Vending Machine Atrocities

Is it just me, or are vending machines the most awkward things ever? I would say I rarely get anything out of vending machines. Mostly because almost everything in there is super unhealthy, or it is soda, which I do not drink. But there are a few times when I have found myself searching my desk for change in a sudden collapse of will power.

But have you ever noticed the behavior that happens around a vending machine? People suddenly feel the need to verbalize every decision and start rambling incoherently. The only way to feel decent about yourself while at a vending machine is if no one sees the transaction.

Have you noticed that? As your coworker is pulling a bag of chips out of the vending machine, she says "Umm, wow. My lunch was so small, I just umm, needed a snack to go with it". Or, "I haven't eaten all day. I am so hungry. I normally wouldn't eat this crap". Yea right fat ass. You are at that vending machine 3 times a day. I've seen your keyboard - Orange from the cheetos coloration that your fingers have sustained after years of vending machine abuse.

Regardless of what you are getting out of that vending machine, I cannot help but look down upon you. And the few times I have caved and gotten vending machine items, I feel like people are judging me as well. Which you should. When is the last time you saw someone getting an apple of out a vending machine? Exactly.

Atrocious Male Behavior

So, granted, I cannot find a suitable boyfriend, and the last time I "went all the way" I believe Reagan was in the White House, but I need to talk about some things that are absolutely atrocious. I have comprised a list of things that are completely unacceptable for men. If you run into a man who does commit one of these faux pas, please, for all of our sakes, yell at them and do not date them.

1. Man Jewelry. This is by far the biggest turn off ever. Who told men that it was acceptable to wear jewelry? When I see a man wearing a gold chain it enrages me so much. Men, this is not an acceptable or an attractive look. And unless you are a rap star, please do not wear an earring. Wait, scratch that, even if you are a rap star, please do not wear earrings. And don't get me started on class rings. It is 2009. Please put your 1998 class ring in a Cash for Gold envelope and send it away. I am actually angry that you ordered one in the first place. The only acceptable pieces of man jewelry are watches and wedding rings.

2. Mandals. I am not talking about flip flops, but actual black leather man sandals. They make you look like a complete douche. Either wear flip flops (preferably Rainbows) or shoes please. Do not try and dress up a nice outfit with black mandals. I might throw up on them.

3. Ponytails/Scrunchies. You are not Amy Grant and this is not 1994. Hey guess what? When you have a nice haircut, you actually look a LOT cuter. I don't know many people who want to see you washing your long hair, then blow drying it, and finally putting it up in a velvet scrunchie. I may not be the most manly person in the world, but I am pretty sure you just became more of a gay guy than I will ever be after a display like that. Please, keep your hair tidy.

4. Murses (the Man Purse). Listen. I know we all need to carry things around. But if you are a dude, you do not need to carry a murse. If you cannot fit it into your pocket, either you don't need it, or you are going to have to live without it. I can fit the following things in my jeans while going out, and if you need more than this, just call yourself a woman and chop off your balls: Keys, chap stick, wallet, camera, iPod, cell phone. All of those things fit in a pair of pants or shorts. And if you do make the awful choice to wear Cargo pants or shorts, you have more options for storage. So yea, murses need to go.

I mean, all signs point to the fact that I am going to fall madly in love with a guy who wears tons of jewelry, has a ponytail and carries a murse that matches his mandals - but until then, I will continue to make fun of you (probably to your face - but definitely behind your back) if I see you committing any of these faux pas.

Traffic

When I moved to NYC I was excited for many reasons. One of the best and most exciting reasons was the realization that I would never have to drive anywhere again. While I absolutely love driving, I would no longer worry about getting a DUI, paying obscene gas prices, and best of all, I would no longer be in traffic! Traffic in Atlanta is some of the worst in the US, so if you have ever been, or if you have ever been in any type of highway gridlock, you know what I am talking about.

Turns out, I was wrong! While I am no longer in a car and sitting on the highway going 5 miles per hour, I am in a city where walking traffic is a serious problem. With millions of people, nearly all on foot, crowding the sidewalk, there is just as much stress walking down the sidewalk as there is while driving a car. Let me lay out some similarities for you:

The Jogger/Runner: Similar to the sports car on the road, these people wear sporty little outfits, move extremely fast and weave in and out of traffic with reckless abandon. They feel superior to everyone with their sleek bodies and fast moves. And just like a sports car, their bodies are something I will most likely never attain.

The Tourist: Much like drivers who are confused where they are going on the road, tourists change directions and stop dead in their tracks with no social awareness as to what is going on around them. I cannot tell you the amount of times I have barreled into someone on the street because they stopped to look up at all the lights. These people, much like their driving counterparts, need to do research before heading out into the world.

The Homeless Person: This guy is passed out on the street. It is much like the stalled car on the highway. You feel bad, but not bad enough to stop and help. Then after you walk by you feel guilty for leaving the person out in the rain, alone.

The Slow Walker: Normally an elderly person, this is just like the slow driver in traffic. You desperately try and pass them but often times you cannot because there are people in other walking lanes. This walker is very frustrating and normally is in front of you when you are running late.

The "Cannot Walk in a Straight Line": You know the driver that switches lanes with no thought and no rationale? Yea, this person cannot seem to figure out how to walk a straight line. They walk from one side of the sidewalk to the other. This person is also particularly tricky to pass because you have no idea when they are going to make a sharp movement and create a walking accident.

While I am sure there are other similarities, let me leave you with one last thought. At least while you are driving you are all (hopefully) going in the SAME direction. When you are walking, you have to deal with oncoming traffic as well. It is like you are playing that game chicken. (Remember in Footloose when they did it on tractors? Classic). It's like, who is going to move out of the way first? It is very stressful. Anyway, yea, so gridlock is a bitch, but so is walking.

Single in the City ...

