Something about getting naked in public.

Eh, that placeholder wasn't actually supposed to be the title of this post, but it works.

Anyway, as every wife knows, you can put something on the to do list but that doesn't mean he's gonna do it. Well "Blog" was put on the list. Then a tornado came through and ripped the list of the fridge. Worry not! The list was recovered from the rubble. But then the hamster ate it. :/

Okay, that's only partially true. And by "partially true" I mean "completely false," but I felt the need to provide you with a reason for our hiatus. Hiatus. That's a good word. We're like an awesome TV show that completely devastates its viewership by announcing its winter hiatus. Or in our case our winter, spring, summer, and half of fall hiatus. Except we didn't announce it. And we can't promise that another hiatus isn't imminent. But we're trying.

So what happened? Mike (that's me...you do remember me, right?) moved to Canada and started graduate school. Kayla fell in love (I wanted to use the "L" word here, but Kayla pretty much threatened to rip my heart out through my nose because they hadn't actually used that word yet), started a new job, and finished graduate school.

So we were both super busy. Heck, we both are super busy (I'm avoiding homework at this very moment!). I was also distracted by my other blogging efforts which included a blog devoted to immigrating to Québec (RIP) and another devoted to becoming a published author successful ventriloquist. That latest version is still alive-ish, but I haven't had much time for ventriloquism-y stuff so I instead post motivational (ish...) gay ramblings.

Anyway, Kayla and I recently discussed the fact that ridiculous things continue to happen to us even if we live in different countries and they're not happening to us simultaneously. So, we've decided to return to our loyal readers (reader? Hi, Mom!) and tell you about the crazy shit (Hi, Mom...) that continues to happen to us.

So where to start for me? Well, there are a lot of challenges and mishaps that arise from moving to a new country. Cultural differences, a different language (I live in French-speaking Québec...hey, look, my bachelor's degree isn't so useless after all!), being accosted by street performers, and the list goes on and on.

Still, none of it compares to the horror of what I experienced today.

When writing this post I was shocked to discover the tag "working out" already existed. Turns out that once upon a time I posted about how I worked out (and my motivation). Well, that routine went the same way as the relationship I was in at the time.

Anyway, last week I enrolled in the workout room at my university's athletic facility. As part of that enrollment I was entitled to a free meeting with a personal trainer to establish a workout routine. I was extremely nervous. Mainly because 1) I'd have to interact with someone (and worse, probably a straight guy!) and 2) I'd have to know the right vocabulary. A gym-going, French-speaking friend told me not to worry, that all the terms are in English. I was relieved to hear that. Unfortunately, the trainer was indeed a young straight dude. I don't know why they terrify me so much but they do. I arrived at the gym early and actually found myself trying to act more masculine as I paced waiting for my appointment. Seriously. Even I told myself I was being an idiot. Anyway, the trainer was super nice and I was very happy to have my routine all planned out. Finally! A routine put together just for me! After the trainer had showed me how to use all the machines, I did my first workout. It was pretty much a success and I headed to the locker room.

I had gotten my routine, done my first workout, and was feeling very optimistic about the future. So I called my mom right away after leaving the gym and told her about my biggest accomplishment: "I SHOWERED IN PUBLIC."

See, after my workout I was, as one would expect, sweaty. I needed a shower. I had brought shower things but I knew I'd never do it. Shower in public? NO WAY. I could have just gotten dressed and returned home to shower, but my O.H.D. (Obsessive Homosexual Disorder) got in the way. See, I have a relatively modest wardrobe (read: I'm broke) and if I went home sweaty, then the outfit I wore to the gym (before changing into workout clothes) would get all sweat-covered (too cold to just wear the gym outfit home) and be unwearable after showering at home. So I'd be on my second outfit of the day. PLUS it's Friday night so it was possible that I would go out tonight and I wasn't going to get ready for that right after the gym. So, my going out outfit would make a THIRD outfit in one day. I couldn't handle it. So, I SHOWERED AT THE GYM.

Seriously, this is something I never thought I would do. Like ever. But I did. The gym has the classic big shower room with a dozen shower heads. Fortunately, it has four of these rooms...and one of them was unoccupied. So I raced to one of the corners, dropped my towel, and did the showery stuff. I hoped that the fact that I was facing the corner coupled with the sound of the running water would shield me from the knowledge of someone else entering the room. I got through my whole routine (okay, an abbreviated version...baby steps) before someone came in. By then I had towel in hand. SUCCESS! (As long as "success" means "hiding my man parts from other people at all costs.")

On an unrelated (or is it?) note, I need beauty tips for the gym because there be some hotties up in there and I can't be looking like my "I just rolled out of bed" self. Which reminds me...am I the only person that showers before going to the gym? Cuz I did. And I'll shower again if I go out. Three showers in one day, totally normal, right?

Also, I need a new inspiration board. Maybe an inspiration wall. I love working out. :)


UPDATE:
Guys... Guys... I was so nervous on Friday that I just ran into the shower without much thought...or observation. Well today (Monday) I went back to the gym for my second workout (despite the fact that I'm still in so much pain from Friday's workout that it's difficult to wash my hands) and the locker room was much emptier. Guess what I found in a less rushed stroll into the shower area? Private stalls lining the wall of one of the four shower rooms. *sigh* This is pretty much what it means to be me.

I'm a catch: MINE!

We've already established that I need to think before I speak and that some of my methods for wooing guys are a little unorthodox. What you don't know is that what I've posted here is only the tip of the ice berg.

