Little Peach in the Big Apple

An Open Letter from my 21 year old self

2011-09-09T11:09:00.000-04:00

Dear 29 yearold Craig: Dude, you’re 29. I know you have an amazing job in NYCand are living in one of the greatest cities on the planet, but you need tostart acting your age. You are no longer me. You don’t have classes 3days a week - starting no earlier than 3pm. You have a job, where people,most likely respect you. You cannot go out until 5am and expect to feel goodthe next morning. It just doesn’t happen.

Also, while Iam sure your hair still looks unbelievably good, you can’t just eat anythingyou want and expect to be 125 lbs. Sure, I look like a diseased bird atthis weight, but that X-Small stretch t-shirt that is normally fit for achild’s doll, looks awesome on me. Also, you need to start working outbuddy. At some point you are going to have something called Facebook thatis going to be suggesting friends to you, and when you click on those“suggested friends”, they are going to be the hottest gay guys you have everseen who have incredible bodies and will make you feel terrible. So putdown the beer and cheeseburger and get to the gym 4 hours a day like everyother gay dude.

And while weare on the subject, can you please stop being obsessed with sports? Here is alittle secret: most gays don’t understand sports and will look at you withpuzzling glances when you say you are obsessed with football. Sure, they maylaugh when you say the word ball (haha, ball), but that doesn’t mean they will understandor like the fact that you aren’t just watching the game to see men in tightclothes. Oh yea, and those preppy outfits you are obsessed with, scratchthose as well. Gays don’t understand those and will expect you to onlywear tank tops. Buy one in every color. Oh, but don’t wear them unlessyou see my previous note about going to the gym. Tank tops are unforgiving.

Also, youshould probably verse yourself on musicians that no other subset of Americansociety has heard of, like Robyn or Kylie Minogue. They will oddly becomestaples of gay society and simply liking Christina Aguilera (a goddess ofcourse) will not be enough to pass gay music tests. You will go out to barsand one of their songs will come on, and while everyone else is dancing intheir tank tops, you will be standing alone, in your Brooks Brothers polo andseersucker shorts wondering why they aren't playing Rihanna. And oh yea, youwill be watching every other person, who, in your opinion is seemingly lessattractive but happens to be wearing a tank top, making out.

In conclusion,while I am happy you are making great money working for an awesome company andliving in NYC, you need to get your shit together if you want to get laid andor married.

Love, 21 yearold you.

PS – There isthis AMAZING thing called Botox that is readily available at this point in yourlife. Please take advantage of that. While most of your face still looks like a25 year old, that giant wrinkle on your forehead says otherwise.

Facebook Post Hell

2011-08-04T14:21:00.001-04:00

There have been countless articles about Facebook posts that are annoying and over the top. In fact, I may have posted about this once before, but I feel like no one is learning and I again need to go over a few that really do annoy me. As I previously thought or mentioned, I really only care about hilarious things that have happened to you, other people’s misfortunes, or pictures you are posting of me. Mildly acceptable are vacation photos of yourself that you are posting, because as I sit in my tiny cubicle at work, seeing you traipsing through Asia on an Elephant while your monkey tour guide feeds you bananas really does pass the time and helps me imagine myself doing the same one day. Also, I travel a lot, and I post pictures of myself that I am hoping make everyone jealous.

Among the many atrocities that occur on Facebook every second, there are a few that really irk me. Here goes:

Taking Pictures of Food: Listen, I love tacos. I really do. Mmm tacos! But just because you made tacos doesn't mean you have to take a picture and Facebook about it. Unless you are planning on sending me said tacos, I really don't care. And for that matter, it's not that hard to make tacos. I believe Helen Keller even made tacos once. Don’t quote me on that, but I’m going to say she did. And now I am hungry. Thanks a lot.

Over sharing about your child: In my early 20’s, I have to admit, I hated kids. What a nuisance! Then, my sisters began procreating, and I started liking kids … but only the ones who were related to me. Recently, as I near 30 and all my friends are getting married, I realize that kids are soon to be an inevitable part of all my friends’ lives. But I really do not need to know that your baby has had horrible diarrhea lately, or that they have stopped breast feeding from you and that makes you sad. (Yes, those are legit status messages I have seen on my news feed.) And guess what, most people don’t want to know that either. And to those of you who DO care, I believe I stopped breast feeding in April of 1983. Please contact Judy Miller to confirm. I know your life is complete now. Congrats. (Acceptable forms of kid sharing – hilarious adorable pictures of them dressed up in ridiculous costumes or if they have some insane Mozart like talent and begin composing and playing music at age 3.)

I have exciting news … But you are going to have to wait: Have you seen these people? They write things that allude to some sort of great thing that happened in their lives, or they are super excited about something coming up, but won’t tell you what it is. These people are fishing for comments. Look, I knew you in 7^th grade and you somehow became one of my friends on Facebook. I probably haven’t spoken to you in 15 years and I will probably never speak to you in person ever again. While I do love stalking people and knowing what they are up to, playing these games where you try to entice me to guess what event you are secretly keeping from your entire Facebook list is just dumb. Just tell me. I probably don’t care that you got a new mattress or that the fertilizer you started using to help make your begonias grow is working so well you have begonias for all your neighbors. But I care even less when you drag it out like a bad mini-series.

I am sure there are more and I am sure a lot of people get annoyed with my constant Facebook posts about how awesome and cute I am, or how I was bitch slapped in my own hotel room while on a business trip in Chattanooga in 2006, but at least they make people laugh. And hopefully, they make you want my life (or be happy that you DON’T have my life – which I presume is the more likely version). Discuss.

Ahh, dating ...

2011-07-07T00:09:00.000-04:00

I haven't blogged in a while. I am not totally sure why but there are reasons. I mean, I am quite busy. My fragrance line is launching soon. My book deal is happening. And I happen to be starring in a Nigerian sitcom that is yet to be named. Sue me for having a life.

But there is definitely something that I need to get off my chest. I go to a lot of weddings. Legitimately, I average 9 weddings a year. I find that fantastic (except for the whole flying to, paying for hotel rooms and gifts [which my friends these days rarely get], and other accoutrements of weddings)! I love all my friends and I am seriously more than thrilled that they have found partners to spend their life with! However, my dating life is less than thrilling.

I find myself intelligent. I have given myself IQ tests and I know it is much higher than most Americans. I also find myself quite attractive. I am not sure if it is because I have looked at my mug in the mirror the past 29 years, but I think there is something more attractive than the typical human being. Conceited? Probably. Do i care? No.

Here is my commentary on the previous: Almost all of my friends have told me that I am nice, smart and attractive. They often question me saying "how is it possible you are single?" Or, "you are so cute, you will find someone some day". I must admit, this is heady, enjoyable conversation. But do my friends really mean it? We have all told people that they are cute, in shape or nice because it was the right thing to do. Don't lie to yourself. You know you have done that. My question is, can you ever be 100% sure that your friends are telling you the truth?

This is a strange article to write because most people will think I am writing this to get compliments on my looks or personality. In fact, it is more of an open discussion on why we feel it is important to tell people that they are cute or have an awesome personality. The fact is, I might not find a boyfriend or a partner, and quite frankly, I may end up single. I had a date tonight who I thought was adorable, nice and smart. He texted me and said 'we would be great friends'. Can I fault him? No. Do I want to? Yes. Perhaps I was not what he was looking for, which is totally his prerogative, but I have to admit I am quite sick of people telling me that I will find someone "soon".

