The Kerri Diaries

If you are wondering where The Debbie Chronicles are I cannot legally address it on this site. Feel free to privatley message me and I'll explain to you why you will have to wait for the book :0) xoxo - Glitter
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Big thanks to the CW for sponsoring this blog!! If you haven't checked out the Carrie Diaries on the CW, you don't know what you're missing! From the writer of Sex And The City (who I know btw) comes the story of Carrie Bradshaw...before she was Carrie Bradshaw! Before she was a fashion icon, before her column in the New York Star, before Mr. Big, Carrie Bradshaw was an innocent 16-year-old girl living in suburban Connecticut. The year is 1984, and Carrie’s mother has just passed away over the summer, which means Carrie has to grow up fast. Her younger sister Dorrit is more rebellious than ever, and their father Tom is overwhelmed with the responsibility of suddenly having to care for two teenage girls on his own. Carrie’s friends – sweet, geeky Mouse; sarcastic and self-assured Maggie, and sensitive Walt – make life bearable, but a suburban life in Connecticut isn’t doing much to take her mind off her troubles. Even though the arrival of a sexy new transfer student named Sebastian brings some excitement to Carrie’s world, she is struggling to move on from her grief. So when Tom offers Carrie the chance to intern at a law firm in Manhattan, she leaps at the chance.




Every Monday at 8/7c on the CW! Check your local listings!

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Every girl has a story and I figured the most special girl in my life, my sister, deserves a chance to tell hers. I asked her to write a blog post for you...about me. I mean c'mon, I love her and all but this is my blog...plus I feel you deserve you to see things from the eyes of the only person who has known me longer than I've known myself. So without further adue...Kerri Doherty!
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See the way he does that? How he says something really nice about me but then somehow, someway it becomes about him...welcome to the story of my life! From the get go I wasn't at all thrilled about having a baby brother. I was the first girl in the family of all (albeit some gay) males. So when the first Doherty girl arrived, to say that I was spoiled would be an understatement. I used to get track suits from Neiman Marcus, brand new dresses all the time and since I was bald until I was 2, pretty headbands with bows on them so people wouldnt tell my parents what a cute boy they had. Then in November of 1986, it all changed with the arrival of William Francis Doherty (they changed his name to Sean Patrick later). All of sudden I was out of the spotlight and this little premature mutant showed up and completely wrecked my only child royalty. That December I hatched a plan (I was 2 remember) and took my brother's car seat and put him under the Christmas Tree and left him there...for hours. My mother thought he was with my father and my father thought he was with my mother and I was waiting to give Santa his own present! While I was waiting, I shook the tree and maybe a few bulbs broke on his head...the evidence is inconclusive.

True Story 

Fast foward several years and I have my own personal shadow. I couldn't go ANYWHERE without Sean tagging along. My dance class? Sean signed up for even though my dad wanted him to play Pop Warner. Gymnastics? Sean was in my class because he didnt want to play basketball like all the other boys at the YMCA; and don't get me started on Girl Scouts. Ok, actually, let me start on Girl Scouts. You would think that might be the one place I could go and not be near my brother? Nope. Mom was a Troup Leader and Dad was busy playing James Bond saving Bosnia so Sean had to come to the meetings. It would have been fine if all my friends didnt think he was so adorable with his flat top hair cut and paracuite pants....luckily I would never have to worry about him hitting on them (read: dance class and gymnastics).

In school, I could have taken a second job as a security guard because I spent 90% of my time in school beating up kids who made fun of my brother. Since I was the older sister and since we went to the same school, a day barely went by when Sean didnt sneak out of his class to come knock on my class door to tell me so and so beat him up or was making fun of him...I have plenty of embarrising stories about him but I promised I wouldnt tell any...like the time he shit his pants in the second grade...not even going to mention it.

High School was a fucking treat let me tell you. I went to an all girls private school and my brother went to an all boys school. While we did run a very lucrative dating service since we were the only ones in high schools with cell phones, my dating life was pretty much non-existent. Actually, no, it was existent...it was just expensive. My parents wouldnt let me go on dates alone so guess who came to chaperone...my younger brother! 3 tickets to the movies please, 3 passes for the subway to go into Boston and a table for 3 at TGI Fridays. It got to the point where my boyfriends would pay him to leave us alone but the little fucker was also getting paid by my parents to watch us!! It wasnt like he had any friends, the kid used to dress like a 50 year old lesbian...whatever. Finally, we both ended up at the same co-ed highschool for my senior and his junior year. Me, the popular cheerleader with cool friends and an actual reputation and Sean, the drama geek who used to get teased by the hockey team. At this point, I was so fed up with homophobes that I started just beating them up. My favorite memory was when I overheard one of Sean's "girlfriends" talking about how upset they were that he was getting made fun of and the look on their face when I came out of the stall was priceless. "You tell Steve that when that bell rings, he better run. He better fucking run or I will find him and kill him. Nobody talks shit about my brother...run along now." The bell rang and I swear to God I never saw a kid run so quickly. I chased him through the hall, out into the parking lot where one of my besties was waiting in her car and we highspeed chased him into a Walgreens parking lot where I subsequently kicked his ass....I warned him.

