Oy Vey

For those of you who do not know me outside of the confines of this blog, I am wildly proud of being half Jew. My father was born a Jew and lived happily as a Jew well into adulthood. My shiksa mother married him and they decided to raise my brothers and I as proud Jewish boys....until we were young lads when Papa Fab decided to convert. It seemed foolish to have two Christian parents and three Jewish children...so we were converted as well. I have always struggled with religion (mainly because I am an overly angsty homosexual who just wants to BELONG! Ughh is that so bad??), so I proudly hold onto the fact that I am a half Jew. I am a religious mut, if you will.

(This accurately describes my constant feelings of "halfness")

You may be asking yourself many things right now about why I decided to tell you that little diddy. Things like: 

1. What the hell is wrong with him? 

2. Didn't he say he converted? How can he be a half Jew if he converted?

3. How did he find such a clever photo? I really like his photos. 

4. Isn't he obsessed with Christmas?

5. Does this mean he is going to tell us a story about a Jewish man that he went on a date with and it didn't work out and he somehow ended up in a HIGHlarious situation?

For those of you who thought number 2, HOW rude. PoTATEo, poTAHTo. For those of you who thought number 3, thank you! You are so sweet and most obviously my favorite readers. For those of you who thought number 1, see the link in number 4 and you will understand that there are lots of things wrong with me. And for those of you bright little munchkins who thought number 5....you are sadly correct. I went on a terrible awful date with Jake the Jew. 

(I generally follow whatever catchy advertisements tell me to do. This. Is. No. Exception. *insert gay clap*)

I met Jake the Jew (there is no clever name for him. Just facts) the way I meet all of my suitable suitors...on the World Wide Web. We messaged back and forth with quippy remarks about culture and music before he asked me for my number. The emails turned into texts and I had begun to really like this virtual man I had never met. An Interior Designer! 25! It's like a Jewish mothers dream come true (I mean...a doctor would be better, but they all can't be perfect). 

The day of the date, I do what I normally do - I tried to convince myself that canceling was a much better option and that my relationship with my bed was the only one I really need. I am lucky, however, to have a best friend who works right next to me and is a constant encouragement in life. She told me I needed to go on this date just in case it happened to be an amazing date and this was the man of my dreams or, more likely, this ended up a really good story that I could tell all of you about. (I'm a giver like that.)

When I arrived at our date I was greeted with a cute scruffy boy who had a hipster look without being too hipster. To my dismay, that was as far as my attraction to this scruffy Jewish interior designer would go. 

(womppppp, womp)

We sat down at Ted's Bulletin in Eastern Market for a burger and fries and some basic "getting to know you" conversation. Jake the Jew had this way of telling me a little bit of information and then going into a mini-awkward-giggle fit that both freaked me out and also caused me to be concerned he was having a seizure. 

Jake the Jew: I grew up going back and forth from Maryland and Florida. Bad things can happen in Florida. *hehehehaaha bahaha hmmm*

Me: Wait, are you okay? What do you mean?

Jake the Jew: Of course I am okay silly goose. Florida can be a dangerous place for pretty boys like us. *hahahbahahabooohahahehe* *wink*

I am still not completely sure what he meant by all of this, nor was I terribly interested in finding out how Florida would be dangerous for a "pretty boy like me." Our conversations were mauled by his outburst of giggles more often than I would have liked (i.e. more than zero times. I would have liked them to happen zero times. Never. Not once. EVER)

(Is that what dying sounds like?)

As if the awkward life-death sound he was making wasn't enough of a turn off, he was also casually flashy with his money. (I am sure he was blatantly flashy, but I couldn't tell due to the screech) Apparently his parents had separated when he was really young and they both had a good amount of money. A huge surprise (read also: sarcasm) came when he told me he was an only child and was used to getting what he wanted.

Jake the Jew: My parents had a hard time saying no to me, I mean wouldn't you have a hard time too? *snort, giggle, wiggle, hehe, haha, gaufaw*

Me: I guess its nice being an only child, I have two brothers so everything was split. 

Jake the Jew: Most people have a hard time saying no to me. It's a gift *hehehe hlerp blarg haha*

Me: Um, yeah I gathered that the first time you said that. Charmed life you lead. 

Jake the Jew: I bet you'll have a hard time saying no to me. *bleeehehe he*

Me: I say no more often then most think. 

As we all know, there are only a few things that I have a hard time saying no to, snorting Jewish hipsters is not on that list. Slowly over the course of the dinner I began finding out more tidbits that Jake the Jew decided to fib on on his dating profile. For example, he was actually just recently 22yrs old and he actually was unemployed. HE WAS LYING ABOUT EVERYTHING. 

