Dinosaurs, Nazis, and Wizards - Oh My!

I was arguing with myself on whether or not to blog about the Marathon events or not.  While I will personally never forget the events that unfolded on the day of April 15, 2013 I feel as though there has been enough reporting on the subject.  My job and my mission as it pertains to this blog isn’t to report to you what you already know or give you opinions on what I think I know…my goal is attempt to entertain you. Boston will never be the same but it is only when we assume normality that we triumph in the face of adversity and terror.  And as for anything I saw at my Mother’s 50^th (and it was a GOOD TIME) I am going to save that for the book.

So without further a due, on with the show! #BostonStrong #PrayForBoston #NiceBoatingJobAsshole

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There are NUMEROUS things that bother me about Roommate. For one thing, he has known I have been in Boston these past weeks and not ONCE did he text or e-mail asking if I was OK. He did email me…to let me know that half of the electric bill was due but other than that radio silence. I would say he is dead to me but I can’t honestly say I ever cared for him that much…but apparently I had a moment a few weeks ago…(calm down this isn’t a letter to Penthouse)

It was a Sunday night and if you follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or we actually know each other than you’ll know I do pretty much 1 thing on Sundays…drink by a pool! This is due to the fact that Arizona boasts extremely hot weather with extremely unhot people and thus I find more solice in sitting at a 5* resort drinking pina coladas and reading trashy gossip rags than I would attempting to make friends or go on dates…or play football.

Sunday nights as the towncar drops me off at the apartment, it’s safe to assume I’m probably rocked. I mean…I’ve been drinking for 10 hours at that point and all I want to do is eat a hotpocket, turn on NETFLIX and fall asleep. This Sunday was different…something went horribly wrong that I did not anticipate….I ran out of hotpockets. I had NOTHING left to make but pasta… I had no idea how much to make but I was hungry so I figured 3lbs oughtta do it.  Have you ever seen 3lbs or pasta?! Holy Fatkid Batman!!

So here I am with enough pasta to feed half of a small African country and I notice roommate in the living room.  Please keep in mind he has NO headphones in, he is not on the phone and does not look like he’s about to perform surgery so I felt no shame in “interrupting” him.

Me:

Hey, I made too much pasta…do you want any?

Roommate:

BLANK STARE PICTURE

Me:

oooooooooK.

Literally ten minutes goes by and roommate responds to my question.

Roommate:

Do you think the Nazis were a misunderstood people?

Me:

I’m sorry homo I said PAH-STAH not NAHT-ZEES I can see how you can confuse the two.

What?

Roommate:

The Nazis…do you think they were a misunderstood people?

Me:

Ummm, no?? I think people pretty much got the gist of their mission?

Roommate:

Yea, I’m just reading this fascinating paper on the theory that the Nazis as a political organizations were subsequently....

He goes to explain about his collection of Nazi books...Nazis and the Jews, Nazis and the politics of Western Europe, Nazis and the Chocolate Factory...I can't deal anymore 

Me:

Sorry, did you say you wanted food?

Roommate:

Why did you make pasta? Aren't you fat? 

Me:

I bought it for Good Friday and didn’t end up eating it then so I had it sitting around

Roommate:

Ugh, you Christians and your pagan deities…things like that make me happy to be a creationist.

Now, I am all about people having their own opinions on whatever beliefs they want…hence why we live in American (AMERICA! FUCK YEA!) but I also don’t have any respect for people like Roommate for slamming other people’s (in this case my) personal beliefs and constantly parading his “tested and true” theories on how the universe was made. In fact, most of his books that aren’t about Nazi’s are about Dinosaurs. The kid fucking loves dinosaurs and books about Dinosaurs and theories about Dinosaurs that alive today in the arctic and anything that deals with the “real” and “natural” way that the Universe has evolved.

This would all be fine and dandy and I could accept his Nazi curiosity and Dinosaur obsession if it wasn’t for the last part of his book collection series…WIZARDS.

Yup, the same guy who believes that the earth was created over billions of years and that a group of mass murderers could be classified as “misunderstood” is also a big fan of Wizards. Lord of the Rings box set? CHECK! Harry Potter collector’s edition with replica wands? CHECK! Dungeons and Dragons? CHECK and CHECK! The few times I ever offered to spend a night and have wine with him were the nights I got to learn where the fuck Middle Earth was and what the difference between a Gnome and Familiar Domain is. Needless to say we no longer have wine together.

Papa Glitter has seen first hand the over 150 books that clutter our living room. None of which I agree with, believe in, or understand. The scariest part is that all those times I think he's lying to me that he's going to play Dungeons and Dragons and I think he's really going to hook up with random dudes...I ACTUALLY think he's going to play Dungeons and Dragons!! 