After highschool we became very close. We both went to BC, had the same group of friends and just really just got along...then something happened...Sean Patrick Doherty turned 21 and became GLITTER.

MY JACKET, MY BRACELETS...his glue 

Now, don't get me wrong, I love my brother and am so happy with his accomplishments. But, do you know what it's like to always have to go into your brothers room to look for your bronzer? Do you know what it's like to find your Victoria's Secret sequins pants in his laundry? Have you any idea what it's like to explain to your new boyfriend "My brother might be coming home at some point tonight and he MIGHT be in a unitard, heels, and a wig...it was for a charity event." Probably not. At this point, I'm so used to it and it doesnt phase me at all...what does bother me is going out and finding people who only know me as "Glitter's Sister". Ohhh you're Glitter's Sister!?! Um, no I have a name thanks. It got even worse when my family caught onto the Glitter thing..."So if he's Glitter...does that make you Sparkles?" No Grandpa, pretty sure we're not hookers. And now I deal with this blog. This thing has gone INTERNATIONAL and people who I never even knew had heard about my brother ask me about his blog. "Omg you're brother's so funny and talented" "It must be so awesome to have a famous brother" or when your dad goes "I'm not worried about Sean, he has talent." "Have you met my children? Sean?" I have multiple black belts, 2 degrees from Boston College, I went to law school and have financially supported GLITTER for years so yes, I am happy for my brother but I mean c'mon. 

He treats me like his personal assistant constantly. "Have you booked my flights yet? Did buy Gram a birthday present from me? I'm going to be in Europe next week, can you teach me Italian?" Now that he lives away from home, every visit is like THE SEAN SHOW WORLD TOUR. He Beyonce's it into town with an itinerary and who do you think drives him around to all these appearences? Oh yea, me. Who do you think brings multiple outfits for him in the car to the airport so he doesnt have to check bags? This chick. And who has to put up being referred to as the Solange to his Beyonce by EVERYONE WE KNOW?! That would be me. Sometimes I feel like I should just start wearing men's clothes randomly out and see if people that's awesome too but I'm pretty sure people would just think I'm a lesbian. I could do what brother did and just start gluing random things he found onto his face and wear them out but I'm pretty sure my dad would check me into a mental institution, but somehow, it works for him.



If you ever wonder why my brother is remotley down to earth, you can thank me. I credit myself as the only person who can deal with his giant ego and basically tell him "Calm the fuck down, take off your makeup...and my pants...and sit down like a normal person." If you think he's high maintence in public? Try living with him!! No really, he bitches about his roommate all the time...how do you think his roommate feels coming home to my brother prancing around the apartment in short shorts, fur hats and glitter??

Yup...just another day in the life of GLITTER

The Roommate's Birthday

So at this point in the reading the blog I know you are probably asking yourself if I purposely do any of these crazy things so that I can have a story to write about...99% of the time I can honestly say that they are just natural occurrences and I try to write them to find the humor in them for you to enjoy. This 1% though...TOTAL HILLS MOMENT!

I got an actual invite from Roommate about a week before the events occurred. I didn't know why he had chosen to invite me to his birthday and I was plum out of excuses not to go. To be honest, I didn't even think my roommate had a birthday. I figured he just arrived fully formed under a moist stone somewhere.

What you should know is that birthday's to me have always been a big deal. My parents spared no expense on when it was time to celebrate the birth of their two children. My sister's August Birthday always brought pool parties, Luaus, cook-outs with inflatable things and limos. My birthday on the other hand is the end of November, the coldest time to be born in New England. My birthday's included renting out movie theatres, renting out the Discovery Zone, pool parities at hotels...and limos. I think it was just my parent's lack of wanting driving all those snot nosed kids home that led them to always get us limos...and you bet there was always Surge and Tamagatchis for everyone who came to our parties. To give back for all of the amazing parties I was thrown as a child, I had my 21st Birthday as a fundraiser for the Make-A-Wish Foundation at a swanky Boston nightclub and raised $15,000! The moral of this story...I DON'T FUCK AROUND WHEN IT COMES TO BIRTHDAYS.

My 13th Birthday

I asked him what his plans were for his party and of course he pulls the DJ card on me. Being a DJ, especially in a small town like Tucson, means that I know every bouncer, dj, bartender and club owner and I'm sure at some point I would have offered to reach out to one of those people but Roommate decided to head me off at the pass.

Roommate:
I just figured it would be easier if you made the arrangements

Me:
I didn't realize my invitation was to be a party planner, my mistake
Um sure, how many people are you inviting?

Roommate:
How many people can you get in free?

Me:
More than the amount of friends you have I'm sure
10?

Roommate:
Can you make it 11?

Me:
Sure

Roommate:
Oh, did you include yourself?

Me:
No, I figured I'd pay
Um, yea

Roommate:
Oh, then make it 12.

So since I know this is going to be a HOOT of a night already I did what any retarded person would do, I offered to be the designated driver. I did this for 2 reasons. 1) I was working early the next day and always want to be on my a-game for work. 2) I wanted to be able to leave whenever the hell I wanted (read: 10 minutes after I arrive).

I explain to Roommate that I'd be able to fit him and three friends in my car and the rest could take a cab and meet us there. I also made sure that Andrea was not going to be one of those friends, otherwise I would need to get my tires re-aligned.

