July 15, 2009

Every Guy I've Ever Slept With...

Check out my new semi-weekly blog project:

Every Guy I've Ever Slept With...

And tell all your friends!

July 26, 2008

Some Comfort

There are days—Saturdays and Sundays mainly, but really, at this point, all bets are off—when I wake up and think to myself, Well, at least I didn't put my finger in anybody's anything last night. And that's some comfort.

April 13, 2008

Magic Moments

Nothing warms my heart like that magic moment when two gay dudes pass each other on the street and they have to give each other dirty, whithering looks, you know, just to let each other know that they're not checking each other out.

March 01, 2008

The City of the Future

When did New York become Tokyo?

I'm sorry, I just don't want to live in the city of the future.

February 26, 2008

New Crush

I have a new crush.

I want him to be my boyfriend.

Then I can dress up as his tattoo for Halloween.

February 05, 2008

Marc Jacobs

Is anyone else sick of seeing Marc Jacobs shirtless?

January 02, 2008

Aseptic New Year

New Year's Eve, the ball drops and people kiss and embrace, throw confetti, blow their cardboard horns and make a whole lot of noise and one hell of a mess. Then, everywhere, all over the world, cell phones start vibrating. Calls from loved ones, text messages from friends in far off places, people you haven't spoken to in years spontaneously resurface throwing all kinds of warm wishes and sentimental nonsense at you, that lands with a thud of guilt as you realize just how wide that gap between us really is. It falls around you like so much sodden confetti, clotted with sticky spilt Champagne. All those untidy, over-dramatized emotions suddenly gushing forth for no good reason.

Well, I'll tell you something, I'm not doing it this year. My cell phone may have rung, buzzing and twittering like a retarded digital insect, but I wasn't answering. It's not that I don't love you too. I just can't be bothered to experience emotions in such an unnecessarily overwrought fashion. I cannot participate in these sentimental displays.

I've decided to leave the emotions behind in 2008. I crave an antiseptic new year, something WASPY and entirely more efficient. I would hate for you to think that I'm bitter. I'm not. I'm leaving the anger behind as well. It may be cold outside, but my 2008 is no barren wasteland, no arctic tundra. No, my new year is a clean white room. Clinical. Neat. Comfortably air-conditioned.

Should you find your way into my white room, don't be afraid. I'll greet you with a polite smile and ask if there's anything I can do for you. And then I'll send you on your way with a peck on the cheek and a no lingering glances as you leave. And if you think you want to stay, I'm very sorry, but there's no loitering here.

Just remember, I'm perfectly fine, and none of this is about you.

December 27, 2007

White Trash Christmas: Aftermath

People talk about "The Holiday Season" and frankly I have no idea what they're talking about anymore. They probably mean that feeling kids get around the end of November, the anticipation and the swirling, engulfing, all-encompassingness of Christmas. You know, back when Christmas was a whole season and not just a day filled with obligaion that speeds towards you and leaves you exhausted and empty. I think people who talk about "The Christmas Season" are just longing for that feeling they remember from childhood and think they're supposed to still have. As if anyone with a job and a life actually feels that.

I don't mean to sound cynical. I've tried so damn hard not to be one of those now horribly clich├ęd people who hates the holidays. I've tried to be enthusiastic and throw myself into it with an open heart and warm intentions. But for me, Christmas is one of the great disappointments of adulthood.

The weeks slip by filled with crowds and soul-less marketing nonsense. Everywhere you look people are frantically purchasing meaningless gifts for people they barely know and don't seem to like all that much. It's a time of consumerist panic, as we try to fill the gaps between us with stuff; not heartfelt tokens of true affection, but stuff. Stuff we don't need and don't want. Stuff that makes us wonder if the people we love know us at all. Stuff that we now have to lug home in overstuffed suitcases that are over the airline's maximum weight limit for checked baggage, costing us not only emotional distress, but also $80 extra in traveling expenses!

The orgy of gift receiving is over and the hollow places inside me seem to be expanding. That imagined feeling of home and safety, of a family brought together in love and peace by the holidays is replaced by freshly minted memories of sniping and bickering, of impatience and dissatisfaction, of spoiled children, glassy eyed with greed, screaming and throwing tantrums. Of imperfect people incapable of putting their petty disagreements and resentment aside for this one day.

December 25, 2007

White Trash Christmas: Part II

Uncle Joey walks out on his wife of six months the day before Christmas Eve. There was a fight over someone's prescription pain killers, so he shows up at your house with his eight year old daughter—he's trying to get custody from his ex-girlfriend, who was arrested a few months ago in Ohio for child neglect and endangerment—in his white work van, and proceeds to have a shouting match with your grandparents on the phone over the dubious affect this may have on the greater custody battle.

The general consensus is that everyone—those of you merely involved by way of blood relation—should just ignore the situation.