We cannot possibly have a conversation that doesn't end up in discussion of Dinosaurs, Nazis and/or Wizards. 

Sample Convo 1:

Roommate:

How was your day?

Me:

Great!! I had a great show and I think my boss was impressed. You?

Roommate:

Had a meeting with a Cultist Male Minotaur Invoker and this student who was seriously, ::laughs:: a 4th Level Frost Goblin.  

Me:

Um, that's hot 

Sample Convo 2:

Roommate:

How was your day?

Me:

Pretty good! Had a great workout and I'm going on a date tonight. How was yours?

Roommate:

I just can't help but feeling like Franz Stengl! My boss just replaced me with this awful teachers aid and I'm so upset. Seirously, this place could be Sobidor and Treblinka. 

Me:

Um, that's hot...but probably not because i'm sure it's a Nazi reference 

Sample Convo 3:

Roommate:

How was your day?

Me:

Long. I'm exhausted. How was yours?

Roommate:

Speaking of things that are long, did you know that the dinosaur with the longest name was the Micropachyephalosaurus? It means "tiny headed lizard" It's fossils have been founded in China starting in the 1978 by the palaenontologist Dong.

Me:
Ha, Dong....that's hot 

…but we can’t have a TV! 

Theresa C. McGrath 1925 - 2013

Dear Readers -

In respect for the passing of my Aunt Theresa there will be no blog post this week. I do apologize and promise to resume next week. The following is her obituary which has donation information. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers during this time.
xoxo-

Glitter

Waltham – Mrs. Theresa C. (Doherty) McGrath, of Waltham, died Tuesday, April 9, 2013 at Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital in Cambridge. She was 87.
Theresa was born in Waltham on December 15, 1925, one of nine children born to the late Bernard and Mary (Fahy) Doherty, and was a lifelong resident. She was a graduate of Saint Mary's High School in Waltham.
After her marriage to Waltham native Gene McGrath she became a dedicated and lifelong homemaker; performing her role as wife, mother, caretaker, peacemaker and healer with unequaled poise and ability.
Whenever someone in the family, in the parish or in the neighborhood needed a helping hand, Theresa always answered their call with compassion in her heart and a smile on her face. She was a Girl Scout leader for many years and was a longtime teacher in the CCD program at Saint Charles Church. She drove cancer patients to their treatments and volunteered limitless hours for the Saint Charles Parish Bazaar. She was also a Eucharistic Minister and brought communion to the sick.
She enjoyed watching her beloved Red Sox and Bruins, sewing and knitting, and was known for her Irish-knit afghans and her many knitted Christmas stockings.
Fondly know as Nana Mac and T-Mac, Theresa will be deeply missed by all.
Her beloved husband of forty-nine years, Eugene J. McGrath, died September 22, 1996.
She leaves her daughters, Beverly Sullivan, Maureen Kiley and her husband, David, Carol LeBlanc and her husband, Camille, and Cheryl Stascavage and her husband, Alan, all of Waltham; her grandchildren, Christine McDevitt, Kate Moriarty and her husband, Michael, Patrick Sullivan, Matthew Kiley, Meghan McDevitt and her fiancé, Michael Berman, Lauren Sullivan and her fiancé, Stephen Gardner, Alison LeBlanc, Michael Kiley, Jeffrey LeBlanc, James Sullivan, Justin Stascavage and Jaclyn Stascavage; her great-granddaughter, Grace Theresa Moriarty; her brothers, Bernard Doherty and his wife, Marguerite, of Waltham, Joseph Doherty and his wife, Pauline, of West Newton and Francis Doherty and his wife, Jean, of Waltham and many nieces and nephews.
Theresa was also the mother of the late Colleen McDevitt; mother-in-law of the late James Sullivan and a sister of the late William Doherty, John Doherty, Mary Dodson, Winifred Doherty and Anne McHugh
Family and friends will honor and remember Theresa's life by gathering for calling hours in The Joyce Funeral Home, 245 Main Street (Rte. 20) Waltham on Thursday, April 11th, from 4 to 8 p.m. and again at 9 a.m. on Friday morning before leaving in procession to Saint Charles Borromeo Church, 51 Hall Street, Waltham where her Funeral Mass will be celebrated at 10 a.m. Burial will follow in Calvary Cemetery, Waltham.
Memorial donations may be made to Only A Child, P.O. Box 990885, Boston, MA 02199 or to Saint Charles Borromeo Church, 30 Taylor Street, Waltham, MA 02453

Los Futbol de Homos

Update:
Ok, first off...I don't generally believe in miracles but I have to say that this past week has really changed my view on that. After my blog post last week my aunt's health dramatically began to improve. You sent emails, facebook messages, texts, and presents from across the world to help garner strength for her and I'm VERY happy to announce that she has since left ICU and is recovering steadily so THANK YOU!! Ps- to the people from Bolivia and Sweeden who sent me gifts, while I am grateful, I am a bit concerned as to where you got my address of employment. Please note, if you are planning to stalk and murder me you will have to do it during regular business hours.

