It's The One!

I'm totally speechless over Kylie's new song "The One."



I also LOVE the ballad version of "I Believe In You"

You Give Me Fever, Still

This week mark's the 15th anniversary of the release of Madonna's "Erotica" album and her sex campaign. Accompanied with the SEX book, Girlie Show world tour and the film "Body of Evidence," 1992-93 found Madonna at the height of her fame, landing her on the covers of Vogue, Vanity Fair and Newsweek. Sadly, this publicity saturation eclipsed a very phenomenal album. Upon its release Rolling Stone gave "Erotica" 4 stars, calling it brilliant. Other critics were not as kind and the album was a commercial "disappointment," selling only six million copies.

It's one of my absolute all-time favorite albums, which, after 15 years, still gives me fever.

Groundhog Day

Another Monday, another day at work.

New Kylie!

Finally! Kylie's new single and video, 2 Hearts!

Banks For Nothing

This past Sunday, as I was enjoying the extended weekend, I swung by a Bank of America ATM with some friends to get some more booze money. After reluctantly accepting the inexplicable three dollar surcharge, the machine failed to fully eject my card; leaving it visible but unobtainable. A friend of mine, who works in the banking industry, carelessly said, “No problem. I can get it out with my keys.” Immediately after jamming his keys into the machine it swallowed my card and informed me it was keeping it. I can't believe that didn't work. It also failed to give me any money.

Two days without a debit card is a long time, especially when there's beer to be had. Cut to Tuesday -- when the real fun begins. I arrive at the Bank of America and inform the teller of the bank’s ravenous ATM. He sifts through a large stack of cards the machine has gobbled up only to tell me that mine is not there. I describe the card to him. “It’s a dark blue Wachovia card and the machine took it Sunday,” I slowly and loudly explain to him. “Oh,” he gasps. “Since it happened two days ago and it’s not a Bank of America card, it was destroyed.”

Super. So now I have to order a new card. I hop across Dupont Circle and head to the Wachovia on Connecticut Ave. After being directed to costumer service I tell the employee my card was destroyed and I need a new one. She immediately cancels my account and starts to create a new one when I tell her I just want a new card. “Oh,” she says, “You need costumer service for that.” “But you are costumer service,” I remind her. “No, you need national costumer service.” Jesus. She takes me to a corner desk with a phone, dials the number and takes a step back. At this point I’m glad I didn’t shower before I started my journey. A few minutes later my account has been restored and my new card ordered, which will be swiftly delivered to me in seven to 10 business days. I should have it by Christmas.

Sadly, my bank excursion did not end then. Inside my backpack I was carrying a box of change. I should have known to not even ask the tellers at Wachovia. Such a task as dumping a box of change into an automatic coin counter is far too strenuous for them. So I headed to Commerce bank, where I proudly converted my nickels and dimes into quarters so I can finally do laundry.

And by noon I had visited three banks in one hour, two of which I don’t even have accounts at.

A Final Plea For 'Liza With a Z'

Will no one go with me to see Liza? Tickets are only $50 and you know it's going to be an amazing show that we'll never forget. Sadly, the same can't be said for Liza. That old girl doesn't know where she is half the time. The show is Saturday, Oct. 27, in Baltimore and this is the LAST chance you'll ever get to see her. She's already half dead. I hope she sings Don't Drop Bombs!

Work Those Delts Baby

This is how I start my day every single morning.

Masterpiece Theater: Vol. 3

Like a cold sore that won't go away, Undressed is back! And this episode has the best romantic line ever; it involves badminton.

Well Fuck Me!

After a bizarre dream last night that consisted of my family stealing a boat and me running around with a naked baby that wouldn’t stop shitting, I woke up this morning craving Cracklin’ Oat Bran. I don’t see the correlation either but I had Cracklin’ Oat Bran on the brain and I wasn’t going to stop until I had some Cracklin’ Oat Bran.

After dressing myself in whatever clothes I found on the floor I ran to Safeway without brushing my teeth. Despite my horrid morning breath I didn’t want anything to deter from the sweet taste of Cracklin’ Oat Bran.

I was shocked when I came across the newly redesigned box of Cracklin’ Oat Bran in the appalling under-stocked cereal aisle in the super market. It was more surprising than a rusty trombone. There it was; a box of Cracklin’ Oat Bran, $6. Six dollars! Six dollars for a box of cereal that was only 17 ounces; barely larger than a pound. What the hell is this world coming too when Cracklin’ Oat Bran costs more than actual crack?