So Friday night rolls around and I come home from work to find some of the party goers have already arrived.

LORDY LORD - LOOK AT ALL THE FREAKS

I quickly get ready and come out to the living room to "socialize" with these people when a gentlemen catches my eye. Not wanting to be rude, I went over and introduced myself with my phone number. We are going to call him Ted. Now pay attention.

Me:
So Ted, what do you do?

Ted:
Oh...umm...I'm a radio dj

Me (excited to meet someone else in the field):
Oh my god that's awesome, where?

Ted:
KRQ. <---That's the station I work for

Me:
I'm sorry?

Ted:
I'm a radio DJ on KRQ. Yea, it's a cool job. I get to meet famous people all the time (false). I make lots of money (super false) and it's something I've been doing for years. (how's the weather in Fantasy Land?)

I had no idea if this guy was serious or not. I'm not sure if Roommate has talked about me but honestly, why would someone go through all the trouble about making up a fake background to impress someone?

Ted:
So what do you do?

Me:
I'm a detective

Ted:
Really?

Me:
Yeaaaa. I work mostly on Crime Scene Investigations for the Special Victims Unit.

Somehow I don't believe your story

WHAT?! This mofo is pretending to be me, and it was the first thing that came to mind. Plus, he was cute so I can let him get away with being sociopath.

Ted:
That's really interesting. I bet you meet you a lot of crazies

Me:
Everyday

So the night progresses and it's a typical party but now it's time to leave because the gays (all four of them) want to go dancing and the fat chicks (everyone else in the room) want to get going so the night can be done and they can order Chinese Food....so off we go!

Roommate is my car with two other people and VICKIE. VICKIE is a nasty little bitch who thought that because I was the designated driver, I was her PERSONAL DRIVER.

Vickie:
Can you not play this song?

Vickie:
Can you not take the highway?

Vickie:
Can you not have the heater on?

Vickie:
Can you not break like that?

Vickie:
Can you drop me off at El Charro on 5th, drop them off at Senor Homo's and then come back and get me? I only need like an hour.

Me:
Your coke dealer meeting you? Sweetie you need to up the dosage if you want to lose weight.
Ahh, no. I'm going to go into Senor Homo's with them and I'm not coming out

Vickie:
Yea but you're like the driver?

Roommate...who is NOT saying anything to keep this bitch in line

Me:
I have no problem dropping you off at El Charro, you will need to find your own way back.

Vickie:
You're ridiculous

Me:
I can drop you off right here on the side of the road now sweetie, your choice.

And now I know why my parents got limos.

Senor Homos was fine...dancing...drag queens...whatever. I look at my watch and it's 12:45, a perfectly reasonable time to make my natural dramatic exit. I try to find Roommate to offer him one last ride home before I leave...and here's where the drama occurs.

Me:
Hey, I'm leaving! Are you SURE you don't want a ride home?

Roommate:
No, I do want to go home...with him (points to guy on his left)

Me:
Fine, I'm leaving in 2 minutes.

Roommate:
And him, (points to guy on his right)

Now, I consider myself a pretty modernist thinker. I'm fine with the idea that a gentlemen wants to enjoy his evening with two strangers he met drunk at bar in the confines of the privacy of their own home...fine. I will not judge.

Roommate:
But we have to be quiet because they're married!

Me:
Ok? so you're like an anniversary gift? Maybe 10 years is Fag these days?

Left Trick (32-40 decent looking):
We're both married, just not to each other. My husband is actually here I think but I told him I was going back to a girlfriend's house so we should leave quickly.

Right Trick (25-34 attractive):
My husbands in the hospital. He's older.

This is where I get to be judgemental. I am NOT participating in any home wrecking today sista girl. No No No...I'm from a broken home, I know what this shit does to people and me being the transportation makes me even more guilty of this because I'm sober. I calmy and rationally try to explain this to my three new friends.

Me:
OH FUCK NO YOU SKANKS!! I am NOT driving Sneak Away Sally and Anna Nicole back to your little whore house so you guys can make merry behind your husbands back!! And Roommate? Aren't like 13 of your boyfriends here?? Look, have a good birthday...be safe...I am leaving...and I am driving home alone. I wish I was drinking so I could have thrown a drink at someone but my catwalk exit out of the bar was PERFECTION.

So I left the bar. Confident in my decision and looking forward to my bed... because as modern and I want to think I am, I am an old fashioned soul. Marriage or whatever the hell you want to call it these days is between two people and you know what? If those two were together and wanted to go home with my roommate...still OK...but adultery? cheating?

4:30AM - CASA DE GLITTER

I am in the middle of my REM cycle when I hear banging at the door. Thinking Roommate might have lit the apartment on fire and it's firemen at the door, I quickly slip into a negligee, powder my face and run frantically to the door. I look through the keyhole and it's a man...an angry man. I quickly deduce that it's Left Trick's husband. I ain't answering that door.

Husband:
I KNOW LEFT TRICK IS IN THERE WITH ROOMMATE. OPEN UP.

Me:
Ohh no Meesta Supaman No Heya

I bang on Roommate's door and alert him of the company. The two of them come out of his room and we assess the situation. While they tried to come up with excuses I felt it only appropriate to open the door. I was already up and the circus was in town...showtime!