Being single sucks. When people tell you that they are happy being single and are enjoying going out and not being tied down, they are lying. I have estimated that we spend approximately 50% of our conversations talking about boys or girls we like. Whether seeing someone hot on the street, talking about the work hottie you have a crush on, or secretly thinking the homeless man who begs you for quarters is cute, thinking about sex and dating is a constant no matter what people want to admit.

Now, being single not only sucks, it is quite the cruel twist of fate. I have clearly given this a lot of thought as I have pretty much been single my entire life. My last legitimate boyfriend and I broke up when I was 21. I am now 27. I am either completely undateable or ridiculously picky. Let's go with the latter.

The cruel twist of fate comes in many forms. When you are dating someone, you have more sex. Now I know people in relationships say that it slows down after you have been dating for a while, however, you at least always have the option. I would say, for the most part, my chances of having sex during the week are at 28.5%. If I go out to the bars twice a week, that is where I get that percentage. On a normal night, when I am not going out, I work all day, and go home. There is really no way that I am going to get laid unless alcohol is involved. What a cruel twist of fate!

When you have a significant other, you also spend a considerable less amount of money. Now, people in relationships are going to argue this point, but I will refute your arguments here. When you are single, you tend to go out a bit more. When I had a boyfriend - granted, it was eons ago - I was completely happy staying in on a Friday night watching a movie, eating in and getting it on. But now, when the weekend rolls around, I need to be out and about and on the hunt. I end up going to dinner and drinks, and then bar hopping around the city with friends looking for a man. With New York's ridiculous prices, a night out could set you back $150. Sitting at home with your boyfriend maybe costs $20. What a cruel twist of fate!

And along the lines of spending less money, when you are dating/married/partnered with someone, you tend to live together in the same apartment, while we single shmucks sit around and pay ridiculous rents by ourselves. In New York, people tend to move in together much more quickly for that very reason. You could cut your rent nearly in half if you moved in with someone you were with, while I am paying an arm and a leg to live with roommates and spend my nights alone with my a bottle of lube and my left hand. What a cruel twist of fate!

So, the next time you see someone single, be nice to them. They are probably broke and extremely horny. Let them sit down on the subway. Buy them a shot. Hold the door open for them. They need it more than you, you happy, oblivious person in a relationship.

If She Can Make It, So Can I ...

Seriously? Is this real? Real "Housewife" of Atlanta Kim Zolciak has released a single that is sure to begin playing at every gay bar in the country. (Side note - Am I taking Crazy Pills, or are half of the "ladies" of the Real Housewives of Atlanta single? Is it just me or does the word housewife not come with actually having a husband? Also, being from Atlanta, it makes me angry that none of the women actually live IN Atlanta. They all live in suburbs. And why are they all getting their homes foreclosed? Atlanta is not that bunk ladies and gentleman).

Anyway, thanks to my good friend Carrie Clark for giving me the heads up on this single. And as she put it, this just proves that a sound editor and a producer can make anyone sound good. Kim must have hired the same guy who has produced all of Britney Spears' albums. Maybe Kim and Britney should go on an acapella singing tour of the country and we can decide who has a more terrible voice.

Also, can we please talk about the title of the song? Tardy for the Party? That sounds like something that Miley Cyrus would sing (pre poll dancing/stripping on the internet Miley). It quite possibly might be the worst title of a song I have ever heard. I want to throw up all over it. Let me know what you think of the song. Listen here. The sad thing is, it is kind of catchy. Anything with a good beat and techno music makes my little gay body want to dance. Cut to me this weekend drunkenly dancing to this song at the local gay bar trying miserably, and with no luck, to seduce some unsuspecting bar patron. Story of my life ... story of my life.

I Hate What Facebook Has Become

I hate you Facebook. What once was used as a fun stalking tool has turned into a complete mess. The last thing I want when I log in is to see that "Kathy" has added new photos of herself giving birth. Or see a status update that "Julia's" baby is no longer accepting her breast milk. How can I feel confident opening up my Facebook at work when my boss might walk by and see a picture of your bloody, naked baby just as it is taking its first breath of air? I would rather gouge my eyes out with shrimp forks than see your baby in that state.

What happened to the good old days when Facebook was used to stalk people, look at pictures of drunk friends and be an overall time suck?

And don't even get me started on friends that are engaged! It's bad enough that I have to hear about your child, but the minutia of comments and posts leading up to your big day make me want to vomit. It's awful enough that I cannot legally marry in most states, but I really don't need 5 status updates a day about how you and your fiancé are picking bridesmaids fabric, tasting wedding cakes and planning your honeymoon. Trust me, I don't care, and I am tempted to delete you. Speaking of, who are you anyway, and why are we even friends? Didn't we have 9th grade biology together? You probably called me a homo behind my back and now only like me because I got cute.

And what is with all of the quizzes that people take? Now, I understand that quizzes can be extremely fun, but does that mean that you have to share your results with everyone you know on Facebook? I really don't care that "Bridges of Madison County" is the movie that most resembles your life according to some asinine quiz that some loser made up. Seriously, take the quiz, view the results, but do not publish to my wall.

And finally, I do not want to be invited to your group where you hand out pieces of flare or ask me to join your Facebook farming community. Please stop sending me these requests. Like I said, I barely know you anyway, so what makes you think I would want to send you a piece of flare? My goodness!

Now, with all of that being said, I still use Facebook like Amy Winehouse still uses crack - it's a total crutch that I cannot get through my day without. And part of me would totally delete my account if it wasn't for the fact that Facebook is one of the quickest and easiest mediums to get you to read my blog. Face it, isn't that how you read this post today?

Anyway, for all of our sakes, please continue to just post pics of you half-naked or drunk, because really, that is all most of us want to see.

And I Keep Getting More Famous

As many of you know, I have started writing for another blog called QueerSighted. This is helping me catapult my fame and good looks to the masses. And even though I have no clue how many people read QueerSighted, it surely has to be more than my little dog and pony show I have going on here. And while I did have good response to my run in with Star Jones, I really need someone bigger to really help me get into the celebrity spotlight. I am taking aim at Perez Hilton.