I have to admit, I still feel like Carrie Bradshaw and I hope that one day a Mr. Big will waltz into my life, but I have to say I will probably be less open about my dating life.

Maybe I won't find someone. And I think that we as friends should stop telling our friends that "they will find someone some day", when in actuality they might not.

I hope all my friends do end up happy, but it may not be in the cards for everyone.

The Dating (Awkward) Game

2011-02-09T23:35:00.001-05:00

I am not 100% crazy. 90%, sure. But I swear there is some semblance or sanity that still lives in my head. But when it comes to relationships, or dating/making out in general, you could basically call me Corky from Life Goes On and call it a day. I am an absolute moron when it comes to pretending I know things about the (in my case) same sex. I am more equipped to re-build a carburetor than date an actual human male, which is sadly saying a lot.

Here is the thing. I find myself attractive. It may be the 4 vodka cocktails I usually have before writing blogs of this sort, or it may be the fact that I am narcissistic beyond words, but I think my face is pretty adorable. And my personality is hilar-balls. Yes, it is true. Where I am lacking is my body. I belong to an expensive gym (mostly to meet rich male suitors), but let's be honest, I rarely go. I make excuses by saying I work a lot and I take clients out a lot, so I have no time to go, but let us be honest, I am just lazy. There are a couple of things I would like to address. They are little gems of wisdom that make NO sense to me and I need help deciphering.

1. I claim I am fat. A lot. I know that is completely ridiculous. I am not fat by any means. I am almost skinny in some circles. But in what is called 'gay world', I am shamu. Nearly all my friends are straight, and they will never understand, but the fact is that in gay world, I am fat. Here is the curious thing. All my friends call me skinny and tell me I look good, but one has to question if they are being nice or serious. I think there is a world where there is never a way to possibly know whether your friends are being honest or nice. And if they are being honest, are we ever really able to truly believe them?

2. Dating. I belong to many websites and crazy places to meet men. I have been on weird dates, fun dates, crazy sexting relationships, etc, but I will never understand the male psyche. I can meet someone online (or on an iPhone app), and have the best "relationship" with them. But when it comes time to meet, they always bail. Is it something I said? Are they secretly in a relationship? Either way, if you try and call them out on it, you come across as a complete psycho. When is it appropriate to call out your online fake boyfriend on his bluff? And when you do call them out, you either look like a desperate mess (no way to avoid that), or a weirdo. Sometimes though, you just want to know why the person never called you or texted you for that date. Is there ever an appropriate way to ask why someone never texted or called you? Or do you always need to leave it and feel like a psycho?

Anyway, that is all I guess. I seem like a mega psycho, but in the reality of it all, I just want to know what it is people don't like about me (or to my million followers, you) in general. It is not that I am a complete psycho, it it just that I want to know, in all honestly, why you never call me after a fantastic date :)

AAAAANNNNND, scene ...

Christmas for Myself

2010-10-21T13:15:00.000-04:00

I know that Christmas is 2 months away, however, I had a wonderful idea that I was work-shopping in my head recently, and I thought perhaps I would blog about it and see if I could really bring it to fruition.

Rewind: My parents have always called me selfish and materialistic. Fine, I admit it. I like nice things. I like name brands. I think owning expensive things improves my self-worth. Fine, I get it. Not a great way to live my life, but hey, who doesn't want these things? Anyway, as the years went on and everyone in my family was getting married and I was still single, I began to get even more materialistic and jealous around Christmas. Here is why:

As my 3 siblings are all married, it gets rather expensive buying gifts for everyone. I get it. I live in NYC and I don't exactly have money lying around to buy gifts for everyone, including my parents and nieces. A few years back, we went to the "Pick a Name out of a Hat" rule where you buy one gift for a sibling/sibling-in-law and spend up to $75. Well, that is great - except when you are single. And I know the spirit of Christmas is all about giving and not receiving, but whatever(!), this really just limits me to getting one gift. My siblings are all buying gifts for their spouses, and vice-versa. I, on the other hand, just get one gift. Poor me you must be thinking!

Here is what I propose. I would like to make a list of say, 20 things that I want for Christmas. Then, I will give this list to my group of friends, along with $250 of my own money. I will then ask that they pick a few items off my list and purchase them and wrap them for me. Then, I will put these under my Christmas tree, and when Christmas comes, I will have more than 1 present to open. And since they were bought off my list of 20 things, I technically won't know what I am getting! What a surprise!

I think that this is a fantastic idea for anyone who is single out there and either a) feels slighted by their married siblings, or b) does not really have a family at all and really is gift-less at Christmas. Thoughts, feelings, concerns? ...

Why, Oh Why, Button Fly??

2010-09-09T12:09:00.000-04:00

What is the deal with button fly jeans? Seriously. Every pair of jeans that I seem to love and purchase as of late end up being button fly. I need to ask myself, why would any designer make button fly over regular zipper jeans?

You may say, aesthetically, button fly jeans look cool. Well, while that may be true in theory, you cannot tell if a person is wearing button fly or zipper jeans when they are properly closed. And let’s face it, 99.99% of people see us with our jeans buttoned or zipped.

Also, one of the best things about being a guy is that we get to pee standing up. And to go along with that, the best part about peeing while wearing pants, is that you can just pull your weenus out through your pant hole without unbuttoning the top button or undoing your belt. Well, button fly jeans really ruin this. Not only is it time consuming, it is also awkward at a bar when you have to undo your belt, and basically unbutton half your pants in order to relieve yourself, making the guy next to you think you are pulling some sort of Larry Craig. And as I spend the majority of my time in straight bars, it is more awkward because most of the guys there are not receptive to full frontal male nudity, sadly.

The only other reason I can think of to have button fly jeans is for weenus protection. In case someone tries to give you a random handy at a bar. I say, let the random hand jobs commence! I am sure I would have gotten much more play at gay bars and on the subway had I not been wearing weenus armor (aka, a belt and button fly jeans).

So jean companies, I beg of you, please make cute, designer jeans that are zip fly instead of button fly. It helps me pee easier and more quickly, and also opens me up to the opportunity of random weenus play.

Logo's The A List - Or, to me, the FML List.

2010-08-31T16:26:00.000-04:00

As if we needed another hot mess of a reality show. And now we have one that is full of gay men. That live in NYC. And make me feel bad about being a gay man in the city. FML.

So, from what I understand, this is basically like a Real Housewives of with tons of drama and half naked man candy. And from the look of the picture of 2 of the cast members on the left (one of them being hottie mchotterton Reichen), I am already in deep depression/starvation mode. Check out the preview here.

I really did not need another show reminding me of my meager earnings here in fabulous New York. And then, to top it all off, the fabulous and rich cast members of this show happen to all be gorgeous with perfect bodies (well, there is one fatty thank god). Rich and gorgeous? How can I compete? I am really glad I have gotten so busy I am basically paying my gym $175 per month to pretend I am working out. This immediately needs to change. Equinox, get ready for me to come 2 times a week!

Regardless of the fact that the men on this show make me feel fat and insecure, you better believe that I am going to watch every minute of this gay mess. And from the preview, they are frolicking on yachts and playing in the Hampton's, which has been my dream since I have been here in New York. Hey, maybe I will even get pointers from the gold digging gay guy on the show.