Anywho...on with the show

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You'd be surprised how often I get asked the question "Which Spice Girl do you have the most in common with?" This is always tricky for me since I think that in some ways I'm a bit Posh, a bit Scary, act a bit like a Baby and would take ANY opportunity to wear a super tight Union Jack Dress.

But I think it's awful when people say "well you can't be all of them...you wouldn't be Sporty." And I have to say I take great offense to that. True, growing up as a morbidly obese pre-teen with a vitamin D deficiency because I stayed inside for days playing Turok:Dinosaur Hunter may not have been the way my parents envisioned it, but by high school I had a few years of Hockey under my belt...yet I was still fairly stocky as I went into young adulthood.




I'm sexy and I know it

In high school I signed up for track. Now I know what your thinking, why would a 5'2 290lb asthmatic blob sign up for track? and the answer is simple: there was a guy I had a crush on that was also doing track and hormones will make you do some fucked up shit.  Of course, I never actually ran. No no, I was the only Varsity Track Member who only competed in shot put because well...I was an Ox.

Cut to college and I was rowing as 8 Stern on the Boston College crew team...talk about a great place to pick up guys!! Sadly, after my freshman year my Russian coach (Boris) told me that in order to stay on the team I would have to grow 4" or lose 55lbs in order to balance out the boat. This is how I entered what my sister would call the "Mary-Kate Olsen" years. I lost about 40lbs in a matter of months and rather than praising me as a Jenny Craig success story, my family decided I had an eating disorder.

Post college I found Boston Gay Sports and I will say, without tooting my own horn, that I became QUITE athletic. By no means am I saying that I actually knew what the fuck I was doing, but I looked good in the uniform and I brought oodles of team spirit to each game! From softball to football, I took every opportunity to hit the field like it was a catwalk and I was Naomi Campbell.

The following (7) Photos are courtesy of Patrick Lentz Photography



Care to play ball?

Now, while I always had the best attitude when it came to playing...I can say, without any regret, that my fashion choice were somewhat questionable...

There was the standard face full of Glitter

The face full of glitter with carpi's

the fur

the poncho and leggings

the sequins jacket

the stevie nicks "white winged dove" scarf

and some other questionable decisions



 But wardrobe aside, being on a team was something I really missed when I first moved to the desert because I couldn't find any gay organized sports. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not heterophobic...I'm just not that good at sports and enjoy the social aspect of being on a team and showing up in fun outfits more than actually playing which was why i was perfect for any team because I never bitched about how much playing time I got (unless people were sick and I had to play the whole game...then I bitched).

So the other day I was talking to this guy I'm kinda sorta dating...I don't want to jinx it or jump the gun...but I'm pretty sure we're getting married. We were talking about this very subject and he says "You should join the Tucson Gay Football League, it's open play right now and all you have to do is show up and they'll put you on a team"

HOT DAMN!! Open play on a gay football team means with any luck, I MIGHT have to run up the field once! I figured there would probably be a bunch of U of A guys, some Raytheon people and perhaps even some military men so I dressed accordingly...jock strap, short shorts, rainbow New Balances, tank top and Dior sunglasses...I was ready for some football!!  

Saturday morning arrives and boyfriend is working so I make my way to the fields excited to meet new people and introduce them to Glitter Spice. I see the guys on the field and park my car, put my headphones on and casually sasche to the fields. As I approach I start to notice something is wrong...not wrong...just different. Obviously they are all starring at me (mission accomplished), some are laughing (standard) and most just look confused. But everyone was kind of...fat and unattractive...not what I'm used to seeing in gay organized sports. 

Guy 1:

You here for football?

Me:

I am!

Guy 2:

You know the rules?

Me:

I do, yea, I've played for like 3 years

Guy 1:

Ok great, you're on Juan's team

Me:

Sweet! Sean is Juan in Spanish. So ya know...takes Juan to know Juan!

(crickets...fat people have no sense of humor) 

They ask my what position I've played and I say "Rusher" and we get into the huddle. I always hate the huddle because it's always like their speaking Spanish...in this case they actually were so it didn't matter I didn't understand any of it. 

QB:

Seeeeeeet hut!