Husband:
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE? WITH ROOMMATE?

Left Trick:
Ugh, you're jumping to conclusions. I was going to go to Ashley's but she didn't pick up the phone so Roommate said I could stay on his couch.

Husband:
The couch that's covered with books?!

SEE!! THIS IS WHY READING WILL GET YOU INTO TROUBLE!

Husband:
And who the fuck are you? (pointing to me)

Me:
My name is Glitter. This is my house and I own a gun. DO NOT GET LOUD WITH ME SIR.

Roommate:
It's true, we JUST got back. I was going to clear away the books and let Left Trick sleep on the couch.

Left Trick:
Babe, I love you. I would never do anything to hurt you. Please, let me just get my coat and we can leave and I'll explain how this whole mix up happened.

And just then, as if some stage director told him to do so...#3 emerges from the room

Right Trick:
Are you guys coming back to bed?

Husband:
THAT'S IT. WE ARE THROUGH! YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH SLUTS LIKE THIS! ISN'T HIS HUSBAND IN THE HOSPITAL!?

Again, Tucson is a tiny town so this actually does make sense.

Right Trick...in HYSTERICS CRYING:
OMG please don't tell Dying Husband, I was drunk and this was a one time thing. Omg omg please.

Husband:
And you? (pointing to me) you knew about this?

I am sitting on the bar eating Cherry Garcia laughing my ass off.

Me:
No, I drove Roommate to the bar. That's all. I'm just up for a snack. I think I'll go back to bed now.

I couldnt fall asleep for a little while since they were all screaming and crying. No gunshots luckily, just a few doorslams. I can't say I didn't see this coming, but in a small town like Tucson I really didnt expect anything less.

Glitter's Final Thought:

Roommate, I'm really sorry your birthday had to end like this. I am so sincere in the fact that I think that everyone should have a good birthday. So please, next time, just make better decisions and most importantly...do not fucking invite me.

Real People, Real Tears

STAY TUNED NEXT! NEXT WEEK WILL BE VOLUME ONE OF THE

 THE DEBBIE CHRONICLES!

My Pain In The Ass Road Trip

WARNING: THIS BLOG CONTAINS SOME GREY'S ANATOMY SHIT

I've been asked recently why I share so much with my blog viewers and where is the "line" I'll draw when it comes to revealing personal information about myself but what you must know about me is that I'm all about "over sharing". In my family, there is no such thing as TMI. We share information with each other that would make Jenny Jones go "OK, that's a bit too much". Since you are now my new extended blog family, I feel no need to withhold this information from you.

I am pretty sure my body hates me.  Not so much my body, just my genes. If you look at my grandparents, for old people...they aren't bad looking.  My mother's father was a 6'2, handsome Irish actor with broad shoulders and my father's mother is a petite Italian woman with beautiful olive skin and dainty features. Both of my parents have crystal blue eyes and my sister's eyes are a shade of green only found in oriental supermarkets. Me? I ended up balding at 25, 5'6 with broad thighs, dull blue eyes, and petite stumpy fingers that look like withered sausages.

How I view myself in the mirror

Now...normally I blame my homosexuality on my mother's choice to smoke into her third trimester with me...I have submitted my hypothesis to several well known scientists/US Weekly and am waiting for their conclusion on the matter. So while I can't blame my excess gay on my mother I can sure as hell blame her for what happened to me this past weekend.

I had just woken up in Phoenix after a rowdy night out with a friend from Boston who recently moved to Arizona.  Oddly, we weren't BFF's, simply friends who knew each other but before the end of the night she was running around telling people that her and I are going to San Diego for Easter (true) so she can get pregnant (not true...not by me anyways).

As I start the drive back from Phoenix to Tucson I realize something is wrong with my body. I felt ill...now at this point the flu epidemic hadn't hit Arizona so my first thought wasn't OMG I have the flu...my first thought was to make it home....drink some Nyquil flavored Smirnoff and sleep it off. I've also faked sick enough in school to know symptoms of the most random things....in the 5th Grade I told my teacher I had to go home because I was having menstrual cramps and told her I thought it could be menopause.

I was the KING of faking sick!

 

Anyways, I'm driving along in the MIDDLE OF NO WHERE and all of sudden I feel like I'm going to blackout. Normally, this is fine because I'm at a party so I can blackout on a couch or I'm at a bar so I can blackout and go home with the guy who just gave me a free drink but THIS was not good since I had  this shooting pain in my lower back! I pull over to the side of the road and phone my sister who tells me to go to the emergency room. Fine except I'm 75 miles out of Phoenix and 75 miles out of Tucson...this leaves me with CASA GRANDE ARIZONA. For those of you that don't know Casa Grande, it consists of a Super 8, an Olive Garden, a Family Dollar...and the Casa Grande Medical Center. That's all.

No really..MIDDLE OF NO WHERE!

I hesitate to go but I'm starting to get a fever and dying on the side of the road in the middle of the desert is passe so I decide I need to go.  As I walk into the Ambulance entrance and pass the two EMT's smoking by the door, I realize that Casa Grande Arizona must be one of those vortexes that people talk about.....I literally walked into 1971...Mexico! Everything was made of wooden vernier, nobody spoke English, and there were probably 5-6 children just running around the waiting room. Baby Safe Haven my ass.