Will you watch?

2010-07-21T11:36:00.001-04:00

Much like the little girl in this photo, I have been wronged by an Indian Giver. Let me break it down for you.

I started 'dating' this 23 year old a couple of months ago, and right off the bat he took our relationship way too seriously. I should have known that this was going to be a stage 5 clinger when he brought a backpack full of clothes over to my apartment on our second date. I was confused as to why he was moving clothes in on our second date - I mean, we aren't lesbians.

On our 3rd date, he proceeded to get drunk (which I respect), but then he told me that he loved me (which I do not respect). I should have probably ended it there and broken his young, inexperienced heart. He would move on. Besides being a little clingy, he was cute and smart and had good intentions. However, I decided to continue seeing him in hopes that he was just nervous and new at dating and didn't really know how to act.

Throughout our 'relationship', he bought things for my apartment. I did not ask for these things. I would come home one day to find a microwave sitting at my door, or another day to find a box full of other kitchen accoutrements. Again, he was being sweet and buying me things that he thought I would find useful. Then one day he came over to my apartment with an Air Conditioning unit for my window. He said it was too hot in my apartment and I needed it. I was planning on buying one anyway because summer was upon us, and in fact, it was hot in my apartment. I started to write him a check for the things he had purchased me, but he declined and said 'don't worry about it'.

Now, we continued to 'date' for a few more weeks when I realized that we weren't going to work out. I felt bad for the kid, but I didn't want to prolong the relationship if I didn't see it going anywhere. We parted amicably and vowed to remain friends.

He invited me out a week later to have dinner with a couple of his friends. Against my better judgment, I went on the basis that this was just friends and that it meant nothing more to me. Well, the kid proceeded to get drunk and tell me he missed me and wanted to know why I didn't like him. The whole situation was awkward in front of his friends and made me very uncomfortable. I told him we were never going to get back together.

I guess that irked him, because after that he became quite a psycho. He had left a couple of things at my apartment (a hoodie, a shirt and a couple of pairs of shoes) that I promised to pack up for him. He started texting me that if I didn't respond to him and return his stuff he was going to call the police on me (which clearly makes no sense. I mean dude, a hoodie!). I decided to pack his things up and leave them with my doorman for him to pick up so I didn't have to deal with seeing him. However, since that day, he has texted and e-mailed me multiple times demanding a check back for the things he bought me while we were dating. Now, I did not ask for him to purchase me these things. So I am thinking, what the hell dude?

I decide to ignore his texts and e-mails so he gets the hint that I do not want to talk to him and he is not getting a check from me. What kind of person buys someone presents, refuses to take a check when offered, and then when is broken up with, harasses you for money. Was I dating a loan shark?

Anyway, what is the proper etiquette when this happens? Do I suck it up, go against what I think is right and give him a check? Or do I continue to ignore him, pray I don't get stalked by him, and stick with my principles?

I vow this - I will never date someone that is younger than me again. I need to be the immature crazy one, and babysitting a potential boyfriend is not something I am in the market for ...

Hot Boys (brothers?) of Summer

2010-06-23T18:11:00.004-04:00

Is it just me, or do Landon Donovon, USA soccer stud, and Andy Roddick, USA tennis stud look extremely similar? I mean, the similarity is crazy to me. They could be brothers, or at least cousins.

I have been obsessed with Andy Roddick for many years now, and I have always wanted him to come out of the closet and declare his love for men – especially, this man (points fingers at myself). As a former tennis phenom, I have been following tennis for years which is where my love for Andy Roddick developed. So, as Andy continues his quest for his first Wimbledon title over the next two weeks, I happily get to see my lover all over my giant TV.

Also, with World Cup in full swing, my attention has turned to gorgeous soccer player boys with sick bodies. And the US team has a few choice hotties on the team. Landon is one of them, but we also have a few others that make my mouth water and me wonder why the US does not follow soccer more closely. Ladies and gays, start paying attention. And for some odd reason, they all take their shirts off after the game and hug. Yummy!

Anyway, does anyone else see the resemblance between Landon and Andy? I believe they are both married, but if they want to explore their sexuality with yours truly – perhaps at the same time – I would be more than willing to do my patriotic duty and support these gifted US athletes. I will let you know when they both reach out to me following this post …

What's Your Name Again?

2010-06-17T19:19:00.001-04:00

There are many awkward things in life. Trust me, I would know. I am super awkward 90% of the time. However, I think there is nothing more awkward than hooking up with someone and not knowing their name. Now listen, I know people define hooking up as having sex, but for me, when I say hooking up, I most likely just mean making out. After all, I am a lady! And I would not do such things before I was married – which can happen for me in I believe 5 states. Anyway, in the past couple of weeks, I have hooked up a few times. And, blame it on the alcohol (which I so often do), but of the 3 people I have made out with in the past 10 days, I cannot remember 2 of their names.

Now this is very problematic for me you see. The first guy I met on Grindr, which is an iPhone application that literally tells you where the nearest gay guy is. I was in a cab on my way home from a debaucherous evening out with my friend and her MOM, when I guess I somehow managed to get on Grindr, meet a guy, and go to his apartment. I don’t remember much about that night, although the next morning he did tell me that I asked him not to murder me. You know me, always safe! Herein lies the problem. The dude was hot. And from the looks of his apartment, rich. And I want to see him again. However, we have been exchanging texts and I have NO idea what his name is. I tried to trick him in to telling me by saying ‘by the way, my name is Craig in case you forgot’, but that did not work on him. He just responded, ‘I know, I have a great memory’. Nards! I also tried having my friend call his number and listen to his voicemail, but he is French, and she couldn’t quite make it out. Double nards!

Next, I brought someone home with me this past Saturday, and I have no recollection his name. Now, this guy is really into me and texts me 40 times per day. First of all, red flag. I need someone that I can chase. I hate desperation and I don’t want someone that into me. I mean, I do, but give me a little space. The problem is, he wants to go out to dinner and again, I do not know his name or anything. I cannot even do a Facebook stalk to remind me what he looks like. When he left my apartment Sunday morning I was so hungover and I could not open my eyes. All I could do was mumble my phone number to him and roll back over and sleep until 3:45 in the afternoon. I guess that is what you get for eating 2 eggs for breakfast, and then drinking all day starting at 10am for World Cup, and staying out until 5am. I am not in college anymore sadly, and the hangovers are beginning to hurt.

Does anyone have any other tricks as to how to figure out someone’s name once you have hooked up with them? I mean, that is one giant slap in the face to not know someone’s name after you may or may not have had sexy times with them. Thoughts?

Becoming a desired gay ...

2010-06-15T10:53:00.000-04:00

I have decided that after years of talking about how I want a muscular body, and wondering why I didn't just wake up with the body of an Adonis, I should probably bite the bullet and join a gym. The sad thing is, gyms in NYC are not cheap. In Atlanta, I thought I was paying an insane amount of money to go to LA Fitness, which was one of the nicer gyms in the city. It cost me $35 a month. And since I never went, I didn't feel so bad about throwing $35 out every month.