I go running towards the QB like I have done for 10,000 games before this and something very different happens...before I knew it was I was being hurled to the ground by a 6'4 380 lb Mexican and I go barreling towards the ground convinced I have ruptured my kidneys.

Me:

UMMMMM excuse me!?!? Penalty?! Flag?! He just tackled me!!

Ref:

Yea....and?

Me:

AND?!! You don't tackle people in gay football. what kind of crap is this!?

Guy 1:

Well, this isn't gay football.

Me:

What?

Guy 2:

Yea, the gay league plays during the fall. This is intermural contact football.

Me:

memo to self, dump fiancee

Oh, I'm sorry. I thought this was the gay league.

Guy 1:

No it's cool...you're still welcome to play...we're short a couple guys anyways this week so we could really use the extra man power.

Me:

So I would be on the field the whole game during contact football with fat guys while dressed like a go-go dancer in the middle of the ghetto?

Absolutely! I'd love to still pla- oooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Guy 1:

What's the matter?!

Me:

I think I twisted my ankle during that tackle...I should probably ice it....at home...with a bottle of champagne.

Guy 2:

Aw man, Ok bro, you take care of yourself!

Me:

And you...run a little bit more...

So that was my first/only experience playing Football in Tucson. I'm not sure what the future will hold in terms of me playing of the gay league during the fall, but one thing is for sure..."running" and "tackling' have no place in the world of football in my opinion. I think I'll just go back to blending in as a spectator.

I Need A Favor (No Money, I Promise)

You know I don't make special blogs for no reason so please know...this is a special one!

I get these updates from Blogger telling me how many people are reading my blog, where these people are, and how often they read it...today as you are reading this...you are 1 of 16,761 people in 23 different countries reading my blog. This is not me patting myself on the back. This is me taking the opportunity I have to each and everyone of you for a personal favor...no money needed...shouldn't take more than 60 seconds.

I want you to think of the word STRENGTH and form a picture in your mind. It could be physical strength (weight lifting, yoga, boxing) it could be mental strength (crunching numbers, problem solving) it could be emotional strength (dealing with a breakup)...I want you to think of the word STRENGTH in whatever capacity you can...the strongest amount of strength you can muster and I'd like you to put it in a teeny mental envelope and send it to me. I need it for my family.

My grandfather's family The Doherty's are the strongest people God ever put on the face of the earth. Stubborn as all hell, but strong. My grandfather is one of 8 siblings and is only one of 4 left. My grandfather's sister is currently in the hospital and her health is not the best. Now, I realize you get bombarded left, right and center for people asking you for LIKES on facebook or to forward chain emails and I personally hate those...so that's why I just want you to close your eyes and think of the word STRENGTH. To those of you in California and Arizona it could be this morning, for my Boston/NYC/Brazil friends it might be during your lunch hour, for my European and Middle Eastern friends it could be tonight when you're driving home (actually, I lied, don't close your eyes when you're driving home please) as for you readers in Australia...Honestly, I have no idea what time it is there...is it even still March?! Anywho...it could be right now.

I am not looking for a miracle...I am not looking for sympathy...I am looking for strength for my aunt, for her family...my family...our family. How do I know you have strength to give? Because I know you even if we have never met.

You are a unique stranger driven to my blog because you find humor in my everyday life and to find that humor takes strength.

You have gone to work with a smile on your face no matter how bad life is, and trust me it's been pretty shitty at times, because you have to and that, takes strength.

You are mothers, fathers, siblings, husbands, wives and family units and to deal with your family (and for your family to deal with you) takes strength.

You are Christians, Jews, Muslims, Atheists, Agnostics, Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians and to listen to what other people have to say even though you disagree with it and you know they're wrong takes strength. 

You are servicemen and women, fighting for our country in remote areas of the world not knowing if you are going to make it home to your loved ones and to wake up and keep fighting each day takes strength.

You are those servicemen and women's families...you have to maintain a normal life even though you are riddled with fear and anxiety over what the future hold but you march on...that, takes strength. 

You are my family and friends, you know me personally as both Sean and Glitter and Lord Knows...to deal with me takes strength.

You are 16,761 people that I am asking to come together today and send strength. No matter the outcome, no matter what happens, I know my family will need it and I know they will appreciate it.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart and promise that if you ever need strength from me, it is yours to have.