I wrote an article on QueerSighted the other day about the comeback of our diva Whitney Houston. Several people commented on the article - most of whom I assume I know - but there was one comment that was a little bizarre. It read:

"Who is this guy "gay blogger" Craig who thinks he's gonna be the new me? At least he lives in NY and can only blog about like 5 celebrities, and the cast of Gossip Girl...how far can that really take you? Good luck bb."

The name of the poster who commented was "Perez". Clearly Perez Hilton. I mean, none of my friends would ever pretend to be Perez Hilton to make it look like my article was being read by actual people! So, I thought this was funny and moved on. I then checked out this blog and read the following comment on the previous story about living in a doorman building:

"Awe bb, cute how you think you're a celebrity now, that a tiny website has picked up a few blogs. While you may be a little funny, you're gonna have to find more interesting things to write about other than yourself if you want any real attention. Get some real dirt! Pay off some bitches on the sets or something. I guess you just remind me of someone very close to me ;) best of luck."

The name of the poster who commented on this post was "Mario L". I thought this was odd because it was pretty similar to the comment on QueerSighted. So, I clicked on Mario L's name to see if this person had an e-mail address. When I clicked on Mario L it brought me to PerezHilton.com. That made it even more awkward. I mentioned this to my editor at QueerSighted and it turns out Perez Hilton's real name is Mario Lavandeira. Coincidence? I think not.

The obvious conclusion is that Perez Hilton is obviously reading my blog and is threatened by me. I clearly have a much cuter face, a better personality and am much more hilarious. The only thing holding me back is that I do not know many celebrities (erm, no celebrities?). I say bring it on Perez. When my little blog takes over the world, I will look back and thank you, Perez, for being a pioneer for gay male bloggers everywhere. Let the competition begin!

Doorman Buildings

Living in New York, there are tons of different types of apartments. While most are small ... re-write, VERY small ... and VERY expensive, there are surely different types. I have friends that live in buildings with no elevators and friends that live in buildings with elevators, but that does not come close to the cool building that I live in: A building with an elevator and a doorman!

The doorman is a staple in many New York City buildings, and it is a nice way to feel safe and secure while living in this big city. However, there are a couple of awkward things about having a doorman. Let me elaborate.

Do you remember when you were in High School and you were trying to make out with that special girl or guy in your life? And you had to try and sneak them into the basement without your parents seeing? Or you were so drunk and you didn't want your parents too see you drunk? Yea, imagine that your parents were ALWAYS sitting at the only door into your house. Yea, that is what it is like to have a doorman. Imagine coming home with a random ugly boy, or coming home blackout wasted alone (not sure which is worse). That sucks in general, but think about this, your doorman always sees and remembers this. It is like having your parents sitting at your door! Their judgmental eyes watching you and thinking "wow, that kid is a hot mess".

So yea, it is really awkward having a doorman. While it does make you feel superior to other people in NYC, it kind of makes you feel worse about your choice in men and the amount of vodka you like to drink. Think twice before getting an apartment with a doorman. Especially if you don't want people to know you are a drunk or a whore.

In Animal News ...

As most of us have probably heard by now, America's beloved Taco Bell Chihuahua, Gidget, has died of a stroke at the age of 15. I have a few things I need to talk about here. First, in the commercials, wasn't "Gidget" a dude? I believe the husky "Yo Quiero Taco Bell" voice was a guy. Am I missing something? Couldn't they have gotten a guy chihuahua to play the part? Or was Gidget a really butch lesbian with a gruff voice?

Also, I love how to owner was shocked and saddened by the loss of Gidget. While I totally agree that they should be saddened, are they really shocked? The dog was 15 years old! In human years, that is like 105. If my parents die when they are 105, I certainly am not going to come out saying that I was "shocked" by their passing. Of course, if my parents live to be 105, that would make me 67, which, at this rate, I do not think I will be seeing. Damn you Absolut Mandarin! (Side Bar: In my hungover state yesterday morning, I made my way to Starbucks and when the woman asked what I wanted I instinctively responded "Mandarin and Water - erm, umm ... I mean, grande caramel light frappucino." She was not amused.)

Finally, has anyone actually spent time around a chihuahua? They are the most obnoxious dogs on the planet. While they look cute, they run around, yelp, shake and are just crazy. I would be happy if I never saw one again. The next one I see I am going to punt clear across 9th avenue right into my favorite Chinese restaurants kitchen. I think that is what they use to make my general tso's chicken anyway.

In other animal news, please check out the most ridiculous site ever. My girl Jules and I discovered this site a few months back and could not stop laughing at the shear ridiculousness of this website. SugarBush Squirrel, the world's most famous and photographed squirrel, is the star of the site, however, please make your way over to the part of the website describing the creator. She is a complete nut (pun intended). Doesn't she look like when she looks into your eyes she is somehow stealing your soul?

I have a couple of thoughts regarding this site. First of all, there is no way that that squirrel can be alive. The way it is always holding things and letting this freak dress her up tip me off to the fact that this squirrel is in fact dead or fake. Which leads to my next point. If this is a stuffed squirrel, I am even more creeped out by this lady. She spends her days taking thousands of photographs of a dead squirrel. Who has time for that? Where does she get the little outfits? Why is this her passion? So much for me to learn ...

That is not to say that I do not have the calendar sitting on my desk. Don't ask questions ... just go with it. The calendar also came with a SugarBush Squirrel Pen. Quite a bargain at $9.95.

Maybe this is why I am dateless ... I bet Kelly Foxton, the creator of SugarBush Squirrel's website, gets more dates than I do ... Sad.