The thing is, here in NYC, if you want to go to a decent gym, you are going to have to fork over at least $75 per month, and that gym will be over crowded and smell and I honestly have no desire to go there. So, in typical gay fashion where we tend to live above our means, I decided if I was going to join a gym, I might as well join one of the nicest ones in the city. The way I think of it is as an investment. There are two results of this investment. I will obtain a hot body which will attract men from all around to gawk at a body that will finally match my adorable face. Also, since the gym is really expensive, I might find a rich boyfriend while at the gym.

The great thing about my gym, Equinox, is that 90% of the people there are hot. And almost no one is fat. It is really inspiring and it makes me want to be there and work my butt off to get muscles like everyone else. The sad part is, I have no idea how to lift weights and I usually stumble around aimlessly pretending to work out while stressing out that people are watching me and thinking I am a moron. And they would be right.

So here is my question. Would you rather go to a gym where everyone is pretty and has better bodies than you, or belong to a gym where everyone is out of shape and you are the one everyone aspires to be? I would say the first, because it inspires me to work out and become one of the elite.

Check back with me in a month and hopefully I will have some type of muscle developing. If not, I am going to be seriously depressed.

Big Technology Debut Today ...

2010-06-07T19:59:00.005-04:00

No, not the iPhone 4 stupid. The long anticipated fourth studio album from the genius that is Christina Aguilera. While many people were watching Steve Jobs debut the new iPhone to the public, I was sitting at work uncomfortably counting down the hours until I could get home to the most beautiful sight - a package. And not that kind of package, an actual package that contained, before you can buy it in stores, Christina Aguilera's newest album Bionic.

I am on track 14 of 23 and I can already say that this album is awesome. I mean, I am obviously super biased because Christina could stab me in the neck and I would still think she was God.

But from what I have heard thus far, this album rocks my face off and her voice is as brilliant and beautiful as ever. Go out and buy it tomorrow, because I do not let people burn Christina Aguilera albums from me. Go out and support my sweet baby girl.

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go back to crying tears of joy, alone in my apartment while listening to this magical album. Let me know what you think when you buy the album, which you are all going to go out and buy tomorrow. Just remember, that I am a super fan and got her album first. Christina, why won't you call me to hang out? I'm waiting ...

2 of my favorite messes ...

2010-06-04T12:04:00.002-04:00

The season finale of the Real Housewives of New York was on last night, and thankfully I had so much work to do, I was forced to stay in and watch the train wreck come to an incredible season finale. My two favorite train wrecks on the show are Luann and Kelly.

First off, has anyone seen the official video for Luann's 'song' Money Can't Buy You Class? Or are your ears still bleeding from hearing it and you are too nervous to watch the video for fear of losing not only your hearing, but also your sight? If you dare, click here. Here is a list of things that money can buy you, and money cannot buy you:

Money Can Buy you ...

A record deal. We have all witnessed this with Kim Zolciak, the hottest, wig wearin' mess from my home of ATL. And now Luann.
Very hot models for your debut music video.
A great makeup artist and hair stylist for your video.

Money Cannot Buy you ...

A good beat for your song.
Autotune in a good studio because you sound awful even in a studio.
Lip syncing lessons because when you performed 'live' at your CD release party, the mic was about 5 feet from your mouth the whole time and you were smiling.
Acting lessons for your video because you are obviously super awkward (takes one to know one right?).

Also, she talks about class as she is rolling around, writhing on a bed with half naked men. While that is my dream, I do not believe it is classy.

And now on to the hottest mess on television. One Kelly Bensimon. If you have watched any of the episodes of the Real Housewives, you know that she is a complete social liability, and is definitely a candidate for the Dean of CBU (aka, Crazy Bitch University). If you saw her melt down in the Bahamas, it was classic TV and made me super giddy. But the kicker came in the season finale. Each 'Housewife' was presumably allowed to come up with their own 'blurb' that concluded the season. Kelly's was something like 'Kelly still believes in devoting her life to lollipops, unicorns and rainbows...'

I mean, is this bitch for real??? Can someone please introduce me to her because I know whatever she is on is incredible and I need to be prescribed it/given a map in Mexico as to where to find it!

Here is to hoping that the ladies all return for a fourth season because these crazies are definitely my guilty pleasure.

Ghost's of Bad Dates Past ...

2010-05-20T21:35:00.008-04:00

Going on dates can be quite stressful and tiresome. But if I am ever going to end up the future Mr. Ricky Martin, I need to weed through the dating pool before I am finally set up with Ricky. That way my skills are honed and I don't F it up.

We all know there are those dates that you can tell are bad and are not going to work out right from the start. Those suck, but you get over those, and move on. But then there are those dates that you go on and you think went really well, but you never hear from the person again. You reach out via text or Facebook and yet, the person never contacts you again. This has happened to me way too many times to count, and I am beginning to think that I might be a bad date.

Now is it just me, or have you ever wanted to get in touch with anyone you wanted to go on a second or third date with and find out why it didn't happen. Why didn't they want to see you again. Did they not find you sexually attractive? Did they hate your personality? Did they think you were a moron? Clearly, none of those questions could be true about me ... or, could they?

I have put together a short list as to why people may not have wanted to go on a second date with me.

I talk a lot. I admit it. Especially when I am nervous. So sometimes I tend to dominate the conversation and that could be a turn off.
They may have seen me out and about wearing a head lamp at a bar (see above picture).
I am not the typical gay guy. I don't have great fashion and I don't go clubbing or belong to a gym. I like sports and beer, but I am not fat and I don't want to date a fatty.
I am painfully awkward in social situations where I am uncomfortable.
I have tiny moobs - most likely from not working out and the McFlurry obsession I have from the McDonalds on my block when I am drunk at 2 am.
I don't have perfect teeth. My parents wanted to give me braces, but I was in High School, a nerd, and I was in theatre. I did not need braces ruining my life even more. Stupid mistake.

That is really all I can think of for now. I think if people were brutally honest and just told you what they didn't like about you, we as a society could fix ourselves. So next time you are on a date with someone wearing jean shorts, tell them they are undateable until the stop wearing those. Trust me, it will maybe make their next date go that much better.

Vending Machine Atrocities

2009-11-11T14:27:00.003-05:00

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

2009-10-20T15:24:00.004-04:00

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

2009-10-08T12:48:00.005-04:00

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 know 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 ...

2009-09-11T11:33:00.006-04:00

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 ...

2009-08-20T11:27:00.003-04:00

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

2009-08-18T13:34:00.006-04:00

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

2009-08-03T23:00:00.015-04:00

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

2009-07-27T20:29:00.002-04:00

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 ...

2009-07-23T13:54:00.004-04:00

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

2009-07-21T13:57:00.006-04:00

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

2009-07-15T15:03:00.005-04:00

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 ...

2009-07-14T10:55:00.004-04:00

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?

2009-07-09T17:35:00.006-04:00

"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

2009-07-08T12:18:00.007-04:00

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 ...

2009-07-08T11:12:00.001-04:00

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

2009-06-26T12:07:00.004-04:00

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!!!

2009-06-23T21:50:00.003-04:00

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 ...

2009-06-23T14:11:00.010-04:00

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

2009-06-20T13:36:00.003-04:00

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 ...

2009-06-19T12:09:00.001-04:00

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

2009-06-18T22:57:00.003-04:00

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

2009-06-18T10:34:00.005-04:00

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

2009-06-17T14:04:00.005-04:00

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?