As, I've previously stated, I seem to be incompatible with anyone who lives in the same state as me. Thus, I'm required to go on dates with people who are not familiar with Milwaukee. A while ago I went on a date with someone who had just moved to the area (fresh meat, muhahaha... cough). We went to dinner and afterwards we decided that we were going to get a drink, but we had to decide where.  I originally suggested a gay lounge I like, but then changed my mind, stating:

“I don’t want to go to a gay bar, because I don’t want other gays to see you.  I want you to be my little secret.”

I followed that with:

“I’m just kidding.  Kind of.  Not really.”

Even after I said that he still went for drinks with me. Though it was probably because I had picked him up and he assumed he had to comply with my wishes if he didn’t want to end up tied up in my basement while I prepared to test various Saw-esque devices on him.  Though that’s a silly thing for him to think because I don’t even have a basement.

I have a hard time understanding why I don't have a pool full of money yet.

I had an epiphany the other day. I believe it was inspired by a recent visit to Hamburger Mary's in Milwaukee for HamBingo night. It was pretty much the standard bingo scenario. Except the numbers were being called by a drag queen and she did performances between games. And it was FAAAAABULOUS!

I was sitting at Qdoba when I realized that it would be a much more interesting experience if my taco salad had been made by a drag queen. And then I realized that there isn't ANYTHING that wouldn't be improved by the prescence of a saucy gay in drag.

Think about it.

Funerals, weddings, baptisms, family reunions, garbage collection, Congress, divorce, sporting events, prom, doctor's offices, dentist visits, the DMV.

Imagine each of those things. And then imagine them with a drag queen or two.

SO MUCH BETTER, RIGHT???

Drag queens are like clowns, except not FREAKING TERRIFYING. I don't know about you, but I've never had a nightmare about a drag queen trying to kill me. I've never run screaming for my mommy at the sight of a drag queen. Mostly I'm just jealous that their makeup always looks better than mine.

And that's why I'm pro drag queen. Clowns can go back to hell where they came from.

[A/N: I wasn't going to share this incredible idea with you guys because I was afraid someone would steal it and capitalize off my genius. But then I realized that I don't have any moneyyyyyyyy* and I probably need some financial backing to get this off the ground. So if you're interested in investing in my drag placement service, shoot me an email!]

*Read that as if said by that crazy girl from Toddlers and Tiaras shown below.

Image Source

And if you're not sure why on earth I would waste time watching this show, this is why:

Image Source

The Orgy Dance (not as fun as it sounds)

PDA:

"Public Displays of Affection, can be seen in the form of kissing, touching, groping, licking, nuzzling, cuddling, crossing hands into each other's opposite back pockets, etc. Usually spotted among new couples, frisky teenagers, and occasionally the 'young at heart' (god help us)." (via Urban Dictionary)

There is a time and place to show how you feel about your significant other (or that guy or girl you've been ogling across the bar awkwardly for the last four hours). Some people like PDA when they're coupled, some don't. Some people are okay seeing other couples displaying affection, others are not. Some people like to have orgy conga lines in bars with their significant other. And another couple. 

Friday night I was at a Hybrid Lounge, a pretty chill bar in Milwaukee. They have a DJ and encourage dancing, but this isn't some giant club where you can do the nasty in the back room (do those actually exist?) and no one will notice. "The back room" at Hybrid happens to feature tables and a second bar. Well, my friend and I were sitting at the back bar when suddenly I felt someone press against me. I turned to find four guys all rubbing up on each other in a four person sandwich, standing against the bar. You couldn't even tell who was coupled with who. Then they started making out with each other. It was so romantic. And by romantic I mean "gross." 

I observed in amazement (read: horror) and then the inevitable happened: I had to use the restroom. I always "break the seal¹" and end up having to leave my bar stool a dozen times an hour.  I averted my eyes and made my escape around the "grouple." On my way back I encountered one tiny problem: I had been sitting at the end of the bar with the wall to my right and, in my absence, the orgy conga line had formed a wall running from the bar to that wall. I was cut off from my friend. What does one do in an awkward situation? Blend in. So I wrapped my arms around myself, pretended to make out with my shoulder, and danced (read: humped) my way through the line. 

I made my way back to my bar stool in one piece only to find the bartender² searching frantically for a cleaning product strong enough to erase the stains--and scarring memories--from the bar. No such magical spray exists. My corneas may never heal. Nor will the clothes that I wore during my encounter and had to burn when I got home.

¹ In my defense, I'm pretty sure the whole "breaking the seal" thing is a myth. I mean, of course you won't have to go to the bathroom more if you just fight the urge, because your bladder will explode and you will die. Fact. Probably.

² This is definitely not the funniest post I've written, but I have a confession... I may or may not have only written this post because the cute bartender told me that I should give the bar a shout out on the blog. Not sure this was the kind of publicity he was looking for, but I can assure you that Hybrid is an awesome bar with awesome owners and awesome bartenders. And the occasional creepy patron. But hey, we wouldn't love people watching if everyone acted sane.

I'm sorry, are my wrinkles distracting you?

I have been using online dating for a long time. Since way before it was socially acceptable...assuming that it has become socially acceptable by now. I was using it back in high school and scaring my mother out of her wits. Not sure if she thought I was going to get kidnapped or what but she didn't like it. All the more reason for me to do it. Just kidding, I'm totally not that kind of son. Really.

Before I continue, it's worth noting that I am 25-years-old. Kayla and I have opted to stop aging once she turns 25 in November (the day before I would turn 26), but I can honestly say this is my first time being 25.