Fame Has Found Me ... Again

In my quest to use this blog to bring me fame, fortune and a rich husband, I have triumphed yet again. Not only am I getting hateful comments on my blog (which is awesome), I have now been recognized by a legit website that wants me to contribute articles and free lance for them. The editor of Queersighted was tipped off about my blog and reached out to me this week and we are currently workshopping ideas on topics I could write for them. His first assignment pertains to me working on a dating challenge for the site, and he mentions this:

"I was wondering if you would be up for a dating challenge and be willing to blog about it. The challenge would be for you to try out as many different ways to try and find a boyfriend as possible and write about your experience, from speeddating to online dating to ... . It would be like a guide to big city gay dating and every week/2weeks you would give advice to fellow gay men living in big cities around the world."

Now, I go on my fair share of dates I must admit. These dates normally happen once, and then never again. Maybe I am too picky, or maybe I am a terrible date, but this has got to change. I am tasked with the job of giving advice to gay men around the world on how to date and what forms of dating methods work. According to the hateful comment from "Anonymous" on my No Sex in the City post , maybe its because I am not cute. I think Elaine Benes from Seinfeld said it best ... "Is it possible I'm not as attractive as I think I am?" Well, clearly, that is not the case as I am as adorable as a box of puppies.

Can anyone else think of topics I should write about for this gay website? Any suggestions are welcomed. Please just let them in the comments section of this article.

As for now, look out world, the Craig Miller empire is about to explode ... And oh yea, I know I cannot photo shop. Whatever ...

The Gayest Movie Ever Told ... Maybe

Last night I was (un)lucky enough to get a free ticket to see Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince before most nerds got to see it. I work for a company that gets cool things and we were able to see this without standing in line before every else. For shear superiority factor, I wanted to go and rub it in everyone's face that I had already seen what is sure to be a mega hit. That being said, the movie was kind of boring and I am glad I didn't wasted 14 hours of my life seeing the other 5.

The best part of the night came during the previews. Warner Brothers upcoming movie Shorts, which is about "Toe Thompson, who just wants to make a few friends...until a mysterious rainbow-colored rock falls from the sky, hits him in the head and changes everything". Ummm, wtf? Is that what happened to me when I was a child? Did a little gay, rainbow colored rock fall from the sky and into my crib? Is that how gaybies are made?

If so, I "found my rock" at an early, early age. Whether it was me watching The Sound of Music and Grease every day when I was 2 years old, or me crying because my dad wouldn't let my nails get painted clear when I was 3 (sadly, both true stories), I was a gayby from the get go.

But what about people who don't "find their rock" until later in life? Did Anne Heche find part of a rainbow rock, and then decide to destroy it, sending her from Ellen back to straight men? If all it takes is getting this special gay, rainbow rock, please remind me to send rainbow rocks to the following people: Andy Roddick, Eddie Cibrian, George Clooney (although, one might think he has 1/4 of a rainbow rock somewhere), and Tom Brady.

I also would like to applaud Warner Brothers for writing and producing a movie that celebrates gaybies and all of their troubles growing up. It is about time that a gay rock can star in a major film. Too long have gay rocks been repressed. Also, I think i am going to start a new word for coming out - "finding your rock". Let's see if we can get this started and if we can make this stick. Like I said, I "found my rock" when I was a wee lad, however, hot guys, like Brad Pitt, still need to "find their rock". Mmhmmm, Brad Pitt ...

Fame is a Bitch ...

I have been waiting to start getting the recognition that I deserve and it has finally come - in the form of a negative comment on this very blog! What a treat I received when I was reading a comment on my story "No Sex in the City"! While someone had posted that I definitely needed to lower my standards if I were to ever find a man, that one did not dig deep enough. The next comment, however, did. From what I can discern from the comment, I believe the Anonymous poster was calling me ugly!

Anonymous said... It's rather interesting that you make the broad generalization that most people that are in relationships are unattractive. Judging by your picture, I'd wager that you're in no position whatsoever to make this claim.

How epic is that? I used to think that only my closest friends were reading my little website, however, it appears that people I don't know are reading it and hating on it. You know you are starting to get famous when people start writing hateful things on your website. Now I know how Lohan feels. And you know when you can empathize with Lohan, you are doing something right ... or erm, wrong? Either way, the person who anonymously wrote the comment is either:

1. Star Jones

2. One of Star Jones' minions

3. Someone ugly that is in a relationship. They were all pleased that they were in a relationship and then realized, "yikes, ugly people can be dating too??".

That being said, keep the comments coming kids. The price of fame is a life of hateful, jealous comments. But I am willing to bear that cross ... I am willing.

How Am I Not Famous Yet?

"I want to be like everyone else
But richer and more acclaimed
Worshipped and celebrated
Pampered and loved
To see those who've laughed
Feeling ashamed
A glorious, frantic
Adoring response"

-Side Show the Musical

That is pretty much how I feel. Now, you may be wondering why I have the photo above coinciding with that quote. Well, I have to look up to these four people in some way. They have all managed to become famous for one reason or another. An amazing feat if I may say so myself. Also, they have all written books, which is something that I am clearly worthy of. My life has had some crazy moments, and living in NYC, I am adding to them daily. So, what, exactly are these people famous for?

Tucker Max: He is a complete douche bag and a self proclaimed asshole. He drinks excessively and is a complete jerk to all of the women he meets. Sound familiar? Well, except for the fact that I wrong gay guys and not women. Anyway, he wrote a book called "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell" about all his sexual exploits. First of all, take a look at this guy. What kind of girls is he hooking up with? I mean, seriously. If he can get laid, I should be getting laid every night. Regardless, he has a book that is turning into a movie, and he is ultimately more famous than I am.

Chelsea Handler: A legitimate comedienne who worked her way up doing stand-up comedy before getting cast on the TV Show Girls Behaving Badly. She now has her own talk show on E! and she is freakin hilarious. She is a total bitch and she makes fun of everyone and has no mercy. I could listen to her talk about Heidi Montag for hours, and most importantly, she loves gays. And midgets. Awesome. She is pretty and hilarious and those are two things that are pretty damn important. She also has two books called "My Horizontal Life" and "Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea". Clearly, a book of stories about one nights stands - my forte.

