Watch Your Step: Cougar Traps EVERYWHERE

"In the female mating system, sexually agressive older women are considered especially heinous. In Tucson Arizona, the dedicated women who attack younger men and promote these vicious felonies are members of an elite pack known as The Gran Cougars. These are their stories."

::dun dun::

We all have those co-workers that make our workdays a little more interesting right? We all have that annoying one that spends all day in the bosses office making sure that the boss only solves their problems...we all have a co-worker that has been in the business forever so they know everyone and EVERYTHING and we all have the one that is never on time, takes 10 weeks of vacation and calls in for hurricane damage even though they now live in Arizona.

This is a very common occurrence in 99% of all work places regardless of the industry and for the most part theres isnt much that will shock me....until I started in Tucson and I met...The Arizona Grancougar. 

::Australian Dundee::
Whal own the owtbayk in Arizownya, weeah able to see a raya speeshees of coogah noun ounly en the walled as the Arizonwnya Grancoogah. The ownly speeshees that eez twoyce their naychural ayge

Thanks Dundee,

Yes. The Grancougar is a very interesting species in that while most 35-45 year olds are considered cougars by today's standards, grancougars can reach an age of 90 years old!! I didnt believe this myth until I moved here and got up close and personal with my first Grancougar.

I was asked by the sales manager to come to a sales meeting and meet with staff to discuss ways I can help the station and it's clients and make some money on the side...I was totally game!
I was freshly shave, no visible piercings, and not wearing anything that people in Arizona would consider to be too provocative...like an Obama t-shirt.

I arrived expecting a whole groups of sellers and instead am met by my boss, his boss...and the GranCougar. We will call her Janette. Before we get into what happened with Janette...let's talk about Janette shall we?

When I first met Janette I didn't know exactly how old she was since there wasn't any visible part of her body that was original. She has giant fake breasts, cotton candy-like hair that I believe is from a can, and so many face lifts I think she might have the ability to fart out of her nose.

Her face is tucked, her stomach is tucked and she wears the most GROSSLY inappropriate outfits...everyday is as if she's auditioning for the Shady Pines Senior Center production of Chicago! The cleavage I can sort of deal with since at this point it's just like looking at two small bald men trying to peek out of her blouse but her legs?!!? DISGUSTING!! It's like cottage cheese from the knee up and spider veins that vaguely resemble a map of the Paris Metro. I have no idea if she actually has money. Granted plastic surgery is expensive but this bitch looks like she gets hers done at Auto Zone so I'm not sure.

Finally, after staring at the bones on her hand...I concluded she is probably in her early to mid hundreds but is spry like a youth of 75.

Oh, please...maybe this is how she looked when Kennedy was in office










Close with the age...still a few things need work










Janette version 10.0


She's always been very nice to me...too nice actually. Not like "go call corporate inappropriate" just...a little too nice.

"It's so cute when you wear your Boston College shirts here...you look just like a little frat boy"
(check your facts Nana, BC doesn't have frats...trust me...I would have joined/stalked them)

"Hey, if you ever want to come swimming my heated pool is always open"
(I'd rather get babysat by Casey Anthony)

"Oh you gays, I swear it's because you haven't had the right woman"
(Even if there was a cure for the awesomeness that is homosexuality...your supply of vaccine would have expired...in 1889.)

"Stick it in"

See, nothing too forward...but you can see why I am apprehensive about being in a conference room alone with her??

She always invites me out to dinner at these expensive restaurants and wants to know if I have any "friends" for her...which scares me because one does come to mind but I promised him I wouldn't mention his name in my blog. It's not that he's a player...he just pulls more tail than a retard in a petting zoo and has a pension for older women...and younger women...and well you get the drift. But I am worried about his impending visit...and I'm not sure if I'm more scared for her...or for him. But I digress...

My boss tells me I will be working with her on a special event for some of her clients and that she and I will be working very close until the remainder of the year on all 3 of our FM stations...her cataracts lit up as she giggled:

"I swear, I'm the only gal over 60 that loves hip-hop music...or maybe it's just those rappers"

Well lady, while I doubt you are the only person 60+ that likes hip hop music, you certainly are the only AARP member who wants to go out and "back that ass up"...into something that isn't a wheelchair.

You're gross.

Tucson - We have a problem

So I've been living with my roommate for exactly one week and since we don't really see each other and since I have been working really long hours really late nights I haven't really been in the apt except to sleep and watch you tubes episodes of the Nanny before I fall asleep.