(Ain't we all unimpressed. We're still fighting Obama)

At the beginning of the date Jake the Jew asked me when I had to leave DC by before I turned into a pumpkin. (Cute at first, in retrospect it casually annoys me) I had told him it would be best for me to leave DC by 10pm at the latest. This was meant, at first, as a reason for me to leave if the date went well (I'm tryna catch me a husband, not an STD), and a way out if it went poorly. This was meant as a guideline. I was thanking little baby Jebus when I looked at my phone and we had already finished by 8pm. I could get home and still watch some Sabrina the Teenage Witch before I went to sleep. (I never said every aspect of my life was glamorous...)

Me: Welp, it looks like we are finished with dinner. 

Jake the Jew: Yeah and it's only 8! We can go grab a drink.

Me: Uh, well, I was thinking I should drive home.

Jake the Jew: But you said you have to leave by 10, so we have 2hrs. See you can't say no to me. 

Me: But, I didn't, but, what?

And with that I was on the search with Jake the Jew for a place to get a drink. Somehow I got roped into driving us to Dupont and looking for parking. I spent 30min circling for parking and trying to just get him out of my car as fast as humanly possible. (I didn't need a murder trial on my hands on top of everything else) When we finally parked, Jake the Jew told me he wanted to take me to this divey gay bar no too far from where we were. Luckily for me, when we walked up to Larry's Lounge we were greeted by a group of burly looking mountain men!

(My own personal heaven. Except not exactly like this...cause I hate the outdoors.) 

There was an event that was going on at the bar for prostate cancer and the amazingly cute bouncer asked me if I wanted to pay for the wrist band for cancer. 

Burly Bouncer: If you pay $10 you get this wrist band that gets you cheap drinks at three different bars and the proceeds go to Prostate Cancer. 

Me: Oh, well, as enticing as that is, I am only having one drink and then heading home. *casual giggle/side smile/hopeful flirting face*

Burly Bouncer: Aw come on, you know you want more than one drink. You have to stay and keep me company.

Me: Ah, if only I could! I have to get home, if only this was tomorrow evening!

Burly Bouncer: Is this because you hate prostate? *winks*

Me: *swoons* *silence* *giggle*

Then I remembered I was on a date and needed to get my shit together. I begrudgingly followed Jake the Jew to the downstairs area of the bar with a drink. Away from the Burly Bouncer. Away from true happiness. 

When we got downstairs, we started to discuss our passions which always ends up with me talking about music. He was as vapid as he was before and didn't have much to contribute to the conversation other than, "I love to listen to Paris Hilton's old stuff." But, like, how? How do you do that to me? How is that an answer? Does she have new stuff? What counts as old? WHO IS THIS?

(THIS IS WHAT YOU LIKE???)

The icing on our terribly made was when Britney Spears came on and I began to tweak out. 

Me: Ahh, Britney is like my kryptonite. Whenever she comes on I wanna go dancing. 

Jake the Jew: Yeah, I saw her in concert a couple of years ago and was unimpressed. 

Me: You mean you saw her in March of 2010 at the Verizon Center? The Circus tour? I was there...it was amazeballz. 

Jake the Jew: I wasn't pleased with it...and she screamed something weird out during it. 

Me: She screamed "Merry Christmas DC" and it was totally unexpected and awesome at the same time. 

Jake the Jew: Yeah...well...ever since then I haven't really listened to her a whole lot. 

Me: Welp, this is awkward. 

I know this is weird. I am aware that me deciding that this date was literally going to end at this moment makes me seem a little off my rocker. But it is not my fault that he preferred PARIS HILTON over BRITNEY SPEARS. You see the predicament I was in...

(I just...I just...love her)

We tried to make strained small talk after that, but it was apparent that this date had ended because of Ms. Spears. As we made our way to the front door the Burly Bouncer, standing with two other extremely attractive men, caught my eye and immediately began flirting. 

Burly Bouncer: Oh hey! *to his friends* This guy hates prostate. 

Me: *coyly* Whaaat? No! I don't!

Cute Friend: There is definitely know way this cutie hates prostate 

Me: I mean...

Burly Bouncer: *grabbing my arm* I'm positive you don't hate prostate. *wink, smile*

Ugh...I slowly began to slink out the door because I was technically still on the date. As we walked away from the bar, I felt my hopes and dreams being dashed on the side of the road. (Not to be overly dramatic or anything...)

When I move to the city (IN 2 WEEKS) I will venture to that little dive bar and hopefully run into my future husband. 

Burly Bouncer: Missed connection...

Jake the Jew: Sorry Yenta, not my match 

Britney Spears: A good indicator of a persons character

Fabulously Lost: Single...looking to mingle?

Why I Hate Surprises...