Kathy Griffin: She, too, is a legitimate comedienne who started out doing stand-up as well. She had acting gigs on Suddenly Susan and on Seinfeld before falling into relative obscurity. She always did stand up afterwards which the gay community loved. She finally is getting the A-List status she deserves after winning 2 Emmy's for her work on her reality show My Life on the D-List. She also was nominated for a Grammy which is awesome. She is a total fag hag, if not a gay guy trapped in a girls body. I adore her and she has a book coming out called "A Memoir According to Kathy Griffin". I cannot wait to read it.

Star Jones: My nemesis. After winning our first feud, I refuse to back down. I have no idea what Star Jones did before joining the view, nor do I care. She has also written a couple of books. One is called "You Have to Stand for Something, Or You'll Fall for Anything". I stand for me being more famous than Star. She annoys me.

Anyway, I will become famous and have a book about me published and get to be on Chelsea's talk show. If I have to be a bigger douche than Tucker Max (umm, not that hard), a bigger bitch than Chelsea Handler (again, not reaching here), a bigger gay guy than Kathy Griffin (check), and have a bigger body than Star Jones ... wait, erm, gross, scratch that ... I will be famous. Look out world. Here I come!

**Don't forget to vote in the poll in the top right corner**

The King of Noogies

Enough about the King of Pop. Really, I know he is an icon, but this is getting old. People crying all the time and freaking out? What is that about? I have heard that 5 people have committed suicide noting the loss of Michael Jackson as the reason. Seriously? Get over it! Who we really need to be talking about is a much more brilliant King - Bill Murray, King of the Noogie.

So, apparently, a friend of a friend of a friend (a long convulated train I know) was on the Subway the other day. He was sitting down, and when the train came to a stop, a bunch of people got off, and Bill Murray was sitting across from him and was starting at him. The guy is kind of creeped out that Bill Murray is staring him down, and at the next stop he gets off the train and is on the train platform. Bill Murray gets up as well, walks out of the train, puts this dude in a headlock, and whispers, "no one will ever believe you". Then leaves the train station.

What kind of nutcase is Bill Murray? What a genius! I wish I had his celebrity status. That is the most genius move I have ever heard. Because when you think about it, who would believe you if you were like "Guys, I was just on the subway and Bill Murray put me in a headlock!"? So, I have been googling this trying to figure out if this story is legit, and a story on Gawker does mention Bill Murray handing out noogies! What a genius! His movies kind of kill me a little inside (except for What About Bob? - which is pure comic genius), but I now dream of the day that I see Bill Murray on the street so I can run up to him, put him in a headlock, and say "take that Bill Murray ... take that!"

Wish me luck ...

**Another article on crazy Bill. What a creeper. Loves it!** Thanks Mojo!

No Sex in the City ...

I have been reflecting a lot about Sex and the City. The show that epitomizes dating life in NYC. Now, I am quite torn about this show. I totally struggle with dating in this city, as did most of the characters on that show. Good guys are hard to find, and people are always looking for the next best thing. It is a highly competitive city and with people always working and on the go, it is hard to make time for yourself - let alone a date.

Then, there are most days when I also disagree with the idea that this city is hard to find love. Walking down the street, sitting on the subway and laying out in Central Park, I see thousands of people holding hands, kissing and generally making me want to order a hot coffee and throw it all over them and their love for each other. How are all these people finding people to date? Are they all tourists? That is a possibility as this city is always packed with tourists. And a lot of people do come to this city for vacations as a couple. But some people in this city have to be dating. What is their secret and how do they do it? I know I COULD date someone, but my standards are decently high. Should I lower them?

And yes, I have to say, the people that I normally see together are normally not that attractive, but when I was thinking about that this morning on the subway, I thought to myself "hey Craig, don't judge that they are ugly - they are getting consistent sex, and you are consistently sexing up your hand." Ahh, one day ...

Grey Dog

So, I have discovered the cutest little coffee shop/restaurant near my office! It is called The Grey Dog (website here), and it is fabulous for many reasons.

First of all, the restaurant itself is a little piece of sunshine. When I step inside it just makes me happy. I am not sure if it is the colorful decor, the fun artwork, the giant chalkboard (yes, I love chalk boards - get over it), or the friendly staff, but it makes my normally mundane work days a little bit better.

If any of you are familiar with Athens, Georgia (where the glorious University of Georgia is), you will really love The Grey Dog. It is so hippy chic and laid back it makes you feel like you are in Athens, kicking back, without a care in the world.

Also, I am not sure how or why this is, but everyone that works there is gorgeous. You know I am shallow and do not enjoy looking at ugly people, so while my hungover ass is craving a bacon, egg and cheese croissant, it is much nicer to be served by a gorgeous staff than some ugly fat person, right? I think so.

Also, we went in for my friend Angie's birthday (click here), and of course I announced that it was her birthday, and that we wanted free stuff. And guess what?! They gave us free banana bread and Angie got a glass of wine. Sure it was 9:30 am, but whatever. Ang drank it anyway. Aw, my friend the Wino. Loves it.

And FYI - I am not getting paid to write this about Grey Dog, but I am most definitely going to send them my blog link, and if I happen to get free breakfast out of it, so be it (shameless plug, ). You know I will do pretty much anything for free food (well, free vodka, but food works too).

Anyway, check out The Grey Dog if you live in NYC, or are visiting. It is glorious.

The Crack Head is Back!!!

I had no idea that the crack whore was even coming out with a new album, and then I was walking to work the other day and saw the most glorious poster of all: Whitney Houston is coming out with a new album!!! I am not sure if you can read the poster, but it is brilliant. It reads:

"She gave you good love. she saved all her love for you. she was the greatest love of all. she danced with you. she was so emotional. she ran to you. she was your miracle. her love was your love. she was fine. she believed in you. she learned from the very best. she tried it on her own. she exhaled. she had noting. she's every woman and she will always love you."

I am sorry, but that is just brilliant!! And yes, this is an extremely gay cliche, but I cannot wait for this album to come out. Whitney is honestly the best singer in the world, even through her muddled, crack voice; I know she is going to tear it up.