Ray Of Greenlight

I normally don't like covers, especially of Madonna songs. Why bother trying to alter perfection? But this is truly the most beautiful rendition of Ray of Light I've ever heard. Sadly, Darren Hayes' pitch-perfect voice reminds me of the days when Madonna used to be able to hit the high notes on her own songs. She hasn't sounded this good in too long of a time.



And in non-Madonna related music news, as if that's possible, I'm currently obsessed with the Freemasons remix of Greenlight.

Happy Birthday Madonna!

Madonna Nation: Vol. 3

So here it is, my all-time favorite Madonna video. It's really a no brainer. It was directed by my good friend Mary Lambert. We're tight.

Like A Prayer. Directed by Mary Lambert (1989)

Madonna Nation: Vol. 2

Before revealing my all-time favorite Madonna music video, here are numbers three and four on my list. Once again, Jean-Baptiste Mondino, who has only directed seven of Madonna's videos, pops up again on the list, twice.

Human Nature. Directed by Jean-Baptiste Mondino (1994)


Justify My Love. Directed by Jean-Baptiste Mondino (1990)

Madonna Nation: Vol. 1

This Thursday, Madonna turns 49! To celebrate, and because I love countdowns, I'm posting my five favorite Madonna music videos. Having made over 50 videos, selecting five -- just the five -- was a nearly impossible task.

I'm aware that some of these choices are controversial. Aric loathes "Don't Tell Me," saying it's another "walking" video, but I think it has some of the most beautiful scenery and choreography of anything she's ever done, and the bass line corresponding with the direction is brilliance. As for "Bad Girl," I'm aware that it is the stereotypical and perennial favorite among die-hard fans, like myself, because it is her most autobiographical video. Not to mention the fact that it features a dancing Christopher Walken, long before -- eight years to be exact -- he boogied down for Fatboy Slim.

Don't Tell Me. Directed by Jean-Baptiste Mondino (2001)


Bad Girl. Directed by David Fincher (1993)

Every Heartbeat Belongs To You

Remember "show me love" Robyn? She's got a great new single -- "With Every Heartbeat" -- and video, which I think was directed by Gumby.

Download an MP3 of it here.



This song is screaming for some killer remixes.

Today Is So Yesterday

When I was in high school I was a huge fan of the Today show. I loved waking up each morning and getting that day's top news stories from Matt, Katie and Ann. On my birthday, I’d watch the program from start to finish, as Katie and I celebrated our special day together. But a few years ago, I stopped watching the Today show. It had nothing to do with the departure of Katie, but instead, of the departure of actual news.

Earlier this week, I woke up at 6 a.m. to go stand in line to get my passport -- only to be turned away and told to come back 2 days before my flight. (When I arrived home, I found an e-mail saying my passport had been processed and I’d receive it the following day. The two events were not related.) But since I was already up, I turned on Today and thought I’d give it another chance. Surely, I presumed, at least the first hour would be have some hard news.

I was wrong. At 7:10 Matt was interviewing John McCain, who answered a few questions about his sinking ship of a campaign, but mainly spoke about his new book. I changed the channel and didn’t return until 7:30, when Matt was conducting another “exclusive” interview. No, he wasn’t having a tête-à-tête with Desmond Tutu or former Secretary of State Madeline Albright, but was talking with the boy who caught Hank Aaron’s record-breaking homerun baseball.

Suddenly, I remembered why I turned my back on the show years ago. I was reminded of previous hard-hitting news stories about men who cry, the best way to remove bunions and the differences between various cuts of meat.

So what happened to Today? A few years ago, USA Today published a front-page story asking the same question; criticizing the show's lack of hard news. You know things are bad when USA Today is commenting on your lack of credibility. In my opinion, the show went downhill long before Katie jumped ship, but when Al Roker moved from weather reader to "journalist."

In September, Today is adding another hour of programming; expanding the show to 4 hours each day. With even more time to fill, be sure to look for groundbreaking exposes on blue vs. black ink, the loudest birds, and how to get your wainscoting looking its brightest.

Didn't I already see this story on the cover of TIME?