Casa Grande Nursing Staff

I see the nurse for my vitals and she takes my blood pressure, looks at me and takes it again...my blood pressure was 85/60. According to her chart, I was dead. She immediately hooks me up to an IV and tells me to sit in the chair. I explain to her that it hurts to sit down and she says "Oh, well, ummm I guess you can just stand."

So there I am standing in the examining room with an IV looking like a moron when the doctor comes in.

Doctor:
Why are you standing?

Me:
It hurts to sit down and the nurse told me to stand

Doctor:
Why didn't the nurse tell you just to lie down?

Me:
I don't know, I don't work here.

Doctor:
Poor girl (she was easily over 60) can you tell she did the overnight shift? Ha ha

Me:
Listen Senor House, I am dying and need you to fix me.

Blah blah tests and such and it turns out I had a ruptured cyst on my tailbone. Fine, cut it open and do what you need to do...Tina and Amy are hosting the Golden Globes tonight!

Doctor:
Did you drive here?

Me:
Yes

Doctor:
Do you have a family member that can come collect you?

Me:
Sure, let me just get on the phone with Jet Blue and they can be here in 7 hours
No i do not.

Doctor:
Oh, that's too bad. I can't give you any pain medication if you have to drive. This might hurt. Have you ever had a girlfriend?

Me:
What?

That was the last thing I remember before enduring the most excruciating pain in my entire life!! Dr. Mengel was cutting my tailbone open with no anesthetic. Who does this??! For a second, I wondered if I missed the hospital and wandered into the Home Depot day worker section. I would have killed for morphine, an epidural, or a fucking Motrin. I felt like I was in a Vietnamese torture camp.  This went on for 35 min.

Doctor:
Ok, so the cyst is taken care of but you'll have to wear these since you'll continue to bleed for a few days.

Chanel SPRING/FALL 2013 Line

Me:
Ummm, are those diapers?

Doctor:
They are diaper pants. See, they only look like diapers from the inside and on the outside they look like briefs.

Me:
No they don't...they look like diapers.

Doctor:
Well these will have to due until you can get home and fill your Rx for Vicodin.

So the doctor leaves and I realize a huge problem...I cant fit my jeans over my diaper pants. I was going out for the night, I work my sexy jeans that showed off my ass...now they're showing off my depends. What do I do? I can't very well leave wearing just the diaper pants and I'm not about bleed all over my True Religions...I compromise. I pull my jeans up to crotch, pull my shirt down and strut out of the hospital.

So now I'm racing to get home...less for the Golden Globes and more for the fact that I'm half naked wearing a diaper in the middle of Arizona. Now, here's what I love about Arizona...the speed limit is 75mph on every highway except when there's roadwork...apparently, there was roadwork.

The cop pulls behind me, throws his lights on, and I have no idea what to do. I can't reach down and try and pull my pants up because he'll think I'm hiding drugs, I can't pull my shirt down any further because I'd have to hold it down and it would look like I'm hiding drugs. So I pull over.

You have the right to put on your pants

Officer:
Sir, do you know why I stopped you?

Me:
Yes sir, I was speeding. I am really sorry, I didn't see the work zone sign and I -

Officer:
Sir, why are you pants down?

Me:
I realize this looks bad I know, but I was just out of the hospital and they operated on me with no pain medication and put me in these diaper pants and I just really need my vicodin!

Officer:
License and registration please.

FUCK! I'm going to jail. Driving while pantless cannot be easily let off in Arizona. Omg, what if they put me in a work camp? I can't do manual labor! I don't even know how to fold laundry.

Officer:
So explain to me again why you are in the diapers?

Me:
They are not diapers...they are diaper pants! See they only look like diap - oh never mind. Look! (I tell him the story).

He can't stop laughing....he looks like he's going to cry and I wonder if I really feel comfortable that this guy is protecting my highways.

Officer hysterically laughing still:
I'm sorry man, try not to speed through work zones and good luck with your diapers.

Me:
Thank you officer...diaper pants.

So after I got home and put an Amber Alert out for my dignity because it was no where to be found, I settled into my bed with my vicodin and my new inflatable donut. I've always said it, every donut goes right to my hips.

Gays On A Plane

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Flying has been one of those things I have been doing since before I was born. No really, my mother flew with me all through her pregnancy and if my math skills serve me correctly...I was even conceived on a family vacation in Florida while my sister was 5 months old...because my parents practiced the rhythm method.

Now, I have a zillion stories about flying that I could share with you...I could tell you about the time I flew to London with my grandfather when I was 11 and watched 2 people first hand join the mile high club...I know this only because my grandfather's TV didn't work and in the middle of the flight I said "Oh, Grandpa, you can take one of their seats...I think they left". Francis J, being ever so quiet with his Irish whisper responds "We're in the middle of the friggin Atlantic Ocean where the hell did they go!?" And that's when I witnessed my first walk of shame.

I could also tell you about another trans-Atlantic flight where my sister slept the whole time...at the end of the flight...my grandfather (who served as my sister and I's guardian/ATM when we were younger) turns to me and says:

Francis J :
I think your sister (who is 16) has that sleeping disease what's it called?