I remember one time when I was 6 years old, we took a family trip all the way up the east coast to Canada. We drove our Ford Aerostar minivan up the coast (what were my parents thinking? 4 kids in a car for that long??), and I remember that I listened to Whitney's Greatest Love of All TAPE the whole way. And my parents did not "find out" that I was gay until I was 22. Riiiight.

Anyway, is anyone else as excited as I am about this album? And does it make me ridiculous that I signed up for the e-mail list that will e-mail me as soon as the first single is available? I know the answers to these questions are yes, but let me state in advance that I am already on the Whitney Houston new album band wagon. And even if it does tank, it will be fun to see that hot mess act a fool trying to promote the album.

Good luck Baby Girl!

Boys of Summer ... And every other Season ...

I decided that it was time to talk about boys. God knows I think about them constantly. And now that I live in New York, I have a whole new group of gays (and straights) to hit on, get rejected by, and most importantly, offend (Join the club here). With that being said, we all know how I love Broadway. I love to sing and I would die to be on Broadway. However, I did not pursue that as a career option, and while I am a good singer, I have no chance to ever grace the Broadway stage. But that doesn't mean I cannot date/stalk Broadway stars, right?

Hence the photo above. These two dreambaoats are Broadway actor's that I must make out with. The first guy, Aaron Tveit, just finished starring in the Tony Nominated musical Next to Normal. Oddly, his performance was not nominated for an individual Tony Award (total snub) while the 3 other leads in the show were all nominated. And I think he was one of the best ones in the show. Regardless, he is super cute and has the body to go with it. The first scene of the show he is in a pair of boxers for really no other reason than to captivate the gays and the womens attention in the theatre. He was also on Gossip Girl as Nate's cousin, Tripp Vanderbilt. I was told he was straight as he was hooking up with a girl from Wicked, however, recent stories have come out that he is hooking up with a boy in Hair, the musical. While I have incredible hair, I am not in Hair. Either way, he is super yummers.

Next, we have Cheyenne Jackson. Isn't that name hot? That alone makes me swoon, but then I also notice his chiseled features, gorgeous eyes and amazing body. Cheyenne has been in several shows including All Shook Up and Xanadu, and I believe a couple of movies. Apparently, he lives in my neighborhood and can be seen walking his dog from time to time. Cheyenne is gay and so there is definitely a chance for us to be together (if he suddenly goes blind and loses all abilitly to feel my lumpy body). A boy can dream.

Oh, also, on that note. If anyone knows of any single, good looking gay men in NYC that they would like to set me up with, please do. I am not saying that I am desperate, but curling up in a ball in the corner of my room, crying, while listening to Bonnie Raitt's "If I Can't Make You Love Me" is probably not healthy. So, yea, I am single and willing to take applications. Please make sure they live in Manhattan. That is the only borough I know and I will not travel.

Anyway, that begs the following question: Who would you rather sleep with? (Vote up top and to the right)

My Documentary

So last weekend my friends Kristin and Stacy were in town from Washington, DC and Connecticut respectively. I went to Middle School and High School with these cats, so it is always a good time when all of us get the chance to (drunkenly) reunite.

I met them on the corner of my block where we all jumped in a cab and headed down to Caliente Cab in the West Village. I was oddly hungover and was seriously not feeling like going down there, but I wanted to see Kristin and Stacy, so I pulled myself together and went.

We arrived around 1, and it was bizarre that there were not more people at the restaurant. Maybe because it was overcast and threatening to rain (as it has been in NYC for the past 3 weeks. What is sunlight again??). Well, we sat down and we order a margarita which I am definitely having a hard time getting down. All of a sudden a woman walks up to us and says that she will buy us a round of drinks and a meal if we agree to be filmed. I informed her that I had not done one of those movies in years, and my body was not in the same shape as it once was, but I was willing to give it a go again. She let me know it wasn't that kind of movie, which was disappointing, but I went with it anyway. Apparently, they were filming a documentary for CNN that was talking about businesses that were thriving and expanding even in this recession.

The next thing we know there is a camera crew set up next to our table and we are being filmed drinking, eating this randomly delicious meal they brought out for us, and having a gay old time. Now I know what Whitney Port and Lauren Conrad feel like on a daily basis. Speaking of, why is there not a gay guy on The City of The Hills? C'mon MTV, I thought you were progressive. And how do two girls, both supposedly working in the fashion industry, not have any queens working with them? Oh yea, because it is totally scripted.

Anyway, I loved being filmed and I could totally see myself being on a reality show. So, if anyone is interested in filming my hot mess of a life, please let me know. And watch CNN in September for when I make me 12 second documentary debut. Do it.

The Feud is Picked Up By Major Website ...

Is my feud with Star Jones reaching new heights? Well, one website thinks so. Lemondrop.com, one of the most hilarious websites I have read as of late, has heard that the feud between Star and Me is on. Check out the post here: http://tinyurl.com/lfelx3

I am the 5th little story down, however, they have not posted a picture of me yet. Maybe when I become more famous there will be a picture of me alongside articles written about me?

Either way, it is pretty epic.

On another note, I finally bit the bullet and joined Twitter. I know that everyone out there is dying to follow my every move, so, well, now you can. My twitter account is http://www.twitter.com/CraigKMiller .

I still do not know the lingo or anything like that, so bear with me while I try and figure it out.

Star Jones is Obsessed With Me

So, I totally got home from dinner exhausted tonight and decided to see if anyone had commented on my blog. I see that there is a 3rd comment, and it is an anonymous user telling me that Star Jones is DISSING me on her Twitter! I am like, wtf, seriously? I am so excited.

I find Star on Twitter (twitter.com/starjonesesq), and she is TOTALLY writing about me. She is calling me out and saying that I never ever interacted with her at Cirque. I am like, excuse me, I have 20 clients that can attest to the fact that we spoke right after she came out of the line with a pork tenderloin sandwich.