My match situation is a little jacked up. Everyday OkCupid (my site of choice because it's free and they let you answer a bazillion questions in order to find a perfect match) gives you three new matches in a special inbox called your "quiver" and now all of mine are from out of state! Apparently I have been through EVERY GAY GUY IN MILWAUKEE (via online dating, you perv) and there is just no one left in the whole state of Wisconsin for me! In fact, my most recent ex was from Illinois. I had to drive for 1.5 hours to see him! Therefore, I get very excited when I get a message from someone in Milwaukee. It's always my hope that they are new to the site and just haven't showed up in my list of matches yet. Though no one new has seemed to join the site in the last two years as my normal (non-quiver) matches have been the same twenty guys FOREVER. If it hasn't happened, it isn't going to!

Anyway, yesterday I received a message from a 19-year-old guy. It started:

"Hey whatsup man?"

Okay...questionable choice of spelling, but I say/write "gonna" all the time so we can let that go.

Then he followed with:

"I looked at your preferences and was a bit disappointed that your in to older guys..." 

It's true. I can't even seem to find a guy my own age who is on the same page as far as life goals, maturity, etc.

Then he continued:

"...but then again you are an older guy." 

Ouch. In his defense, he called me "older" and not "old," but I threw an absolute fit to Kayla when it happened. Since when am I "older" to someone who's old enough to be out of high school. HOW DID I LET THIS HAPPEN? I've been using anti-aging cream since I was 12, this should not be possible!

Of course next this guy said:

"But I thought id message to that you sir are the MOST attractive guy iv seen on here." 

TOO LATE BUDDY! Oh wait, what's at the end of the message there?

Seeing as I'm so old he added:

"Maybe we can be friends instead?" 

Eff youuuu!!! Oh and, by the way, he sent this message at 10:48 PM. Well this old man was already in bed.

And then when I hadn't responded by 8:12 AM this morning (because I was in bed last night and then at work this morning!) I got another message:

"I take it the even friends would not work." 

WTF? Us old folk have to work in the morning! I don't get paid to cruise OkCupid!

It just gets better! Later today I received another message from a different guy:

"heeey... i read your profile and thought i'd message you; cuz you seem like a pretty cool guy.because i'm so blunt, i'm just going to say: In all honesty, I doubt we'll be attracted towards (just cuz) each other, BUT I'd like to think we can be friends? :)"

Why wouldn't we be attracted to each other? Because I'm SO OLD?! I'm sorry, are my wrinkles distracting you???

***

On a happy note, today is the first day of Milwaukee's PrideFest! I'm so excited! I will probably find a rich husband this weekend and run away to Europe. And by that I mean that I will be back, crying at my desk on Monday Tuesday, after I have recovered from spewing my pride all over the streets of Milwaukee. I'm still trying to convince Kayla that latex is the best look for her. Happy Pride!

I'm stabby and fabby and gayyyy!

I'm queer! (Well, actually I identify as "gay" but that doesn't rhyme.) I'm here! Get used to it!

Well, you follow this blog so you're probably already used to it. In fact you're probably thinking, "You spelled 'crazy' wrong."

But hear me out.

...

I suppose asking you to hear me out is more effective if I have a point.

But I don't.

I actually have no idea what I'm writing about. I think I just wanted to write a post with the title of this one. Because it's fabby. And fabby is a new word I created because at first I said "I'm stabby and flabby and gayyyy!" But then Kayla ruined it by pointing out that I'm not flabby. Well, not to her anyways. I don't like my body, but this isn't about my body-image issues (though I suppose it could be because then it would be about SOMETHING). I know I'm thin. It's just that the grandma of my best friend when I was nine said that I had the biggest boobs she's ever seen on a boy and I never got over it. Anyways, don't worry because I'm not anorexic or anything. I actually eat a lot. Like a lot a lot. Like everyone at Qdoba knows my order by heart.  Except for the cute guy. Though he tries because I was just there and he put one of those jumbo burrito shells in the steamer as I walked up and then I ordered 3 tacos and he opened the steamer and threw the big shell away. It's the thought that counts. Especially when you have biceps like his.

...

Where was I going with this? Oh, yes: no where. I think it all started because of [things I can't mention because of certain people who read this blog] and then I felt really stabby. Well, not actually stabby, because I'm not homocidal. But I was angry. But I just got my hair done so I was rocking the whole fabulous and gay thing. And then I wanted to sing about it to Kayla. Via text message. And that's when I was all "I'm stabby and flabby and gayyyy!" Then she was like O_o because I'm not flabby. So I coined the term fabby because I couldn't think of any other words that rhymed with "stabby." And here we are. Though now I feel less stabby. I don't feel any less wronged but drooling over the cute guy at Qdoba helped. As did giggling about the girl in line ahead of me continually checking me out. I'm wearing a musical* shirt for Pete's sake! Do you need more than that?

*Spring Awakening if you must know. Though I didn't really like that show. That's what I get for buying the shirt BEFORE the show. The only positive thing is that I can say I saw Lea Michele live. Which I did. But please don't ask me how she was because I might meet her someday and I don't want any bad vibes between us. (Animosity? Is that word?)

P.S. Also, my going blond didn't go well. Because my hair is a bitch. Let me start by saying that I went to a professional. I didn't do it out of a box. Well, after our first attempt it was gold. Like very gold. So I just decided to live with it (meaning that I didn't actually tell my stylist that I didn't like it, but the lighting wasn't great so I was sure that it would be better in different light...but that's not true at all so really I'm just a bad client). So I lived with it for 8 hours and then I needed it fixed. My stylist is amazing and got me in to fix it. She put in new product that would make it a nice blond. Maybe not as light as I wanted, but at least I would be less stabby. Well, then I was a ginger. It was a very nice, natural red, but I want the sterotypes associated with blonds, not gingers (Sorry to my ginger friends!). So then my stylist was like "Fuck it! I'm dousing it in green so it becomes brown again." And while we're doing that another stylist was like, "Going back to natural?" And my stylist was like "Yeah. I put [random letters and numbers...okay probably not random] in and it turned red." And the other stylist was like, "[Not random letters and numbers] can't turn it red..." and my stylist was like "Exactly." So my hair is just an asshole.

