Update: Clubbing is a go

I am going clubbing on Friday. My friend Sean and I are going together, which will be awesome. Much frivolity will be had! :)

Even if I have to go alone, I'm going. I'm a rut these days, and a little gay thumpa-thumpa is what I need.

Update the next day: And it looks like our two female friends, Kitty and Softy will be going as well. Gays and girls - as God intended it.

Where nobody knows your name

I was in the car coming back from my sister's ice skating rink, when the radio had an uber-gay moment. They played back-to-back Womanizer, Lady Gaga (Just Dance), and Circus.

I realized, in that moment, while my sister sang along (she doesn't know the words) that I need to go clubbing. I need some hot, sweaty, random glee in my life, the likes of which I only find in dance clubs.

Really, if I could go anywhere, it would be this great "new" dance club in north DC called, "Town." Side note: I like how winner-clubs are one-word now. We're obviously too stupid to remember two-word titles.

It's one of the largest gay clubs in the city. On the one hand, it's not in the typical gay-ghetto, Dupont Circle, which features club "Apex" - a respectable club that's good for drag. On the other hand, it's so much happier, more energized, and... well, gay.

Plus, the men are at least 10 year younger there than anywhere else. It's a club made for circuit boys.



So yeah - if I don't get some clubbing in my system immediately, I'm going to lose my mind. Please deposit sweaty man-grind into my life, kthxbai.

Post-split II: Steps to recovery

Ladies, listen up - take it from the master:

When you do depression or have regular sad days (which are more frequent in the North now that the Sun is barely up at all), do it right. Take this - part two to theKnow-it-all guide to getting over him/her/it:

1. First, put down the spoon and step away from the Haagen-Dazs. Frozen yogurt, carrot sticks, pretzels (watch the salt)... all these are better for you. Now that you're alone, you'll probably want to be skinny. No one likes a fatty, and by now, there's a good chance that you are one.

2. Second, this is the perfect time for an eating disorder. Going to the gym is time consuming, and you need all the hours you can to sit home and cry. Cry a lot - it's good for you. Since you won't be going to the gym, and as even frozen yogurt can go straight to your hips, purge frequently.

P.s. Pro-tip: Use Febreze in the bathroom after to freshen.

3. Finally, for now, spend a lot of time by yourself. Some say use other people as healthy distractions from your pain, but if you're like me, you probably got yourself into trouble by being too friendly with people anyway.

Try wallowing in your misery for a while. This will not only give you lots of time to think about what you did (like a child's time-out!), but it will probably make you sad enough to really do step two well enough. Pair sadness with purging - match made in heaven.


That's all for now - try my proven method of getting over men. It worked for me - I shed even more weight after I lost my guy than before I did. You can even see my ribs - fun!

Good luck, ladies/gentleman/undecided, and happy binge-purging!

Happy Festivus from all of us

... and by us, I mean me. On this, the holiday of honesty (except when receiving bad gifts), I probably shouldn't tell such lies.

I hope you are finished wrapping your presents and preparing your no-carb, sugar-substitute cookies for Santa Clause. Remember - tomorrow (technically today if you're east of me) is a sacred day of consumerism and greed. It's the most important of our American traditions.

Respect it - and Merry Christmas, kids.



P.s. I got an email about this actually being a religious holiday about birthdays or something like that. Who knew?

The end of an era

(( I'm posting this because I think the name is gay-appropriate ))

Today, W. Mark Felt died - he was "Deep Throat" in the famous Watergate scandal. And as I'm sure at least half of my readers either don't know who I'm talking about, or think "Watergate" is a deviant sexual act...

... your homework is to look it up and learn what you can. Dismissed, kids.

A tree grows in my vestibule

Literally, there is a tree in my vestibule. Of course, it's been stripped, bleached, dyed, and bound into these otherwise useless phone books, but hot damn, it's still a tree!

I hear the internet is losing steam and people are flocking back to "the good 'ole" methods of communication. Letter writing and newspapers are in - blogs (oh no!) and emails are out.

Just as the 80s have unfortunately returned in popular fashions and music, so too have these remnants of a bygone era come back to haunt us. I'm thinking about exchanging my energy-saving car for a gas-guzzling American car and moving out to a suburb - God's land!


To be honest, though, were I not a sarcastic bitch, I probably would have picked up one of those phone books just to say I owned one.

Too soon? Uh uh!

Anna Nicole Smith - I miss her... she was so batsh*t crazy in her day. Many thanks to the swarthy gentlemen (heh) who reminded me of this.

Newcomer gays, give respect where it is due. This woman defined an era (the late nineties) as a woman who defined the odds, thus paving the way for millions of girls to sell their bodies for money and grow up to be whores. She is the American dream - she saw something she wanted (which definitely wasn't her late husband), and she got it.

Her struggle in court for her husband's money was spectacular. All should note that she was wronged by not receiving the Emmy that year for Best Performance in a Trial when her greedy in laws tried to take back her hard earned money.

She made it okay to be insane, to lose weight on the revolutionary Trimspa/crack diet, and to make money by whatever means necessary. Every slut with her ankles in the air owes this pioneer a debt of gratitude.

Honey, here and now, I salute her for outstanding contributions to moral society in this country. God speed, kiddo.