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!

The Perfect Man

So, I honestly cannot remember the exact place I met Jared. I believe it was Match, but as it was a couple of months ago, and I have had many vodka water’s later, I have since forgotten. So forgive me. Jared and I began chatting online, on gchat, and I was instantly a fan. He was smart, sweet, funny – and best of all, he had a ton of pictures and he was hot. I mean, legitimately hot. He had a Matt Damon look to him, but to me, cuter. Now Jared and I both live in Hell’s Kitchen, which is a neighborhood in West Midtown. So we decided to meet up for a drink at this great spot Eatery. My girl Stacia from work goes there every Tuesday, so I decided to meet her for a drink and have Jared meet me there. I wanted to have Stacia there in case Jared turned to be miserable – I mean, you can’t always trust these online meetings – trust me. Well, Jared waltzes in wearing an amazing suit. I automatically feel the butterflies in my stomach as he sits down for a drink. Stacia, noticing that he was a regulation hottie, did the appropriate thing and excused herself to go home for the night.

After a couple of drinks at the bar, I was legitimately tired, and we decided it was time to go home. I did not want to leave this total catch of a man, however, a successful meeting had already made me giddy. We walk out of Eatery, and I turn to go South towards my apartment, expecting Jared to turn North to walk to his apartment, however, being the gentleman that he was, he said that he wanted to walk with me part of the way, if not all of the way home. Well, it was cold, and I was tired, but I accepted his offer. However, and yes, this makes me the laziest kid ever, I hailed a cab to go10 blocks. I told Jared to get in, and he did. We pulled up to my apartment, and as most of you know, I am the most awkward kid ever. I am miserable at saying good night. All I remember saying is something to the effect of “yea, I live on the 34^th floor and have an amazing view. You should definitely come in and check it out”. And get this, he agreed. (Again, I am no slouch – in the looks or personality department – but was this gorgeous, Dartmouth graduate with a fantastic job really coming up to my apartment? Was I on Totally Hidden Video or Candid Camera? After peering around outside and not noticing any camera crews, I discerned that I was not on any hidden camera shows, and we got out of the cab).

Well, let me just tell you that we both thoroughly enjoyed the view that night. And the next morning, Jared was off and I was left quite smitten with him.

A Match Debacle

So, Match is a pretty interesting site. And even though I never saw the movie or read the book, I am going to steal a line from He’s Just Not that into You. Or rather, paraphrase one. So, you know the feeling you get when you are out and you feel like no one is hitting on you? Or when you are too nervous to hit on someone for fear of rejection? Well, instead of being rejected or feeling unwanted at a bar, where you can at least drink vodka with some sense of, um, pride (?), you now get rejected while sitting on your bed watching Golden Girl re-runs, and where it is not as acceptable to be drinking vodka waters to make the pain go away. So instead of drinking alone, which I honestly refuse to do, you just sit there dumbfounded as to why a guy you thought was less attractive and not as good as you, did not wink back to you. Is it possible I am not as attractive as I think I am? I mean, am I taking crazy pills? I may not have a body to die for. But I am by no means ugly. And while my personality shines, I get that it is hard to convey that on a dating profile. Needless to say, I have gone on several dates with people who have messaged me on there, and none of them have worked out. Those tragedies will be written about soon, however, I did have a 2 week “fling” with an amazing guy that is more important. Enjoy!

The Best Date

So, unfortunately, I had to go out of town the weekend after I met Jared, so we had to postpone our first real date to the following Tuesday. After consulting with Julia, my amazing friend at work about where to go on our date (Julia is a total foodie and I trusted anything she told me about restaurants in NYC), I decided on this adorable little place in the West Village called Paris Commune. I made a reservation and told Jared to meet me there at 7:30. Well, I totally hated the pants I was wearing. So during lunch I decided I needed to find some cute, inexpensive pants to wear instead of the lame ones I was wearing. I skipped over to the Gap – most likely literally skipping as I was giddy with excitement for our date – and started looking for pants. I found a really nice pair of khakis – the only problem was that they didn’t have my size. Well, I have been walking all over NYC like it was my job, and I decided that I could squeeze into one size smaller. Well, before leaving work, I decide to change into my new pants. Turns out, I was right, I could squeeze into the pants I bought – however, the were a tad tight – especially when I sat down. I decided to wear them anyway since we would be sitting down and he wouldn’t be able to tell I was cutting off circulation to master Harold and the Boys (if you catch my drift).

I get to Paris Commune 2 minutes late (my biggest pet peeve), and Jared is already sitting at the table. He is wearing a shirt, a red tie, and a blue cable knit button up sweat over it. Immediately I felt awkward in my choice of attire as he looked like a million bucks. Needless to say, I sat down and had literally the best date of my life. We each had a cocktail which helped loosen us up from any dating jitters. 2 bottles of wine, 3 courses of food, and 4 hours later, we basically closed down the restaurant. And during that time, the conversation never lacked. The time flew by like we had only been there half an hour. And while we were in between courses and chatting, he would grab my hand and hold it and look into my eyes like I was the most important person there. I had never let anyone do that with me, and it felt nice. What was this Jared character doing to me. Was I actually developing feelings for him? Needless to say, we ended up back at my apartment, where we had a grand time checking out my view again. Now the real question was, how was I going to screw this up?