2009-06-17T13:53:00.001-04:00

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

2009-06-04T16:08:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-04T16:06:00.000-04:00

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

2009-06-04T16:05:00.003-04:00

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

2009-06-04T16:05:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-04T16:02:00.003-04:00

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?

Day Drinking Fun ...

2009-03-01T12:12:00.002-05:00

So Saturday started off with some promise. The boy from Thursday had texted me Friday about going to a bar on Saturday afternoon. Maybe this was turning into something promising. We met up around 330 to head down to McSorley's bar, which is the oldest continuously running bar in NYC. Even Abe Lincoln drank beer there. So, even though we were going to meet up with some people I did not know, I still felt it was a cool experience to go to McSorley's. We get there and there is a line. At 4pm. Awesome. This place clearly is famous. We finally get in and meet up with his friend and a giant group of people that neither of us knew. We actually have a table which is cool. When you order beers, you get 2 at a time even though you only order one. You also have a choice - light or dark beer. That is it. And the beers are cheap. So I am in heaven. After hanging out for a few hours, boy and I decide we have had enough. I tell him that I am tired and that I would like to take a nap. So we head back to my place and crawl onto the couch and start to cuddle. It has been a while since I got a good cuddle, so it was nice to have him there. After a little while on the couch, we moved to my bed so we could have a little more room. After cuddling and some enjoyable making out, we decide that we should go get some dinner. We go to my new favorite mexican restaurant, Arriba Arriba, and get some food and margaritas. While we are at the table, the boy is rubbing my leg and is all up on my piece. Could this be turning into something of substance? He keepe leaning in for kisses which is kind of annoying because I do NOT like public displays of affection. While the kisses are nice, I am like, umm, we need to stop this. So, we are eating and drinking and talking and he asks what my biggest turn off in a guy is. Without hesitating, I say smoking. I find smoking vile and it really does turn me off. He admits that he is a smoker and he is definitely trying to quit, but he still smokes occassionally. Buzzkill!! So, he goes out for a cigarette and comes back in and we are finishing up dinner. He then turns to me and says something to the effect of "I think we should just be friends". Umm, excuse me? What? You were just ALL over me at dinner and then you decide that we should just be friends. Confuse me much? I don't really understand. And while yes, it is nice to have a cute gay friend to go to the bars with, I have to say that I was taken aback. Anyway, we head over to have a drink at this bar Therapy, and I decide that I do not want to be there with him anymore. I tell him that we will still be friends, but for the night, I needed to go hang out with other people. It was a bizarre blow to my ego to get blown off. Now I know how the 20,390 boys whose hearts I have broken feel. Tragic.

So, I end up taking a cab down to the LES to meet my friend Julia and some other people at a bar called Stanton Public. 5 jager bombs later, I decide to call it a night. So, this boy did not work out. But he did accomplish 2 things for me - a make out and a cuddle. And it was much needed. So, I am back on the hunt. Beware NYC ... beware.

FINALLY

2009-02-27T15:47:00.001-05:00

So, it FINALLY happpened. I got some LIP on LIP action. And much like the fireworks over the manhattan sky line, it was explosive. Not the kiss per se, but the fact that I finally got some. Thank God. I was about to resort to some totally sleazy measures and lower my standards about 4 levels. Luckily, the boy was cute. We "met" online of course, and he actually came out and met me and my coworkers at this bar in the E Village. We were all drinking and hanging out and he showed up and assimilated into the group quite nicely. So, after drinking for a few hours with everyone at happy hour, someone gets this amazing idea to go sing karaoke. So, there is this karaoke place a few streets away, and we show up and are quickly given a room. See, here in NYC, it is awesome, because you get your OWN karaoke room so you can sing and act a fool without strangers watching.

So we get in there and I immediately take the microphone because I am secretly an American Idol, Broadway singing fool - oh wait - not so secretly. Everyone knows homo can sing. So people start drifting out and there are about 3 people left - including me and the boy - and we totally just start making out. Maybe it was my amazing rendition of Don't Let the Sun Go Down, maybe it was my stunning good looks, but we just made out - in front of coworkers. Not my classiest of moments - but hey, a boys got needs. Anyway, I tried to get him to come back to my apartment, to no avail. But in the end, I got what I needed and wanted. A good solid makeout session in a small room in a Japanese karaoke bar. Holler!!

2009-02-26T15:11:00.003-05:00

So, my future roommate Lisa and I met last night for a couple of drinks after work. This week has been hellacious as our company has been going through this intense systems migration and I have been working 12 hour days and basically wanting to curl up in a ball and sleep during any off hour I had. Well, since Lisa had been begging me to pay her my deposit, we decided to meet up for a couple of drinks. Turns out, people like to get money that they are owed. Who knew? I meet up with Lisa on the corner of 43rd and 10th - a place where I might need to start acquainting myself with regularly if I don't get any male on male lip action soon. We head over to 9th avenue where there are lots of good restaurants and bars, and I instantly stop because I see a sports bar. Perfect. It is called Mercury Bar, which Lisa makes clear to me is NOT the same as Mercury Bar in Murray Hill, which apparently is home to college kids who call older people ma'am and sir. Even 25 year old "older people". No thanks - I like my potential maker outers to be older than me - usually much older - although I am trying to aim for a 10 year older than me rule as of late. But there is just something about a man in a wheel chair with a catheter that is just so hot. Ahh, I digress ...

So, we get to the bar and order drinks. I pull out my check book to pay Lisa and it definitely looks like I am paying her for her "services" if you know what I mean. We are both comfortable with that. We proceed to chit chat and banter and the bartender, who is a girl, comes over and asks if I need another drink. I order a beer and she does not ask Lisa for anything. So when she comes back I ask if Lisa can have another vodka soda. The bartender gets it for me and smiles at me all while pretty much ignoring Lisa. This went on for our next 3 drinks! I made small talk with the bartender with my voice lowered an octave as to not appear a raging homo. Apparently it worked. Lisa told me that she was definitely hitting on me. Of course, Lisa is pissed because "what if we were dating?" Ahh, we can only dream. As much as I am in desperate need of a make out, I have not yet resorted to kissing girls. Not yet anyway ...

Valentine's Night ...

2009-02-24T23:10:00.003-05:00

So, after roaming around the city all day alone, and having my first boyfriend ever over for dinner that night (non romantically), we decided to head to a couple of parties. Steve had a party that he was invited to that we were going to hit up first before going to a party that I was invited to. And let us say that the guy who invited me to his party I had not even met. He had been a potential roommate I had met on Craigslist while I was looking for apartments in NYC, and we had stayed in touch. So, take my awkwardness, and then think about me heading to two parties where I was going to know absolutely no one. Awesome.

So, we leave my apartment and walk in the cold a few blocks to the first party. We walk in and it is ridiculously crowded. Apparently having parties in NYC is nearly impossible because people live in apartments 1/3 the size of places in Atlanta. We squeeze our way into the apartment and I find a place to hide my Absolut Mandarin. Normally, I wouldn't hide the vodka, but it was a present for the party I was actually invited to, so I needed a place to stash it. After hiding it in a bedroom, Steve and I walk out, erm, scratch that, squeeze out of the bedroom towards the table with liquor on it. I manage to somehow pour myself a vodka cranberry and shuffle off into the corner. Steve waves at a couple of people awkwardly, but I seem to think that he barely knows them as well. I am ready to leave when the most awkward boy stumbles over to me. Not awkward in a way I can be socially awkward until I have had 5 vodkas, but awkward in a way that it is apparent he is completely messed up on drugs. He tries to kiss me immediately, and I push him off of me. In retrospect, I have yet to kiss anyone in this city and its been 15 days, so I have no idea why I pushed him off of me. Meth or Ecstacy is just not that cute of a quality to me. Anyway, I watch him dance around pulling his shirt up and exposing his chest for around 10 minutes before I decide we should leave.

