Are We There Yet?

So, my birthday is next week (on the 23rd).  And I've been known to do some strange things on that day: 20th.  Beat a Spongebob Pinata in Washington Square Park. 16th.  Walk the questionably safe Costa Rican beaches with AB and a drunk frat reject who kept dropping the N-bomb to the house of a complete stranger just because her name was Claudia too. 21st a.  Find and a mannequin on the street outside of bar in Tribeca. 21st b.  Play with the said mannequin. 21st c. Put money in a GoGo dancers g-string or corset.  Does it make it less weird if I say that I knew her?  What about the fact that I had never actually seen a Pastie before? I've also been know to do absolutely nothing.  I guess it depends on the year.  As you can see 21 was a good year.  But I didn't get shit-faced because I've had a fake ID and heels (the typical requirement for clubs in ny) since I was 15. This year I think I'll have a p...

So I didn't really 'party like a rock-star, but this weekend was a full one.  It was jam packed with self-realizations and fun/interesting/awkward events.  I apologize in advance for the less than coherent progression of this blog.  But....you know.  I'll start with yesterday. Sunday Everyone knows that I'm a hardcore Brooklyn proponent.  I push flea markets and park events.  Yesterday I went to a free concert in the park which was part of Celebrate Brooklyn Summer series.  The lead acts were Talib Kweli (native Brooklyner) and The Roots. I went with AB and while on the F train we ran into another friend MR.   We met up with a bunch of friends and found even more there when we arrived.   The concert, by my new Bonnaroo standards, was sub par.  But you don't always go to concerts like that for the act and I was still glad that I went. Celebrate brooklyn is an accurate sample of Brooklyn culture.  There's a community...

That plural choice is for all the BIG PIMPIN' ladies out there (and I mean that in the Master P sense) 1.   Go out with the Girls. 2.  Make it a Blockbuster night. 3.  Party like a rock star. The original title was "Chapter Three Summary of 'Oprah a Biography, by Kitty Kelley" the next was "Sometimes Nice Girls Gotta Do Naughty Things"  Guess which one of the three choices I'm picking.    This post is TBC....but pray for me.

So this post was supposed to be about the fact that I have a job.  But I'm kind of tweaking right now.  By that I mean I've been tracking my blackberry delivery on UPS.com.  This is ridiculous to do.  This is ridiculous to do because:  I know it was sent out at 7:00AM yesterday.  I know It stopped in Kentucky (7:01PM) then Jamaica, Queens (12:04AM), then Brooklyn (3:25AM).  I also know that it was put on the truck at 8:01 AM for delivery. Meaning the next step is delivery. Meaning UPS.com has nothing more to tell me.  Meaning , checking UPS.com is ridiculous.  *Sigh* So next there's the door check .  I can't remember whether I said it needed to be signed for.  (insert door check) I don't want the doorbell to stick and not ring. (insert door check) And I can't miss him because then I'll have to wait EVEN LONGER. (insert door check) 'til the truck route is done and then I'll have to go to some random UPS store that's not even clo...

January 1 2009:  Coke heads at a club in soho steal my blackberry. March 2009:  I break a glass of water i put on my bedstand because im drunk after a night at Bob & Barbara's Thursday drag show.  My Blackberry sits in a small pool of water.. all night. July 2010:  Phone?  Phone on white screen.  Phone off....push power.  black screen. push power.  vibrate, sputter, die.  black screen....WTF. So I have no phone. Well I mean I have one.  But it doesn't work.  And I'm on day two.  So the Crackberry withdrawal is lessening and I think I can handle other electronic media without tearing up.  But I want to say for the record that before my phone sung its swan song...I was BLOWIN' UP.  I was deep into my BB addiction and getting major male texting attention. Alas, the universe works in mysterious ways.  And I think that after the 23rd time I explained things to myself with the phrase, "cause I'm a G" the ...

My Dad likes to say that most people have no idea what they are doing most of the time.  That they may seem like they do and that it may be intimidating but really everyone is in the same shit. Coming from a guy who by any barometer is a modern marvel and a successful human being in general this kind of gives me a twisted sense of hope. We are at that pivotal age when you have to make decisions.  You have to because you're 22 and you're an adult now and you can't go on living at your parent's house forever.  And now I'm going to ask the same hackneyed question that twenty-somethings have been asking for centuries. How do you know when your all growed up ? Graduating from college has been like going through puberty again.  Some people do it gracefully pas de bourree-ing around acne and weight-gain and beautiful older sisters while avoiding bad hair and braces with ninja skills.  One major difference, however, is that during puberty everyone wears their awk...

Saturday night was a mess .  And I wasn't drunk or angry or embarrassing or slutty.  I didn't vom in my hair or wake up naked with a burrito on my chest.  Those stories happen often and never get old but Saturday night was definitely unique and not really in a good way. wait. Here's the thing.  My beautifully gay older man companion SP consistently fills me with enlightened wisdom that I don't want to listen to because its easier to be childish and impulsive.  One thing he said was that "You should go into every argument assuming that at least 30% is you."   And I've thought about this after the fight (I use that term loosely because I was kind of just yelled at) I was in that night. A friend (or former friend) or mine FLIPPED out.  And I understand that he was hurt and that he was angry and that he or we had some unresolved issues.  Literally all I did was start talking to him.  For most of the night I could tell that something wa...