Me (announcing to the whole plane in my own Irish whisper):
Oh, she has SYPHILIS?!

Franics J:
Encephalitis you asshole!

Goodness, I can go forever...but this blog is about my recent flying experience from FLL-TUS and why I might never fly commercial again.

Now, I think of First Class the same way I think about sex...it's something I enjoy very much...but I will never pay for it. Sure, it's easy enough to pay and you're guaranteed an in but what's the fun in that? I could also spend all that time getting into a relationship with an airline and earning their miles buying them dinner and expensive things and then MAYBE I'll have enough points to get the goods but in all honesty...I get both the same way...with a great personality, a killer smile...and a little bit of bullshit.

So here I am in Ft Lauderdale Hollywood International Airport with my seat in 72X...literally I think I'm in the luggage compartment and the security line is 3 miles long since it's right after the holidays. So what do I do? Go right up to the First Class Check In.  Now, the key here is to be SUPER HAPPY...almost to the point of manic...

it throws these gate agents WAY off. They are used to dealing with bitchy, tired, self absorbed travelers who look down at their job...but when they get me...I'm a fucking little ray of sunshine ready to burn a hole and cop some free champagne.

Unfriendly Agent:
Ticket please sir

Me with an ear to ear smile:
Hello! Here you are, I am not sure if I'm in the right line :0) I'm just so excited to travel! So sad to leave Florida though. My grandparents live here and I'm just so upset to leave them it was really nice to see them for Christmas though.

Unfriendly Agent:
Sir, you have an economy ticket, you need to go to the economy line.

Smile fades to an unsure puppy dog eye and look of worry:
Ohh, I am SO sorry! I'm not really good at traveling. I really do apologize...Jamaica...aww that's a pretty name I've always wanted to go to Jamaica! I'm really am so so sorry. Where is the economy line?

Agent now smitten with my compliments:
I'll check you in here this time  sir, just next time make sure you look at your ticket cutie.

Me:
Awww thank you so much!! you're so nice! Not to overstep my bounds but are there any seats closer to the front of the plane? Not first class obviously!! Just not 72X...anything you can do would be really appreciated :0D

Agent:
osdfnslgkl;sgkl;sgn;n;aklgnasldgnasngas;glnaslnas;dglnasgklnga (this is what it looks like she's typing for a good 3 minutes as she searches god knows what)
You know what sir, I do have a first class seat available but it will be $1,000,000 extra

Me - sad, defeated, to the point of tears:
Awww, Ok....no it's fine. I couldn't possibly expect to fly first class...someday I will though! I just wish I didn't spend my all my money taking my elderly grandparents out for dinner...but you know... you never know how much time you'll have left with them and that's really the important thing. I'm happy with 72X, thank you though!

Agent:
Aww sir well today is your lucky day because I was able to waive that $1,000,000 fee and you're now in 2D...enjoy sir. Happy New Year!

Me:
Happy New Year to you as well Jamaica!

BOOM! FIRST CLASS!

Since I'm now in first class I get to bypass the Noah's Ark boarding line that is economy travelers. Look people, I realize you're going on an airplane and you think "comfort" is something that comes in sweatpants and t-shirts with kittys on them...but I don't know if you realize...you're still in public. There is NO NEED to wear your pajamas on an airplane. Give it a go...try wearing your Sunday best or ya know...whatever it is you doll yourself up in for your weekly Wal-Mart extravaganza.



But this is wear Karma comes and bit me in the ASS!

I board and settle in with my copy of USA TODAY (does anyone actually read that?) and my champagne. One of the things I love about flying is the abundance of gay flight attendants. I credit a very good friend of mine who has been a flight attendant since before they integrated airlines for being one of the first gay flight attendants and starting...what I consider to be...one of the perks of flying.

So this flight attendant...we'll call him Skyler (get it..sky?) is being the normal amount of super friendly 1st Class FA but I can't help but notice he's doing a little bit of extra flirting with me. Now, he was fairly attractive and I'm sure we would have had a longer conversation but 2A happens to be a 31 year old divorcee who decided to tell me her ENTIRE life story in the short time it took for the rest of the passengers to board. I can't put my headphones on because we are taxiing and she's going on and on about her marriage was so bad and everyone told her she shouldve left him years ago and I was literally thinking "Bitch, tell it to Maury because I want to watch Ted and flirt with the gay".

So Skyler and I get to talking for a while and he asks me if I'm single. I respond yes and I ask him. He replies with "It's complicated". Well, since this isn't Facebook I have to assume that "It's complicated" means that he cheats on his boyfriend. The more the conversation went on the more I wanted less and less to do with Skyler and the more the Divorcee was looking like good company. So I'm sitting there minding my own business when out of nowhere another slightly older, still pretty good looking flight attendant comes into the cabin. We're going to call him Will.

Will:
2D?

Me:
I'm sorry?

Will:
You're the guy in 2D?

Me:
I have no idea what you're talking about but yes, I am in 2D.

Will looking disgusted:
You're the one my boyfriend has been flirting with?

Me:
WHAT?!

Will:
Oh like I don't know?! I can hear the two of you from the other side of the curtain. It's made of cloth not sound proof glass.