Masterpiece Theater: Vol. 2

I know what you’re thinking: How could the writers of “Undressed” top the gay jock storyline. Well, believe it or not, they actually did. Unlike the previous installment, which wasted the first few minutes establishing characters and plot, this episode cuts right to the sex -- and stays there. It isn’t until 5 minutes into it that the writers realize they need a storyline. I won’t tell you what it is, but believe me, you won’t see it coming. Seriously, you won’t. There is no foreshadowing indicating the future of the story. One of the boys could have ripped off his face and revealed himself to be Pia Zadora and it would have made just as much sense.

Part 1


So will Barry the Fairy win the heart of his Tinkerbell? And how the hell are these former high school students accidentally running into each other at the same hostel in Europe?

Part 2


OK, so the blond guy is hot. And what happened to Barry’s contacts? He’s such a pessimist. Just because his glasses are smashed into two separate pieces does not mean they are broken – by far my favorite part of the episode.

Props to the video editor who cut the girl out whenever she had something important to say.

No Comment

This is ridiculous, seriously.

Two (Gorgeous) Face

Praise the lord! August recess is here. It's been a long journey getting here, and this past week has been unbearable. Don't let this pretty face fool you, with last-minute edits, swapping out photos, computer crashes, internet crashes, a flood of superfluous comas and other hyperbolic punctuation, this high-powered low-level editor almost cracked, and nearly took all of his co-workers with him.

Let’s Keep Your BM on the DL

Someone above my pay grade at work, who is everyone I work with, has a terrible habit of conducting conversations in the most inappropriate of places; the bathroom. Now while I love to gab as much as the next girl, the porcelain lined walls of the poo depository is not the place. It’s one thing to strike up a conversation at the urinals – with dividers, of course – but it’s quite another to actually talk to someone while you’re sitting down revisiting lunch.

I’ve been trapped in this scenario a few times and never know what to do. I could easily leave. He can’t see me. But then I’d miss whatever important work he’s talking about. “We’re having an ad -- KABLAMO -- problem on page 9,” he muddles under a cataclysmic symphony of bowel release.

As the sounds ricochet off the bathroom walls, somehow climbing an octave higher with every new deposit, I start to sing “Holiday” in my head and brace myself for the overpowering smell that will soon be embedded in my nostrils, and my memory.

Just Jack

To Bill Bradsky, I mean, Jack McFarland. You were Buddy Cole, Paul Lynde and Cher all rolled up into one juicy casserole, with a dash of Liza for extra spice.

Destination: My Head

Love it!


I'm so ashamed for not including Kylie on this blog until now. Nobody tell her!

The Greatest Story Ever Told

For those of you who wonder if you’ll ever find true love, here is some inspiration. Forget “Brokeback Mountain” and every other love story you’ve seen, this is the definitive gay tale; one that truly depicts the plight of the gay man.

The only thing better than the storyline is the acting. Someone call Jack Nicholson and tell him he needs to return his three Oscars, we have some new best actors. And the writing is out of this world. It has an unbelievable twist halfway through that you will NEVER see coming.

Part 1.


Dying to see how it turns out? Will Henry dump Brian for Nate? Do you even know which one is Henry and which one is Brian? Below is the exciting conclusion. I suggest getting a box of tissues in advance.

Part 2.


I think we've all learned an important lesson: The way to a man's heart is through chess. Bishop to Rook four. Hey, save that salty talk for the bar.

I Totally Want To Be Her For Halloween

Finally, some new dance moves. I was getting tired of having to do the dance steps to "Holiday" for every song the DJ played. I am gonna look so cool on the dance floor this weekend. Now all I need are two sidekicks. Otherwise, I'll look just plain silly.

Put The Candle Back!

Megan Mullally, a.k.a Karen Walker, is going to star in the musical version of "Young Frankenstein" this fall on Broadway. She's going to play Elizabeth. I can't think of a better person to replace Madeline Kahn. I'm so excited. Here's one my favorite scenes from the movie.

I Promise, This Is The Last Madonna Entry -- For A While

This past Saturday was absolutely beautiful. The weather was a humid 90 degrees, making it the perfect day to spend lounging at the pool or canoing down the Potomac River. It was a great day to be outside enjoying nature. I, however, was inside watching TV for 10 hours.

But don't worry, I wasn't alone. I had my closest friends with me. They were all there: Johnny Walker, Jim Beam and, of course, Madonna -- who was 12 hours late. I haven't paid such close attention to a clock since my last blood test, or, since I was at the beach, where it was 11:46 for days.