Before I get into my dating woes (because why would 2013 be any different?), I wanted to tell you a few quick updates about my life situation.

Mama Fab had only one thing to say after last week's post, which had a whole section dedicated to her sass.

Mama Fab: It's about time your friends know where you get all of your fabulousness. 

But, like, how is she right all the time? It's not like she decided to tell me it was a funny post, or that she enjoyed the part that she was in, but, instead, she made it about her. Obvs this woman is my mother.

(Like, I'm not saying my mother is NeNe Leakes, but I'm also not saying she isn't. #realtalk)

(Side Note within a side note: I don't think I could be more homosexual. I'm writing about my mother while watching reruns of RuPaul's Drag Race. I'm a living, breathing stereotype...andddd I lovvvveee itttttt- [said like Oprah])

Ok, the other news I wanted to share with you issss......KG and I....FOUND A PLACE. 

I have been waiting for this moment for.ev.er. I looked for the longest time by myself and out of nowhere I start looking with a friend and now I have a place. I couldn't be happier with the place and I am moving in three weeks. This is all sorts of cray. With all this time, I can guarantee you that I will wait until 6 days before hand and become a dramatic queen about everything up until the move. Luckily for KG, he will be in Israel and will only see me after I have already moved in. LUCKY HIM. I will be writing a farewell post to the best roomies (GET IT MAMA AND PAPA FAB) at some point rulll soon. Mmmk?

There is one other thing I would like to say (after I've had a glass of wine...or two). I am not trying to point fingers, because I'm not that kind of girl, but I feel like it is necessary for everyone to connect the dots. The inauguration just happened and I was reminiscing about where I was 4 years ago during the first inauguration. I was with my bffl Rachie and my big time college Ex (we were together at the time, duh), in my own apartment, casually successful in my job, had a world of dreams in front of me, surrounded by my best friends, slept until whenever I wanted, drank like a fish, and really just living the dream. 

Now, 4 years later I am living with my parents, single, all my friends are spread out across the country, I have to wake up when other people decide I am supposed to go to work, and I have to pay bills. I'm not saying it is Obama's fault, butttt CHU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING.

(Good point, RIGHT Obamz?)

Alright ladies, it's story time. This is a bit of a throwback to my college days when I was young, fabulous, and broke. (Not much has changed.) Remember that time that I made out with Black Bieber? Ok, well in that post I spoke about girlfriend, who is one of my nearest and dearest friends. We are kinda, sorta like the devils on each others shoulders. We often convince each other that whatever the worst thing you could possibly do in a night would be the best thing to do right then and there. (i.e. alcohol is usually involved)

Anywayz, girlfriend and I had this thing where we would casually go through attraction phases (we would be into the same type of men at the same time), and more than once we would be attracted to the same exact guy. One of these times, we found a guy who we were unsure which way he swung. (Shocker, I'm attracted to a sexually ambiguous man) 

(but...just...love...me)

We, of course, had to turn this into a friendly game where we would invite him to do things with both of us and then also try and get him alone with us. Once, girlfriend convinced all of us to watch Paranormal Activity and let me tell you...this bitch does NOT do scary movies. Apparently neither did our sexually ambiguous friend, we both ended up curled up underneath girlfriend until she agreed to turn off the movie. LET'S just say, we decided he leaned a little more to my side of the baseball end zone. (I'm good with sports)

So, you ask, where did the terrible date come into play?  Well, don't you worry your pretty little head, we will get there. You may also ask when his nickname is going to come into play, because you are aggressive and you can't be patient. You see, our little friend decided to ask me out on a date and wanted to plan it out himself. He told me he would pick me up and he was really excited to take me to one of his favorite places in College Park. I was the giddiest girl in all the land. 

(Isn't he just the cutest? Ugh, I love me some silver fox)

He picked me up and we started driving down Rt. 1 away from most of the restaurants in the area. I began getting excited that we might be venturing away from the places I had become to accustom to over the last three years. But then it happened, just as I thought we were going to get on the highway and drive away from good ol' CP, he turned into the Ikea parking lot. 

(It's just the pits)

Me: So, are we stopping here for a quick furniture run? Need to pick up some tupperware?

Ikea: No, goof, this is my favorite place to eat in College Park! I knew it would be a surprise. I bet you have never eaten here before. 

Me: Yup, you're right. I honestly have never consumed food at this lovely furniture store. 

Ikea: Well you're in luck, because they have the best meatballs ever. They are from Sweden! 

