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

Brazilian Adventures, Part 2

Remember how cultured I was at the end of the last post? You know, cause I had wooed a woman with my boyish good lucks and sparkling charm? Yup, that happened. I wonder if she is sitting down there in Brazil wondering if I will ever show up to her hotel room. I am sure she is...cause what woman wouldn't want this hunk-a-burnin' man love. (The answer is most...most women don't want to bed a flamer thats been burning bright since '88)

Now that we have that little RECRAP out of the way we can delve into the meat of my trip. (Jokes for days. DAYZ I tell you). You may remember me mentioning my co-worker Daddy Raids (his name needs no explanation, other than that I promise he isn't a pedophile. Or a rapper. Or a rapping pedophile.). Well he is partially the reason for some of my adventures down in good ol' Sao Paulo. You see, Daddy Raids and I have actually known each other for many years. We met through mutual friends in college, then later became coworkers. Since we are around the same age, we tend to be around each other at work functions and at younger people work functions outside of work (See also: copious amounts of drinking activities). 

Anywhoz, Daddy Raids and I also work with a man who can only be described as one of the most suave men I have ever met. (And I have met many suaveeee men). Casanova holds a very high position in our company and has lived a life that many of us would kill to live. He is married to a gorgeous woman, they have an adorable child, they live in NYC, he has lived all over the world, and travels constantly for work. Back in a previous life he had lived for some time in Sâo Paulo, and it is because of that that he decided to grab me, Daddy Raids, and Sharif (another colleague) for the adventure none of us would've every predicted for ourselves. 

(Ugh, great movie. Also, similar to my night.)

Casanova separated the three of us from our larger group to show us the "real Sâo Paulo." He told us about the hotel he was staying at in the downtown portion of the city, Tivoli. 

Casanova: Last night, as I entered the elevator to go to my room, I saw five of the most beautiful women heading to the bar at the top of the building. We must go.

Me: Yes, well, you know how I like to follow the most beautiful women to bars. 

Casanova: Brazil is full of beautiful people. You will have so much fun. 

Once we arrived to Arola, the bar/night club on the top floor, we found out that there was a guest list for a private party. Casanova took everything in stride and explained that we were on the guest list. (In case you were wondering...we weren't anywhere on that list.) Without missing a beat, he leaned over the table to help the girl find his name, and just pointed at a random person and said it was him. The woman, completely flustered, handed him a wristband and he began to walk in. We started to follow before she stopped us. 

Dainty Bouncer: You cannot enter unless you are on the list....

Casanova: They are with me, they come with me 

Dainty Bouncer: I am sorry they need to be on the list

Casanova: They are on the list, that is Webhnar *points at me*,  that is Campillo *points at Daddy Raids*, and that is Brunier *points at Sharif*

When he picked his name off the list he picked three other names off the list quicker than lightening. Just like that I was Gustavo Webhnar. 

(This is how I now looked in my mind entering the party. Dreaming never hurt anyone, bitches)

Without a moments doubt, all three of us were let into the party and we made our way directly to the bar. Laughing hysterically we all ordered drinks and realized we were the first people to this private party. We took a spin around the club to see the almost-360 view of Sâo Paulo before we took a stance just out of eyeshot of the front door. Being the nervous nellie I am when I am put into those situations, I had my back facing the door so I wouldn't have to view the people filtering in. I heard people making there way in and someone had commented that they were waiting for the beautiful girls to show up. Then Daddy Raids tapped me on the shoulder...

Daddy Raids: Hey fab, can you turn around for a second...this party seems a bit...off.

As I slowly turned my head, I was met with something I have only dreamed of. There, in front of me, was a sea of amazingly attractive, well dressed, well groomed gay Brazilian men. That's right, we crashed a gay man's 30th birthday party. 

(Best.Surprise.Ever)

I was beside myself. All of us couldn't stop laughing because it was the complete opposite of what Casanova had been promising since we had separated from our group. All of the beautiful Brazilian men were also all staring at us, because we were most obviously not the Brazilian men that we pretended to be to get in the club. Though, none of them called us out and I'd like to think its because we brought the attractive foreign men thing to this wild and crazy party.

After a couple of more drinks, we decided it was time to leave before the people who truly possessed the stolen identities showed up to their good friends birthday party. That little taste of gay Brazil helped to solidify my decision to go back to Brazil sometime in the near future. (As if I NEEDED a reason to come back. Ugh guys, I am going through Portuguese withdrawal) 

Post-Gayzilian experience Casanova had us make our way over to Hotel Unique, which is a massive hotel in the center of town that is in the shape of a ship. Like...a huge Noah's Arc...in the middle of the city.

(If the bible ever repeats itself, I will jump on that ship and be one of the two gay men Noah has to get on the ship.)

