7 Things of Christmas.

1. Best. Present. Ever.
I don’t mean to pit my friends and family against each other, or upset anyone who was kind enough to buy me a much appreciated Christmas present this year… but if I’m being honest, there was one gift that stood miles above the rest. My boyfriend (the best boyfriend ever– yes, I have to say that now) bought us tickets to see the one-night-only, star-studded concert reading of A Little Night Music at the Roundabout. It’s in my Top 3 of favorite Sondheim musicals (right next to Merrily and Company), and it’s the only one I’ve never seen on stage. I’m already getting goosebumps just thinking about it!

2. Worst. Present. Ever.
The chicken enchilada that was served to me when I clearly ordered the cheese. I had my first bite of poultry in over a year. Thank god for the giant margarita sitting next to me. The alcohol burned the taste of chicken right off of my taste buds!

3. A Crown Heights Christmas!
Last week Lady R. came over to the ghetto the heights to help Jeannie, A.Rod and myself make cookies. Results below…
Pre-frosting:

A woman’s work is never done:

The model-esque Lady R. (now parting her hair to the right):

Lady R’s gluten-free cookie mush:

Jeannie and the Xmas Tree:

The finished product:

All photos courtesy of A.Rod:

4. Air Un-Fair.
Part of my dad’s Xmas present was supposed to be a bottle of red wine, made locally in Long Island. While packing, I thought I was being smart by putting the wine in my carry-on. I wanted to be sure that my dad would be able to enjoy the wine, instead of having it break, and therefore staining all of the clothes in my suitcase. As if I haven’t flown on an airplane a dozen time since 9/11. As soon as my man-purse came out the other end of the x-ray machine, I was pulled aside an told that my “bottle of liquid” would have to be checked in or confiscated. Not wanting to buy a new suitcase on top of paying the additional fee for checking two bags… I said goodbye to the bottle of wine and shot the airport employee a dirty look. So as my dad enjoyed the much cheaper replacement wine bought at “Chet’s Liquor Store” off of Highway 13, I’m sure some employee of the LaGuardia Airport was enjoying his bottle. Happy Holidays, indeed.

5. Grandmothers Say the Darndest Things, Part I.
God bless grandmothers. Mine are finally becoming the crazy old biddies that all elderly people have the right to turn into once they reach a certain age. My mom’s mom (G.P.) is in the stage where she’ll just sit there any ask you the same questions over and over, oblivious to the fact that you gave her the answer not two seconds ago. This Christmas, her top three inquires were: 1.) What are you doing out in New York? 2.) When do you leave? And 3.) Who’s stocking is that hanging on the end of the mantle? And as if I didn’t hate repeating over and over again, “Yes, I’m still working at the pharmacy…” G.P. would also throw in the occasional “Why don’t you just get your degree in that?” Bah-humbug.

6. Grandmothers Say the Darndest Things, Part II.
While G.P. belittled me repeatedly, G.K. (my dad’s mom) slept soundly in her chair. Thinking it was safe, I sat next to her for awhile…. which worked out just fine, until she woke and gave me the play-by-play of how my grandfather died. Way to kill my steady holiday beer buzz grandma. My wish was granted when she finally changed the subject, however, the relief was short lived. G.K. then went into a 20 minute diatribe about her days as a working girl (not that kind!) It’s not that I don’t enjoy hearing about the history and hardships of my grandparents. But when grandma is still half asleep and talking in a whisper, it makes the story a little less enthralling.

7. Seven Pounds.
No, I am not referring to Will Smith’s latest Crap-fest. I’m talking about the amount of weight I’ve put on in the past week thanks to all of the cookies I’ve consumed. Okay, cookies and beer. Seriously, I’m going to need to start the new year out at a detox center. Preferably one that doesn’t resemble this:

Getting Thrifty on Thrifting.

While most people do their day-after-Christmas-shopping at department stores, hoping for slashed prices on coffee makers and vacuum accessories… I hit up my favorite thrift stores, hoping for slashed prices on porcelain reindeer and Hannah Montana Christmas cards.