Steve and I leave and head over to my party. Brad, the guy who invited me, buzzes us in and we walk up to his apartment. His party is completely packed as well, and again, I know no one so I instantly walk over and open up my vodka and pour myself a tall one. This should help me become more talkative I reason, so I definitely enjoyed the heavy hand. After finally meeting Brad, I walk around the party finding one of the few girls there and instantly becoming a fast friend. Anita, the girl in the picture, and I have fun talking about gabbing. Why I feel like I can talk to girls and straight boys (her husband included) is beyond me. Why can I not talk to gays the same way? Who knows? Not me. Anyway, Brad had all these funny hearts on his wall that said inappropriate things, so of course I picked one and put one on. That seemed to ignite some interest in me, and I talked to some people for the rest of the night. And while I went home alone on Valentines Day, it was nice to get out and meet some gay guys. Too bad I didn't really get anyone's numbers, but hey, baby steps right ... More to come ...

Valentine's Day

2009-02-18T22:04:00.008-05:00

So, waking up on Valentine's morning the night after hearing how I broke Mr. President's heart, I felt a little bad. I decided that I would spend the day venturing out into the city. I heard of a sale at Patagonia down in Soho. and needing a rain coat, I decided it was a good place to walk around and avoid Valentine's Day in general. Considering I have only had 1 Valentine's Day date ever, with my first boyfriend ever Steve, as freshman in college, I really find the day quite annoying. And especially since when Steve and I went out to dinner in Dupont Circle that night, he wore the brightest red sweater I have ever seen, basically burning my retina's and causing irreversible damage, I find people who wear red on Valentine's Day to be utterly reprehensible.

Anyway, I leave my apartment, dressed tastefully in pink, not red, mind you, and head to Soho to walk around looking for Patagonia. Again, the subway screws me. I got on the first train that comes to the station, and since I am extremely impatient, I didn't bother to look to see if it was the correct train. Well, of course it wasn't. The train that I got on did not stop at the station that I needed, so I got off at the stop prior to the one I was told about on Hopstop.com I decide it is a little adventure and get off and find my way into Soho. I find Patagonia and see the giant SALE sign outside and think to myself that buying myself a Valentine's Day gift was the perfect way to feel great. Well, apparently the rest of NYC had heard about the sale, and walking into the store was like walking into a store that sold Jean Shorts on the campus of University of Florida. It was total pandemonium with people acting like it was the last sale on earth. Finding an adorable coat that is $190 off, I decide I should buy it. I turn and look at the line ready to check out, and it is 40 people long. Dejected, I hang the coat up. I just don't have 1 hour to stand in line. The sad thing is, I did have an hour to stand in line as I don't really have a ton of friends here yet, but its the principle people!

I leave Soho and head towards Fashion Week. I meander around trying to get a look to see if there are any celebrities, however, again being impatient, I just snap a photo and move on.
I walk up to Central Park in search of Whole Foods. I was craving Sushi. And even though my new friend at work Julia had just gotten food poisoning from the Spicy Tuna roll she got at Whole Foods, I was craving it. Clearly, the fact that she was vomiting all night and basically slept on her bathroom floor, was appealing to me. Maybe I would get so lucky and lose some weight in the process. I find Whole Foods, and enter into a store where Valentine's Day threw up. Roses, balloons, and everything else red you could imagine encompassed the store, and the freak New Yorkers picking up Valentine's Day treats was just too much again for me to handle. I walked around through the masses of people and picked up sushi, some crackers, and a couple of other things I needed. I finally make my way to the check out line, and it, like Patagonia, is probably an hour long wait. Again dejected, I return all of the things I had in my basket and jetted out of that store. And as I am leaving the shops at Columbus Circle, I run straight into Mr. President. Oh, and I am wearing his favorite sweater. So, I awkwardly say something like "erm, uhh, yea, I'm wearing your Sweater. I wanted to wear it one last time before I gave it back to you" which I clearly have no intention of doing as I have had it for over a year, and it is an adorable blue and white cable knit Ralph Lauren sweater which looks divine on me.

Well, I finally go to the little grocery store by my house to pick up dinner and wine. And realizing I had a couple of parties to attend that night, I invite Steve, my first boyfriend from college over for Valentine's Dinner - and drinks - before we head to our parties that night.

2009-02-16T10:54:00.002-05:00

So, my second Friday night in the city, and again, I am tired. Going out Thursday night and working all day Friday really wiped me out. Apparently being 27 is rough. I used to be able to hang and go out every night, but these days it is less than easy to be a functioning drunk. Blast!

So anyway, in homage to Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big, I thought I would bring up my own Mr. Big. We'll call him Mr. President. Mr. President is the President of a major company. I met him in Atlanta at a bar called Blakes, and when I met him, he was dating a model in NYC. Go figure. After hanging out with him for a while, I finally got him to break up with his model boyfriend and start dating me. However, being completely messed up in the head, the second I got him to break up with his model and start dating me, I completely lost interest. Classy right?

Anyway, Mr. President has a place in Atlanta (where we met) and a place here in NYC. He splits time between both cities for work. So Mr. President calls and asks if I want to grab a drink Friday night. So, I think we are friends, and since I am new to the city, and I don't have a zillion friends yet, I need all of the friends I can get. So, as tired as I am, I rally, shower, and get ready to meet him. We go to a bar around the corner from my apartment called Posh. The clientle was pretty unfortunate looking, however, the music was great. Now, Mr. President is extremely touchy-feely, which is totally opposite of my style. To say I am the antithesis of feelings and emotions is an understatement. So, Mr. President is all over me and kissing my cheek and I tell him to get off of me and to stop touching me. Of course, this offends him as he is European and extremely affectionate. We get into a little fight and I really just want to go home and get in bed. This is when it gets awkward. Mr. President cannot handle his alcohol like I can, and after a couple of martinis, he is kind of drunk. He proceeds to tell me that he is in LOVE with me. And that I broke his heart. So, what do I do? Oh, I laugh in his face. What kind of jerk laughs in someones face when they tell you that they are in love with you? Oh yea, me. Awesome.

Well, after a couple more minutes of awkward silence, we decide to call it a night. He is kind of drunk so I put Mr. President into a cab and send him on his way. I walk home feeling bad because apparently I broke this jokers heart. The odd thing is, he texted me Saturday morning apparently not remembering much from the night before. So, we are back to normal I guess. We shall see what comes of Mr. President ...

You Know What Really Grinds My Gears?

2009-02-14T00:53:00.003-05:00

So, you know what really grinds my gears? Gay men thinking the are Beyonce. So, I love the song Single Ladies. I mean, it is fantastic. A great beat, fun lyrics, a hot pop star - what is there not to love? However, I have noticed, every time I am at a gay bar and they play this song, no less than 3 queens think that they are Beyonce and act completely crazy trying desperately to out gay one another while performing the choreography from her video. It is really awkward to watch grown men dance to this song. Trust me, you don't even want to see this.