On the roof of the hotel is this exclusive restaurant/rooftop bar. Because of the exclusivity there was a massive line that wrapped around the corner of the hotel. Casanova wasn't going to have any of this. 

Casanova: I don't do lines. We will get around this. 

Daddy Raids: How exactly will you do that.

Casanova: I offer some money, see if they listen, and get us around it. 

I just don't know how to be this confident. I would've seen the line, contemplated going in, and then convinced myself that I could probably find an episode of Dawson's Creek that I have only seen once. (Facts: There aren't any episodes that I have only seen once. More facts: You are finding out so many reasons why I am singleee...so am I.) 

(Dawson just knows)

Instead, what happened was Casanova walked up to the hostess at the door and began speaking to her in English and Spanish. They went back and forth for a bit, he kept asking to get us a table at the bar and saying we would get bottles and such. She wasn't really having it. 

Dainty Hostess: I am sorry sir, it is 90min wait in line, 40min for a table.

Casanova: Yes, but that will not work. We would like a table now.

Dainty Hostess: There isn't really a way around it. 

Casanova: Ok, I will check in at the downstairs restaurant. 

Dainty Hostess: There is a wait there too, sir. 

Casanova: We shall see about that

And with that, Casanova rounded the corner and made is way to the entrance of the restaurant. He said something in Spanish to the security guards and breezed through. He stopped momentarily to tell us he would be back to get us within 5 minutes. Less than two minutes after he walked through the door the Dainty Hostess came running around the corner and told us she had a table for us immediately. What did he say? What did he do? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. We all stood there flabbergasted and trying to explain to her where he had gone and that we needed a minute. 

Just as quickly as he had entered the restaurant, he returned and let us know we now had options. Let's just recap for a moment. Five minutes prior we were being told we had to wait 40-90 minutes to get into this club, now we were being told we had TWO different ways to get into this club immediately. HOW DOES THIS MAN DO THIS??

Then again, who am I to question any of this? Onward I went into the next place I had not intended on going to, nor would I have gone had Casanova not been there. Boy am I glad he he was there. As soon as we got up to the bar we ordered drinks and I took in my surroundings. It was an absolutely gorgeous evening and the view from the top was breathtaking. As if he could tell I was getting comfortable in my surroundings, Casanova decided it was time for him to go on a mission. Casanova's mission was to get Daddy Raids and Sharif women for the evening. 

(Me too Obamarama, me too)

One thing is for sure, when Casanova puts his mind to something, he will most certainly get it. We scoped out the scene and eventually found two gorgeous girls who turned out to be Brazilian Sisters. Bing, bang, boom! We were left speaking broken English and Spanish with these girls who just kept giggling and laughing. They took to Daddy Raids and Sharif quite quickly...but they also found me amusing. At one point I was trying to explain what I "liked" because one of them mentioned finding me someone.

Me: They *points at Daddy Raids and Sharif* like...girls...ladies. I don't.

Brazilian Sister 1: They like? You dont like? *Points at self*

Me: No, no. You are nice. I like you...just not *Points at lady parts*

Brazilian Sister 1: Ohhh One minute

Me: One minute? What do you mean one minute?

BS 1: I knew one minute

Me: You knew a minute?

BS 1: I knew you like *points at man parts* after one minute

There you have it, I am an international Rainbow. Apparently the Polish Girl was severely slow, because these sisters knew after one minute of broken English that I was not trying to check out their Brazilian waxes. (Also known as "Waxes" down there...jokezzzz). The conversation only got better from there. Brazilian Sister 1 then began stroking the umbrella pole.

Brazilian Sister 1: You need some Brazilian dick tonight

Me: Oh, no really its fine. It's 2am, I have to be up in a couple hours. 

Brazilian Sister 1: We take you to gay club and find you man

Me: No really, I think I'll probably just go sleep

Brazilian Sister 1: NO. We get you Brazilian dick. Tonight.

They are a forceful people and they do not take no for an answer. Out of nowhere the semi-mute sister, Brazilian Sister 2, decided to chime in with something in Portuguese. I had completely forgotten about her but all of a sudden Brazilian Sister 1 began laughing and telling Casanova to translate. They went back and forth about whether he was going to translate or not, but seeing as these girls were determined to get their way, Casanova never stood a chance. 

Casanova: *points at me* You do not like the Brazilian pussy to ride, we get you Brazilian dick to ride. Tonight.

(Thanks Degrassi for this gem)

Well....I just...I had no words. Nothing she said was false, but nothing she said felt right. It also felt so weird to hear it out of the mouth of someone I work with. With the awkward laughter that ensued, I must've blacked out and agreed to go to this gay area of town to get me a man, because off we went. Brazilian Sister 2 made us get into her car and she began driving, sans Casanova who decided to venture back to his hotel room because it was now 2:30am. Somewhere along the way our two heroines decided they wanted drunk food more than they wanted to find me a man. They stopped random people on the road and in their cars and asked them where Burger King was. Drunk food in Brazil is apparently the equivalent of a fine dining restaurant for Honey Boo Boo. (HAD to get a reference to my favorite tyke in here).