Very Sincerely,

Sean "Glitter" Doherty

The Nude Gay Art Show

So let's recap the past month shall we? I get a phone call while at work to fly home to Boston because my grandfather was in the hospital and went back to Boston for 5 days. Before leaving, I quickly text Roommate "Hey, family emergency in Boston, be back when I can." It was simple common courtesy! I wasn't expecting ANYTHING in terms of a "hope everything is OK" or "let me know if you need anything" because I have come to the realization that my Roommate is simply not human. In fact, my most recent description of him is for you to think about the Alien from Men In Black who tries and shoves himself inside of a human body but doesn't quite fit...that's Roommate.

So I return home from Boston after knowing that Francis J is going to be just fine but I return home to find the apartment empty. That was February 23rd.  A few days go by and I realize that Roommate is simply not home. His bed is perfectly made like he does everyday and none of his 17 measuring cups have been used and the rotated.  Also, the apartment actually starts to smell good so I know he can't possibly be cooking anything. I finally sleep several nights like a baby...a baby who usually gets woken up by strangers having sex in the room next door. I am actually really happy to have the apartment to myself and find new and interesting ways to appreciate the apartment that is usually so full of books, nerds, tricks and curry.

DANCE PARTY!

But after a few weeks, I started to get worried!! As much as I don't enjoy Roommate's company, I never wish harm upon anyone. (Trust me, if I wanted to hurt you I wouldn't wait for karma I'd do it myself). So I sent him a few texts. "Hey, haven't seen you in a while, all good?" No response. Now, it's nearing March 15th and I am getting ready for another planned trip to Boston and there is STILL no sign of Roommate. I'm worried. So then I remember about one of Roommate's pet peeves and figure maybe if I can anger him, he'll respond to scold me. Allow to elaborate:

When I moved in with Roommate, we each agreed to take one bill on our credit cards. He took electricity, I took water. Both bills are roughly $70/month give or take $5. Now, wouldn't you think that if I have one $70 and he has another $70 bill that we would just pay our respective bills and call it even?? ME FUCKING TOO. No no, Roommate insists that we give each other half of the money from the other bill and document the transaction. If anyone has any idea why he'd want to do that, I'm open for suggestions. Any who, the few times that I have been traveling or busy or whatever I'd just text him "Sorry, I forgot to send you half the water bill I'll just pay the whole thing right now." to which I'd INSTANTLY get a phone call asking why etc etc. So I figure I'll text him "Forgot to pay the water bill" and figured within 10 minutes I'd a text, a phone call, and a carrier pigeon all scolding me for my actions...it was the perfect plan!!

Nope, no response from Roommate.

So I send him one final text..."Heading back to Boston until Tuesday, hope everything is OK"

Ok, well...as worried as I might be...it was not going to intrude on my plans to fly home for St. Patrick's Day and show off my new biceps  enjoy some quality time with my family and friends!

I arrive home LATE Monday night instead of Tuesday morning as I originally thought. I am not sure why Arizona doesn't participate in Daylight Savings time or why no direct flights go to Tucson but all I know is...if I were to get on a non-stop flight from Boston and travel same amount of time it takes me to get to Tucson...I would be in INDIA. Obviously because I flew coach, I was given nothing but laughter from the first class passengers to dine on during my 15 hours of travel so I was STARVING and couldn't wait to make myself some food.

I arrive home and see a light on. Ok, I think to myself...this is a relief! I schlep my bags up the steps and set them on the doorstep, find my keys and open the door...and of course, there is Roommate stark naked in my living room surrounded by dudes.

Me:

Ummm, hi

Roommate:

Oh hey, thought you weren't getting back until tomorrow

Me:

I didn't understand the time changes

Roommate:

Oh

Me:

Yea...do you mind putting on some clothes? (there goes my thought of eating food....ever again)

Roommate:

Oh yea sorry. Do you want some wine?

Me:

Please don't touch anything further until I Lysol everything

Roommate:

Sorry I didn't get your texts. I was in Mexico volunteering for a student art project. I was only planning on going there for the weekend but then I met this group of art students and they were there on spring break so we were hanging out and then they wanted to do another piece so I invited them back here to sketch me. That's Loco, Luiz, Rocco, Chino and Nibbles. This is my roommate sh-

Me:

Maria...what? if this is the traveling group of West Side Story then I want to be Maria.

Roommate:

Well, I mean they are always looking for extra models

Me:

1) I don't like being naked in the shower

2) If this is an "art group"...why does nobody have art supplies and why is Rocco also not wearing clothes?

3) If they are "students" why does Nibbles look about 40 and have teardrop tattoos? Pretty sure that means he's killed people....I'm going to bed.

Roommate:

Wait, there's just one more thing

Me:

What?

Roommate:

You paid the whole water bill? I thought we talked about this?

Me:

We did. Remind me tomorrow and we can talk about you holding Mexican Art Student Painting Parties and maybe if we can agree on ending those, I'll think about not paying the whole water bill. Good night.