I have had 2 bad roommate instances in 7 days...this is not a good ratio and I don't even know math. I will explain what happened Tuesday which I ignored and then what happened last night which I could not ignore and had to share with you all.

Tue 10/23/12 appx 7:48pm:
I return home from the gym to discover my roommate looking into one of his various measuring cups he keeps in the apt. Oh, I didn't mention that before? My roommate has about 30 different measuring cups in a cabinet in our kitchen. At first I thought, some people collect shot glasses it's not a big deal. Now we already did our happy-go-lucky Costco trip as roommates and stocked up on various essentials so please note there is NO sole ownership in anything I'm about to describe...except the measuring cups.

Me:
Hey there!

Roommate:
Um, hi

Me:
What's wrong?

Roommate:
We're out of cereal

Me:
Oh?? Did you want me to go get more?

Roommate:
I don't think you understand the problem

Me:
You're right...I don't

Roommate:
The serving size on this box says this should serve 12 8oz bowls of cereal. We just bought it on Friday. Now if we each have one bowl of cereal a day at 8oz this box should have lasted us until Thursday but it hasnt. I imagine you don't even measure out your cereal do you?

Me (in my mind...playing the scene from Mean Girls where Lindsay Lohan jumps across the table to kick Rachel McAdams ass)
I do not measure my cereal, no.

Roommate:
Ok (holds the bridge of his nose with his fingers) well...I figured you'd use the measuring cups in the cabinet and we wouldn't have to have this conversation but apparently that's not the case. Let' talk.

He then proceeds to explain WHY he uses measuring cups (not for dieting purposes but for fiscal purposes) HOW he uses the measuring cups (some are for dry foods and others are for liquid) and WHY I SHOULD use measuring cups for my food (he pointed out it might help me lose weight if I used portion control...fucking queen).

The Enemy

So...that happened and I decided it wasn't a line in the sand and I am just going to have to buy my own box of Special K and he can live in Science Land and LIVE WILDLY and pour my cereal straight into the bowl....I'm such a bad ass.

THEN LAST NIGHT...I come home from my work event at about 11:30pm MST and the temperature in the desert had dropped dramatically. It went from about 90 degrees to 60 degrees in a matter of hours. YES BOSTON PEOPLE I realize that's not 'cold' but in AZ that's the temperature at which the elderly start to die.

I open my apt door, put my work bag down, searched for the light switch and illuminated my very dark apt.

There was my roommate...reading a book...PERCHED ONTOP OF THE REFRIGERATOR!

WTF is wrong with this kid. I thought he maybe had taken some bad Peyote so I carefully asked him if he was alright. "I'm fine. Did you know that the discharge of heat from the top of the refrigerator is directly proportionate to BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH"

You're sitting on my refrigerator reading you psycho!! Don't you have a space heater? A blanket? A sweater perhaps? I know you certainly do not have friends to invite to their warm house because they are probably studying somewhere...perhaps in frozen food section of Super Stop&Shop.

I hate you.

HAPPY FRIDAY!!

Crouching Tiger Hidden Drag Queen

If anyone has known me long enough you will know that in May I was mugged in the middle of a very busy London street. If you have been mugged you will know it is a very scary feeling. It was at that point that I vowed never again to become a victim of crime.

Let's take a time trip back for a second though. Imagine me, with the same fairy like qualities I posses today, with the same love for the Spice Girls that I have now, just 18 inches shorter and 150lbs heavier. I was a FAT KID. Now, what happens when you are an 8 year old fattie who knew all the words to SAY YOU'LL BE THERE? Your parents sign you up for karate.

Yes, I did do karate when I was little and you know what that got me? An on the playground ASS WHOOPIN. The minute I went into "fighting stance" the idea of me morphing into Tommy the Green Ranger (swoon) quickly faded to me getting the shit beat out of me by someone who I'm pretty sure is now in jail.



You'd beat me up too

What you also have to keep in mind is that my sister was a NINJA! She is a certified black belt and while I kept repeating classes like a kindergartner with a taste for eating tacks, she went on to become Massachusetts Youngest Woman Black Belt Champion of the Universe (or something like that). So not only would bullies on the playground kick my ass M-F 8-2...this bitch would try out a "sparing" moves on me and once threw me through our desktop computer...because again...I was fat.

