Wicked Little Town

Shut The Goddamn Door, Already!

I have sat at my desk for the last 20 minutes listening to some annoying corporate bitch who also happens to be the biggest fuckup to ever work at this company (and being here 7 years, that is saying A LOT) screaming at my boss about something that I am sure is this slag's fault to begin with.

It's bad enough that she makes absolutely no sense, but her gravelly, New Jersey-by-way-of-Brooklyn trash accent is like sandpaper on my nerves. Not to mention that the rest of my department can hear every word, and it really is none of our business.

Isn't this why upper management is given private offices, with DOORS that CLOSE? Dumb twat. But it is satisfying to see that she is having a bad day, perhaps even a bad week. I love that. I hope she is under so much pressure that she can't eat dinner with her family and what she does manage to eat she vomits back up from stress before spending the rest of the night in a sleepless, anxiety-ridden frenzy, only to have to come back here tomorrow for more of the same.

My hatred of this woman can be summed up in five simple words: "What goes around, comes around." I don't take kindly to my friends getting treated like crap by undeserving imbeciles like her. Eat it, bitch!

Weekend Update

Did I have a great weekend? Uh huh. Do I care that it's Wednesday and I'm just now getting around to blogging about it? No. Am I still exhausted and completely broke thanks to 3 action-packed days? Hell, yeah.

In hindsight, I think I managed to partake in more activities over the past weekend than I have the entire year so far:

-Worked out. (Or, at least did my version of a workout, consisting of treadmill, light weights and trying some yoga positions under the direction of my pal JES that nearly crippled me.)

-Saw a movie. ("The Forgotten," with Julianne Moore, filmed in DUMBO, where JES lives. Piece. Of. Shit!)

-Sat in traffic for hours waiting to get into the Lincoln Tunnel for a friend's wedding in NJ. (Thank God I did not have access to cigarettes because I swear I would have smoked all of them. At once.)

-Had a blast at the wedding, despite my late arrival and disdain for weddings in general. (I even danced. Often. Me! I know!)

-Frantically cleaned house the next morning in anticipation of L's visit from Ohio. (Yeah!)

-Brunch with L, lots of catching up, lots of talking shit, and lots of walking. (Soho to Midtown to West Chelsea to West Village. What the HELL were we thinking?)

-Along the way, did our best impersonation of Culture Vultures with visits to the New Museum of Contemporary Art and a photo exhibit called "Too Fast For Love", which consists of portraits taken at various heavy metal concerts. (Rock!)

-Headed back to the BK so L could check out the new pad, walked the dawgs and then met some more friends for Indian food in the East Village. (Always a treat, despite the fact that we were in the midst of a fire hazard.)

-Too many overpriced, watered-down cocktail outside at Ike, where we were joined by MORE new friends (3 homos visiting from LA and Chicago.)

-Tried to get into Katie Holmes' birthday party at that shithole the Hotel Gansevoort, but denied entry. (Thank God. When did the Meatpacking District get completely overtaken by douchebags?)

-Went to Hell instead, which truly lived up to its name this particular night. (Nothing makes you feel more like a greasy, fat mess than being sandwiched into a small lounge with a bunch of fags who are styled, plucked and buffed to perfection. Nice eye candy, though, despite the crushing blow to my self-esteem.)

-Lost most of our group when they went outside to smoke and couldn't get back in, leaving me and JES with the out-of-town queers.

-Continued our swath of drinking and cruising at XL and Barracuda. (Me, at three gay bars in one night. Two of which are located in Chelsea. Can you believe it?)

-Finally arrived home at 4:30 AM and proceeded to sleep with one of the out-of-towners, who also happened to be a producer on Big Brother 5. (Let's just forget I wrote that last thing and move on, shall we?)

-Spent an anxious, semi-sleepless night worrying about my car (which I left in Williamsburg), the dogs (who were none too happy that they got pushed out of the bedroom into the hallways to make way for my, err...guest), and how I was going to get Sleeping Beauty out of my apartment in time to meet up with L for brunch before she had to leave. (I am so bad at being slutty, it's not even funny.)

-Succeeded in seeing L off (so sad), retrieving my car, and meeting back up with JES for yet another movie (John Waters' "A Dirty Shame", which provided several laugh-worthy lines -- 'You've got a problem..with your VAGINA!' --but was disappointing as a whole.)

-Dinner with JES (The burgers at Five Front make you not care that you are fat and poor, trust me.)