Luiz:

Buenas noches buen chico buscando

Me:

Ew

Children Of The Porn

I'd like to think I am always there for my friends. Before this gig, it was easy for me to jump on a plane and fly to whatever part of the world my friends were in if they felt that they needed me. Once, a friend in Norway got pregnant and the baby daddy left her and she just needed a friend...so a quick trip to Oslo got her feeling 100% better. Another time, a friend needed help moving on the hottest day in July and rather than working and making a bunch of extra money on the weekend, I saddled up my Cadillac and got that bitch relocated in a mere few hours.  Then there was the time that my best friend in the world got deported from the United Kingdom after taking his expired visa to Greece for 2 months to sleep with a bunch of chicks and then tried to get back to see one of the 10 Michael Jackson shows that never happened because he died...Michael Jackson...not my friend.

So when I got word that a friend of mine from Boston was going to be in LA for the weekend I knew that not matter what, I had to see him! Now, this isn't just any friend of mine...this is a friend with a VERY famous family. His grandparents were celebrities on the big screen during the hay day of Hollywood and he spent his summers at the home of a family friend of theirs, George Lucas. So when I got the invite (read: invited myself) to visit his family in LA LA Land, I was MORE than excited about the opportunity.

Ron:
Can't wait to see ya this weekend buddy! What airport you flying into?

Me:
Van Nuys, obvi...what do you think I started flying commercial?

Ron:
I'm flying commercial

Me:
Me too, I land in LAX at 7:30.

Ron:
Ok great, got a bunch of stuff planned...bring something fancy to wear.

OMG!! My friend with the famous family wants me to bring something fancy to wear in HOLLYWOOD!!! I started racking my brain on potential ideas.

I'm no stranger to red carpets...but this was an LA Red Carpet...I could barely contain myself on the 45 minute flight from Arizona and was so happy to see Ron when HIS DRIVER picked me up. This guy is class plus.


Ron:
So...did you bring a suit?

Me:
What? no good?

Ron:
No, I mean...you look...interesting...just not sure you're going to fit in

Me:
I'm a chameleon. I blend in wherever...so whats the event...Movie Screening? Gallery Opening?

Ron:
We're going to a funeral.

Me:
A what?

Ron:
A funeral. One of my friends dads passed away and we need to make an appearance.

Me:
Have I met this person?

Ron:
Were you at my birthday in January?

Me:
I was living in Arizona

Ron:
Ok then, no you haven't.

So here we are driving up the I-10 to Beverly Hills on my way to a friend of a friends father's funeral...not really the way I planned my fabulous LA vacation but I can adjust.  We arrive at the funeral and I notice something right off the bat...no body.

Me:
(whispering) where is the body?

Ron:
(whispering) in the ground. he's Jewish

Me:
(whispering) then what's with the priest?

Ron:
I have no fucking idea

Yes, Ron's friend Abraham Hebrewburg's father was in fact Jewish as was his mother...so the appearance of the priest was something I had to question.

Ron:
Abe, so sorry about your dad man.

Abe:
Thanks so much for coming. Is this your boyfriend?

Ron:
No, dude, I'm straight and married...You were in my wedding.

Abe:
Oh, yea sorry. Mom gave me a pill to help my nerves...I think it was Valium

Me:
I think it was angel dust......what?

Ron (looking offended):
You could do worse.

Me:
Yes I know I could- but we aren.... why are we even discussing this?!

So Abe explains to us that when his father passed away suddenly, there were no Rabbis available to bury the body by sundown so his mother thought it'd be 6 to 1 half dozen of the other...but this was BEVERLY HILLS...I cut off 5 Rabbis at baggage claim...this town is full of Jews! Well once the priest had buried the body his mother felt it rude to not have him do the service...but a Rabbi was en route as well.

So as Ron is talking to the family I make like the chameleon I am and try and assimilate myself into my surroundings. I do a circle of the room and I make a realization that I never thought I'd have the courage to say...there were A LOT of smokin hot chicks in this place. Not even joking, the ratio of hot women to unhot women was like 100:1. They all looked soooo fake, sooo plastic. I haven't seen this much platinum blonde hair since my sister bought a pack of extensions at Costco.

Where have I seen these girls before?? They weren't A-list stars...they weren't B-list stars...I couldn't think of it so I asked Ron if Abe's dad was in show biz.

Ron:
Yea, his dad worked as a movie director. Isn't it great to see how many of the stars he worked with came out to pay tribute to him? It's sweet.

Me:
It's definitely something but sweet is not the word I would use. Ron, these chicks are porn stars.