I forgot to mention, Ikea, is as dumb as a brick. He is hands down one of the most attractive men I have ever sort of shared with any of my friends, but the boy is clueless. He was one of those men that didn't need to say much, because he was just so pretty. He had these piercing blue eyes and a smile that made you swoon. So when he says things like "Ikea's meatballs are from Sweden" you just sort of smiled and pretended he never said anything. #denial

When we got inside, it took us twenty minutes to get to the cafeteria portion of this building, because it's an EFFIN' MAZE. I was getting more and more annoyed with every twist and turn and all he could do was talk about how excited he was for these damn meatballs. When we finally arrived, I wasn't even sure I was hungry and I realized I was completely overdressed for this place. This was not the date I had dreamed about throwing in girlfriends face later. (Bittttch puhlease, you know I was gonna make a big ta-do about this whole date. I had out done her! But not really)

Oh, but it gets better. Not only were we on this date where we were having real life Swedish meatballs, my lovely date felt the need to answer a call from his roommate in the middle of our date. 

Ikea: Hey Roommate, is everything okay?

*Pause*

Ikea: Oh man, that sounds awful. You know I'm out with Fab, right? I told you about the whole dinner thing. 

*Pause*

Ikea: I guess I could ask him. Hey, uh, Fab, do you care if Roommate comes and joins us? He likes Swedish food too! 

Me: Sure, that will just be the icing on the cake.

Ikea: Are we getting cake? Aw man, Roommate loves cake!!

But, like, that's just how on top of things he was. It was the moment that I realized I no longer wanted to compete for him. You know, besides the whole ambiguity of his sexual orientation and his general misunderstanding of most normal social situations. Roommate ended up joining us and added just as much to our conversation topics as Ikea had. We eventually did get cake, because I had put it into their minds that cake would be part of the date. 

girlfriend and I have not competed for any man since, but she is still one of the best wingmen I have ever had. 

I am going to casually try and go into hibernation over the next few weeks to save money for the big move. Being as fabulous as I am, this is going to be a very difficult task for a social butterfly. Also the guy who I went on a 3rd date with...total dud. I've given up on 2013 and finding love. (Calling all drama queeeeeens!)

DC: Ready or nottttt

Obama: The reason I am single

Ikea: A maze of both furniture and love 

Fabulously Lost: Curer of homosexuality #datingfail

In My Life

Every once in awhile I like to write posts about the random things that are happening in my life that cannot necessarily be fleshed out into a post. This happens to be on of those posts...BECAUSE I CAN!   (Whenever I say something like that I start playing "It's my birthday and I can cry if I want to")

Smut-tastic 

So last week I was with my entire family and we were discussing our annual trip to the gayest town in Maine when my parents informed us that our grandparents were going to be coming with us. (Just a quick reminder: I went on vacation, went to a drag show, took a lovely walk on the beach with a VT Mountain man and then have lived in relentless judgement from my family ever since) My brothers decided that it would be good idea for our parents to join us a the Drag Show this year...which was just too much for me to handle.

Jeopardy Bro: Mama and Papa Fab, I think you guys should join us. You'd have an amazing time and the show is great. 
Rugby Bro: Yeah, the woman was hysterical! 
Me: I just don't think it would be a good idea. It can be a little raunchy and I don't know if you guys would like it. The crowds. The people. Maybe we find something else for you guys to do with us.
Mama Fab: Maybe you don't have to smut it up for one night. Yup, I said it. 

(You know its going to be a good post when I can bring a housewife into this)

But seriously, Mama Fab killed it. I had nothing to say, she came in with a zinger and we were all in complete shock. I couldn't disagree, I couldn't fight it, I couldn't do anything but say "OMG, OMG", because I reverted to a typical homosexual response to someone who calls a bitch out. Props Mama Fab, props. 

Real Time Chatting

I had a bunch of things I wanted to talk about in this post, and I will get to them, but I am in the middle of watching the Girls season premiere and I am just in shock and awe. Now, this is not because Lena Dunham's tits have been flailing since the 4th scene in, but because of the person they are flailing against. She was banging DONALD GLOVER! *crickets* Ugh, you guys are the worst. For those of you who don't know who he is, Donald Glover is comedian, actor, and rapper under the name Childish Gambino. What I wasn't expecting was for Donald Glover to be dressed and looking like a myriad of my ex-boyfriends. 

(Sorry Lena, you totes asked for it when you added an attractive black man to your cast)

(Ohhh, I'll keep you warm Donald)

Apartment Search

Holy crapballz guys. I have been talking about moving since the beginning of time. I have sweet roommates right now (Shout out Mama and Papa Fab! #single4lyfe), but I am more than ready to be living in Washington D.C. A little change has occurred since I last wrote about this last month. I am now currently looking for an apartment with one of my best friends from college. He happens to be straight, he happens to be a super feminist, and he happens to be super awesome. One of the main things that we bonded over in college was our joint love of Kentucky Gentleman...the bourbon. (Shocker, I have some straight qualities. Cowboy Fabulous) So from now on, in all of our adventures, I will be referring to him as Kentucky Gentleman or KG. (Probably KG, because I'm lazy...yet honest).  We have decided to look for a sleek bachelor pad in Dupont Circle or Logan Circle. This is going to be severely dangerous for my liver. 