And then, before I knew it, I was back at work again. Seriously, I haven't had a crunk weekend like that in a looooong time, and even though I loved every minute of it, my thirty-something year old body (and empty wallet) hope the next one is at least a few months away.

Let's Get Fierce, Bitches!

Season 3 of America's Next Top Model premiered on Wednesday night.

I watched so you didn't have to. Enjoy!

Gayest Post Ever

I am feeling pretty cute today. The first hint of Autumn is in the air and I decided to rock my new H & M brown cord blazer over a fitted pink polo OVER a Ben Sherman long-sleeved green gingham plaid oxford. Aw, yeah, I am fucking BRINGING that layering shit!

Dark Levi's bootcut Type 1s and my trusty black Converse high tops and I am good to go. Add the little "Candy Ass" lapel pin and I might as well be unemployed having a latte in a cafe on Bedford Ave, playing with my iBook. (Oversized headphones ON, natch!)

I look so foxy that everyone thinks I have a date tonight, which sadly, I do not. Maybe I will have a Missed Connection on my way home, though! Hee!

Nearly 1 AM

...and I cannot fucking fall asleep. This is the third time in as many week this has happened, and it is starting to piss me off. I have never had trouble with insomnia before, at least not as an adult. (There was that period at around age 8 when I convinced myself I would become possessed by the devil and would lay awake at night just waiting for Satan to take control of my body, but we won't get into that now.)

The thing that sucks is, I am going to be an exhausted mess in the morning when that damn alarm clock goes off. And I will have to drag my ass out of bed, walk the dogs (still dogsitting,) try and struggle through my little ghetto exercise regime that I was really getting into for a couple weeks, and then start the daily routine of showering, shaving, applying various products, getting dressed and pushing it to the office, arriving at least 15 to 25 minutes late.

Bleh.

Fugly Is The New Pretty

That's the motto of the fabulous blog Go Fug Yourself, whose editors call out the many fashion atrocities committed every day on the runways and red carpets of America.

Warning: during Fashion, or "Fugshion," Week, NO ONE is safe, which is as it should be.

These bitches regulate!

Boy Vs. Boy

I just had a heated IM debate with a gay friend of mine about homosexual stereotypes and the self-loathing that often exists in the gay community. Ironically enough, our discussion was prompted by last night's premiere of MTV's Real World: Philadelphia. For the first time in the show's 15-year history, the cast includes not one, but two gay men.

One, Willie, is the more "obvious" homo. He wears form-fitting sleeveless tee shirts, works as a personal shopper in New York City and speaks with a slight lisp that is accentuated by his Puerto Rican accent. That said, he is still not the epitome of effeminity or flamboyance, as a few of the other roomates make him out to be.

The other is Karomo, a masculine African-American jock who favors baggy jeans and Timberlands. He is technically out of the closet but isn't so fond of letting people know his sexuality right off the bat. He has the straight male roomates completely fooled until he reveals his "secret" to them towards the end of the episode. (In front of the horrendous Fat Tuesdays on South Street, no less. Barf.)

But enough about the Real World. My argument with my online friend (who, in his defense, happens to be 20 years old and only out for about a year) started when he IMed me that Willie "epitomized everything i hate in gay men and never want to be associated with." He also made the assumption that Willie was a "definite bottom." WhatEVER.

I basically told my friend that even though Wilie was not my type either, I still found him likeable and took offense to his homophobic, stereotypical comments. When he acted surprised at my reaction, I explained that it was wrong to blame effeminate men for why society is prejudiced against homosexuals. In the long run, if you fuck other men, no matter how "masculine" or "normal" you think you come off, middle America is going to feel threatened by you, which puts all of us gays on a level playing field in my opinion. I also reminded him that his supposedly "butch" ass had been pounded a few times, which should eliminate any discussion about "definite bottoms." I don't think he liked that too much, since he then said "I don't care. Gotta go. Bye."

I didn't mean to pick a fight or make fun of the guy and I hope he takes the time to think about some of the points I made. No one is saying you have to be BFFs with every gay guy you meet, just because they are gay. But in a time when the majority of our country's elected officials are in favor of restricting, or in some cases even eliminating, our basic human rights just on the basis or our sexual orientation, don't you think we should refrain from attacking each other over a lisp? As Queen Latifah says..."U-N-I-T-Y...Who you callin' a bitch??!!"

There, I'll get off my soapbox now and go back to being a celebrity and reality-tv obsessed gossip monger.