Okay, so I actually didn’t buy any 75%-off Christmas crap. In fact, believe it or not, I hardly bought anything. Normally when I visit MN, I arrive with one suitcase and leave with two. (The second being entirely filled with kitsch.)

However this year, thanks to the economic crisis and the fact that airlines are raping my wallet even more by charging for each suitcase that is checked (thank god a pressurized cabin is still free!), I’m cutting down on the kitsch. Single tear, I know.

I’m sad to report that I passed on a lot of great items that I normally would have snatched up. (The homoerotic Ken dolls; the Crystal Gayle records; the crazy-eyed, light-up Easter bunny…)

Instead, I stuck to the items that really spoke to me:

Praying Boy, $3.80

Perhaps it was my Catholic guilt that made me buy him, but I thought he’d look good in my bedroom. That way, at least someone is trying to save my soul as I lay me down to sleep at night.

Naked Girl Brushing Hair (Framed), $3.99

This is totally going up in my bathroom. In fact, it might as well be a mirror, because that’s exactly how I brush my hair in the morning too.

Green Vintage Women’s(?) Handbag, $2.99

Because I’m always looking for ways to make myself look gay-er.

I still have 4 days left here in MN, and a lot of free time on my hands. But I’m going to try and refrain from any more thrifting. Instead, I’m just gonna lock myself in my old bedroom and brake out into a cold sweat from thinking about that vase made entirely of ashtrays that I left behind on the shelf at the Salvation Army.

7 Things.

No, the title of this post isn’t a reference to that god-awful song sung by that god-awful slut, Miley Cyrus. Instead, it’s a new weekly feature that I’m adding to my blog.

Since I’ve stopped blogging on a daily basis, I’m sure you’re all wondering what boring, self-deprecating, semi-neurotic musing on my homosexual lifestyle you’ve been missing on out.

So, to appease the masses (there are masses, right?)… here are 7 Things I Would Have Blogged About This Week.

1. My Hair.
As much as I loved my short, Robyn-esque, dyke hair this summer, I’ve decided to grow it back out again for the fall. Specifically for my b’day. I’ve already picked out the outfit I plan to wear, so why not have the hair to match? The good news is that my hair grows fast. The bad news is that it’s not growing fast enough. Last week my hair entered it’s “Awkward Phase.” Currently, I look like a person with short hair who is too lazy or poor to get it cut.

2. My Skin.
It’s flaking. I got some serious sunburn in Miami. The parts of my body that had not seen the light of day since I was young and carefree enough to run around outdoors wearing just a diaper, turned unpleasantly pink. In the past week I’ve shed almost an entire layer of skin. Like a snake. Or someone with severe psoriasis who can’t stop scratching at it.

3. The Olympics.
I’m actually enjoying watching them!

Behold the power of Adonis-like men in spandex!

I suspect that my love of all things competitive is also to blame.

4. Work.
Surprise, surprise… I continue to hate my job. I’ve been looking for something new, but with the economy as shitty as it is, I’d probably have a better chance of winning the lottery and retiring early than finding a new job that will pay me a comparable salary to what I make now, working in hell. And speaking of hell… the one co-worker that I actually liked working with in the dungeon quit. So now, instead of doing the work of two people… I’ll be doing the work of three people, as my third co-worker continues to get paid to be a professional e-mailer.

5. Airline Outrage.
My sister and one of my dear Hags have been bugging to me come home for a quick visit this fall. My sis wants me to bring home Doctor Boyfriend to meet the rest of the fam, and my Hag wants me to come home to meet the love child that I may-or-may-not have fathered. (J/K, sickos.) It used to be that I could get a flight home for just under $200. Yeah, and I also remember the days when gas was 98 cents a gallon. Now the cheapest deal I could find was in the $300 range… and that was only if I wanted to go home for a week and a half. Tickets for a long weekend were dangerously close to the price of rent. Disgusting. Sorry kiddos, but it looks like I won’t be home again until Christmas. (Assuming of course, that I get approved for the small loan I’ll need to take out .)