(Ugh, she is so judging me)

Live, Laugh, Single

Let's discuss all of the "research" I have been doing for you guys. I have decided that the year of 2013 is my year and that involves taking more time for the things that are important to me. (And we wonder why the older generations call us the "All About ME" generation. You're welcome) Part of this whole declaration was my decision to take a more active role in the success of my dating life. I have this insatiable thirst to set up dates and then slowly talk myself out of them or tell myself how they are going to fail. This includes, and isn't limited to, lying to them about emergencies at home (i.e. I really wanted to get into bed and do nothing), telling them that I have to work late because of an emergency (i.e. I really wanted to get in bed and do nothing), or telling them I have the flu (i.e. I really wanted to get into bed and do nothing). 

(Oh Pinocchio, you little rascal)

This doesn't seem to fit in well with my 2013 proclamation, so I am reverting back to a much simpler time, a time when this whole idea of a blog came about. That's right, I am going back to 2011 when I decided that the only answer I had to being asked on dates was "Yes." It has been less than three weeks into the new year and I have already set up (and not cancelled) three different dates. One of them has successfully turned into a 2nd and a 3rd date. I don't want to jinx it...but maybe 2013 is my year??

(But like, why am I using so many Disney characters? What is the gimmick here? I'm at a loss too peeps)

Diets Are Stupid and Ugly and I hate them

I feel like the title of this section says it all but I feel like I should explain how much of a masochist I really am. Like everyone else in the entire US of A, I ate my face off in the month of December. I ate like food was going out of style. I pretended to be on a diet when I was really just joshin' with myself and really eating globs of delicious holiday food. I ate until the new year came around and reminded me that the world wasn't ending, and at that point I realized that I was going to have to pay for my grievous mistakes and the horrendous way I had been treating my body in the name of Jebus and a good holiday dip. 

(Heyyyy GURL, don't judge. You ain't no summer chicken yo self)

So last Monday I decided to go extreme and give up carbs for 14 days. 

(#gurldown)

No, but seriously, I gave up carbs. Not only did I give them up, but I have kept to it amazingly so. I haven't had any carbs in 8 days. I make a lot of chicken and eggs and salad. I have gone out to restaurants and been able to focus ordering food without carbs. I have 100% told EVERYONE I have been eating with that I am doing #nocarbs2013, because I need everyone to know I am doing big things (It's the half-Jew in me, so sue me)

Real Talk: I wanna cut a bitch. I love bread and bagels almost as much as I love cheese. So this is like a death march for me right now. Not only that, it's like I am in a torturing myself because I have gone to not 1, not 2, but THREE EFFING PIZZA PLACES IN 8 DAYS. I don't even go out for pizza that much on a regular basis, yet I can't seem to get away from them right now. I have also gone on 2 dates in the last 8 days and it is really awkward to be out at dinner and say, 

Me: No, I can't be really cute with you and order an appetizer.

Cute Date: Oh, how come?

Me: Because all of the appetizers have some sort of carb in them that I can't pick out and I am basically constantly sabotaging myself.

Basically, I really dislike dieting but I am, unfortunately, noticing the difference in my body since I started this. No one is more pissed than I am that eating better is actually better for you. (A big old eff you to my body)

(My eyes are in a permanent eye roll) 

Wrap Up

So there is my State of the Union about my life right now. I have some stories about my dating faux pas  that I will tell you about in due time. I am also in the process of planing my Gay Debutante Ball for when I arrive in DC. This will consist of a boozy brunch, oogling of men, and lots of fabulously dressed people. (Nope, I couldn't be anymore more rainbow with that sentence)

(BECAUSE WHY NOT?!?! This was an unreal find and I will probably bring this gay unicorn man back in other posts. Kind of like a Where's Waldo? of blog photos)

Mama Fabulous: Bold and fierce 

Donald Glover: Tired from runnin' through my dreamz

DC: Flirty, Slutty, and Fabulous 

Unicorn Man: Keepin' It Real

Gay Urban Dictionary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Fabulous show. Ridiculous contests. AMAZING guest hosts)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Repeat Offender

I was gone, December was hard, I worked too much, I was lazy, I liked sleeping more than normal. These are all legit facts why December sucked as a month for posts for me, but I'm back baby! I have decided 2013 is going to be a year of awesome. (Don't we all say that every year? Is it ever going to get old? Am I ever going to use my gym membership as much as I do this month? SO MANY QUESTIONS) Plus, Taylor Swift's lucky number is 13 (along with millions of other people), so this obviously means I will have a lucky year, because T-Swizzle and I are obvs bff's. Whatever, lets get on with the story...it's a doozy.