Out on a Thursday Night ...

2009-02-14T00:07:00.004-05:00

So, Thursday night ended up being one of those nights that made me feel totally New York. I got a text from my first boyfriend Steve's friend Adam letting me know that he was going to crash a birthday party at this place called Elmo. I thought it was a bar. So, I jump into a cab and meet him at Elmo and it turns out to be a restaurant. I really hate going into places alone, because I walk in all awkwardly and shy, and normally look completely out of place. Maybe it is New York, maybe it is because I am getting old, I dunno, but I walked in with such confidence you would have had no idea that I was crashing a private party. I walked down the stairs into this private room that was a private party pretending like I belonged there. I did it just fine. Score. The party was full of ridiculously hot men. Which is a total score. Oh, awkward, all of a sudden I revert back to being shy and not confident. Oh well. I meet up with my friend Adam and he introduces me to a bunch of his friends. I meet a guy named Jeremy who is working currently with Showtime to create a show that is a mix between Sex and the City and Queer As Folk. I ask if any of this gay characters like sports, and he informs me no. This really grinds my gears. Why are there no gay characters on TV that like sports? I mention this to the guy, Jeremy, and he thinks he might add that to his show! I told him the character has to be named Craig and he has to like U of Georgia sports. Woot!

Adam, a couple of his friends, and I move on to another bar called Aspen. We get to the bar and there is a guest list. My friend Adam and his friends are on the list, and I am like, what the hell? Why are we going to a bar where I am not on the guest list. So I look at the woman and I am like, "uhh, I am not on the list. So yea, can I come in anyway?" Now, standing with her is a boy. I look at him and, if you read my post from a few days ago, he is the hipster from the 1 train that I was flirting with! He tells his friend she should let me in and so she does. Score! Apparently fliring on the Subway, while it makes me look like a desperate gay, works for something. While we are in Aspen, Adam gets a text from Jeremy asking for my number. Adam gives it to me and Jeremy texts me and we are going to go to dinner sometime soon. I am hoping that I eventually can slip in the fact that I acted in many musicals and plays, and I should be a character on his new Showtime show. Time will tell ...

Anyway, I hit up 3 more bars and ended up going to bed at 230 am. This truly is the city that never sleeps ...

What is that on your face?

2009-02-13T13:49:00.001-05:00

So, New York is colder than Atlanta. Go figure. And it is pretty windy. The wind kind of swirls through the tall buildings and sucker punches you right in the face. Well, it probably would've been a good idea to move to the city armed with some chapstick. Or, maybe when I first noticed that my lips were chapped, I should've invested in some chapstick. Or maybe, when my lips were fully chapped, I shouldn't have decided it would be a good idea to kind of gnaw at the skin and rip it off. Because guess what? That doesn't help. And then your lip bleeds. And it turns out, in order to heal itself, it kind of has to scab over. And you know what else? That looks like herpes. I guess I won't be getting any action this weekend. BLAST!

Random Things You See in NYC

2009-02-11T12:25:00.003-05:00

So, while I was in bed sick this weekend, I received a text message from my friend Sue who told me that she was walking on the Upper East Side, and to her amazement, she stumbled upon a Mariachi Band playing at the entrance to an apartment building. I mean, there is some random crap that happens in Atlanta - believe me - there are some crazies up in that city - but I found it super amusing that a Mariachi Band was playing at the entrance to an apartment complex. The only logical explanation I could think of was that they were having a Quinceanera for their 15 year old and that was the band that welcomed party guests? Anyway, here are a few other funny things that I have encountered, or my friends have told me about, since I have been to NYC:

1. My cashier at Rite Aid was named Darn. I mean, Darn? Really? Was she supposed to be a boy, and then when the doctor yanked her out he was like, oh, its a girl, and her father was like "DARN!" and it stuck?
2. A drunk girl writhing around on 7th Avenue because she is so drunk she cannot get up (and my friend Lisa takes a picture and keeps walking).
3. A transvestite midget on the Subway

Good times.

More Tales from the Subway ... And Beyond

2009-02-10T13:43:00.003-05:00

So, after sleeping all afternoon from my exhausting run, I woke up and tried to rally from feeling sick for the past couple of days. After staying in my first Friday night in NYC, there was no way I was not going out on Saturday. My friend Chip told me that he was going to go to a bar in Chelsea called XES. Very exciting! A chance to take a new Subway Line - the 1 train. Well, I thought I knew where the entrance to the 1 train was near my apartment, but I must've passed it or what not, because I somehow ended up walking down Broadway headed towards Times Square. I thought to myself, the train runs almost due South, so I should be able to just walk a few blocks and find the next entrance, right? Well, while my incredible navigation skills were correct, I did not anticipate the mass of people to be so overwhelming at 11pm on a Saturday Night in Times Square. Why aren't you people either sleeping, or in a bar? Stop standing on the road looking up taking pictures. I have lived here a week, and I am already sick of tourists. While I desperately want to crane my head up to look at every blinking light and neon sign, I find it much more hip and cool to look annoyed while pushing my way through tourists. So, after it taking me 15 minutes to walk approximately 7 blocks, I find the 1 train. I find the 1 that is going downtown and go to that platform and wait. I look over, and see a guy that is super cute. Definitely a hipster with the skinny jean, cool jacket, and iPod in. Quite a different look from the Brooks Brothers shirt and puffy vest that I have rockin'.

So, we are definitely staring at each other and making eyes. And luckily, it is late at night, so there are no fat commuters to get in my way. The train pulls up and we both board the same car but sit pretty far away. These 2 young queens with multi colored hair get on and start bitching about something insignificant, but it is enough to entertain me while I am on the train. And since my crush is far away, it is fine. My stop comes and I get out, and so does my boy toy. I pretend not to notice and walk to the street and head to the bar losing my subway boyfriend for the second time in 1 week. Tragic. I meet Chip at the bar and it's not bad. Not the best bar ever, but not bad at all. About 30 minutes later, I am ordering a drink, and there is a tap on my shoulder. It is subway boyfriend! He asks if I was on the 1 train just now, and I confirmed that I was. I am randomly not acting super awkward, which is clearly a change for me, so I already congratulating myself in my head, when I find out his name is Anthony and lives in Queens. Well, that kind of killed my buzz, because my dream is to date someone rich with an awesome Manhattan apartment. But, making out wasn't out of the question. I mean, I did have my own place in the city. However, our romance came to a screeching halt when I found out he was there to meet up with Chips friend, and they started making out at the bar. But hey, I am one step closer to nabbing my first subway fling, so I considered the night a success.

Still not feeling well, I headed home in a cab around 12:45. I still felt better about myself because I had gone out on a weekend night in NYC. Not the ideal end result, as it did not include me playing tonsil hockey with anyone, but I am still confident my first NYC makeout is just around the corner. Stay tuned ...