6. Running.
Thursday night after work I went for an extremely long run in Central Park. Afterwards, Doctor Boyfriend took me out for dinner. Unfortunately, I pushed myself too hard during my run, and I suddenly felt nauseous. I took about 5 bites of pasta and spent the rest of my time staring at my plate. I was afraid that if I lifted my head too far up, the bright lights might make my head explode. After dinner MD-BF was sweet enough to put his doctoring skills to use by laying me down on the couch, and treating my illness with a dose of ginger-ale and a Project Runway booster shot. Which brings me to my last point…

7. Project Runway.
How could they have sent Kelli home?

Really? Over Blayne? I was having flashbacks to last season’s Ricky Gate.

Also, I still hate Brooke Shields.

SJP, you ain’t.

DAY 226: NY Q & A.

With the wake yesterday, and the funeral today, I was forced to have the same conversation over and over with relatives that have haven’t spoken to in years

Here’s how it went, every single time:

(For the full effect, elongate all vowels to get the Minnesoooota accent.)

THEM: So, how’s New York?

ME: Great. I love it out there.

THEM: Well, isn’t that just wonderful? Are you acting?

ME: No. I don’t act. I write.

THEM: Oh, that’s nice. So do you live in the city?

ME: No. I live in Brooklyn. I love Brooklyn.

THEM: Do you drive into the city then?

ME: No. No one drives. I take the subway.

THEM: Oh yes, I suppose.

Awkward silence.

THEM: Well, we’re glad you’re doing well out there. It was sure nice talkin’ to ya.

ME: Yes. It was nice talking to you too.

More awkward silence.

ME: I have to go now.

And scene.

My favorite was the lady who came up to me (no idea who she was) and said, “Well, your grandmother tells me you acted in an Off Broadway play!“

Man, I sure am glad the fake me is at least having some success!

DAY 224: Homeward Bound.

My (unexpected) flight home was not a pleasant one. Because I only booked my ticket about 36 hours in advance, my brain was not prepared for take off. Even though I left my apartment 3 hours early, I had still convinced myself that somehow I was going to miss my flight. And you know how you always have that sneaking suspicion that you forgot something? Well, multiply that by 1,000… and that’s where I was at.

And that was all before even boarding the plane! Once on board, things only got worse. After inching down the runway for about 30 minutes, the captain finally got on the intercom and delivered this delightful message to us: “Well folks, we finally made it to the front of the line! But, if you look to your right, you’ll see there’s another line about a mile long. We’re now at the back of that line! Hopefully, we’ll be moving shortly.“

The woman seated next to me was not having it. (And yes, because my ticket was so last minute, I was riding bitch. Lucky me.) Ms. Thang to my left could not stop sucking her teeth, exhaling loudly, muttering to herself, and rummaging through her giant purse, looking for lord-knows-what. Actually, the lord probably did know, because Ms. Thang had out her bible, which had a cross-stitched cover that read, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Well, all things except to learn a little patience. Or some common courtesy for the person sitting next to you on a plane. Right after the captain made his announcement, bitch took out a pair of nail clippers, spread her hand across her bible, and started meticulously cutting her nails for the next 30 minutes.

Thankfully, once we were finally in the air, it was lights out for me. I didn’t wake up until we hit the runway… at which point I thought the plane had crashed and we all were going to die. Good times.

DAY 223: Bad News.

My father called me at work this morning to tell me that my grandfather (peacefully) passed away in his sleep last night.

I’m fine. I wasn’t super close to my grandfather… but he’s family, so there’s that undeniable bound. Even if he wasn’t a major part of my life in recent years, it still feels weird to have him gone. Plus, this was pretty unexpected (at least on my end.) I guess my grandfather told my grandma that he was ready to go. Isn’t it amazing how sometimes people just know?

Big thanks to Jeannie and A. Rod for coming over tonight with Herbage and non-dairy banana splits to keep me company and cheer me up. It worked

I bought a $606 plane ticket to fly home tomorrow night. I probably won’t be blogging for the next couple of days. It feels sort of weired to be doing it right now.