Real Talk: I have already gone on a date and we aren't even a full 72hrs into 2013. (SEEEEE I told you it would be a year of awesome. And. You. Doubted. Me. *gay claps*) But this date wasn't a normal date with me, it was with Repeat Offender. ("Whaaaaat? What kind of nickname is that? Who are you Fab? You're a monster." - what I imagine you thinking. Most of my imagination of what you think of me ends with you calling me a monster. #highselfesteem) You see, Repeat Offender and I had already gone on a date before. In fact, he was the first person I EVER went on a date with 2 years ago when I began my life of online dating.

(Hey gurrrlll whaaaat?)

That's right, I went out on a date with someone I had previously dated from this site. Back when I first started I was a bright-eyed 22-year-old who saw a world of opportunity and wasn't exactly sure where my life was heading. I liked the idea that I would live the life of a nomad and told most people I was going to be moving soon to somewhere not in MD. (*cough, cough* Ahem, we all know how that turned out.) So Repeat Offender and I never really stood a chance with my Lone Ranger thought process. He was also in a different place in his life having recently come out and dealing with all of those ramifications. The world was working against us and won. DAMN YOU WORLD! 

Anywayz, I noticed in my lonely desperation, that always surrounds the holidaze of single people, that Repeat Offender had visited my profile the week before Christmas and it gave me the idea to message him to see what was new. We ended up sending these long messages back and forth and picking up where we had left off. I was confused and oddly excited about this whole thing. I kept thinking to myself, "You know him already, this isn't a blind date. You were kinda into him back then. This could really work out." Because we all know I am a sucker for throwing myself into a relationship full throttle before they actually commence...because I am normal. So we decided to set up a date for New Year's Day and see where things would take us. 

(Real talk: I wanted a picture of fireworks, but then I stumbled across this gem. How could I NOT use the American flag to describe my excitement for my big ol' gay date? Right?)

New Year's Day rolled around and I thought I had been viciously attacked by the Sandman. I had never been so tired in my life. (I probably have, but I have a flair for the dramatics. Surprissseeee) Every year I go to a New Year's Eve party in Baltimore with all of my college friends. We party, we drink, we try and remember the ball drop, and then we spend the next day recovering. Except, this year I decided that I needed to be active on New Year's Day and go on an effin' date. I was casually raged with myself. At the same time, I was really hoping this date with Repeat Offender would be worth all the movement my body was so viciously against.

When I arrived at Cheesecake Factory (because all dates in MD need to start at a chain restaurant of some sort), I was greeted by Repeat Offender who had already been there for 20min. (I might've shown up a little late. SORRY, World War III was going on in my body. Not. My. Fault. *gay clap*) We stood outside in the freezing cold while we waited for our table and this is basically where things began going downhill. How? How could they be going downhill so fast? Ohhhhh let me tell you all the ways my dears. (ruh-roh)

Repeat Offender and I began our conversation just fine, talking about the holidaze and having spent it with family. I then asked him about what he had done for New Year's Eve. Who knew that would be the wrong question to ask?

Me: Did you do anything fun last night? Party? Family? Friends?

Repeat Offender: I was talking on Facebook chat with some friends. I didn't realize it was the new year until a few minutes after midnight. 

Me: Oh, bummer. Well at least you were talking to friends! 

Repeat Offender: I guess, it's really not as big a deal as everyone makes it out to be. 

Me: I guess, but it's nice to feel like you can have a fresh start and get to do something new with yourself. 

Repeat Offender: Nothing changes though. You aren't any different than the day before. Everything is the same. 

(But, like...for realz)

I was at an utter loss of what to do in the situation. This wasn't the same person I had been messaging or the person I had met in 2010. How did this happen? Was I just tired and reading into things too much? So many thoughts were rushing through my head at that moment. I decided the best thing I could do was to forge on and get coffee as my drink once we got in to the restaurant. I was determined to make Repeat Offender a successful date. Unfortunately for me, I feel like Repeat Offender had every intention of having a downer time...in every aspect of his life. 

As soon as we sat down I ordered my coffee and he ordered a soda. (This seems minor, just go with me. Take this magic carpet ride with me and all will be explained) I was flipping through the menu trying to figure out what I wanted. Due to my inability to make a full decision before I know exactly what everyone else is having, I needed to ask him what he was looking at getting. 

Me: The menu is so huge here, always hard to decide what to get. What are you looking at getting?

Repeat Offender: I think I am just going to have this soda. 