Maybe she is mad because she had worse seats than me, but I must've plucked a nerve with Star. Man, I wish she was still on the View so she could go off on me on the air. I thought I had no life, but apparently Star Jones just sits around and surfs the internet to see if she is still relevant. This is totally epic. Maybe Star Jones and I will get into a feud after all. It is SO on!

Some of her "tweets" about me:

I get this "blog entry" from some guy who happened to be at Cirque du Soleil last night when I was there and he does this blog about me.

FOR real I didn't see him, talk to him, notice him or interact w/ him at all...but he told ALL his friends about our "encounter." TACKY!

Is your life that darn empty that you need to make up an encounter with me at the damn circus. Lord have mercy. LOL

sorry, had to get that off my chest. i'm sitting here just as normal "as a mug"

Star called me TACKY and used my phrase "as a mug". This is so epic. Let the feud begin!

My night with Star Jones ... and Cirque du Soleil

So last night I got to go to Cirque du Soleil - Kooza, with my team from work and some clients. Now I am not sure if you have seen Cirque before or not, but it is some bat s*it crazy stuff, and unless you see it, you cannot even begin to understand how crazy these people are. I mean, do they have no fear? I guess when you are plucked from your family in your native country of China or Russia at the age of 3 and forced to learn gymnastics, contortion and juggling, you pretty much have no fear ... ahh, Communist regimes ... producing such talent. I digress ...

We meet our fabulous clients at this boat called a water taxi, which you have to take to Cirque because it is on an island off of Manhattan called Randall's Island. The boat is yellow and resembles a taxi - wow, creative eh? The sad thing is, even creeping along the East River, I feel it was faster than trying to take a real taxi down any street in Manhattan during rush hour. It was cloudy, but the skyline tour of Manhattan was nice. After 25 minutes on the water taxi, we arrive at Randall's Island. When we get off, its like, a 10-15 minute walk down this gravel road to the actual tent where Cirque is held. Hello, could the boat not just drop us off right outside? Thank God I didn't wear heels! I felt bad for all of the ladies, but they somehow managed the rocky terrain as they knew that free food, booze, and Cirque were at the end of the (gravel) road. And Dorothy thought she had it rough - stop complaining, you had Yellow Brick! B*tch.

We arrive and are escorted into the VIP tent, which as you know, is the only way I roll. I am sorry, I do not hang out with commoners. Our group was fabulous and we deserved the royal treatment! We enter and are instantly given champagne and/or wine and head off to mingle and eat. Side note: While in line waiting for my pork tenderloin sandwich, the crazy skinny woman in front of me pulled out a personal scale from her purse and asked the pork loin cutter to give her 4 oz of meat! WTF. What a nut case. Anyway, we are all talking and mingling when all of a sudden I hear that Star Jones is behind me! I turn around, and of course she is in the Pork Tenderloin sandwich line. She a'int as skinny as she used to be ladies and gentleman - bokay?! She was with a man in a linen suit who actually appeared to be straight - maybe this one is a keeper Star, maybe this one is a keeper ...
Well, wanting to be the gay Chelsea Handler/Kathy Griffin, I decide that I need to talk to Star. Hello, amazing fodder for my blog in case she does anything ca-razy.

So, she turns around from getting her Sammy and I am all "Hey Star"! (Please go crazy, please go crazy!) She looks at me, and politely says "Hi" back. We exhange pleasantries and she is on her way to swallow her sandwich whole.

Well, back to my group I go, and we are looking through the complimentary program of all the performers who are in the show. And let me tell you, some of these circus freaks are cute. Especially one named Anthony Gallo who was a juggler. I immediately get excited for the juggling portion of the show. The bell rings and we all rush to find our seats. Turns out, we have the best seats in the house. 4th row, dead center. Oh, and guess who is 3 rows behind me - Star Jones. Can't pony up for the good seats Star? Suddenly I am beginning to feel more important than she is.

Well, the show is amazing. Everything is crazy and I was freaked out the whole time that someone was going to fall and die - luckily that did not happen. Intermission comes and I talk to Star outside the bathroom for a moment. Again, she is quite nice. Blast! The juggler had not come on stage before intermission, so I put my best stalker face on, and look him up on Facebook on my BlackBerry. I find him, and request that he be my friend. After gorging ourselves on a chocolate fountain and more champagne, we go in for Act II. My juggler comes out and is wearing a head to toe sequined silver suit and is probably 5 feet tall. ACK. He was much cuter in the program. Anyway, he was pretty freakin amazing. We will see if he accepts my Facebook friend request!

The show ends and we hoof it back to the water taxi and head home. We get off the water taxi and start looking for taxis and it begins to rain - go figure. Trying to hail a taxi in the rain in NYC is like trying to find water in a desert. My coworker and I who were going in the same direction ended up finding a taxi after about 10 minutes and made our way home. Overall, we had an amazing night and I will wait for Star Jones to call me to hang out. I know she is dying to ... I mean, who isn't?

Personal Space

NYC is wonderful. It has amazing restuarants, bars, museums, shopping. You name it and NYC pretty much has it (except a good chick-fil-a, or white cheese dip)!

The one thing that NYC definitely, tragically even, is lacking, is personal space. You NEVER have time to yourself. I live with 2 roommates, and almost always one of them is home - which is fine, but you will see why i am complaining in a minute. Walking down the street there is always someone near you - no matter what time of night. On the subway, it is always packed. In the park, shopping, at a restaurant, there are people every where.

Now, I love to sing. And i especially love to sing showtunes. I mean, who doesn't like a good Broadway musical (well, maybe 75% of the population, but whatever)? Now, where I ask you, am I supposed to sing these musicals? I used to belt out Wicked and In The Heights in my jeep any time I was in the car. But now, I live in NYC and I have no jeep. So what have I resulted in doing? Well, I actually just sing on the street with my iPod in. Softly - sometimes one ear bud out as to control the volume of the song coming out of my mouth. But as I get more and more annoyed with the people and the clutter that is Manhattan, I have started caring less, and starting singing more. I am totally a crazy person that walks down the street and sings/talks to himself. I used to think those people were weird (and granted, most of those people are either bonkers or homeless), but now I see why they do it. They have no personal space and you gotta talk and you gotta sing. So if you see me walking down the street in NYC someday, don't worry, I am not crazy (debateable), I just have no personal space.