All day, I was glued to Live Earth waiting for Madonna to make another jaw-dropping performance, which she easily did, at least, from what I remember. Bravo edited the hell out of her "Hung Up" performance; defying all laws of physics. She was at the end of the catwalk singing, then in the next shot, was back on the main stage with her army of dancers. I find this sudden transportation impossible. Then again, she is God, I mean, Madonna.

Intervention

So what do you do when your daughter is the most famous woman in the world? Well, for Silvio (Tony) Ciccone, you don't live off your child's money -- after all, you have your Italian pride to consider. Instead, you start a business -- with her money -- and sell products with her picture on them to boost sales.

This is not a joke. Maddy's daddy -- yes, the very one she lambasted against in "Oh, Father" and "Papa Don't Preach" -- has a vineyard in Michigan; a state known for motor oil, not Merlot. At first Tony began Ciccone Vineyard with simple Michigan wines, but after business continued to falter, he realized that slapping a picture of his Goddess daughter might sell a few bottles. Um, ya think?


Of course I want to order every bottle. I want all things Madonna. Earlier this year she made it easier for her to expand into my wardrobe, although I still haven't decided on a t-shirt. Eventually, I want everything I own to be Madonna related. I wonder if she'll ever come out with Madonna soap-on-a-rope or Madonna whitening strips? I'll take 8!

By George, I Think He's Got It

I don't want to overshoot this -- that's what she said -- but I think this might be the greatest film ever made. Take that Citizen Kane! And while I haven't actually seen the movie yet, just watching the trailer alone is enough to instantly convince me.

Within the first few seconds it's blatantly clear that the film's budget was a non-issue, as the director only had 6 dollars, Canadian. Something else he threw out the window; talent. He must have rounded up every neighbor, cousin and hobo he could find to fill the parts of this horrendous cast. Since the actors can't act, I can only come to the conclusion that the director put all his effort into the movie's very original plot.

It's Web site describes the film as; "Set in the near future, Uncivil Liberties shows a United States where the government resorts to heightened surveillance of its own citizens in the name of security, while domestic extremists boldly rebel and take up arms in resistance."

My God, that just blew my mind! How in the world did he come up with such an organic idea that really sheds light on the country's current problems and even foreshadows its very probable, dismal future? He must be a witch.

Maybe we wouldn't be in the mess we're in now if only he'd made his eye-opening movie years ago, say, in 1984.

Please Rain On My PARADE

I’ve finally hit the big time. After clawing my way to the second from the bottom of CD’s masthead – thank God that intern showed up -- people are starting to recognize that I’m a big shot editor. Why else would I be sent a copy of this week’s PARADE magazine two days before the general public throws it away -- I mean reads it -- in Sunday’s paper. I don’t think just anyone can get an advance copy of such a prestigious periodical, especially when it contains a sexy article on Congress and health care.

Strike A Pose

When I say action, I want you to turn to the camera with a look of sheer shock. You've just been abandoned by your owner, your water bottle is empty, your exercise wheel is spinning out of control and you fear you're entire life exists just to entertain others -- but you keep it all inside.

Jesus Christ, It's Only Wednesday

This is exactly what I look like in front of my computer screen at work. Where's my scotch?

Till Death Do Us Part

The other day I played the Oregon Trail for the first time since the 4th grade. But instead of filling my wagon with my idiotic peers, I decided to make the journey with my favorite divas: Madonna, Kylie, Dannii and Bjork. I can't think of a better group of people to drive cross country with. Being pop stars, they wouldn't each much, and I'd save a bunch of money on clothing because Bjork could turn a bear or dead Indian into the latest haute couture outfit.

Things started off well but quickly took a turn for the worst. We were just trying to get to Walla Walla Washington to do some sight seeing; get from point A to point B -- do a little shopping in between.

But before long, Bjork had dysentery, which she would not shut up about. Dannii had diarrhea and Madonna broke her arm, again. They demanded water -- fresh water -- and were rude to every Indian who tried to help us. Madonna was by far the most helpful. Having spent all that time fox hunting on her estate in England made her an expert at shooting deer. Too bad she wasn't strong enough to carry back more than 12 pounds.