Me: Oh, uh, that's odd. Any reason? We could've just gone for coffee or something if you weren't hungry. 

Repeat Offender: I'm starving, but I only have $5.

(How else to respond?)

Who brings $5 on a date? How do you start off with that? Why would you suggest a date at Cheesecake Factory? So many questions I will NEVER have answered because I am polite and wouldn't ask those things. Instead, I just told him to order real food and that it wasn't a big deal, I'd cover. 

The issue then lies within his choice of food. I began looking at different items and offered up the idea of us sharing a couple of appetizers to keep the meal, ya know, cheap. Somehow that didn't work out the way I wanted it to. 

Me: A bunch of the app's look really good. We could get a couple of those to share.

Repeat Offender: I'm not a huge appetizer person.

Me: Oh, well, what are you looking at then? 

Repeat Offender: Oh, uh, usually I get the Parmesan Encrusted Chicken, but that's expensive.

Me: Yeah, that's definitely a little pricey.

Repeat Offender: Definitely.

*A few minutes pass and the waitress comes over*

Waitress: What can I get for the two of you today?

Me: I'll have the Chicken Caesar Salad.

Repeat Offender: I'll have the Parmesan Encrusted Chicken.

(Really? Reaaally?)

But, like, we had just gone over how he had $5 to his name and how that was an expensive dish. I even held onto the menu for an extra minute to see how much the dish was. Do you wanna know how much it was? Do you? IT WAS $20 FOR CHICKEN. I was more than casually raged at how this night was unfolding and instead attempting to enjoy it, I was trying to figure out how it was going to affect my bank account before my next paycheck. 

Our conversation consisted of me bringing up something that could be seen as positive and Repeat Offender bringing it to a dark place. 

Me: My goal for this year is to travel more. I am planning a trip to Spain! Do you have any resolutions or goals?

Repeat Offender: Last year I tried something like that. I decide 2012 was going to be my year and instead it was just kind of there... so I don't really do those things anymore. 

Me: Well it's definitely more symbolic. 

Repeat Offender: Like I said before, nothing changed between 11:59pm yesterday and 12:01am today. 

Me: I guess. I don't know, I am hoping to also go to more concerts this year. I love seeing bands live. 

Repeat Offender: There aren't many bands I am willing to spend money on to see. It's not really my thing. 

(Shut.Up. *So many gay claps*)

Nothing. NOTHING I said could make this date any better. I picked at my food for an hour while he devoured his meal and he contemplated licking his plate. We parted ways at the front door and I promised myself not to go on a repeat date like this again. (Unless he was, like, totes the cutest of cute boyz! Ugh, I hate me sometimes)

Repeat Offender: Probably finding another sucker to buy him dinner. And complaining about it

Cheesecake Factory: Overpriced. $20 for chicken? Reallly?

Rachel Dratch: A treasure 

Fabulously Lost: Tricked, bamboozled, and aimlessly wandering in 2013. 

P.S. I have another date set up on Friday. He and I have messaged each other a bunch and talked about our joint love of argyle. I think I am in loveeeee *too fast, too soon*

  

Distraught

So I just spent the last couple of days working on a piece about my recent date with Jake the Jew. When I went to post 5min ago...THE ENTIRE THING DELETED. I am overly distraught and in an emotional place. I planned my day around being able to finish this early and go on with my day. WHO IS SUPPOSED TO BAKE COOKIES?!?! WHO IS SUPPOSED TO COOK FOR FRIENDMAS??

Instead I am going to dance until the world ends and I will write a lot this weekend. Because I have been slacking. Uggghhh stop hating me. ITS CHRISTMAS. 

LOOK: It's Buddy! 

UH-OH, what shenanigans are going to happen with these two crazy snowmen. Silly Snowmen

PUPPIES: Look, they are wearing hats! Dogs don't wear hats, hahaha!

LOOK: It's Buddy again with Mr. Narwal. We know where this tale ends up...in the CANDY CANE FOREST. 

Sooo you really can't be upset with me anymore because I just posted some ADORBZ and HIGHsterical photos. 

Ok crazy kids, I want you all to have a HAPPY HOLIDAZE. Feel free to read about why I will be tweaking for the next few days. CLICK HERE

Fabulously Lost: #blogfail

Christmas: Cures everything 

Jake the Jew: A HIGHsterical story you can read after Xmas. Promise day after.  

Britney Spears: A constant presence in this blog. 

Moving: A Horror Story

Guys...shit's getting real. Like RULLLLLL RUL. I mean like...what does that even mean? Welp, what it means is that I have been focusing every waking moment (when I am not working or drinking of course) looking for an apartment in DC. I'm losing my mind and I feel like it should be easier than this. BUT IT'S NOT. (Whenever I write or say "It's Not", I always, without fail, repeat it in my head as "IT SNOT" and then giggle because I have said "Snot". THIS IS WHY I DON'T HAVE A BF OR AN APT).