I’ll be back in NYC Thursday. Thanks to all who have/are sending me their well wishes. It is greatly appreciated.

Be back soon,
Brian

DAY 119: Roomsie!

Last night I got to hang out with the best roommate in the world. (Or rather, the best roommate in MN… don’t worry Jeffrey, you obviously hold the NY title.) My old roomsie Alisun had taken a last minute, surprise trip to NY, and I got to see her for one night, and one night only.

Roomsie and I were friends in high school, thanks to a cheesy little musical called “The Boyfriend,” in which we played British lovers Nigel and Nellie. Now for anyone who’s ever been lucky enough to experience the show, you probably don’t remember the characters Nigel and Nellie. That’s because we were extras and we made those names up ourselves. But that didn’t stop us from showboating it up in the background, trying to steal the spotlight.

One of our favorite after school activities in high school was to get into my car (the Shitty Chevy) and drive down Grand Ave (a beautiful, tree lined street with giant, Victorian houses) and squirt people with a Super Soaker. One time I was driving and squirting at the same time, and Alice dared me to hit this guy who was dressed in his business suit, driving around, talking on his cellphone. I got him right in his cellphone-free ear and he started chasing us in his SUV. We narrowly escaped death, as I pulled over on to a side street and made everyone in the car get down and duck. Another time Al squirted a cycler, but then his friend on the bike behind him did a sneak attack on us, and doused us with the water from his nalgene bottle. It was better than a mentos commercial.

After high school we went to different colleges and didn’t see each other that much…. Although I do remember one time when she was visiting me at St. Olaf (Um Ya Ya!), and she just happened to have a spare pair of crutches in her trunk. We went around to all the convenience and grocery stores in town and I would pretend to be using the crutches. We set up elaborate scenarios that always involved me falling down. Sometimes she would be there to help me back up, and other times she stand by and snicker as strangers tried to get me back on my feet. The best was when we went into a Tom Thumb gas station where they had just mopped the floor. The manager thought for sure I was gonna sue.

By the time college was over we had lost touch. Until one random night a few years later, when my car had died on Hennipen Ave in downtown Minneapolis and Alisun drove by and saw me. It must have been destiny, because few months later we became roommates.

We had a great apartment in Northeast Minneapolis that was completely furnished with knick-knacks from Salvation Army, and furniture from off the street. Some of my favorite memories of our tenure as roomsies include:

*When we would go out to Starlight, a gay bar/”night club” in our neighborhood on a weeknight. Now, Minneapolis is a pretty happening place. But 11pm on a Tuesday night… not so much. We always had the dancefloor to ourselves. We would harass the DJ to play “Diva” music, to which we would get up on the go-go boy boxes and hoochie dance to. Alice had a crush on the straight(?) bartender and I would take my shirt off and make out with anything that had a mouth. Behold, the powers of alcohol!

*For Halloween that year I waited until the last minute to come up with my costume. Alisun helped me raid her closet and we created the gayest pirate costume ever. I was wearing a white, ruffled shirt; black pants that we made into shorts; argyle socks; an eyeliner goatee; and mardi gras beads. Alisun wrapped a Twister board around her and wore the spinner on her head. We started out at the Gay 90’s and ended the night at a strip club. And since I was wearing Al’s pants, they of course split up the back, half way through the night. I was like a little kid wearing onesies with the backdoor wide open.

*Thrift shopping. We only encouraged each other’s addictions. We lived close to the best Salvation Army ever, and there was one point when we would be there at the very least, five days a week. We always tried to outdo each other too. I would find a large ceramic squirrel with a crazed look in his eyes, and Alice would one up me by buying a casserole dish in the shape of a giant potato. We had a room in our basement that’s sole purpose was for kitsch storage.

*There was one period when we were living together that we were both unemployed for a couple of months. In the mornings I would write and Al would watch Starting Over. We’d then turn on some Crystal Gayle and dance around the house for hours. Or we’d just start drinking at noon, pass out, and then wake up to go out for round two in the evening.

