

Mama Fabulous: None of them are real.

Me: YOU LIED TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I have a flair for the dramatics. Also, did I really think either one of those follow-up questions were going to end well for me? I mean, did I really believe a giant bunny broke into my house each year and just pooped chocolate eggs? How about the small fairy who would poof into my house and steal my teeth? Both sound like things that I have seen on CSI: Miami. Just sayin'. 

 This poor woman had to listen to me as I called her a liar and sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed like I just found out that they were giving me up for adoption. (I may have overreacted a little bit...)

(this might have been easier to digest)

You'd think that after all of this I would be jaded when it came to the holiday. Well, then you would have thought wrong. I have consistently gotten more obsessed with the holiday, to the point that I now begin to tear up when I start thinking about my whole family gathered around the Christmas tree,  excitedly giving each other gifts and talking about spending the whole day together. (Literally just made myself tear up typing that...I have an issue.)

1998: I stayed up through all of Christmas Eve because I had wound myself up so much so that I couldn't fathom sleeping. I ended up passing out moments after we finished opening presents the next morning

2000: I asked my parents if we could go to all three of the Christmas Eve services at church...because each is different from the last. 

2002: I decorated the inside of my locker with wrapping paper and garland. It was the first time I had used my locker in high school. I was also still "straight" then. 

2004: I came out 5 days after Christmas...and I actually thought about how neat it would be to share an anniversary with Christmas 

2006: I had just started working at Godiva and they let me decorate the display in the mall by the Santa picture area. I spent 2 weeks on it and went to check on it. Every.Single.Day. 

2008: It was the first time I had a boyfriend at Christmas. Our official anniversary was three weeks prior...our first official date ended at a Christmas party. I was in heaven. 

2010: I forced my co-workers to endure Christmas music and I bought decorations for everyone's desks. 

2012: I...I just can't. Too much excitement 

Christmas: The best time of the year

One-Eye Tom and Mini Rosie O'Donnell: Probz working in gas stations. (they weren't the brightest bulbs on the tree)

Mama Fabulous: A saint for dealing with my antics.

Fabulously Lost: Instead of the Crazy Cat Lady....I'm the Crazy Christmas Gay. #owningit

Birthday Celebrations: Cops, Drunks, and Brunches

Real talk: You know how you sometimes hear about how hysterical a celebrity was on a talk show the night before or one of the blogs you read links you to a youtube link of a late night interview? (Shhh just go with me...it will feel right soon) Then you get to that link and you see like 100,000+ lame people have watched that video before this link was EVER posted in one of these articles, right? And you sit back and say "Man, what loser sat here and watched interviews of celebs?" WELP...you're looking at one of those losers.

(When I first watched this clip there were only 265, 345 views. Don't you worry your pretty little heads, I was also view 266, 226. THE CONTENT DIDNT EVEN CHANGE)

That's right guys, to avoid doing whatever mundane task has been put in front of me, from cleaning my room to finishing a report, I somehow get wrapped up into watching these clips...FOR HOURS. I don't understand it at all. It baffles me when I look at the clock, and it's 1a.m. and I've just lost 3hrs of my life watching every single one of Amy Poehler's interviews since she became an actress. (She has had QUITE the life).

As riveting as my Youtube skills must be to you, I actually have a story to tell you about my life. (That sentence had every intention of sounding, both, self-deprecating and vain at the same time. #win). This little diddy is more of an ongoing saga related to my life in birthdays!

(Someone wasn't hugged very much)

My birthdays have been fairly run of the mill days in the past. The actual day of my birth seems to range from terrible to fairly lame and then the parties I have tend to be where I truly get to celebrate a day about me. (You felt bad for a minute and then you were all like "Dayyyum Fab. Calm down. So vain") Just a couple examples: 

1. 16th Birthday: No one remembered. Like no joke...I was Molly Ringwald in the '80s except there was no cute boy sitting on a table with cake at the end of the day. (Another failed expectation brought on by movies). But then the weekend after a friend had a party for me to make up for it. 
2. 18th Birthday: All of my friends were away at college and I was working a full time job and going to community college. I spent my birthday helping people buy chocolates for their loved ones at Godiva. There was no party that year...
3. 23rd Birthday: I worked late and then came home and had a frozen dinner. Then had an epic party....one people still talk about....