We had almost reached our destination of scenic Walla Walla when it happened. Out of nowhere, Madonna died. Just reading that on the screen nearly sent tears to my eyes. I really don't like the idea of her dying, even in a crappy 80s video game.

But for those of you who have been rolling your eyes, and I know who you are, here is a clip from Evita that shows my greatest fear. Enjoy, and if you do, don't ever speak to me again.

You Got Served

I do, I do, I do, I do, I do

I was quite surprised to see this wedding announcement in last Saturday's Times. It wasn't because the couple was gay -- they've been printing those since 2003 when Tony Kushner "married" his partner and fellow writer Mark Harris. What shocked me was how beautiful these two women were. Who knew lesbians cleaned up so well. See what they could look like if they just spent a bit more time at the Lancome counter at Macys instead of Home Depot.

Like all articles in the Vows section, this one goes into detail as to how the couple met. No, they didn't meet at a Nascar race or shopping for driveway sealant at Lowes, but through a mutual friend at a Christmas party. Mary, 37, the brunette, left the party that evening thinking she was "happy there was a gay woman in New York who was pretty and smart and that I hadn't dated." Apparently, Mary is a slut. This is without a doubt the first time I've ever been able to identify with a lesbian.

The rest of their tale is one of the oldest stories in the world. Mary invites Leslie, 48, out for drinks. Mary gives Leslie a choice of three different places, to which Leslie is "pretty sure from the names that all the wines came with a screw-off top" -- just like Mary.

Unfortunately, the announcement doesn't say who designed the brides' gowns. But one thing that is obvious is that the ladies were too busy with their own garments to weigh in on the clergy's attire, who clearly stole her slip-and-slide inspired tarp from Maya Angelou's closet.

Butter Me Up

A Madge And Me And You

Well, it's finally happened. After working at CongressDaily for 13 years now, I've finally gotten Madonna into the newspaper. It's been a long time coming. Oh sure, I've hinted at her in issues past in headlines. I've even written a page with every headline referring to one of her songs. Thank god for the current immigration debate. It's allowed "borderline" to take on a whole new meaning. I guess I should thank my "lucky stars." Oh now Jason stop. You have gone too far. Or, have I not gone far enough?

Anyway, I nearly shat myself when I received a press release saying Mary Lambert has made a documentary about all the women of the Senate. Makes sense. Her sister is a senator. But before she set her sights on Congress, Mary directed some of Madonna's best music videos, including Like a Virgin and Like a Prayer.

Wednesday I spent an hour sifting through AP images looking for the best picture of Madonna to run with the article. It was truly the happiest moment of my life. Or it will be, until next week, when I sit down with Mary to pretend to interview her about her movie and sister, when I'll really be there to gossip about Madonna. It will be the closest I'll ever get to my Madge.

So Let It Be Written, So Let It Be Done

Each summer I try to pick a song that is my official tune for that season. This year I've chosen Sophie Ellis Bextor's "Me and My Imagination." I know what you're thinking: that I've trashed Sophie and her music for years, and you're right. But now that she's lost a ton of weight and is super skinny, dyed her hair back to its original color -- thank God -- and has let it grown out, and has actually produced a catchy song, I've begun to like her. This worries me though. Who else could I possibly begin to soften to? If you ever hear me singing along to Jessica Simpson, Joss Stone or Avril Lavgine, shoot me.

Oh, and the video is adorable too. Maybe I'll be her for Halloween.

www.homohouse.com

So I saw this ad on Craigslist and totally went bitchcakes! What a sweet set up this would be. It has a bar room -- ROOM!! Santa Maria! Numerous decks, bathrooms, bedrooms, libraries, parlors. Whew! And split 5 ways, it actually isn't that expensive. But to make ends meat -- pun intended -- I would install cameras all over the place and set up a Web site called homohouse.com, patent pending. Within a month we'd have so much money our landlord could suck it, which would be a very special episode in the fall and require a $10 pay-per-view surcharge.

$7000 / 5br - CALL TODAY TO SEE THE GORGEOUS MANSION!!
Reply to: fas3401@aol.com
Date: 2007-05-30, 12:13PM EDT

This absolutely FABULOUS renovated HISTORICAL Mansion is Available June 1st has too many OUTSTANDING features to list but here are a few. . .