Cirque du Soleil (sp?) (Also, Boobies) (Oh, and Oprah) (But not Oprah's Boobies)

I hope I spelled "Cirque du Soleil" correctly...considering I do have a degree in French.

ANYWAYS...as Kayla has been saying, "VEGAS! VEGAS! VEGAS! VEGAS!"

We leave Sunday morning and we are soooooooo excited. We leave Milwaukee at like 7 AM on Sunday and go through a time loop hole (or however that works), therefore gaining two hours so we should be there at like 9 AM Vegas time. A little later than I had hoped to start drinking, but maybe we can start on the plane. I've previously mentioned that we plan on crashing the 2012 Billboard Music Awards. The awards start at 5 PM so we'll be on the red carpet (or at least within two miles of it) a few hours before that. Then, I plan to yell the wrong name at various celebrities. That is sooooo much more likely to get their attention than using the right name. This is brilliant; I don't know why no one has thought of it before. Though, I should clarify that I will yell the wrong name UNLESS we see R.K. Follesé from Hot Chelle Rae. Then I will scream like a seven year old girl and began sobbing uncontrollably as I yell how much I love him and want to have his babies. And that´s saying a lot given that I don´t want children. But I just love him so much. He looks so good in a tank top. I mean how many guys really look good in a tank top? Yum.

Anyways, this post was supposed to be about Cirque du Soleil (By the way, that means Circus of the Sun. Seeeeee, my degree isn't completely worthless!), but I don't remember what my point was.

...

Oh yeah! We are going to see Cirque du Soleil Sunday night. They have 17 Cirque shows in Vegas. Okay, they actually have four shows, but did we learn nothing about dramatic effect? Kayla (which I just tried to spell with a "C." Thankfully I caught it before I published this post so you didn't see how special I am.) said that we are going to see Cirque du Soleil O. Upon learning this I immediately became very excited, because I love Oprah! I expressed my excitement to Kayla and she told me that, unfortunately, Oprah is not the star of this show. This is upsetting, but it's also just plain bad business! Do you know how much people would pay to see Oprah twirling around in the air while interviewing celebrities (who would also be twirling around in the air) and giving away stuff?

"You get tickets to the booby show! And you get tickets to the booby show! And you get tickets to the booby show!"

[You should know that I just Googled both "booby show" and "titty show" to determine which is more commonly used. It's "titty show," but I have an Eskimo friend (who may actually be a mix of Asian* and something else and not actually Eskimo at all) who despises the word "tit" so I decided to stick with "booby."]

Also, I'M GOING BLOND TONIGHT! This may or not be related to my current one-third life crisis.

*I'm 92% sure she's Japanese and something European, but, despite the nature of this blog (and the numerous times that I've referred to Guest Blogger Emily as "Oriental"), I don't really want to label this friend (not to be confused with Emily) as the incorrect variety (is it okay to say "variety?") of Asian.

How to Explain Gay Rights to an Idiot

Kayla and I are extremely proud of President Obama's decision to affirm his belief that same sex couples should be allowed to marry. Unfortunately, as expected, this stance has been met with opposition, cruelty, and downright idiocy. I have seen comments such as "What's next? Can I marry my drum set?" Below is a graphic that was posted a while ago on Imgur and BuzzFeed, but clearly needs to be brought back into the light.

Bottom line? No, you cannot marry your drum set, dumbass, because it's not an adult citizen who can make its own decisions. And you know that thing about how a lot of homophobes are actually gay? No wonder he wants to marry his drum set. It's my bet he really enjoys the company of his drum sticks.

Please share.

Adventures on the Michael-Coaster

One of the requirements to being best friends with Mike is that you must be prepared for insanity at all times. As Mad Eye Moody (RIP) would say, it requires CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!!!

At any moment he could spring one of his insane ideas on you, and you have no choice but to hop on board and enjoy the ride. At times it can be exhausting, but it's always interesting and it's never boring.

Here are a few such ideas Mike has come up with in the past year or so.

1. Breeding dwarf hamsters. I can't even make this stuff up, you guys. There was also a blog about how to tame your hamster. The only good thing that came from this is Mike's hamster, Albus, who's the cutest thing ever. I love him to pieces.

D'awwwwwww! See! Adorable. 

2. Galactic Ice. The next money-making scheme was the open an Italian ice cart. In theory, this was actually a pretty good idea. The plan was to sell Italian ice from Little Jimmy's, and the whole thing should have had a relatively low start-up cost for a small cart. Unfortunately, the city of Milwaukee has absolutely ridiculous laws for street vendors, like requiring them to have running water on their carts. It turned into a logistical nightmare. Also, I was not okay with the idea of him spending every weekend of the summer selling flavored ice instead of hanging out with me. Unacceptable. But he did make a pretty awesome website and logo.

Italian ice + Star Wars!? Come on, even I have to admit this is awesome.