Last year my birthday was on a Tuesday and there wasn't too much anyone could do. I decided to throw myself a little get together with some of my close friends from high school, college, work, and just general Baltimore friends. What this also meant was that I was going to be combining Gay Friendz and Straight Friendz. Now, if you remember, for the longest time I was the anti-gay gay and when I came into my own with Gay Friendz, I had always just kept the two worlds apart. My worlds were going to collide big time because I was not only going to throw this party for myself, but we were all going to the gay bar once we were liquored up. 

(Like...it doesn't make sense but it feels right. WORLDS COLLIDE. Also in this pic..Straight Friendz get stuck with Miley. Party in the USA?)

Ok, ok, so thats not where it gets juicy. The party itself goes of swell and we all head to the gay bar. In the group of Straight Friendz there were several dudes who were going to a gay bar for the first time and they ended up loving the music and the dance-y techno-ishness of it all. We had a blast, that is, until I got a call from one of my friends, who left early, told me my front door was completely broken and no one could get in...not even with the key. Oh, and it was now raining. 

(It was going sooo welllllll. fuck.)

I ended up jumping in a cab with the rest of the friends who were staying at my place and heading back to my house. When I got home, I noticed a screw driver sticking out of the door where my roommate had tried to break into our house. Luckily for us, because it had been so warm in my place we had left the kitchen windows open and were were able to hoist a tiny friend in who just opened the backdoor of our house. I decided in my drunken state that the best thing to do would be to deal with this in the morning and not whilst on a buzzed high. 

We all began getting ready to go to sleep and recapping the awesome night when I get a knock on the front door. I make my way to the front of the house and looked out the window to see FOUR cop cars and EIGHT cops all pointing guns at the front of my house. 

Cop 1: OPEN THE DOOR.

Me: *Standing at window* Hello officer, I cannot open the door, it is broken.

Cop 1: YOU HAVE TO OPEN THE DOOR NOW.

Me: Yes, I understand, but I can't because the door is broken...the back door works fine if you'd like to come in from there.

Cop 1: WE CANNOT DO THAT. IF YOU DON'T OPEN THE DOOR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN.

Me: Well, I don't think thats necessary, I've given you a perfectly good seco...

Cop 1: ON THE COUNT OF THREE....1.....2.....3

And then he literally busted my door down. I had 14 friends staying over my townhouse that night and they were all standing in shock as this door flew open and all the cops stood there looking at us. Lights were flashing and everyone was just confused about what was going on. 

You see, apparently when my roommate tried to break into the house our neighbors decided to call the cops. The cops honestly believed they were walking into a house that was in the process of being burglarized. Much to all EIGHT cops chagrin, when the door flung open all they got was a glimpse of a bunch of drunk kids in pj's awkwardly cramming into a townhouse. All parties were fairly annoyed/disappointed and the cop fixed the door the best he could. My landlord was pissssed. He was also a douchebag so I was kinda okay with the inconvenience this put on him. 

So, you see, when you come off an epic birthday like that there aren't many ways you can top it in the shock and awe department. I decided this year, for my 24th birthday, I wanted a low-key celebration with friends. The actual day of my birthday was perfectly spent with my parents having dinner and getting gifts. I just wanted a calm birthday this  year all around. Nothing too crazy or wild because I am entering my mid-twenties and I want to be a respectable member of society. I decided that all I wanted to do for my birthday was go to a bottomless Boozy Brunch with some of my good friends. 

(This is far too classy. I usually drink out of plastic cups)

You see, there is nothing more I enjoy in life than a good brunch with bottomless drinks. How can you go wrong with a casual day drink on a Sunday to start your week right? I have been brunching in DC for over a year at this point and have had some fabulous experiences. Though, in recent times, I have really been enjoying the brunch at Local 16, so I have been frequenting it more weeks than not. They make the fatal mistake of combining Facebook, Bottomless Drinks, and Attractive Men. You see, if you "like" them on FB you get an entree and the bottomless drinks for $18 (Excuusseee me? Ugh Birthday on a Budget). To top it all off there always seem to be copious amounts of gay men scattered around the restaurant..triple win. (Did you see how many times I mentioned tops and bottoms in this paragraph? #sexualfriday #celibacy2012)

Things at my boozy birthday brunch started off so splendidly. Everyone showed up close to on-time and I had a 20 something people there. Drinks were flowing and friends were laughing and it was a grand time. I was trying to make it a point of walking around and talking to everyone, but that also meant I wasn't really eating. (Brunch Rule #1: Eat to ensure longevity in the day) There was also another person who wasn't really eating and that was my good friend One Direction, or 1D. (You may remember him as Daddy Raids from previous posts...but I decided a nickname change was in order. A colleague of ours called him One Direction during a drunken night and I loled my pants off. Not really...because its #celibacy2012)

(Ugh, if only Mr. T had been there to tell us to not be Fools.)