Running in Central Park

2009-02-10T13:18:00.001-05:00

So, after feeling completely sick all of Friday, and going to bed on Friday night at 11pm (How cool am I my first Friday in NYC!), I woke up Saturday morning at 11:30 am. Yes, 11.5 hours of sleep. I'm awesome. After feeling like crap still, I decided it was best to take a nap from 12:30 - 3. I woke up feeling a tad better, and since I had spent my entire weekend thus far either on the couch, or in bed, I decided it might do me some good to go for a run in Central Park. Central Park is only 8 short blocks away from me, so I decided to walk to the park and go for a run. So, for those of you who don't know this, I HATE running. If I can paint a picture for you, I pretty much feel like Phoebe from friends when she runs. All awkward and gangly. If you have seen the episode, you know what I mean. If not, here is a clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_0Ta_DIWuU It is pretty tragic. And usually after my "run", I feel so tired, but accomplished, only then I look up online how far I have run and it comes to approximately 1 mile. And it took me 20 minutes.

Anyway, on this particular afternoon after sleeping for what seemed like days, I put on some running shorts that show off my incredibly cute legs. I throw on a fleece, my Masters hat, and my new balances, suit up with my super cute green iPod shuffle that I purposely bought to learn how to run, and leave my corporate apartment. It is in the mid 40s, so I am not cold at all as I am walking to the park. As I near Columbus Circle, I am waiting to cross the street when a very attractive person starts to talk to me. I am a tad taken aback, so I take off my ear phones to this very attractive person asking me if I ran outside in shorts, because I must be freezing. "Oh yea, I run outside all the time in the cold" lying through my teeth as I have probably run 3 times all winter. Again, let me stress, "run", as I basically run 100 yards and dry heave while walking the next 100 yards. It's pretty. "I'm actually training for a half marathon in Seattle in June". WTF? I mean, I was supposed to do that but have since given that dream away for better things like, sleep and alcohol. We banter about how much I love running for the next block or so, and then I have to leave this attractive person to start my run in the park. Too bad it was a girl. Why do no hot boys hit on me in my sexy work out shorts? Blast!

Regardless, I felt pretty awesome running through Central Park on a gorgeous winter day. I made it around this one portion of the park and then back down Broadway towards my corporate apartment. And while I did stop to walk a few times, I checked my mileage when I got home, and guess what? I ran 1.5 miles. Hey, that beats my 1 mile average. Things are looking up in NYC, even if when I returned to my apartment I promptly laid down for a 3 hour nap.

Tales of the Subway ...

2009-02-06T12:05:00.002-05:00

So, I have finally gotten the hang of riding the Subway. Well, I take that back. I figured out how to take the R train. And let me tell you - everyone takes public transportation here, so there are all sorts of interesting characters that ride that mug. Take Wednesday morning. I got on the R train and got a seat which is a huge score because that way I can pretend I am still sleeping on the way to work. And this morning was especially glorious. A super hot guy (no wedding ring on - important to check because then I know I have a slight chance) got on the train at the same time as me. And he sat across from me and I was totally hitting on him and I felt like he was smiling-ish back at me. Score! So, the train is pretty crowded but not overly crowded where you have to be all up on somebody's piece, right? Well, this uber fat man gets on the Subway, and literally stands right in front of where I am sitting on the train, and his stomach is so big it is basically hitting my nose. I am like, umm, excuse me, can you please move your pregnant stomach out of my face. I kind of like space. However, being the super awkward person that I am, I just let his stomach bitch slap me all the way to work ... ahh, these are days when I miss my Jeep. Anyway, fattie mcfatterson finally exited and my subway boyfriend was still there. But my stop was next. I smiled at him and got off - got off at my subway stop - not the way I wanted to get off ideally.

Thursday night was interesting. I decided to meet a friend after work for a drink at the Herald Square Subway stop. I got off my train only to be in mass panic. I had never been to a train station where people transferred lines. There were multiple levels and people running amok - and everynoe knew where they were going. It took me 5 minutes to figure out how to get out of the train station. That was fun - especially when I reached street level and remembered it was approximately 10 degrees with a wind chill of 0. At least today it wasn't snowing. But when I got to the bar, it was $20 all you could drink liquor. That made me happy - and also, it was a lot less cold out when I left that bar. I wonder why.

So, this morning, I get to the Subway and the N train came instead of the R. I was told that they run on the same line so I could probably take either. While this is true, the N train does not stop at my stop. So I had to get off at the stop before mine and walk 6 blocks in the freezing cold to my office. Lesson learned. Stick to the train I know.

Anyway, all is well here ...

First Day in the Big City

2009-02-02T21:18:00.004-05:00

So, I arrived in NYC with little problem. My flight was early (random!) and I had my entire row to myself. I got to my corporate apartment which is ridiculously nice and bigger than some of my friends apartments back in Atlanta. I am on the 14th floor, but I really don't have much of a view. I look directly at another high rise. But it's all good. I live a couple of blocks from Times Square which is fun and exciting but I see how that could get really old after a while with all of the tourists, etc. But, I am pretty much feeling like a tourist so far, so I can relate. I unpacked everything and got settled and then went to meet my friend Lauren to eat dinner and watch the Super Bowl.

This morning I got up for work and was too stressed out to take the Subway because I really didn't know how to do it and I had never taken it before, so I took a taxi to work. After a long long day at the office, I finally left at 7pm to take my first Subway ride ever. Chip, my friend from Atlanta who lives here now, was nice enough to meet me at my stop and help me buy my card and get on the train. HA! Yes, I needed help riding the subway. A lot easier than I thought - duh.

After Chip and I decided to get sushi, and I worried and was sad about missing Gossip Girl, Chip had the best quote for me - "Craig, you don't have to watch Gossip Girl, you can LIVE Gossip Girl". Well played sir, well played ...

Anyway, that is all. I will update when I have some kind of antic ... This was boring ... My bad ...

Moving to the Big Apple

2009-01-29T11:21:00.003-05:00

So, a lot is going through my head as I move from the city where I have spent most of my life. Sure I went to college in DC, and yes, I did not move to Atlanta until I was nearly 5, but I consider myself an Atlantan through and through, and even though I am moving to what is dubbed as the "greatest city in the world", I will always have a special place in my heart for Atlanta. All of my immediate family lives in Atlanta, and they will be truly missed. With my parents, 3 siblings, 3 siblings-in-laws (did I just make that word up??), and 3 amazing nieces, it is going to be hard to adjust not seeing everyone whenever I want. I have also been fortunate enough to make some of the most amazing friends anyone could ask for. I have so many friends from so many different backgrounds, it has really been an awesome ride. The one thing that all of my friends have in common is being ridiculously good looking, and having a rad friend like me! :) And with Facebook, AOL IM, Blackberry Messenger and Texting, I know I will always be in touch with everyone. Also, NYC is only a 2.5 hour flight down the East Coast, so I know I will be home often. Also, having a place in NYC will compel most of my friends to come and visit me just purely for an amazing place to stay - for free!

I am leaving on Sunday and I really need to be getting everything wrapped up. Perhaps it is time to finally sell my Jeep? Or maybe do all my laundry and get all my stuff ready to be shipped? But why would I do that? Procrastination is fun and always makes life a little more hectic and exciting. So, friends and family, let me close now with, what else, a quote from a musical.

"I've heard it said

that people come into our lives for a reason

bringing something we must learn

and we are led

to those who help us most to grow

if we let them

and we help them in return.

Well, I don't know if I believe that's true

but I know I'm who I am today

because I knew you ..."

That was from Wicked and is probably the best summation of words I could give to everyone now as I start a new chapter in my life ... enjoy and keep in touch!!!