*1st Floor
*HUGE Foyer
*Magnificent GRAND STAIRCASE
*HUGE Twin Living Rooms (Parlors)
*Bar Room
*MARBLE Bathroom with ORIGINAL CLAW FOOR TUB
*Library/Bedroom

*2nd Floor
*HUGE Bedroom
*Large ALL MARBLE Bathroom
*HUGE Eat-In Kitchen with ALL AMENITIES and MATCHING GRANITE FLOORS and COUNTERTOPS
*Formal Dining Room
*Outside Deck

*3rd Floor
*HUGE Bedroom
*Large Storage Closet
*Full MARBLE BATHROOM
*HUGE 2nd Bedroom with Deck
*Private Rooftop Deck
*Circular Staircase through back of House off Deck

Additional Features on the House are:
*5 Skylights
*3 Separately zoned A/C/ Systems
*Washer and Dryer
*Wine Cellar
*Thermal Pane Windows
*Original Hardwood Floors Throughout

Please contact Robert at 412-401-1034 to schedule an appointment or email us at esmgt@aol.com

17 St NW at P St

Children Of The Torn

I've been saying this since I was 13. "I hate children." Even as a child I hated children. And today my hatred of them only intensified when my new pair of Banana Republic pants got a hole in them. Children are bad at everything. They can't even do a simple hem. Now I have to take my pants to a tailor to be repaired. A Chinese tailor, of course. I'm no fool.

I Don't Know, Maybe This Is Too Much

Buddy Cole, I Miss You

Reach Out And Touch Someone

This cleary shows why this was one of the greatest shows on television. (Just watch the first two minutes.)

Within A Few Weeks You Can Look Like Me

People are always asking me how I stay so thin. “Jason,” they say, “How can I be as skinny as you? I want to be thin enough to sleep in a dresser drawer.” Well, after much persuasion, I am finally giving up my secret to obtaining a nearly transparent waistline. The secret is exercise. I’ve created a workout schedule that both pushes your body and rewards you for working hard.

Every night after work I run to the liquor store. This isn’t exactly by choice. Seeing as how I get off work at 10 and liquor stores close at 10 – and I can’t control time and space, yet – I have to make a mad seven-block dash just to get some beer.

And there isn’t a second to spare. As soon as I leave my office I set foot to pavement and start hoofing it as quickly as possible. So if you’re ever in my neighborhood around 10 p.m. on a weeknight and see a thin man running down the sidewalk, arms akimbo, in black trousers and Ferragamo shoes, tie and tongue waging, don’t stop and say hello, because I will push you out of my way.

And the reward I mentioned earlier -- you guessed it -- exercised never tasted so good.

This Decision Is Worse Than Sophie's Choice

I didn't think it was possible to love Madonna any more than I already do, but then she goes and does this and bam -- I'm smitten all over again. I feel like the Grinch when his heart grew 10 times too big. I better be careful, though. An enlarged heart is a serious medical condition.

Finally, something original to put in my wardrobe.

Which one should I buy?
Shirt One
Shirt Two
Shirt Three (has a pic on the back)

I think the third one is my favorite?

FREEZE! This is a set up!

As much as I like to write, I don’t like putting words in other people’s mouths. I’d much rather put something other than my thoughts in those delicious, watery holes. But what I’m talking about are On-Demand compliments – patent pending – which I am no longer responding to.

An On-Demand compliment is when a person makes a negative comment about himself for the sole purpose of soliciting a positive comment from someone else. For example, if I wanted my friends to say something nice about my fantastic body, I would tell them I thought I was fat – and just like ordering up the Sopranos on my Comcast On-Demand – they would automatically answer: “That’s ridiculous. You are anything but fat.”

Over the years I’ve developed an acute ear for such set ups. The girl who wishes the size 4 dress was made in her size, only to hear me respond what a knock-out body she already has. The boy who claims no one wants to date him because he’s too ugly, only to hear me tell him how adorable he is. The wife who throws a dinner party and apologizes for only making three desserts. You get the point.

In fact, I was recently discussing On-Demand compliments with my friend; which caused me to blog about this. Immediately, he confessed to using them almost daily. Instead of telling him how ridiculous he was, I agreed with him, and faster than a politician, he reversed his previous admission and said I was ridiculous; that he was not that pathetic. Apparently, this actor hadn’t learned the lines he wanted to hear.

