Today, I am 32. It feels exactly how I think 32 is supposed to feel. Even though I feel old and more adultish and like I haven’t really accomplished what I would have liked to accomplish by this point in my life, I still get really excited about pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal. A friend of mine sent them to me for my birthday. I got so excited! My youth had returned!
Thanks for making me feel 31 again!
I went to a friend’s birthday dinner this weekend. One side of the table was hot, black gay guys. The other side of the table was hot, white straight chicks. I was there to bridge the two groups together seeing as how I am a hot, white gay guy. Everyone got along really well. The guys and I talked about music. The girls and I gossiped about ‘The Hills’. Nothing bonds bratty girls and catty gays quicker than talking about reality TV. The ladies confessed that they love watching “lame girls make fools of themselves on national TV”. We all agreed Audrina had turned into a “dumb girl” and that Heidi was a “total idiot”.
When the check came, my end of the table decided to each pay for our own meal, tax, tip and an additional 3 bucks for the birthday boy’s meal. I became team captain of the bill and gave everyone change as the bill made it’s way around the table. When the bill arrived at the blonde section of the table, they each gave me a twenty and then asked for a ten in return.
“Wait. What did you get again?”
“My entree was 9 bucks and I gave you ten.”
“Oh. Well, OK, So why don’t you give me two more bucks so that you are covered with tax and tip for yourself, then I need another 3 bucks to chip in for the birthday boy.”
Every single one of those bitches suddenly went deaf. They started talking amongst themselves and posing for pictures they were taking with each other’s digital cameras. I gave them the benefit of the doubt that they didn’t hear me, since I was sitting at the other end of the long table. I decided to repeat myself, only this time, I would say it embarrassingly loud.
“HEY AUDRINA! I NEED MORE MONEY FROM YOU GIRLS DOWN THERE!”
“What?”
“You didn’t pay enough for yourself, let alone pitching in for the birthday boy! Wanna throw me some cash?”
“My name isn’t Audrina.”
“My name isn’t Daddy Warbucks.”
The bitches ignored me again. Our reality TV bond was officially over. My end of the table was laughing at them… and with me for actually calling them out. One guest near me said that he couldn’t believe they were being such cheapskates. This was a situation where most people would awkwardly put in more money and not say anything to the evil doers. Well, my end of the table ended up awkwardly putting in more money to cover their blonde assholes, but I ended up saying way more than their sun-kissed highlights bargained for. Out side on the sidewalk, our dinner group split into two – white chicks in one circle, the rest circled in a group next to them.
The birthday boy asked, “Are you ladies going bowling with us?”
“No, we’re going to a bar in SoHo.”
“I hope there are lots of boys there to buy you drinks!” I smiled and waved. They did not wave back.
Everyone said ‘goodbye’ to each other, some hugs were exchanged. I stood to the side waiting for it all to be over. I knew I wouldn’t see many of these people ever again, especially these broke-ass vaginas. Our group walked away from the girls and one of them tried to be all sassy and holler “Goodnight, Jeff! We’ll miss you!”.
I smiled and waved again wishing each one of them a goodnight.
“Goodnight, Audrina! Goodnight Heidi! Have fun tonight with Audrina and Heidi, Heidi!”
I could see the steam escaping through their ears. Fuck you, cheap bitches. Fuck you. Thank God I don’t have to put up with your bullshit to get my dick wet.
One of my bestest, greatest friend’s birthday party was last night. He’s not 30 yet, but he will be soon enough. I like to remind him of that every chance I get. It makes me feel young. We went to Acme Oyster House for a little slice of New Orleans. They had $4.00 Hurricanes!!! Well, actually, they ended up being $8.00 Hurricane’s because we were led astray by their advertising, but we were drunk by the time we realized that, so it didn’t really matter. I will let the evening speak for itself through photography…
There really isn’t a story to tell. It was a fun night out with The Gays. However, we did come up with a new game. It’s called “1-2-3″. It’s a photo game. Two people look down, and after the photographer counts 1-2-3, you look up. The idea is each person must make a crazy face. The first face that pops into your mind! The way you win, is if your faces end up matching! The photos are so much funnier when you accidentally make the same face together! We did this for about 45 minutes…
I thought it was gonna be a harmless birthday party. This year, I loosely enforced a ‘hipster’ theme. Every party needs a theme! How else do you know what sort of evite to pick out? We ate at Sea in Brooklyn and drank pomegranate mojitos. We split into teams and did a scavenger hunt involving places located off the L train. Everything was going perfectly, until we arrived at The Alligator Lounge on Metropolitan Avenue. Cheap drinks. Free pizza. A bartender named True. (User note, you can click on the pics to make them bigger!)