Ah roomsie, what good times we shared! Thanks for the visit…

DAY 106: Good To Be Back.

Is it bad that I only get emotional when saying goodbye to the dog?

(And no, he didn’t really climb into my suitcase in an attempt to stop me from leaving. I put him in there and told him to look cute.)

Today, as Riley and I said our goodbyes, I whispered into his ear that I probably wouldn’t be back for awhile. And that this time, I meant it.

I’m not trying to be NY snobby, or mean to my friends or family. But going back home for 12 days was a huge mistake. Because it’s not really home anymore. New York is home now. And Minnesota… well it’s just this familiar place that is sort of awkward to visit. Awkward because it’s a world I’m no longer a part of. I feel like the Ghost of Christmas Present has been dragging me around town for the past two weeks, showing me scenes from everyone else’s life, in which I’m now spectator and no longer a participant.

I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was very much looking forward to returning to NY today. In fact, my MN trip almost seemed like it was all a dream.

This afternoon I got on the plane, closed my eyes, woke up with a hamburger and chocolate chip cookie in the seat next to me and a spectacular view of NYC outside my window.

I returned to Brooklyn with twice as much shit as I had left with, dropped my luggage off in my room with no intentions of unpacking it, and watched a mini reality TV marathon with Jeffrey (the tail end of Wife Swap, Crowned, Project Runway and Make Me A Supermodel… for those who were wondering.)

Currently, I’m getting ready for bed and dreading going back into work tomorrow.

It’s good to know that something never change.

It’s good to be back.

SIDENOTE: Lest any of my family/friends become upset over my comment about missing the dog more than I will miss them… just remember that unlike you guys, I can’t pick up the phone and call the dog.

But wouldn’t it be cute if I could?

DAY 105: Girlz Just Wanna Have Fun.

Ah New Year’s, my least favorite holiday. I learned long ago that you have to stop trying to plan fun New Year’s, and just be lame. That way, you can’t be disappointed.

My past 5 New Year’s Eves have consisted of:

2006- Rolling around in the snow and watching Project Runway: Season Three with Jonesie and Shippy.

2005- Almost being stuck in the 4 train, passing underneath the East River with Sha and some dude that had a crush on her, minutes before midnight struck.

2004- Working at the Wilde Roast Cafe and sharing a bottle of wine with the cook.

2003- Watching All About Eve and getting drunk by myself.

2002- Eating at McDonalds, seeing The Royal Tenenbaums, and then sitting at some Frat bar in Minneapolis where we didn’t know anyone, with Kater.

This year I invited a bunch of my hags up to my parent’s cabin. Here are the WILD and CRAZY things that took place this New Year’s Eve/Day:

1. While waiting for the girls to arrive I got my pre-party drink on and took a bunch of pictures to submit to Better Homes and Living: Faggots… While the girls set up an elaborate text message hoax that made me think they were fighting, crabby and lost.

2. Kater tried to kill her baby.

3. Jonesie tried to seduce Sha.

4. Sha tried to seduce Riley.

5. On the drive home we really did get lost and learned that Buttfuck, Wisconsin can be a scary place at night in the middle of winter.

DAY 103: MinneSNOWta!

Ah, cabin life. Today my mother and I did a puzzle of Rockefeller Center at Christmastime. What fun!

In other news, I promised Jeanne’s BF Adam that I would take some pics of the snow for him to behold, since snowfall is a foreign concept to him and his sun-kissed skin.

Technically these pics were taken in Wisconsin, not Minnesnowta (as my parents like to say.) But honestly, at this time of year, the entire midwest looks the same.

A View From The Porch

Riley’s World

My Parent’s Reason For Living

Walk Me

Snow Falling On Cedars

A River Runs Through It

A River Runs Under It

I’ve Trained Myself Not To Call It That

Boats

No Boats

Lake Superior Makes Me Feel Inferior

Just Like My Heart