(I practiced making this face for awhile. My head kinda hurts, but if I were you, I wouldn't wanna piss me off. I have a new cray cray face)

Did you know there was this thing called "Roommate Interviewing" that exists in DC. I have heard of it in other cities, but DC really takes the cake on this one. You basically have to sell yourself to these people in emails first, try to make yourself sound cool but not too cool, fun but not an alcoholic, clean without being Monica Gellar, and awesome without being cocky. ONCE you have sold them on your sweet writing skills you are given a time to go infront of the council of roommates and meet them all. Where. They. Judge. You. I feel like this is some cruel joke that is being played on me where I have to relive all of the insecure moments I had in middle school over, and over, and over again. 

So I have been to some crazy places over the last couple of months and since I have some of the coolest roommates out there (shout out to Mama and Papa Fab, you be real cool), I am not rushing into anything. It's not like I have a deadline of when I have to be out (though they have been giving me the side-eye recently), so I want to find a place that is just right. One of the places I looked at recently had this sweet ad and was located in this amazing apartment building in Columbia Heights. Three girls, 2 Jewish (Half-jew PRIDE), and a private balcony. What more could a glittery gay boy want?

(SO MUCH HAPPINESS. Obamz, you and me, just giggling through life)

There was one snafu in the email and it said that the room was a "shared space" but never clarified what type of shared space. So I arrived to this swanky building and was escorted by the nice jewish girl to the apartment. Along the way, she showed me all of the wonderful amenities. I was in heaven....until we got into the actual apartment. As soon as I walked in, I realized how tiny the place was. The kitchen, living room, and sitting area were crammed into this apartment like sardines in a can. Immediately when I walked in I was accosted with the site of one bedroom that had a small twin sized bed sitting on the ground and a table extremely low to the ground. There wasn't a window in the room and the bed didn't seem to have any blankets on it. (I am convinced it was a prisoners room and they let her out to show the new "roommate" how normal and well adjusted they were)

After short, awkward, conversation, one of the girls piped up that it was time to show me the room. She took me up a windy staircase where I was met with a medium sized open space that had a desk, dresser, and a full sized bed that took up most of the space. The nice girl then said "This is the space you and I will share if you choose to move in"

(Why yes, yes this is Harry Styles from One Direction)

I was in utter shock at this point and had no real control over how my face was going to react to this ridiculous news. These girls were all in their mid-twenties and there is absolutely NO reason to be sharing a room at that age. She kept trying to sell herself to me as this person who could share a space and be "unavailable" if we needed to have "house guests" over. (Granted, this was a concern of mine. But only momentary because, as we all know, #celibacy2012/3). I listened to her talk for awhile before I walked down the tiny staircase trying to contemplate why they thought it would be appropriate for someone to share a room in this apartment, let alone pay $800 for it. (Did I forget to mention how expensive this "room share" was?? Again, I say, biiiitch puh-lease)

I did find one I was really into recently and they strung me along until tonight pretending like I was there top choice, then going radio silent at the last minute. I was so nervous about getting this place but then I ran into one of the roommates on Saturday night outside of the liquor store (because that's where all roommate relationships should start) and she told me that I was their top choice and I should hear back at any moment. Unfortunately, I was told by the house manager I would hear by Monday night and I am still waiting on her email. (Seriously, I am refreshing my email inbox on the reg, looking at it and not willing to accept that I am like the girl who was stood up on prom night. Looking all pretty with no place to go.)

(JUST LIKE ME. Or I will ugly cry like Anne. Don't put it past me. I am not above it)

I was so stressed out about this apartment that I actually had a dream about it last night. I woke up in a cold sweat because the house manager emailed me back to tell me that they were going with someone else who was a DJ. Her reasoning was that they had always wanted a house DJ and this guy claimed to play lots of metal music. I apparently didn't seem like the "metal" type and they really needed that in their lives. I was devastated and unsure of what to do with my life. (Reminder: This was all just a dream). When I woke up I began writing these possible roommates to let them know I was considering getting into metal music. It wasn't until I was half-way through the email that I realized that writing this would make me seem, essentially, NUTS. (Not that I am not crazy, but I don't let my freak flag fly right away. I am a classy lady.) 

Anywhoz, I am in this mad search for an apartment and thanks to some lovely facebook friends, I have a few more prospects to look forward to. Onward and upward my dear friends, onward and upward. 

DC Residents: Judgey and possibly insane. Here's lookin' at you kid 

Fabulously Lost: Homeless (metaphorically) 

Mama/Papa Fab: Sweet roomies who provide free food.