I was slowly waning interest in our impromptu tour guides and my traveling companions seemed to have joined me. It seems none of us had really thought through going on an adventure with two girls who could barely speak English, who "forced" us into their car. (This is how 20/20 specials happen...). We decided to part ways with the lovely ladies and I promised them we would come back and visit them in a month or two to get them to stop yelling at us for leaving (Spoiler Alert: I will not be visiting them). Daddy Raids and Sharif both macked it with their respective girls before we got into the cab and I talked to a random homeless woman who looked like she was going to poor peoples Mardi Gras.

(Helena has always looked a bit homeless. But this is pretty much what I talked too, add a little more dirt)

We finally ended up back at the hotel it was 4am and we had to be up in a few hours for the final day of our conference. We were met, unfortunately, with a fellow colleague who was pacing the lobby and obviously not feeling well. We made the executive decision to take him to the hospital near by...because what night isn't complete without a trip to the good ol' ER. When we got there we were met with a slew of people who couldn't speak a lick of English and a waiting room that was sub-par. Luckily after a solid 2hrs their our colleague in need was feeling good enough to make his way back to the hotel and sleep off the rest of the pain. The real wining part was that we were able to skip over him getting his blood taken by the woman who was coughing violently into her hand and wasn't planning on using a glove. (It's the little victories)

So that was it. That all happened in one night. I felt like it was my own version of The Hangover, except I was only casually drunk the whole time and I remembered everything that happened. My next business trip will be in December to North Carolina (womp, womp...not really the best follow up to Brazil. Whatever..its a free trip.) and Daddy Raids and I will be road tripping down there from the DMV. This seems like a good idea, right?

Fabulously Lost: Brazilian dick-less and okay with it

Daddy Raids and Sharif: Brazilian Sister winning 

Casanova: The only constant winner. 

Brazil: Just plain fabulous

Brazilian Adventures, Part 1

Holy fuck Brazil was awesome! Pardon my Portuguese! (See what I did there...get it? ohhh yeah). Guys, I am super cultured these days because I just spent a ridiculous 4 days in a country full of beautiful people, beautiful weather, and delicious food. I can't even put into words how much fun I had...butttt I am going to because thats what I do. So really I am a liar. I can put it into words and here begins the saga of Brazil.

(nom on some margs)

The last time I left the country was in 2010 when I went to the Middle East with a UMD sponsored trip. I didn't really worry about booking my flights, hotels, or making sure things got to places when they needed to because everything was planned for me. Luckily, a lot of the same things were true for me on this trip because it was all for work. I booked my own flight but the hotel and most of the activities were taken care of for me by my job. What I wasn't expecting was the intense and dramatic way in which I would finally ended up in Brazil.

I arrived early to the airport on the day of my departure to give myself enough time to make it through security and met up with one of my coworkers, Daddy Raids, who was traveling with me. (What I really mean is, I got there early so I could get casually drunk before my flight.) We made our way to our terminal and were pleased to find a Green Turtle not too far from where we were going to take off. After several beers we boarded our plane and just sat. We sat for a few minutes and then they made the announcement that there was paint on the antenna and that they would need an hour or so to replace the antenna. I want to repeat that for you. There was PAINT on an antenna and they couldn't fly....

What this also meant was that my coworkers and I were going to miss our connecting flight in Detroit (No, it doesn't make sense why I would fly North to go South...and no, I didn't question it until much later.)  that would get us to Brazil. We scrambled for a few moments trying to figure out what we were going to do and finally found flights that would take us to Atlanta that would then connect us to Brazil, having us arrive only one hour later than originally planned. This seems perfectly normal and calm, right? Welp, don't you worry your pretty little heads....nothing in my life is ever even remotely calm. The flight out of Baltimore was at 7pm and the flight out of Atlanta was at 9:35. My plane would arrive at 8:57pm and give me a little less than 40min to get off of my plane and get from Terminal A to Terminal F, which is only accessible by train. (I hate math. I hate math so incredibly much.) 

By the grace of some higher being we made it to Atlanta earlier than expected, but not that much because that would make my life easy. I ran through the mother effing airport and was sweating like...like....like an animal that sweats a whole freakin' lot. Now, this is a big deal because I have very strict rules about when I will and won't run. Usually the rule is that I will run from wolves or I will run towards chance encounters with gentlemen friends. (Surprisingly, I will run towards a chance encounter with Taylor Lautner...the only wolf I will let pounce me).  I now have to make an amendment to this rule and add "Will run to make flight", which I don't feel good about, but I will let it slide. Mainly because I made it onto my flight with moments to spare.