Me:
Oh my god...you've lost your mind
I'm sorry, I don't even know your boyfriend...he's just my flight attendant.

Will:
HE'S NOT EVEN ASSIGNED TO THIS CABIN!

Me:
Sir, I'm sorry. I don't know what else you want me to say?

Will:
Nothing, I want you to say nothing else to Skyler ok? We have been together for 3 1/2 months and it's been perfectly fine.

Me:
3 1/2 months?! Wow!! Where are you registered?
All of sudden everyone in first class can now hear him and started to take off their headphones. This was turning into an episode of Dynasty at 30,000 feet.

Me:
Look, I'm really sorry for the confusion. I promise I was not flirting with him (LIE) and I would never do anything to come between two people (TRUTH).

And then Skyler shows up. Let the games begin.

Skyler...big smile as not to look upset in front of the passengers:
Will, what are you doing with 2D?

Will...now also smiling and speaking through his teeth;
Oh nothing Skyler, just making sure 2D is comfortable...although I see you already saw to that

Skyler:
I was just being polite to 2D

Will:
You are a slut and 2D is fat

Me (no longer whispering or being polite)
2D IS NOT FAT ACTUALLY! 2D IS JUST TRYING TO ENJOY HIS FREE CHAMPAGNE AND BOSE NOISE CANCELLING HEADPHONES SO 2D CAN WATCH TED! 2D DID NOT ASK FOR YOU TWO WHACK JOBS TO DEAL WITH YOUR DYSFUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP IN FRONT OF 2D!

Flight Attendant 3:
Sir, please settle down. Is there a problem?

Me:
Are you the purser?

Skyler and Will look as if I just ripped a weave off a black woman's head. Yes, I know what a purser is. Remember? I've been flying for years and I know who's who on an airplane.

Purser:
Yes, is there a problem?

Me:
It seems your flight attendants are having some issues and I do not appreciate the comments made to me. Other than that...my champagne is empty.

Purser:
Sir, I am so sorry. I will handle the first class cabin and make sure this is handled.

Divorcee:
This is exactly like one of the fights me and my husband had right before our divorce. We were on vacation in the Baha-

Me:
-Lady, I barely care about you....and trust me...if this plane goes down LOST style...I will eat you first so I could give a FUCK about your ex-husband. Now if you'll excuse me...I'm going to enjoy my booze, watch TED and go to sleep.

If looks could kill, I would be 6ft under from the death stares Will gave me for the rest of the flight. I should probably delete Skyler's number...but I wont.

The best part of the story is that the airline sent me a voucher for another free First Class upgrade for my next flight...who knows...maybe I can break up another relationship.

Maybe Mitt Romney was right...maybe airplanes should have windows so you can throw people out every once in a while.

Papa Glitter and the Porn Stars

I know I know, I took a week off of writing…but in all fairness it was the holidays and while I know my stories of a family Christmas where my uncles run around showing off what they just got tattooed and pierced and my grandparents asking me and my 27 year old sister why we’re both single and my 11 year old cousins are both in relationships would have been very entertaining…I’m glad we both got the chance to take a breather…me? I’ve been on a family vacation!

VACATION - ALL I EVER WANTED

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Every year since birth, my father has saved his pennies, frequent flier miles, and remains of sanity and has taken his two (now grown-ass) lovely children on vacation in Southern Florida.  Its 10-14 days of laughter, drinking, fighting, and my father’s favorite pastime…inflicting large amounts of guilt. Here are some of his favorite lines…

“You know…you’ll miss me when I’m gone”

“I’m just looking forward to doing this with my grandchildren…I mean…if I ever get any”

“Do you know how many kids would wish they were as fortunate as you?”

“I don’t ask you for much”

Even with two bottles of mimosas and 86-degree weather my father (who EASILY could have been a Jewish mother) knows how to get his points across. Even now, as my sister and I pick up tabs, buy him gifts and try to repay him for the years he supported us…he still says the only thing he wants is to spend time with us…in this case I’d rather him take the cash….

Darling, arent you a little old to have a "type"? 

Now, if Tucson is the Special Olympics of Gay then Ft. Lauderdale has to be AP Gay…this is the Crème de Le Crème of the Crème de Le Femme and it has been both my learning platform as well as my stomping ground since Glitter was just something I thought was used in Arts & Crafts and in bad Mariah Carey movies.

Now, I have been gay all around the world and I’m sure some of you LOVE Ft Lauderdale and think it’s the best place in the world to be gay since you can pretty much any type of gay you want…and I won’t say you’re wrong…but my theory is that if you’re going to be an absolute bitch to someone and tell them insanely stupid insults such as “Oh, I’ve never seen you without Glitter on your eyes…you must wear it to cover up your awful crows feet”…my thought is you should be at least pseudo attractive/not pushing 60…but I digress.

Now what happens when you are on a family vacation in one of the gayest places in America and all your dad wants to do is “Spend Time With You?” Oh, yes…your dad wants to come with you to gay bars!

So here I am at one of the busiest gay bars in Wilton Manors with my dad!! Now, you can’t very well introduce him as your “dad” as gays get that very confused with “daddy”…and that’s just gross. Now if you’re reading this and know me, you know my father is no stranger to gay bars…being a 100% Straight Male Super Spy who enjoys the company of Brazilian Flamenco Dancers and has partied with Lindsay Lohan and Beyonce…my father is actually much more cooler than I am…he just happens to crave attention as much as me and that never goes over well!