3. Sparkle Sack. This endeavor is a bit difficult to explain. I don't know if you guys have heard of Birchbox or Glam Bag, but they're beauty sampling services where you pay $10/month to get a random box of samples. There aren't really a whole lot of sampling services for men though, which is what led Mike to come up with Sparkle Sack. It's pretty much the gayest name we could think of. Mike was all on board for this project until we realized the sampling service idea is probably a fad and not really viable long-term. Not to mention the logistics involved. I'm sure it's a mess to run. Plus he sort of alienated all the straight guys by naming it Sparkle Sack. I highly doubt anyone's going to want a Sparkle Sack delivered with their Sports Illustrated. I don't have a picture for this, so here's a picture of what Mike said I should wear to Pride Fest. Soooooooo not happening.

Image Source

4. The Top Secret Fashion Project. This is Mike's newest idea, and I've been told that if I tell you what it is he'll have to kill me and everyone who reads this. So I'm really just trying to be the hero by not telling you.

He did say that I should ask if anyone knows where he can get fabric made from yarn spun from the fur of sugar gliders who have died of natural causes. He'd seriously love you forever if you have a source for that.

Image Source. WAIT! He wants to do WHAT with my fur!?!? 

Michael Trevino is a god. And Bigfoots are under appreciated.

I think it's time for a new tag: NSFM. Not Safe For Mom. Hi, Mom! Hi, Kayla's Mom! This blog is one big joke, but you may want to turn back now. I would never be graphic (well...I might be a LITTLE graphic) or gross, but you still may not want to read parts of what follows. You've been warned. <3

Shall we begin?

This week I set out to create a collage of pictures of some of my favorite ripped celebrities. The purpose of this collage was to remind me why I'm working out so hard: so that can be all muscly and hot too. During my hunt for shirtless pictures, I discovered that Michael Trevino (who plays Tyler Lockwood on The Vampire Diaries) did a photo shoot for Bench Underwear. Well...soon my celebrity collage became a mostly-Michael Trevino collage. I couldn't help myself. I shared a picture with the boyfriend and said "this is my new goal body" and his response was "Is that attainable!?" To which I responded "Over time, yes." And he said "Yes, let's aim for that!" Of course by "over time" I meant "Over ten years once I win the lottery and can spend six hours per day working out." Eh, details.

(click for bigger - various sources, please do sue me!)

This discovery led to a bit of an obsession with Michael Trevino and I started following him on Twitter. Through his tweets I have learned something: Michael Trevino is a total bro. A bro who is always wearing something (hat, shirt, etc.) that says "Raised by wolves." Let me tell you what I'm raised by: pictures of Michael Trevino in underwear.

Of course now that I've said that, my mom (who probably kept reading despite the disclaimer) is going to think that my workout motivation collage is really motivation for something else.

Let's change the subject....

Last week I came up with a great idea for a TV series. I'm still working on my novel, but I would like to try my hand at TV too and I thought I had an ingenious idea! Recently my parents have revealed an obsession of their own: the Animal Planet series Finding Bigfoot. I happen to love bigfoots (and yetis as well). So I was like, "OMG! A bigfoot drama!" In this drama we will learn that bigfoots do in fact exist and that they are not only smart, but they are smarter than us! They will finally become fed up with man kind and decide to reveal themselves and subsequently take over the world. And then I had another realization: "OMG, Michael Trevino can play the lead human!"

And then I told Kayla about this idea and she responded: "So you're writing Planet of the Apes?" >_<

Two Girls. One Brain.

It has recently come to Kayla's and my attention that we are creepy and insane. This is probably not news to you, our loyal followers. Honestly, I'm not really that surprised either, but it took someone else's point of view to make things clear. I recently started dating an amazing guy. There are always lots of question in a new relationship and the other day my boyfriend sent me this text:

Boyfriend: May I ask you something without you taking it the wrong way or in a negative way? (I don't mean it that way).

Me: Of course.

Boyfriend: Is there a reason you and Kayla cuddle together? I know it's not in a sexual sense. Did it start because you both were single? I just have never been with someone that cuddles with their best friend so I'm just curious. I mean I obviously know she won't steal you from me but just was wondering.

Wait, not everyone does this? Maybe I'm so struck by this because I haven't seen Kayla in two weeks and am suffering from withdrawal, but it had never occurred to me that this behavior might not be normal. I just assumed that all best friends cuddled, finished each other's sentences, had exchanged more than than 41,000 Facebook messages and even more text messages, and at some point felt like they were actually merging into one person. No?

Oh and did I mention that Boyfriend and Kayla haven't met yet? That happens tonight. They will either love each other or want to kill each other. I'm hoping they love each other, but I'm planning on being the middle spoon just in case.

Introducing Pop Superstar PEUXPAS CHANTER!

First of all...I'M BACK! I finished my first novel a few weeks ago and have been recovering since, but now I'm back. BECAUSE I LOVE AND MISS YOU!


Since my reimmersion (not the right word AT ALL...but I don't know the correct word; so, I'm going with it. Yes, I'm a writer...) Kayla and I have been trying to fall back off the wagon. We've had some mediocre successes, but usually we're in [the same] bed by 11 on weekend night's. This last weekend we made it all the way until 1:30 at the bar! While at the bar I was berated for not loving Britney Spears. And it's true, I don't love her, but I have a reason: she lip syncs all her concerts. This pisses me off so hardcore! I know that she wouldn't sound the same as the CD, but that's the beauty of it. I LOVE hearing performers live, even if they are a lot less talented than when auto-tuned. Britney also looks ridiculous when she performs duets. I watched videos of duets with both Rihanna and Nicki Minaj. In both cases Britney was tracked and lip syncing while her duet partner was live. IT WAS A JOKE. Not because Britney "out sang" them (both Rihanna and Nicki Minaj are good live), but because it made it even more obvious that Brit was not live.