And Mr. Perfect Continues ... and Ends?

So, I know I started talking about this Jared character the other day and I have yet to update on what is going on. I left it with the point that he is perfect and I knew I would somehow manage to screw it up.

Well, it turns out, Mr Perfect is moving to Pittsburgh to get his MBA at Carnegie Mellon. So, not only was he a Darmouth undergrad, he is now going to a top 20 MBA program as well. Not too shabby.

Well, I told him that I liked him too much and that I could not see him anymore as he was moving in 3 months. I knew I would fall really hard for him, and I could not stomach the thought of having someone I had fallen for moving to Pittsburgh. Now, for those of you don't know, Pittsburgh is pretty far from NYC. Its over 7 hours by car and train, and over an hour flight (which would clearly get expensive). So, I know I should've just relished my time with him, but I did not want to get hurt.

Cut to last Wednesday. Jared and I decided to meet up for dinner. He had just completed taking the last part of the CFA (Certified Financial Analyst) exam, which is uber hard and pretty amazing. Jared met me at my softball game and we ended up going to grab a couple of drinks with my team before dinner. Jared was so amicable and was super talkative and getting along well with everyone (another sign of his perfection). I finally decided enough was enough, and that I wanted alone time with him, and we headed off to my favorite mexican restaurant Arriba Arriba. We sat outside and had the most amazing dinner and conversation. He told me that he wanted to stay in touch while he was gone and that I was this amazing person that he was so happy to know. We ended up parting ways after dinner and not more than 3 blocks away I got a text from Jared letting me know dinner with me had been the best part of the past week - and that was saying a lot because he saw his favorite singer in concert 2 nights prior. Of course, I again being developing feelings for him, and I am imagining our apartment in the West Village with 2 dogs and a Range Rover.

We texted a few times over the next couple of days, and I tried to meet up with him, however, he has been completely MIA. I reached out to him on Saturday a few times, and he responded back with "Hey Cute" and "What are you doing Sweetheart", which sort of makes me barf because pet names are stupid (but secretly inside I loved it). Then, he never texted me again. And now it is Wednesday and still nothing.

So, this post is long, and I am not sure where Jared and I stand, but I have decided that all boys are f-ed in the head, and I need to take a hiatus from even dating. Until the next boy comes and sweeps me off my feet ...

Back in Action

So, a lot has happened since my last posting. I know this blog is probably the last thing anyone is thinking about these days; not that anyone constantly thought about it in the first place, but please just go with it. It is now June and I have been living in New York for more than 4 months now. I can hardly believe how the time flies.

I was told when I first moved here that when people start asking me for directions, I have finally made it as a New Yorker. Well, I am proud to say that I have had that happen to me several times now – and while I may not always know how to tell someone how to get to a certain location, at least I look the part.

Well, with that being said, there have been a lot of changes in my life, and if I am really going to make it as the gay male Chelsea Handler, well, then I have to continue writing and posting. So, I am making a commitment, a reasonable one, to try and post at least 3 to 4 times a week. So, for the 3 people who used to read this blog on the regular, hang on tight – I am back!

Match.com

So, I believe it was early April, my friend Melissa (aka Biscuits), remembered that she went to high school with a homo, who, like me, had moved to NYC. She wanted to introduce us because she knew that I needed some gay friends in NYC. The only problem, Biscuits informed me, was that she had never really spoken to the aforementioned homo. They were friends on Facebook, and she totally stalked him on there – you know, the real reason most people use Facebook – for stalking. Well, Biscuits knew I was having a hard time meeting gays, so she bit the bullet and messaged Ted. Being a fan of the stalk himself, Ted appreciated her reaching out. To make a long story short, we decided to meet. Turns out, this kid lives on my block – convenient right?

Well, we make plans to meet up at a gay bar in the area for a drink. Now, maybe this is one of the reasons I don’t have many gay friends, or maybe it is because I am the eternal hopeless romantic, but I always think that anyone I am meeting up with has the potential of being the man who sweeps me off my feet.

I meet up with Ted, and he is a giant – seriously, like 6’5”. Now, I am no shrimp, but standing next to him in all my 5’10” glory, well, I felt like I was part of the Munchkin Guild. We had a few drinks, and it turns out he is a pretty good guy, even though from now on, I would only like to hang out with him if we are sitting down.

Well, you might be wondering why this post is called Match.com, and I am getting to that, but I just needed to give some background. Ted and I decided to meet up a week or so later to go out for the night. I invited my friend Damon, who I met earlier in my tenure in NYC (recall a boy ‘breaking up’ with me at Arriba Arriba anyone?). We all go to Ted’s for cocktails before heading down to the West Village to go out. Well, the second we walk into the bar, Ted and his crew disperse. They all start doing their own thing, and it kind of became frustrating. A few vodka waters later, and realizing the fact that no one was hitting on me, or giving me the time of day (or rather, night) in general, I decided it was time to leave.

Damon and I cabbed it to this miserable dance club where I tried to order a drink with a $20 bill that had somehow ripped in half – turns out, bartenders do not enjoy 50% of any bill. After realizing that, I offered him in the other half of the $20, to which he declined, and then dumped out my innocent vodka water. Well, no one treats my boyfriend vodka that way, so I decided that I needed to go home. I was upset that no one had hit on me, which was starting to become a major theme in my life, and hailed a cab home. Well, at this point, I was in no shape to remember much, and the next thing I know I am waking up in my bed. At least I made it home. I grab my computer to check Facebook, and the most odd thing was on my computer. I was logged into Match.com. Turns out, in my drunken state, I signed up for Match!