(Ohhhh yeah...lets be a wolf pack of 2. Shut up...you know he's legal)

Anywayz, we got down to Brazil and were promptly left without our bags for a couple days. Luckily for us, Delta said they would pay for us to go shopping for clothing for our conference. So, my momentary drama queen freak out about not having my bags turned into sheer joy over my ability to go on a shopping spree in Brazil. (I'm a fickle pickle who loves free shit, sometimes my half-jew really sets in)

Once I was settled in with my new wardrobe and a solid shower, I was ready for the opening dinner and the night that would follow. Everything went off a lot smoother than the previous 12hrs had and I got work tipsy off of Brazils national drink, the caipirinha. (Wait, did I just say that right. Do they have a national drink? Why, yes, yes they do. #inlove). I literally had died and gone to heaven. Not only was I sent to Brazil for work, but then I have the luck of finding out that there is a NATIONAL drink. I just...I just couldn't. Unbelievably happy. Life was good. 

(Foreign men, free clothing, and a national drink...its like Christmas morning)

The next day came a little too soon, but was interesting enough. Meetings galore and an unbelievable amount of food was served. (Seriously, I think I might've consumed an entire cattle farm while down there. And I would do it again...suck it vegetarians. Jk, lolz, power to ya). When the evening time rolled around I ended up going out with a group of colleagues to a bar called Wall Street in downtown Sao Paulo. The prices of the beers depend on how many people are buying them that night, the more people buy a beer the higher the price ends up being. Every once and a while there will be a "Wall Street Crash," where all of the prices are brought back to a basic price. What was great was that all of the beers were 40s. (Did I mention heaven yet?)

The best part in the evening came when I was leaving one of the rooms with one of the women on my trip when this beautiful Polish girl interrupted us. 

Polish Girl: You speak English, no?

Me: Excuse me? Yes?

*My colleague proceeded to walk away without entertaining any of this.*

Polish Girl: Oh no, I made you girlfriend made, no?

Me: HAHAHA, no she is not my girlfriend. Not like that at least. 

Polish Girl: Oh how good, no?

I was confused, I was lost, and I was intrigued. (Sounds like the first time I kissed a boy. ZINGER to 15 year old me! BOOM. 2004 Burn...yes, I am still single.) This girl then kept hugging me and holding onto me, finishing all of her sentences with an inquisitive "no" that continuously made her less and less attractive. 

Polish Girl: You're from America, no?

Me: I think I am answering you....yes, I am from America

Polish Girl: You have fun in Brazil, no?

Me: Again, trying to understand but....yes?

Polish Girl: So much fun, but girls are prettier in America, no?

Me: Well, I think there are beautiful women everywhere

Polish Girl: But foreign girls in America are that best, no?

Me: I like diversity, so sure?

This went back and forth for a bit before she hugged me and told me she was going to find me before she left. Completely flabbergasted I turned to my group as the congratulated me on being the first person to be hit on in Brazil...and yet they were also laughing. (SURPRISE...everyone knows I'm gay at work. I apparently can't hide it...except from Polish Girls). The creepiest part ended up coming closer to the end of the night when my Polish lovah slinked over and put herself right in between myself and the rest of the group I was with. 

Polish Girl: You have fun tonight, no?

Me: Yes, I have fun tonight

Polish Girl: I see you again, no?

Me: Well, I am only here a few days...so I don't think so 

Polish Girl: I see you tonight, no?

Me: I mean, you are seeing me right now, so yes?

Then a colleague of mine stepped into the conversation.

Life Saver: Ummm, my boyfriend is with me tonight. 

Polish Girl: Oh, so sorry. We all have fun, no?

Me: Uhh, yeah I have to stay here with my girlfriend. Sorry

*Polish girl slides up and gives me a hug*

Polish Girl: You come over to my place later, no? I am staying downtown, no?

Me: I just...I don't think...

And like that she was gone with the wind. She gave me her hotel and room number as she finished hugging me and then bolted out the door. I was left questioning my life choices. I haven't been hit on by a girl since I was too young to be considered homosexual. (HAHAH...who am I kidding...I've always been considered a glitter lover). My colleagues continuously ridiculed me for the rest of the night...but I had the last laugh because I was the only person to get hit on that fine evening. 

Alright friends, I am going to have to update you on the second, more ridiculous night tomorrow. For now, just revel in the fact that I went all the way down to Brazil to meet my sexy new husband and instead got hit on by a grammatically confused Polish Girl. Apparently I would be quite the lothario if I were to move to Poland...#semiwinning 

Fabulously Lost: Newly minted switch hitter

Polish Girl: Confused and aggressive 

Brazil: Amazeballz