So here I am 25 years old...still fat by gay standards...but not wanting to take any one's shit any longer. I thought I was done with bullies when my last back hair grew but sadly the world is full of all different types of bullies and I do feel you need to know how to protect yourself.

Today starts my official MMA (Mixed Martial Arts) training here in Arizona. Again, if you know anything about me you know I don't do anything half way so instead of taking a beginners class and stretching on the mat and blah blah, I have used my powers or charm, persuasion, and shameless self promotion to get training from UFC Championship Fighter Joey Rivera.

I'm calling him Tommy the Green Ranger...not to his face

He is a really nice guy and his team of trainers aptly named Tiny and Junior are going to not only whip me into amazing shape but allow me to walk the streets at night in my ass less chaps and glitter and not worry about being another victim of a hate crime...because those bullies will be victims of a straight crime. BAM!

WARNING Sappy Post Ahead: Mi Papa

People say I am blessed for a number of reasons. I have an amazing job, better friends than anyone could ever ask for, and a killer rack. But in reality, the main reason why I wake up every morning and go to sleep every night so happy with the way my life is despite all the things that aren't perfect with it is because of my family.

Everyone knows that my sister is my best friend. I mean...I barely go an hour a day with a text or a phone call and I miss terribly our nightly bottles of wine and attempts to solve the worlds problems.

It's no secret that I love my grandparents. Nightly martini's while watching Fox News may not seem like every one's cup of tea...and I certainly believe Gretta Van Sustren is the ugliest person to ever hit the television screen...but that quality time is something I always cherish.

Seriously??

 And my mom...well...she's coming to visit next week so I'll save that barrel of fun for after she leaves.

But I wanted to take a moment and thank my Dad for everything he has done in my life. You can imagine what it's like growing up in a right wing Irish Catholic household with a grandfather who is a 2 STAR General (think Rambo with removable dentures) and a Dad who would disappear for weeks on end for "special missions" with the Government (think James Bond in a Red Sox hat). Talks of sending the youngest Doherty boy to West Point happened from an early age and yes, the idea of living with 10,000 strapping young guys did intrigue me but not for the reasons my father had hoped.

I was so scared to come out to them. Scared isn't even the word. I had such a fragile relationship with my dad growing up that all I wanted was for him to love me and the fear that the love would stop once I came out was the worst feeling in the entire world.

What you have to understand is that my father did/does/will do ANYTHING for me and my sister. He worked 60 hour weeks so that we could rent out the Discovery Zone for my 8th Birthday. In 27 years as a Police Office he has never called in sick ONCE and has taken 3 tours of duty to the Middle East and has never asked anything from anyone in return.

Needless to say that my coming out was not the heartbreaking Lifetime movie I thought it was...everyone was so OK with it because...I mean...my Christmas list from the ages of 3-10 included FAIRY WINGS on top hoping Santa Claus would deliver them to me...this wasn't a "surprise" by any means.

My dad just spent the weekend with me in Arizona and I was so fortunate to able to treat him 1/1000000 as good he treated me growing up. We went up to Sedona and chartered a helicopter and flew around the red rocks, stayed at the most amazing hotel I've ever seen and then outdid that amazing hotel by staying at an ever nicer one Sun night. Even if I couldn't afford to buy him a pizza, I know my dad is proud of what I am doing and who I have become and I can't help but thank him for that. He has taught me how to be a man, but more importantly he has shown me how to be a great man.

So to my father Sergeant Major Donald P. Doherty, aka Donnie aka Papa D aka Papa Glitter I just want to say THANK YOU and I love you and I will see you at Christmas!

My Roommate:Three minutes to Wapner

**All names have been changed to protect the innocent**

So long story short, I got a roommate. Now, if you know ANYTHING about me you will know that I'm an extremely social and extroverted to the point of insanity. I meet this girl at the U of A (University of Arizona) and we start talking and she says she's looking for someone to takeover her lease on her 2br/2ba for $430/month. After I was done laughing in her face at how cheap that number is...I ask her what area of town it's in thinking that its in the middle of the ghetto and she tells me it's actually in a nice area. Ok kids, pop quiz...what's wrong with this picture...nice apt, cheap ass rent in a nice area of town?? DING DING DING the roommate :0)

I ask her what her roommates name is since she tells me they went to highschool togther and she says "ummm...Justin?" Wait, you don't know your own roommates name and you went to highschool together? I can remember the names of my friends parents from the Matignon Drama Club (what up Teresa Christopher) and you don't know the person you live with?