I have to confess, I've always wanted to be a pop superstar, but I'm not the best singer. Apparently that doesn't matter so I'm pulling out the persona I dreamed up years ago!

My stage name will be Peuxpas Chanter. And I will wear a rainbow fauxhawk wig. I will auto-tune EVERYTHING. Even when I talk normally. And when I do interviews. And I will do things like stop moving my lips while "singing" so that I can get a drink of water. And then on talk shows where they ask about the controversy I will say that I am a ventriloquist. So I WAS singing while I drank water. And then I will pull out a puppet and do ventriloquism to prove it. The puppet will also have a rainbow fauxhawk wig.

Kayla loves everything about this and wants to be a backup dancer/lipsyncer. She also wants to be my publicist and makeup artist which I am fine with. Though she did demand her own tour bus. Though she added, "I'll probably sleep in yours when you're not banging groupies." That brought up a new subject and I pointed out that, as I'm not greedy, she can bang groupies too. That's the best part about one of us being gay and one of us being straight. I get the gay men and she gets the straight ones. It's perfect. We'll have to fight over the bi ones though. We'll probably flip a coin.

Now I just need songwriters and a producer to auto-tune me. I don't need a puppet maker though, I've got that covered. I actually am a ventriloquist.

Have I said too much?

Allow me to introduce my cabinet.

So I recently proposed to Kayla...that she become president. There's no hope for me, nor for my future husband (because I'm gay and he will be gay...probably...I'm not picky). Anyways, Kayla is squeaky clean so I said she should become president and then make me part of her cabinet. I continued that I would like to be a shiny part of her cabinet, like a door pull. And that gave me an idea.


My "office" with it's new piece of furniture.


So now, whenever I need to make an important decision, I can say "Allow me to consult my cabinet." Though I'm probably just looking at porn.

Penguins 4 Sale!!!

Mike and I were watching Batman Returns and Mike was really disturbed when [SPOILER ALERT] the penguins came out and pushed Penguin's body into the water.

[Here's a video for reference: http://youtu.be/twrvftwNZJY ]

Mike: Those aren't real penguins right? Penguins aren't that big.

Kayla: Yes they are. Emperor penguins get that big. Like the ones in Happy Feet.

Mike: WHAT? *grabs onto my arm* No no no no no no that's so SCARY! Those aren't penguins, they're MUTANTS.

Kayla: Mike, they're penguins. What's scary about them?

Mike: They're HUGE. They could eat someone! THEY'RE GIANT MUTANT PENGUINS!

Kayla: Didn't you want a penguin?

Mike: Yes, but I want a TINY one. Not a giant one that will eat me in my sleep!

Kayla: Fine. Please hold while I Google this.

[1 minute later.]

Kayla: "OOOOO!!! Mike!!! I found some tiny penguins for you! They're called Fairy Penguins!"

Mike: "Oh that's perfect because I'm a fairy!!"

Kayla: "Exactly! Let's buy one!"

Fairy Penguin! [Image Source]

So then I Googled "penguins for sale" and came across a website called Penguins 4 Sale. How perfect! Regular kismet, if you ask me! This is what it said:

Dear Friend,
How to get a Penguin you ask? Now is your chance at “Penguins 4 Sale”

We stock a variety of specialy bred and small Fairy Penguins. Our Penguin farm is now overstocked. So we are selling our penguins at cost price. Thats right. Your only paying for shipping charges.

How to get a Penguin?
Well we are only allowed to keep a certain amount of Penguins, and we have exceeded this limit. So our loss is your gain....

Own a Penguin as a pet!
Due to the contrary belief, penguins dont need to spend all there time in water. So this allows time for you and your Penguin to snuggle on the couch. Penguins are smart and realise who there owners are. They are very social and actually enjoy human company.
They also get very excited at feeding time. Even more so at Bath time.

Pet Penguin Housing!
You will of course need a place for your Penguin to have access to water. This will be a clean source of Fresh water. (P.H levels will be sent with the instructions attached to your Penguin). Minumum 1 x 2 Meter baby pool is sufficient. But the bigger the better of course.

Will temperature effect my Penguin?
Our Fairy Penguins are brought up in a special environment. They adapt quickly to the surrounding environment. But it is advised to not keep them exposed to excessive heat.
Cold is not a problem... But they will get cold. So dont leave your Penguin outside in the snow!

Shipping your Penguin!
Shipping your Penguin is done in specially made polystyrene transport boxes. They are given a very subtle sedative to calm them. This slows the heart rate and allows for them to go without food for 5 days.

Your Penguin will come with a special pack of frozen food that can be thored and given to your Penguin when he arrives.
He will appreciate this and instantly bond with you.

Feeding your Fairy Penguin!
Feeding your Penguin is easy. You can choose to net fish at your local stream or water edge. But and fish outlet will have a cheap variety of whole small fish. It's even better to strike up a friendship with a local prawn trawler... he will always keep a lot of small fish for you.. Just freeze what you dont use... and thore when you need it...

Owning a Penguin!
You wont want to go on holidays anymore.. Because you will not want to leave your amazing pet.
If your Penguin get's ill in any way. Local vetrinary clinics can easily treat them, as there body structure is very similar to most mammals.

A Penguin for you or as a gift for a friend...
You will love your new pet Penguin but imagine the happiness and joy brought to others seeing their gift for the first time.

Buy a Penguin NOW! ONLY $25


Now, if you weren't sold based on the IMPRESSIVE grammar and spelling present on this website, the price alone should convince you that you NEED to own a penguin.

Unfortunately they note at the bottom of the page that they are currently all out of penguins so you'll have to check back later. I'm sure it isn't so they can increase their ad revenue for every shmuck who checks back daily to see if there are any more penguins to buy.