Next to my group of preppy brunching friends a group of attractive black gays and lesbians sat down. (It's like God said "Today is your birthday Fab, have good one". You too G-man, you too) I was staring at them and commenting with my black female twin and deciding which one was God's actual gift to me for the day. Our waiter, an adorable gay man, is a friend of mine and decided to slowly turn the music up louder and louder. And then it happened. Wobble Baby came on and all hell broke loose. Members of my brunch group got up and started dancing with members of the attractive black brunch. It was a dream come true...we turned a normal boozy brunch into a club. 

Shit got weird then...and also a little hazy. I might've had a dance off with someone who was a much better dancer than me. And by "might have" I mean I did. I dropped it low in front of all of my friends, all of the much better dancers, and the entire restaurant. Now, I can't say this for sure, but I am 90% sure that I lost that battle. Horribly. (I'm 100% sure of that, actually. #familyshame) I also danced with a very butch lesbian for awhile...I think I was mildly attracted to her. She pulled off butch very well. It was very confusing. (Ughhh I don't wanna talk about it. Am I bi? WHO AM I? hahaha jk lolz I like the wang-a-lang.)

After I had embarrassed myself enough, some of us decided that 4+hrs of drinking mimosas like they were going extinct wasn't enough. We (Read also: Me, myself, and I) decided to go to Nellies, everybody's favorite gay sports bar. They have rooftop drinking and it was gorgeous out. The issue is...at some point on the walk from Local 16 to Nellies I begin to lose my memories (Read also: Mimosas got the best of me). You know, cause its classy to drink away your memories at 2 in the afternoon on a SUNDAY. 

(I really don't wonder why I am single anymore. You shouldn't either Lilo)

I decide to come out of my hazy time traveling state near the end of our stay at Nellies in time to save One Direction from being escorted off by a gentleman caller. You see, One Direction is very straight but he was also very black out. When I stopped this gentleman from taking 1D into his cab...shit got real. Like rullll real. (All I can remember is that this guy was wearing Teal Cutoffs...so that shall be his name)

Teal Cutoffs: Honey, you need to back off, he is coming home with me. 

Me: Ugh, no he isn't. He doesn't even know his name...do you even know his name?

Teal Cutoffs: I don't need to know his name. 

Me: As classy as that is, he isn't going home with you. He isn't even gay.

Teal Cutoffs: Um, he can make that choice. 

Me: He does...on the reg. Just go back inside and find yourself some new blacked out person to trick home. 

Teal Cutoffs: Bitch, YOU NEED TO STOP BEING IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND

Me: Holy fuck, was the yelling necessary. I am not in love with him...Im just saving him from your creepy ass. Watch this...Hey One Direction, do you wanna go home with me?

One Direction: Yes.

Me: Ok, now your turn. Ask 1D.

Teal Cutoffs: Don't you wanna come home with me?

One Direction: Yes. 

Me: SEE....all he heard from that was "home." We are leaving now

And then that skank-a-licious queened up hooker had the audacity to come up behind me as we were walking to the cab and SHOVE me with all his girlie powers. 

(I know, right Obama?)

I don't do well with this. I am the nicest person in the world until you cross me or try and fight me. See in college people would say crap to me at the bars or at parties for being gay and didn't think I would do anything about it. But, here's the thing, I have no problem punching back, like noooo problem at all. So I spun around and with every fiber in body I shoved this over-sexed man. He stumbled back in complete and utter shock.

Teal Cutoffs: Whoaaa. YOU WANNA GO?

Me: NO! You shoved me. Go back inside and find some helpless twink. And don't touch me again...I don't need any STD's today. 

Now, I understand that doesn't make sense because touching doesn't get you STD's, but I was trying to spew venom and I was still intoxicated. We eventually made it back to One Directions place and then I blacked out again and don't remember much until the next morning. Monday was one of the worst days of work ever, but I had an AMAZING Boozy Birthday Brunch so it was all worth it in the end. 

Cops: Busting Pajama Parties in a neighborhood near yours.

Boozy Brunch: The best thing since...actually its better than sliced bread. Its just the best

Fabulously Lost: Convict, Fighter, Protector: The next Liam Neeson