Guy1:

Can I buy you a drink?

Dad:

Oh thanks, that’d be great!! Wow Sean, you were right, gay guys are really nice!

Me:

Fuckin groovy, can you ask him to buy me one too?

Dad:

You know, your sister never wants to go out with me because people think we’re a couple.

Me:

And gay people who buy you drinks think that you’re too good for me!

She crazy. I am going to do a lap. Are you ok alone?

Dad:

Yea that’s fine…I’m almost done with this drink and I’ll probably need one of these guy get me another one soon.

So I set off to try and meet Mr. Right and leave my father talking to a new group of gay strangers. I do a few laps and realize the potential here is none so I set back to find my dad…only to realize he now talking to a group of pornstars…gay pornstars.

Me:

Please don’t call me over, please don’t call me over

Dad:

Hey Sean! Come here for minute!!

Me:

F.M.L.

Now, I can’t blame the guy because not only is he my dad…but he’s also my manager…so he’s constantly trying to help me make connections to further my career...but…yea.

Dad:

This is my son Sean, the one I was telling you about! Sean, these guys are actors and he’s a director. This is Matt, Blake, Skyler, Brent and Devyn.

No names...just pictures 

Me:

I have seen their work

Hello

Porn Star 1:

Your dad is really cool…he’s been telling us about how you’re looking to work in entertainment

Me:

E! Entertainment not Adult Entertainment

Ohhhhh yea, I mean I’m not looking into acting

Dad:

Stop it! Sean’s an awesome actor! You had your own show

Porn Star 2:

Xtube?

Dad:

What?

Me:

Ummm he was wondering what channel on TV my CABLE TV SHOW WAS…it was on Comcast...

Porn Director:

Have you ever thought about doing movies?

Dad:

You were in a few movies!

Me:

WOULD YOU SHUT UP PLEASE!

I was…yes…small Boston movies…Fever Pitch, The Departed etc.

Porn Director:

Well we are always looking for new faces and yours in adorable.

Dad:

You gay guys are so nice!

What is wrong with you?! You have protected our World Leaders, you were in charge of thousands of men in the Middle East and may or may not have been involved with the capture of certain terrorists and dictators and now you’re unintentionally pimping me out to a porn director?!?!

Porn Star 3:

We’re actually having a pool party later…you should come by.

Dad:

Oh, that sounds awe-

Me:

-awefully nice, but we’re just on our way out.  Plus, I’m leaving tomorrow!

Dad:

No you’re not, you’re here until the 4^th!

Do you only understand waterboarding or bamboo shoots!? I am fine with you wanting to come to gay bars with me…I’m fine with you getting invited back to gay karaoke when I get thrown out (in all fairness, Florence and the Machine is a difficult act to mimic) and I’m very OK with you driving the gay pride parade float that I was dj-ing in my underwear on…but THIS…is over the line.

GLITTER on deck...PAPA GLITTER in the DRIVERS SEAT 

Me:

Can I talk to you for a second? Excuse us.

Dad:

What’s wrong? Why won’t you come to the pool party? I don’t ask you for much!

Me:

Ok first off…YOU are not going to the pool party. Secondly, I am not going to the pool party. Dad, those guys are porn stars! And the director with them is a porn director!

Dad:

Oh stop, you’re so self conscious…so they’re in really good shape…you can wear a t-shirt in the pool.

Me:

Are you high!? I’m not 12…I’m not going to wear a t-shirt in the pool and I am NOT GOING TO THEIR POOL PARTY BECAUSE THEY ARE PORN STARS!

Feelin HOT HOT HOT

Dad:

What makes you think they’re pornstars?

Me:

Ummm well 3 of them only go by one name

Dad:

Ok…GLITTER

Me:

That’s different and you know that!

Dad:

Look, if you don’t want to go…that’s fine…but I think they’re really nice and I want to go!

I feel like I’m a mom fighting with my 14 year old daughter about going to a One Direction Concert…except…I am fighting with my 55 year old father about his naivety and him wanting to go to an all male…all nude…possibly filmed…pool party…I wanted to punch him in the face.

Porn Star 4:

Sooo we’re going to head back…here’s my number… text me and I’ll send you the address.

Me:

Thank you! I’ll text you. Let’s go!

Dad:

Oh we’re going?!

Me:

Yes dad, we’re going…real quick can you watch this for a minute…this is what we are about to go to.

I didn’t want to show him. I think there are just some mysteries that should remain secret between gays and straights…but I did it…and it was for his own good.

Dad:

Oh…those are the guys we just met!...oh??...oh…oh!...oh my god!...turn it off! TURN IT OFF!!

Me:

Is this what you want? This is the type of party you want to go to?

Dad:

I think…dry heaves….I think I’m going to be sick

Don't turn up the volume it just makes it worse

Me:

Good…let’s go home. 

And so we left Wilton Manors a little wiser and a little scarred. I don’t doubt that my father won’t join me again because the man loves a free drink but I think he might think twice about accepting offers from random men. Me? I learned that my dad apparently…is Kris Jenner.

Donnie D 2013