Then, much to my complete and utter SHOCK, Mike discovered that the website is a sham! [Bet you didn't see that coming.]

From Yahoo! Answers: :
Question:
Is penguins4sale.com a legit website that will actually sell you a penguin?
Apparently for $25, they will send you a fairy penguin, and I'd like to know if anyone has ever figured out if it's real. http://www.penguins4sale.com/

Answer:
DONT BUY IT
ITS A SCAM
they sold me a stuffed animal with wings and a wand!

So, kind of hilarious, right?

I'm always looking for a way to fuck with people, so I went back to the website [enjoy your ad revenue, dirtbags] to see if there was an email address I could send an inquiry to. I didn't find an email address, but I did find a little link at the bottom for "Terms & Conditions."

The terms are longer than the freaking Bible, but I did find a couple of hilarious little gems:

You must notify Penguins 4 Sale within 21 days of the date of your invoice or acknowledgement if you believe any part of your purchase is missing, wrong or damaged.

I would like to order a penguin and contact them to say this: "Excuse me, but my penguin is missing all of its vital organs. They seem to have been replaced with stuffing. Please explain."

This is probably my favorite:

Penguins 4 Sale WILL NOT HAVE ANY LIABILITY FOR ANY DAMAGES ARISING FROM THE USE OF THE PRODUCTS IN ANY HIGH RISK ACTIVITY, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE OPERATION OF NUCLEAR FACILITIES, AIRCRAFT NAVIGATION OR COMMUNICATION SYSTEMS, AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL, MEDICAL SYSTEMS, LIFE SUPPORT, OR WEAPONS SYSTEMS.

So, guys, if you let your penguin operate weapons systems or nuclear facilities, Penguins 4 Sale is NOT responsible for any fallout. Got it? Good. You should probably also not leave your penguin in charge of life support. And don't even get me started on air traffic control. Penguins suck at that. [Because they can't fly. Get it? Hahahahaha!]

I'm such a bad stalker.

OMG, totes forgot that it's Zac Efron's birthday! I am such a terrible future husband! (Sorry ladies, this one is ours.)

To celebrate, Kayla and I are going to dinner! This will be seated next to me in the booth:

Troy Bolton from HSM 3 Standup

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ZAC!

Thank God (or my parents?) that I'm not a conflicted Mormon.

Facebook isn't very good at ad targeting:


So the above image is tiny because I fucked something up when I took the screen shot weeks ago. What you can't see is that there is a Mormon dating site ad right above a gay dating site ad. (For anyone living under a rock, I’m a homosexual.)

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better I got these ads today:


Let's break it down: a creepy gay dating site (sooo not into bears), a school site with a spelling error in the ad, and then a Disney ad to comfort me after the previous two ads?

"There is no one alive who is youer than you."

As an American upper-middle class straight white girl, I haven't personally faced a lot of oppression, unless you count the mall closing wayyyy too early and not being able to afford a Chanel purse. One thing I do understand intimately though, is how difficult it is to be yourself if you think those around you might not approve. It can be so easy to censor ourselves and just tell people what they want to hear; it's far more difficult to be completely and honestly ourselves.

Today was National Coming Out Day, and I hope it can be a reminder to all of us to be ourselves and stay true to who we are. I can't imagine how incredibly difficult it must be to come out to one's friends and family, but my deepest and most sincere wish is that one day it won't be such a struggle to be yourself in this world.

Kate Winslet gave me real hope for the future when she told V magazine about this conversation she had with her son:

"I like being in the city. I like the diversity that my children are exposed to every day. I love the way their brains work. Joe turns to me the other day and says 'One day I will have a girlfriend or a boyfriend, darling. Which would you prefer?' And I said 'My Love, that would be entirely up to you, and it doesn't make any difference to me.' But that he knows! It's a real privilege. Talk about the best education."

I haven't given a ton of thought to the type of parent I would like to be to my future children. I don't know if I'll be strict or more carefree. I don't know if I'll force them into after-school activities or not. But I do know that I want my children to grow up knowing that they can be gay, straight, bisexual, or anything else under the sun and I will love and cherish them for who they are.

There is always the risk that you will come out to your loved ones and they might react badly. The truth is, anyone who really truly loves you will continue to love you no matter what. They may not understand and it may take time, but in the end they will love you and respect you for being honest and true to yourself. If they don't, then they never loved you to begin with, and in that case, they're not worth your time or your tears anyway. You deserve to be loved unconditionally.

I think Dr. Seuss said it best:

“Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.”

Be unapologetically YOU. Do not waver, do not allow anyone to make you feel inferior for being yourself.

Life is far too short to be anyone but you.

It Gets Better

Every year my elementary school put the fourth and fifth grade boys in one room and the fourth and fifth grade girls in another and showed them their respective halves of the puberty video. It was during this screening, where the voice was telling us that we would soon start to have feelings for girls, when I was in fourth grade that I couldn’t take my eyes off a fifth grade boy. I didn’t initially realize what was going on. I just knew that looking at him gave me some sort of pleasure. I wasn’t disturbed by these feelings at all. Not until I realized what was going on.

To this day I remember in extreme detail standing in front of my dresser, at the age of 9, and speaking aloud one simple, yet so complicated, phrase: “I’m gay.” The hardest part of this memory is what followed: I tried to cry. My parents had never mentioned homosexuality, but I had learned from somewhere (the media? Sunday school?) that being gay was a terrible thing. But there was one problem with my attempt to cry: I wasn’t sad.