Arrangements were made a week in advance to have the back room reserved for my party. I expected between 40-50 people, but in actuality only 30 showed up (that’s not counting the 5 people who showed up but never said goodbye when they left, poor form!) It would have been OK if we weren’t competing with hipsters for seating. Instead, we thought we would have a dance party right smack in the middle of their gloomy flannel. The friendly staff had also told me that I could take over the music in the back room if I supplied an ipod. Yes, I do want to provide the soundtrack to my birthday. Thank you, True.
The hipster climate in the back room was very segregated. In “The Good Corner” all the seats were taken by what appeared to be a very comfortable group of stoners who had stacks of free pizza in the middle of the table. I guessed they were there every Saturday night. In “The Dark Corner” was a smaller group of well dressed hipsters who told me, “as long as you don’t play any Dave Matthews or John Mayer, we’re gonna get along just fine.” In “The Red Light Corner” was a group of lame girls who looked like they got to drive their father’s BMW’s into Brooklyn from Long Island – “Just don’t go into the city, ladies!” Other random hipsters filled up the room while guzzling Pabst Blue Ribbon. There was a bit of a line waiting to play Mrs. Pac-Man and Big Buck Hunter. This was gonna be a hard crowd to win over, especially since someone had put 5 dollars worth of Jeff Buckley on the jukebox.
True, the hipster bartender, graciously helped me start up my ipod. My first song was “Semi Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind. Wow. The mixed reaction was deafening – equal parts excited squeals and a few people actually yelling ‘Boo!’ By the time the first chorus of ‘do-do-do-do’ came around, I had won over half the room. Some of the lame girls were singing along, a few dudes at the video games were bouncing their heads. However, all was not well with the stoners in the corner. They were pissed we turned off their set of songs that people use to kill yourself in a bathtub. How can you be mad at “Semi Charmed Life”? EVERYONE liked that song when it came out! The room made it through the next few songs without incident – “Forever Your Girl” by Paula Abdul, “Lovefool” by The Cardigans, and “Groove is in the Heart” by Dee-Lite all blended into the crowd, but when Madonna sang “Where’s the Party”, it was just too much for certain hipsters to handle.
One of the drunk stoners threw free pizza at Jon. Immediately following the hit on Jon, another round of free pizza bullets hit Oscar. Cody saw everything and instantly flipped into rage, making accusations and trying to verbally assault the hipsters. Out of nowhere, a giant black man came over and ejected the drunk assholes who were throwing free pizza. Then, the remaining stoners tried to start more shit with our good time crew! Another bouncer came over to squash it and the rest of the stoners went back to their corner. A hipster uprising! That was scary AND funny! If only Madonna knew how much pain and suffering she caused these hipsters with her bubble-gum party hit from the 80’s. I am sure she meant for the song to bring people together, but here, in a back room at a hipster bar in 2008, it was only tearing people apart.
The rest of the night continued with half the crowd freaking out (in a positive way) over every song that came on while the other half whispered messages of hate towards me and my posse. They hated on Justin Timberlake. They hated on Kylie Minogue. The even had the audacity to hate on the brand new Janet Jackson! True and his batender gang bought me three drinks throughout the night. I guess they felt bad that the stoners threw free pizza at my friends. Those were the most violent stoners I have ever met! I love that they hated the music so much that they started a free pizza food fight, but they didn’t hate the music enough to leave and let us have the good seats! I think they particularly loved it when Lisa Loeb & Nine Stories sang “Stay (I Miss You)”. They didn’t know whether to sing along or take me hostage. Even the well dressed hipsters tried to scold my music selections and asked me ‘how long does your birthday last for?’ I assured them that there will be no Dave Matthews or John Mayer and that it’s my birthday and they have to be nice to me. Hipsters are hilarious.