Ron:
What? No. His dad didn't direct porn! He made educational films.

Me:
Yea...SEX ED films!! Unless you count the one over there that did Dallas as a Geography film.

Ron:
You're being ridiculous. Plus, what would you know about straight porn anyways?

Me:
Ummm you're talking to the guy who at the age of 12 ordered $7,500 worth of the Spice Channel on his a/b cable box during one week of April vacation....I know a female porn star when I see one.

Ron:
Stop it. You're being silly. I have to go help Abe with the hot dogs.

Me:
HOT DOGS?!

Ron:
Yea. His dad really loved this hot dog place in Calabasas and he had them cater all of his parties so Abe thought it would be a nice send off to have them cater the reception.

Me:
And you see NOTHING odd about this? Nothing at all?

Ron:
No you're right! I know. I actually thought about it too; but Abe cleared it up.

Me:
Annnnnnd?

Ron:
Their all beef so they're Kosher.

Oh for Christ's sake....FINE! I'll see you inside the reception.

The reception was a hoot!! If I knew it was going to be a AVN convention I would have brought my camera! No no, that's mean. It was a solemn and sad event but a joyous celebration of a man's life who brought happiness to millions and millions of men and women (mostly men) and the kindred spirits that converged to celebrate the soul and legacy of this talented and dedicated filmmaker...while eating hot dogs.

What's My Age Again?

I have been called A LOT of things in my lifetime...and most of them at one time or another are true. Anti-social...is NOT one of the words that describes who I am.  Even back in the late 90's when I thought I was black, the early 2000's when all I wanted to do was be the 250lb member of the next great boy band or even in 2006 when I used to cut off all the sleeves of my shirts to make matching wristbands...I never wanted to be alone...I clearly just couldn't find friends.

Fast forward to present day and I am a mother-fucking social butterfly.

Even in Tucson Arizona, where the gay population consists of ONLY eighteen year olds and octogenarians, I have still found my niche in the social society.  Speed bumps like last weekend, however, make me fear for the next generation.

 I live in Lollipop Land. I say this because my "Luxury Under 30 Community" is in reality, expensive dorms.  When thrust into a job across the country that I had 16 days to report to and zero time to house hunt, I literally picked the WORST place in the world to live...in the WORST place in the world. Now, these are not labeled as "Student Housing" because that might ward off young professionals like myself. To me, Luxury Under 30 Community suggests urban professionals who don't quite have the means to afford purchasing a home but want the luxuries of a heated pool and gym to come home to after their medical residencies, entry level jobs, or grad courses. No no, this is the home of the University of Arizona where most freshman drive 5 series BMW's and the great academic scholars of Kourtney Kardashian and Nicole Richie are alumni...so for a radio DJ who in real life isn't making terrible money AT ALL...to the U of A kids I pretty much look like this:

Now, I have no idea how much money Roommate makes, I know he can afford pounds of horse meat, patchouli oil and probably the platinum membership subscription to "online buddies" but I know he does not make enough to afford dish detergent, laundry detergent, or Clorox wipes since he always seems to need to use mine. I do know that he can afford 50% of our rent and it isn't cheap. Aside from Roommate, I haven't really interacted with that many people in my complex because to be honest, they are all children.  If you think you have nothing in common with your neighbors, imagine listening to them discuss what their major is going to be or how excited they are to do SHOTS this weekend.

In the building's really nice gym, I get to re-live the bro's past weekend's shenanigans of "that chick from Delta Phi" and what a dick Professor Shultzman is for not passing his English Lit paper...

Now, I know what you're thinking...oh you're a DJ...you know celebrities and talk about Pop Culture all day...you must be in your glory. The answer to your thought is ABSOLUTELY NOT. While I love making money to feign interest in the lives of talentless people, rest assured that is not the topic of conversation I am looking to strike up with people I socialize with.  My few conversations with the children have resulted in the following excerpts:

Lost Boy:

So do you like wanna come over and drink later?

Me:

Umm, ok...want me to bring wine?

Lost Boy:

Sure.

Me:

What kind?

Lost Boy:

White

Me:

Ok...any preference?

Lost Boy:

Ah yea...white?

Me:

Yea, what kind of white?

Lost Boy:

Oh, I didn't know there were different kinds.

Me:

Yup Sport, there are.

(I did NOT go to his apt for wine)

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

Girl 1:

So we're having a party later, do you want to come?

Me:

Oh, no thanks. I'm really busy.

Girl 2:

Omg, no, it'll be totally bitchin. Come on, stop by!!

Me:

Ok fine, you want me to bring anything?

Girl 1:

Omg yes!! We've been trying to find someone to buy us booze for like a month!