Being gay is just part of who I am. I cannot do anything about it and I don’t want to. I don’t want to make this post about the difficulties I faced growing up. Hell, I still face difficulties as an adult who would like to get married someday. But that isn’t what matters. All that matters is that this is who I am. It’s also just a part of who I am. I don’t introduce myself by saying “Hi, I’m Mike and I’m gay,” because my brother doesn’t say “Hi, I’m Chris and I’m straight.”

Still, it is very important that I do acknowledge the struggles of being different in this world, whatever different might mean for you. There are parts of life that suck.

But there are also parts that rock. Parts like having a best friend who cherishes you for being who you are rather than tolerating it.

Being gay is not the only thing that people are oppressed for, not by far, but I’m speaking to gay people now because it is National Coming Out Day. I know the fear that goes along with coming out and there is something that I have learned in 15 years of coming out: the people who really love you, the ones that you should keep around, will accept you for who you are no matter what.

I consciously acknowledged, aloud, that I am gay 15 years ago. I came out to my parents 12 years ago. I came out to my grandparents one year ago. My grandmother goes to church every day. She is a very committed Catholic. My grandfather has his own strong feelings about homosexuality that I have seen expressed. I felt like I was twelve years-old again when I sat on my grandparents’ couch to come out to them. Family is immensely important to me and I felt like they could shatter my soul with a negative response.

So what happened? Well, my grandparents don’t understand me being gay. They have a hard time accepting it. But that’s not all. I got up off that couch and trembled my way to the door, simply glad they had not disowned me. I felt a rush of fear when I heard my grandfather rise from his chair. That fear intensified when I felt him grab my arm. Is he going to hit me?

Of course not.

“We still love you,” said my grandfather. And then he hugged me for probably the first time in 10 years.

I should also be clear that a "mediocre" response isn't the best you can hope for either. My parents' resolve to love me never faltered when I came out to them in seventh grade. There too the only words that were spoken were "We still love you." And today on my Facebook wall my mother said, in response to a National Coming Out Day post, "You're gay and I love you and am very proud you are my son."

The people who matter will deal with their feelings. They will continue to love you and they won’t see you any differently.

And the other people? They don’t matter. It may be hard to accept that if someone close to you rejects you, but that is their choice. Like I told my grandparents when I came out to them, "I am the same person that you've known and loved for the last twenty-three years." You are not changing. You're the same person that you've always been. You are simply sharing part of yourself that you didn't previously.

No matter how tough today is, it is not a representation of the rest of your life. Life is always changing. You too will find yourself. You too will find a best friend who you will cherish and who will cherish you in return regardless of who you share your bed and your heart with.

Kayla Kugel means the absolute world to me. And she is just one example of the fact that it gets better.

Creepy Old Vampires

So I recently listened to the audio books of Twilight, New Moon, and Eclipse and am about to finish reading Breaking Dawn. First I'm going to get it out of the way that I'm an adult man reading the Twilight saga by suggesting that you read this article which outlines, very frankly, the type of man that reads Twilight. Anyways, I listened to the first three books and didn't read them because I've seen the 3 movies that are already out and really don't have the free time to commit to reading something I already know the story of. So, I listened while at my day job.

First I would like to comment on the lovely young lady who does the reading, Ilyana Kadushin. She does a great job, most of the time. In fact, I only have one issue with her reading: how she does Edward's voice. I understand that she is trying to sound masculine, but she ends up making him sound like a middle aged, female, chain smoker. NOT SEXY. AT ALL. Totally takes away from the vampie's appeal. :/

Second I would like to comment on the character of Edward himself. In my world we have a name for people of his true age chasing after people Bella's age: creepy old men. Just after learning Edward's true age I sent a message to Kayla:

Me: We acknowledge that Edward is just a creepy old man, right?

Kayla:
Yes.
But he sparkles.
So it's okay.
OMG. Dior is coming out with ADHESIVE eyeliner <-- Note: we seem unable to limit ourselves to one conversation at a time -- more to come on that later.

***

I have one issue with her response: all gay men sparkle. So, in my world, I still don't see the difference.

Our Big Fat Gay Bromance

Mike likes to use sexual innuendo with me fairly often. I usually just stare at him, blink a few times, and pretend it didn't happen. Then we go back to our regularly scheduled nonsense.

Example:

Kayla: (agreeing to some plans Mike proposed) Okie dokie.

Mike: I'll okie your dokie. ;)

Kayla: ;) Promises Promises.

Mike: =/ I love you, but ew.

Kayla: =/ I know, right?

See, I've never been remotely attracted to Mike because I knew he was gay before I met him. He immediately went into the "friends" box because I don't like to waste my time romancing the unromanceable. But Mike and I have this really strange relationship where we flirt with each other, go out on dates, and cuddle. The other day we were both exhausted and all we wanted to do was go sleep in the same bed together. It's sick. It's strange. And I don't know how we're ever going to survive without each other.

I mentioned to Mike that it's like we have a bromance except for the fact that we're not bros.

Just think about it. I know you've seen some real bros out there that just freaking love each other. If they weren't so afraid of looking gay they'd probably snuggle and go on movie dates just like Mike and me. The only difference is that with us, Mike's gay and I'm a girl. When we go places people just probably think I'm an idiot who doesn't realize that my boyfriend likes dudes. I'm fine with that.

Honestly, I just love having someone who will cut a bitch if they mess with me and not expect sexual favors in return. I might honestly be single forever, simply because Mike treats me so well. I'm spoiled. And I'm okay with that. If my gay best friend treats me like a princess, I'd better expect someone I'm in a romantic relationship with to treat me like a queen. Creepers, losers, and assholes need not apply.