Now I’m not complaining about complaining. Lord knows I do my share – case in point – but there is a difference between getting something off your chest and purposely laying a trap for someone to boost your self-esteem. And while everyone needs to hear a compliment every now and then, overdosing on On-Demand compliments is a serious problem that requires help. Just don’t ask me for any.

J.Spew

So last weekend a couple of queers and I moseyed on down to Charlottesville to attend a horse race. Normally, when I watch horses galloping around, it’s at Charlestown; where a stiff scotch and a carefully placed bet on a dead sir in the third spread can buy you a butterfly-shrimp plate bigger than your head.

Anyway, we were told this festival had a dress code. When I heard this I immediately knew what I was going to wear; my fantastic madras pants, which I only wear once a year. As soon as I put them on they made me feel like a girl of 16 again, which indecently, was how old I was when I bought them. It really brought a smile to my face to know that my binge drinking over the past decade, which has probably destroyed my liver, hasn’t altered my killer figure at all. (Seriously, any woman would kill for my physique.)

Clad in my fetching pants and polo shirt -- my friends in similarly styled outfits -- we stormed the turf of Foxfields looking like we just stepped out of a catalogue. We were not the only ones. Apparently, everyone consulted the same stylist we did. All 3,000 people work kaki pants and polo or linen shirts. It looked like J. Crew threw up all over a small plot of land in Charlottesville. I’m sure astronauts from space looked down at us and asked, “Why does Virginia have a pastel-colored mole?”

To coax us into going to the races my friend told me it would be an entire day of beer and beautiful boys. (He had me at beer.) Sadly, though, the latter was not true. Of all the thousands of young college boys there, only a handful of them were hot. And I’m using the definition of hot after one has had dozens of beer.

We all agreed the hottest boy was our newly-made friend Patrick. An oddly attractive boy with thick eyebrows and a Jersey accent, he was strong yet possessed a sense of warmth. He was definitely not boyfriend material. He was the kind of boy who would break your heart, but not before he broke your back.

Sconed To Death

When will this war end? It feels like it’s been going on forever. Everywhere I go, I’m reminded of it. I can’t even go to Starbucks without it being thrown in my face. So there I was the other day, trying to get a cup of coffee, when this ongoing battle once again took center stage in my life: Jason vs. fat people.

All I wanted was a simple cup of coffee – black. But first, I had to go through a wall of my arch rivals. Granted, there were only two of them, but their 300-pound bodies side-by-side created a barrier so impenetrable a scud missile couldn’t have gotten through.

Immediately, these hungry, hungry hippos starting giving me the stink eye. In clothes so tight – with seams magically holding together, baffling the most talented tailor – they proceed to place their orders. “I’ll have a super-grande white chocolate cappuccino. Better make it non-fat. I’m watching my figure.” (Well honey, you’re the only one. This extra large Starbucks Mega-store is way too small for me to step back far enough for my eyes to digest all of you at once.) Her friend then places the same order, makes the same comment and giggles, which cause various parts of her to jiggle for quite some time.

Finally! My turn at the register. I order a cup of coffee and slide over to the waiting area. There isn’t any room, of course, because its occupancy is being maxed out by two oversized people. I get my drink before them, shoot them my patented evil eyes and saunter out of Starbucks, causing them to rethink their calorie-laden cappuccinos. I hope they changed their orders to coffee – black. I did a long time ago.

Hello. My name is God and I’m an Alcoholic

I’ve been watching the Discovery Channel’s fascinating series “Planet Earth” and have come to the logical conclusion that God does drugs. Whenever I watch this program my neighbors must think I’m having mind-blowing sex because every two minutes I’m shouting, “Oh wow!” And while my mind is being blown, sadly, it’s the only thing.

But some of these creatures could only have been created after a hit of blow or some fine chronic. I’m not saying God is baked 24/7 -- remember, he takes Sundays off -- but he does have a very important job. Sure, he could easily relieve some stress with sex, especially with all those slutty angels just throwing themselves at him, but he’s not a player. That’s more his son’s department.

(Now I’m not one to gossip, but everyone knows Jesus’ turning water into wine recipe is always laced with ruffies, and every angel he nails always wakes up with her halo dangling from her breast, like a ring toss at a carnival.)

I’m not sure what God’s drug of choice is. Of course one would think the immediate choice would be angel dust, but as he's already proven, he’s not that predictable.