Red Flag #1.

I ask if I can meet Justin and she says "sure, here is his number...you guys will totally get along...he's gay too" what? we're penguins? you think we all look the same and just because we hang out on the same glacier we're going to be life partners? No wonder why you failed out of college bitch.

Text 1 Me:
Hi Justin, this is Glitter; your roommate Ariel told me you were looking for a roommate so I just wanted to know if we could grab a drink and meet up. Saw the apt and I love it and I hope we can make this work.

Roommate:
Ja, but this Mike.

Me:
Oh, I'm sorry...I was looking for Justin

Roommate:
This is Justin, but my name is Mike now.

Me:
Oh.

Roommate:
I'm a teacher and I don't want my students knowing my real name so I use Mike. Shoot me an email where you'd like to meet.

Me:
Sure!! What's your email address?

Roommate:
JustinLastName@UofA.edu

Me:
Wait, you don't want your students knowing your name is Justin but your teacher email says Justin?

Roommate:
Ja, I should change that.

Me:
And real quick, what's with the Ja?

Roommate:
It's French

Me:
Are you French?

Roommate:
No

Red Flag #2

So we meet up and he's fine. Nothing amazing, nothing terrible and luckily thanks to my dad's Liam Neeson type CIA skills we know he is not a terrorist so I decide to move with him. Now, when we met up for drinks he tells me he's a writer and I think that's awesome because I have published a book ::shameless plug:: plus I was an English major so I figured we'd have something common?? No no...he's a science writer for doctoral research in organic chemistry...I dont even know what any of those words mean.He doesnt own a TV and just has white boards around the apt with various formulas on them So now if you come to visit you can find me looking around the apt like this:

....and all I wanted was a place to hang up my Betty White calendar.

Stay tuned to see how this plays out...you know it's going to be interesting!!

Tucson - where it's not a weekday without a 9am murder

Southern Arizona is a very interesting place...and by interesting I mean poor and by poor I mean dangerous. Forget all the National Geographic hazards that await your every turn. Scorpions, Javalinas [HAV-A-LEEN-AS] (blind jawed pigs from hell), Rattlesnakes and various other venom riddled creatures...you also have socio-economic dangers that I was not ready for.

Tucson is divided up into two parts, the north side which is you're various senior citizen communities and meth making trailer parks and your south side which is your Mexican barrios and your meth making trailer parks. So naturally, it only makes sense that there should be rival gangs from each area. From Northern Tucson you have the Nortenos* and from the South you have your Surrenos*. Now, generally, these gangs don't start random acts of violence unless you're carrying large amount of drugs on you. Or you're alone at night, or you look like you're not a professional MMA fighter. But they will start violent acts against each other ANYTIME they see another another rival gang member...so let me tell you where I come into play.

Clear Channel Media + Entertainment Tucson is located at the corner of Poverty Rd and Gang Blvd in a STRIP MALL...next to the WELFARE OFFICE...is this coming together now?? So, every weekday morning...some schmuck from the Nortenos is waitin to get they child support moneys in and some other yahoo from the Surrenos is there waitin for they disabiliteez and BANG..shooting...in my work parking lot...at 9:00AM PST. My goal is to one day star on HBO...not be CNN front page news.

"And on the third day, God created the Remington bolt-action rifle, so that Man could fight the dinosaurs. And the homosexuals. "

*The Surrenos and Nortenos:

Week 1: Introductions

So for those of you that know me, you will know that I am city boy in every sense of the word. I like my cars fast, my people on their toes and my drinks strong. For those of you just meeting me, my name is Sean aka Glitter aka Boston Party Boy aka HOVA (ok, the last one's a lie but I really like it). I just moved from the bright lights and big city of Boston Ma, to the ummm really hot and dry Tucson Az for what many would call my "big break". This is aint some Leah Michelle Glee shit, it's the real deal. I'm now a full fledge radio DJ on...wait for it...Southern Arizona's #1 Hit Music Station...are you excited yet? I'm lactating.

It's a great gig and I would never look a gift Sara Jessica Parker in the mouth so I will say I am very thankful for the opportunity...but let's be honest: what happens when you take a cosmopolitan homo who is used to running around with Glitter on his face and underwear on and stick him 30 miles from Mexico? A hate crime you say? Perhaps. A chance for a new start? Could be. Hilarity all around: Abso-freakin-lutley.

My name is Sean...and I'm a glitterholic. Let's have some fun Arizona huh?