(I did NOT buy them alcohol) 

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



Guy 1:

So, what do you do for work?

Me:

I'm a radio DJ

Guy 2:

Aw dude that's bitchin (apparently this is the hot word with the youth today)

Me:

Yup...bitchin

Guy 1:

So, what kind of music do you play?

Me:

Well, one station is like Top 40...the other station is 90's music

Guy 2:

So like oldies?

(I did, in fact, murder them both for calling the Spice Girls "Oldies") 

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

So apparently, to these children, I'm a dinosaur. And I'm actually OK with that because up until this point, I use my apartment as a work week base and spend my money on hotels rooms and trips on the weekends.  I was talking to a co-worked of mine who asked me what I was doing this weekend.

Me:
Ritz-Carlton. Frozen Drinks...Evian Spritz..the usual. You?

Co-Worker:
Going to dinner at MY COMPLEX

Me:
Oh, what's bringing you there?

Co-Worker:
This guy I'm seeing. He's a little younger than I am.

Now, she is a very attractive and extremely sweet 45 year old. Nobody in my complex could be near her age unless she's dating the security staff.

Me:
Oooh how fun!! How much younger??

Co-Worker:
He's 33

LIES MRS. ROBINSON!! LIES!! 

Co-Worker:
We've been seeing each other a few weeks. We mostly just stay at my place but since my house is getting worked on this weekend I suggested we stay at his place.

Me:
Oh, and what's he do?

Co-Worker:
He's in accounting

Me:
Yea. Accounting 101. 
Well, you know that's the complex I live in right? You guys should come over for a drink!!

Co-Worker:
Oh?? Umm...well...I'm sure we'd love to...it's just that...well I might have told him I was a bit younger than I am.

Me:
How old did you say you were?

Co-Worker:
34?

Me:
To what power? 
Oh, well...I mean...I'm not going to say anything

Co-Worker:
Oh great, I'll tell him and we'll be by about 9.

Me:
If it isn't past his bedtime 

So 9 rolls around and I open a bottle of Riesling and I hear a knock at the door. It's Co-Worker and her beau. Beau I immediately recognize from the gym and can, without a doubt, claim that he is no older than 22...old enough to buy booze...not yet graduated college. 

She...looks like JonBenet Ramsey.

Co-Worker:
Hi Sean!! This is Trent.

Trent realizes I know he's a toddler and immediately tries to strike up a mature conversation.

Trent:
Oh Sean, I see you have the V12 CTS...I got an AMG G55 myself.

Me:
I have no idea what any of those words mean. Do you want wine?

So to recap - sitting in front of me is my 45 year old co-worker pretending to be 34 and my 22 year old neighbor pretending to be 33. I couldn't think of anything that could make it more awkward. But I didn't have to think anymore because IN WALKS ROOMMATE!

Roommate:
Hi Sean, Hi Trent, don't mind me...I'm just going getting some books and then I have to head back out to library.

Me:
Wait, how does he know Trent? Roommate doesn't go to the gym/in the sun. The only people he talks to are his random hookups and his students. Oh my god no!! No!! Trent is one of Roommate's students! Please don't say anything Roommate, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE just for once in your life, be cool!

Roommate:
So Trent, the TA tells me you were looking for some tutoring in economics, I have some other staff looking around for you but I'll let your academic advisor know.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKK

Co-Worker:
What's he talking about?

Trent:
Ummmm

Roommate:
Oh, I'm sorry...are you his mom? Did you not know he was failing?

THANK YOU ROOMMATE, YOU CAN GO NOW!!

Co-Worker:
Did you lie to me about you age?

Trent:
Maybe

Co-Worker:
Oh my god, how old are you?

Trent:
24

Me:
You're a 24 year old sophomore? Are you some sort of retarded? 

Co-Worker:
Oh my god! I can't believe you are 24. I can't believe you lied to me!

Trent:
I know, I'm sorry!! It's just that when you said you were 34 I didn't want you to think I was too young for you.

Roommate:
You're not really 34 are you? Wow. You look awful.

Me:
Roommate, fuck off!

Roommate leaves and I look at co-worker to see if she'll do the right thing. Just be upfront and honest with him and explain to him that you're in a bad place with your love life and you wanted to attract a younger man so you took the opportunity and faked your age just like he did! Totally understandable!! You guys could be the next Ashton and Demi!

Co-Worker:
I need to be honest with you Trent...I can't be with someone who lies. I think you need to go.

Trent:
But I...

Co-Worker:
GO!!

So Trent leaves and I look at co-worker and realize, a woman will take her real age to the grave...along with any man who threatens to reveal it.