The lame girls who danced to every song wished me a happy birthday and thanked me for my wonderful playlist. A few hipster dudes asked me to make a play list for them so that hot chicks will come over and dance at their house. When I went to gather my belongings to leave, I did a fade out on my playlist. There was a spattering of unenthusiastic applause, mixed with just a few disappointed groans. Now I know how to start a Hipster War if ever we needed one. Just make a playlist and force a bar full of hipsters to listen to it. Armies will form. Battle lines will be crossed. You will decide whether you hate my music or love it and the war will begin. Luckily there will be enough free pizza to ration to the troops so the hipster war would never be without food. Ooh. That gives me an idea. No food? Next year’s theme will be African Safari! I can register my party guests to adopt a starving child! And I can still play Madonna for the soundtrack!
Great. I am 31. Does that mean I should have medical insurance now? I am not sure. No one I know has medical insurance, but then again, no one I know is quite as old as me. Old people need medical insurance since their bodies start falling apart. For instance, just this week alone, my gums bled, my nose fell off, and I shit my pants when I was napping. I am an asshole. An invalid asshole.
“Your 30’s are the new 20’s!” Well yay. Thank you for making my birthday into an ad campaign. Fucking Americans. Everything is a young and sexy ad campaign. I wanna see chubby and cuddly ad campaigns, something to showcase the “real woman”. I tried to lose weight last year, but was only doing it so the jocks in the locker room would notice me. Now that I graduated high school and I don’t talk to the jocks anymore, I don’t seem to care about watching my carbs. Eating a nice big bowl of Haagen Dazs while watching ‘The Biggest Loser’ is eerily satisfying.
How is it life has passed you by without living it? Or have I? How is it that there are still so many things I need to get accomplished? Or have I? I thought going crazy when I was 29 was the vortex into something different. Maybe? I need to do that thing. I need to finish that thing. I need to call that thing.
“The thing about being an older guy is that you get to fuck younger guys!” Well this is true. Today, the universe sent me a spicy 22 year-old Colombian NYU student. We smoked bowls and I listened to him talk about his thesis project. Just using the word ‘thesis’ gets me horny. He is an American Society major, whatever that means. His thesis is about how M.I.A. is socially relevant to the world around us and how she is acting as a musical bridge between third world countries and America. Stop sounding smarter than me and suck my dick.
Here is something that makes me cry – David fucking Archuleta.
I think crying at ‘American Idol’ is a step up from crying at ‘Judge Judy’. So, at least I feel like I have matured in a certain respect. I have been building character all my life, of course it has finally given me some maturity.
“Hey there! Wanna go out on a date and I can show you my X-men comic books? We can get drunk and make out! I’ll be really charmingly sarcastic and adorable and make it so that you start liking me, then I won’t call you anymore. But don’t take it personally, I am a crazy person. Crazier than you if you can imagine.” Sure. Why not.
“Hey there! Wanna sit next to a energy sucking vampire? I’m really old and nasty! I will slurp and crunch and burp into your ear all day. The positive soul that is your actual self will slowly begin to decay since I will break it down over 40 hours every week. My sausage fingers will just barely brush your skin when I pass you the stapler and I will wear see-through tops with bright turquoise bra’s that hold up my droopy chest. I will never be nice to you.” Sure. Why not.
“Hey there! Wanna get yelled at by stupid post office employees because you are white?” Sure. Why not?
“Hey there! Wanna develop a deep seeded insecurity that you will never be good enough because your dad always treated your brother better than you? Would you like to get really upset whenever anything is “unfair” or “unjust” or someone just plain tells you that you are second best? How about if I continue to ask you ‘how is that acting thing going’?” Sure. Why not.
“Don’t you just loooove the new Vampire Weekend CD?” Sure. Why not.
Maybe one day we’ll all have reached our dreams. Our goals will be complete. All of our drive, all of our passion, will have been put to the test and the fruits of our labor will have been long eaten. Then, everyone I know, or even everyone I don’t know, can come over to my giant castle and we can sit around and tell stories and play guitars and shit. Wouldn’t that be cool? I would even have a giant bounce house! That will be for my 32nd birthday. Today, I am happy with just calling out sick to work and watching ‘Project Runway’.
There will be 31 days between now and my 31st birthday. There will be a scavenger hunt and party. ‘There Will Be Blood’ was an overrated piece of sparkling poop.