I May Be Poor But At Least I’m Not Fat, Or Poor

When life hands me lemons, I eat them all and never gain an ounce. No matter what catastrophes occur, I always say: “Could be worse; I could be fat.” I found myself saying this familiar phrase today after I finally opened my mail, which had been building up over the past week and included my bank statement. I’m not poor, but I need to start paying better attention to my spending. What the hell did I spend $60 on at Pacific Fusion and what the hell is Pacific Fusion? Anyway, I just need to cut back a bit cause my bank account is sinking faster than my brother’s standards at last call.

I’m Hung Up, I’m Hung Up On Jews

Oh Joel Stein, won’t you be my bride. We have so much in common: You’re an intelligent writer who is also a sexy and beautiful man and I’m, a man. I see you all the time on E! rating the top Hollywood hairstyles or counting down the juiciest celebrity casualties. I’ve set my sites on your career and your body. I’ll gladly accept either one you’d like to hand over to me.

Breakups Are Always Hard

When a couple parts ways it’s always difficult to accept. But over time, as people grow and mature, they often evolve into different individuals who no longer want the things they used to desire – such as each other. This must be the case with the homeless couple who used to live on the overpass just outside my building.

These two were perfect for each other. They had so much in common: Heaps of trash, a smattering of teeth which, if you combined both mouths, made one complete set, disease. I watched this romance blossom. They began living at opposite ends of the overpass. She was on the right, nestled under a bush, and he was on the left, cramped underneath a 3-foot-high concrete wall. Within weeks they were seen begging together on the sidewalk. It was practically written in the stars.

I don’t know what caused them to split up. Maybe she became jealous of his other personalities. Or maybe she finally hit it big and found that hidden soda can depository. Maybe he got a fantastic deal on a park bench. Just another set of questions that will haunt mankind forever.

I guess I won’t be holding my breath for these two to get back together. Unless I’m within 10 feet of either of them, cause they stink really, really bad. Yet another thing these lovebirds had in common.

All I want are some chicken fingers

After another long day of work all I wanted when I got home were some delicious Tysons chicken fingers. I’d already eaten some salmon at work, which the magazine bought, but not nearly enough to satisfy my freakish appetite. Cooking the chicken fingers is simple enough: Turn on oven, open bag, stick food in oven, wait 20 minutes. Two minutes after I did this, my smoke detector began wailing. Living in a studio apartment, my smoke detector picks up everything. I can’t even sneeze without setting the damn thing off. I opened a few windows and turned on the exhaust fan, which is not above the stove – oh no – but beside the refrigerator, which is on the adjacent wall – on the adjacent wall!

(This is more than can be said for my bathroom. A 5x5 room with no windows and no fan. It’s like a bank vault in there. Nothing escapes – nothing! Sometimes I need an oxygen tank just to use the bathroom -- especially after any meal from Chipotle. Good lord. They should make toilets with built-in stirrups.)

Anyway, so I took the only chair in my apartment and tried to turn off the super annoying smoke detector. Oh, and this chair is on wheels. Finally, after spinning and twirling and stretching to finally reach the detector, because the chair is just 3 inches too short, (story of my life) I finally disable it and my kitchen timer begins to yell at me cause my chicken fingers are done and have been for minutes. Jesus.

The worst thing is that the chicken fingers were the only food left in my fridge. So when I get home tomorrow at 10 p.m., and all the grocery stores are closed, I’ll scour my fridge only to find baking soda and six different kinds of salad dressing. I wonder if I can find a recipe for a baking soda casserole with a ranch dressing glaze.

Such a flirt

I'd like to think that if i was ever mugged, I could flirt my way out of it. Sure, I fail at this every weekend with bartenders and bouncers, but that's just to save some money. With a mugger, I'd be trying to save all my money. So much more at stake -- literally, tens of dollars. I'd start by complimenting my mugger. "My, that knife really brings out the metal in your teeth," or "your pink eye accents the many blood stains on your shirt. Way to coordinate."

Things I've never tried but I know I arleady hate

I have a long list of things I've never tried but I already know I hate. I've never been to Kuwait but surprise surprise, that would not be my first vacation destination. Even though the idea of falling to sleep every night to the relaxing sounds of small arms fire sounds soothing, I think I'll pass. Here are some other things I'll never try, but always hate.

1. Spam
2. Arson
3. Compassion
4. Asians