Daniel Day Lewis was amazing in the role of some mean oil guy who no one cared about. He was really, really awesome. Paul Dano, who was the teenager guy who refused to talk in ‘Little Miss Sunshine‘, was outstanding and held his own on screen with The Method Acting Tornado. Paul Thomas Anderson directs with evident greatness, the film’s score was deeply engaging, gorgeous cinematography really brought to life the hazards of drilling for oil in the great outdoors, detailed costuming, gritty art direction, a cornucopia of movie triumphs…. SO WHY DIDN’T I FUCKING CARE ABOUT IT AT ALL!
Seriously, this movie sucked the life out of me. Booooring. I can’t put my movie expert finger on it, but this Best Picture nominated film was poopy. Who did I care about? What was I invested in? Why was I watching? Even the actor who played DDL’s deaf son looked bored! This movie is generally just a character essay on film. Daniel Day Lewis can certainly act. He’s awesometown, I get it. Whatever, snoozefest. Yawwwn.
I wish I could have just seen the baptism scene and the last scene in the bowling alley. I would have taken all the time I saved and went and saw ‘Juno‘ again.
I am going to try to do daily blogs between now and my b-day. TRY.
No. This is not the prequel to “300“. Today is my blog’s 200th birthday! I am celebrating my 200th post by choosing my personal favorite highlights from all 200 entries. They are in chronological order. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Bloggy, happy birthday to you!” Enjoy!
1. “I Love Right Now” was right after my car accident just over two years ago. My life is still changing because of that day. In fact, often times, I feel like I am in the passengers seat just spinning indefinitely.
2. “Baby Broseph Part One & Part Two” is a little series I stared about my younger brother. I blog about him on his birthday. He has an adorable daughter now named Madyson. He is also a pretty good DJ.
3. “Brown Sugar” is a seven part series of urban erotica written by a white gay guy – me! The adventures of an up and coming hip-hop sensation will have you panty-splashing in no time. However, I once told my therapist about this series and, boy oh boy, did he want to dissect the shit out of that. I thought it was just funny.
4. “My Name Is…“, “Put The Sausages Down“, and “My Giant Pencil” are all part of my rise to the top of the receptionist food chain at (Name of School I Work At). I felt this was a three way tie. You know how there’s always someone to hate in your office? Mine is a monster. Not kidding. She eats children.
5. “Hell’s Kitchen Is Closed” was a particularly vulnerable entry ,I think. Sometimes readers tell me that I should be more vulnerable like in “The Big Bang“. Anyway, these both were written at a very emotional time last year. Moving from my first NYC apartment into a small kitchen on Christopher Street was a huge transition.
6. “I Met Jake Gyllenhaal! OMG!” is a moment I will cherish forever.
7. “Joey Is A Baby Kangaroo” is currently a three part series I am still developing. It’s all fiction and follows the seedy exploits of an anti-hero named Joey. I will be doing more of these in the future. Maybe I’ll write a book! Here is part two and part three.
8. “Scissor Sisters Interview” is not brilliant writing, but it sure was a great moment on my blog. Their music has played an emotionally pivotal role for me and, at the same time, they are the best music to have a dance party. Also, Del Marquis smells really, really good. I know because I basically had to sit on top of him to get my girth in the shot.
9. “Dick Clamp Part One” & “Part Two” describes my unfortunate account of breaking my penis. Yes. Broken. As in, surgery. Not for the faint of heart.
10. “Mormon Fetish” You know how people have fun, little fantasies? Mine involves mormons. I am krazy.
11. “RuPaul Has Melody” I accidentally had to sing in front of the great RuPaul. Yikes!
12. “…And Scene” is the last chapter in the camp saga. I had been kicked out of the camp I do for adults with disabilities for, seriously, no reason and I fought the people whose decision it was to do so. I ended up victorious without having to get krazy. I took appropriate steps and was very communicative. Anyway… the best part about this entry isn’t even my writing… check out the religious, yet hateful toned comments from the very few people who loathe me at camp.
13. “Granny = Comic Genius” Well, she is. I have stopped hating her for all her racist, prejudiced, and homophobic comments and instead laugh at her. I think she is a sad person who will never change. Except, I respect her a little more now that I know she is a big Clay Aiken fan.
14. “Daft Punk. The End.” Daft Punk. The End.
15. I’ve very recently been open and aware of alot more things in this world than just Lindsay Lohan and daddy issues. “Dora the Explora of Love” is a great example of looking for the bright parts of life. Laughing at the krazy parts of yourself and the world around you, as in “Ta Ta For Now Therapy“, is all you have to do when things get rough. It’s alot harder to do that than it is to say, but I think I am on the right track.
Oh yeah, and Happy Birthday to my roommate, Brian Kennedy. He is also 200 years old.
I went to a fancy birthday party tonight. It was held at The Campbell Apartment in Grand Central Station. The evite warned that they are very strict on the dress code – “The Campbell Apartment does NOT allow “sports apparel,” which they define as follows: no tennis shoes, t-shirts, baseball caps or torn jeans (sorry, fashion queens!). Gentleman must wear a shirt with a collar. Please adhere to their strict dress code or they will not let you in.”
So I wore a brand new, Venetian Red, collared, button down, long sleeved shirt by Geoffrey Beane. I complimented the shirt with a dazzling red, black and silver tie along with a black, pin-striped jacket. My bottom half was a sleek, black pant and brand new black loafers with a stylish white stitch on the hem of the shoe. Of course I was wearing my Gucci glasses. I also topped off the fanciness with a black on black, checkered Kangol hat. I looked fierce.
When I got to the smarmy guy at the top of the stairs, he looked me up and down and said, “You have to take off the baseball hat”. I assured him that it was, indeed, not a baseball hat. I immediately bitched, “This is not a baseball hat, this is a sixty dollar Kangol cap”. Ew. I had instantly become a parody of myself. I wanted to make fun of my own, gross, gayness. It was pretty disgusting.
I took off my hat and put it in my ten dollar H&M bag and placed them both in coat check. I proceeded to drink $15.00 martini’s all night while standing next to RuPaul.
Oscars…yawn. Except for Alan Arkin, Melissa Etheridge and Ellen Degeneres. Wow, what an awkward threesome. Fuck Jennifer Hudson. Fuck Eddie Murphy for leaving the awards right after he didn’t win (Blame ‘Norbit’). Fuck Will Smith Jr. (or whatever his name is). Fuck Penelope Cruz’s dress. Fuck J. Lo’s dress. Oh my god! I am so racist against blacks and browns right now! Loved Ellen. Loved Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson. Loved Al Gore. Loved the french lady who won for costumes.
Anyway. I am 30 today. Whoopie! It was a completely normal day. Woke up late. No hot water. Subway stalled for 20 minutes. I was thirty minutes late. Sat at work. Answered phones. Tried to get apartment management to fix stuff. Went furniture shopping after work. Got a haircut. Ate a slice of pizza. Performed at Harold Night at UCB. Went home exhausted. Drank a cup of juice. Watched porn on xtube. Wanked it. More juice. Went to sleep on a mattress on the floor. Damn, I still need to find time to assemble that bed. Maybe I’ll have time after I assemble my life.
I unceramoniously jumped into a new decade. It feels good. Mentally and spiritually. I am looking forward to my big birthday party bash at my new apartment this Saturday. The theme is “Jeffrey Marx & Liz Taylor’s Big Birthday Bash: Cocktail Game Night“! Her and I share the same birthday so we are celebrating together! (Faggy) After that I will officially be 30. My birthday lasts all week. If you haven’t called me or at least sent me a myspace message, then you have until next Tuesday to do so. I’m making a list of anyone who does not. I’m serious. No. Really, really serious.
30 Rock(s)!
No, I am not writing about the unproduced prequel to Sandra Bullock’s, “28 Days”. I am writing about my 30th birthday….which is five days from today. My offical seven day celebration is scheduled from Saturday, February 24th – Saturday, March 3rd. I am not sure where or when all the festivities will be taking place, but I will keep you posted.
When I turned 29, I started freaking out about this big birthday. Now that it is only five days away, I am whole heartedly embracing it. I’ve been having a year long anxiety attack over lots of things. I think I was just flushing my twenties out. Between washing away daddy issues, boy issues, and anger issues I have found that I am delighted by this new chapter in The Book of Me. (Corny)
I like the baby steps I’ve been taking on this path to betterment. I am happy to reach a place in my brain where I don’t feel like a crazy person. Besides, crazy people don’t know they’re going crazy….unless they’re REALLY krazy.
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