Juice with Junior

I just called my dad for Father's Day. Listen, I went out to go to my best friend's birthday party at 9 PM on Saturday and did not get back to my apartment until 6 AM on Father's Day morning. Good times.

Anyway, I then went to sleep and woke up, my bestie picked me up, she was still a little drunk but OK to drive, and we went to the bookstore where the guy she's been stalking for 3 weeks works, but she swears she's over him... People, I know this all sounds like I'm a 19-year-old girl with Daddy issues, but I promise this was just a one-time thing. Anyway, I finally got around to calling my dad. He liked the book I got for him the previous week that he asked for, the one my mom didn't want me to buy because she thought it would be too "complicated" for him because it's not about New York or basketball... My mother is a wonderful person... And he asked me how my night was. I told him about it and he said "Um, okay..." I do talk to him a lot but often those conversations are usually about the major events going on in my life like jobs, births, deaths, things like that. Basically, to my father, I am an unemployed writer of some type who spent all night out with friends instead of looking for a job possibly swinging from chandeliers while muscular men dressed in leather doused me in oil and beat my naked bottom with reeds.

Or some variation thereof. I would like to say that he is more evolved not to think these things, but I know and appreciate that he isn't, which is why he never asks me about my personal life. He never asks partly because he knows that I know that there is nothing that I can say to effectively convey how boring my life really is given how different we are as men and he doesn't want to make me uncomfortable. He also doesn't ask because what if his son's dangling a$$ out on a swing while strange men pour canola oil all over him actually is true; he'd rather not know. This is the interesting relationship a gay son has with an aggressively masculine father, but it's not a bad one. He appreciates me for the talents I have and has never once forced me to take part in the things that he loves and never made me feel bad that I didn't. And he also took a vague interest in the things I liked, enough of an interest where he could tell his friends that he son was a "writer, always chained to the computer. He can do anything on the computer. Not so much of a basketball guy as he loves the computer and writing." Now when my father would say things like this to his friends, all black men who play basketball as well as as badly as I play basketball, the only thing that would offend me was his insistence on highlighting my "computer" expertise as if that made my writing more legitimate. This was mostly due to his fear that I wouldn't get a job if he just focused on the writing, and you know what, he was right.

I like Father's Day as a holiday because I think it is our most ambiguous holiday. I don't think anyone really knows the best way to celebrate it yet. It is similar to the fact that fatherhood in general is still evolving; we as a society still haven't really decided what this whole "being a father" thing entails. Religious conservatives will tell you that having a father is essential although they rarely will tell you what that fatherly participation actually gives to a child, particularly because when a child has two dads they say that that arrangement is also bad. I guess it's like too much of a good thing.

Overall, there are a lot of people who grow up and have successful lives without any input from a father and often we don't sigh as loudly as we do when someone announces that they grew up without a mother. Mothering seems to me anyway to be well-defined. Fathering, not so much. I mean I remember a time when there weren't babies changing tables in men's bathrooms at department stores as if the idea that a man would be taking care of a baby was so novel that there was no need to pretend it could ever happen. Plus, there are a lot of people whose fathers were not wonderful, don't support them, or are just deadbeat, which is why this holiday is always so interestingly bittersweet. p.s. I will take any opportunity to post the above picture of Christopher Meloni because I imagine myself laying next to him when the picture was taken... Sorry for the aside...

So what am I babbling on about? I actually have no idea. I am so tired. People, I threw my back out last week and have been on medication ever since, and then I went to this party on 2 hours of sleep... Argh... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hope you have a great Father's Day if you are a dad, have a dad, know a dad, or know that you came from a dad but don't really want to go there.

Happy Father's Day!

Alright, everyone, I told you before that we would be all over the Ronnie Kroell Playgirl photoshoot story and we're back for the official evaluation. For the background, Ronnie Kroell (right) was a contestant on Bravo's old "Make Me a Supermodel" and is gay, and says he's 26 although I don't know if I believe this but whatevs...

For the estimated sum of $500,000, Kroell decided to doff his clothes, stand before a camera, and have a whole team of Photoshoppers make his body look like Edward Cullen after a Fun in the Sun yacht party.

Okay, I'm not a fan of the photos...

Oh, we have to talk about the photos for a second. So, Playgirl has been like all up in people's grills about the photos and I suspect that the reason is that they know the pictures are nothing to write home about and they don't want people realizing that until they give up their dollar dollar bills to then just be disappointed. I've seen the photos... They are photos of Ronnie and his peen, looking a little highlighted, a little electric if you will... The Photoshoppers overdid themselves in a few photos, but overall, if you've seen one peen, then you really can make a cup of tea and read your favorite book, there's no reason to go to the newsstand.

While I was at first a little worried about Kroell doing this because I like him and think he could have a career, if the $500,000 bill he charged Playgirl is true, then YOU GO BOY! Some people may say that is isn't respectable and that if he is a serious model, then he wouldn't do it.

First of all, that's not true because if you're pretty, someone will pay you to let them take pictures of you. Secondly, do you know how many female models have bared all and still work. A lot, plus did any of us really believe that Ronnie was gonna have this uber-long successful career in fashion. That would be like the latest winner of "America's Next Top Model" would be on the cover of Vogue. Please, the latest winner of "Top Model" can't even get on the cover of Tyra's internet magazine by herself, you know. So I'm fine with it... If Playgirl wanted to give me a half-a-million dollars for me to roll around with my flabby a$$ cheeks flapping in the breeze, I would happily pose for them... I'd do the spread eagle, the wheelbarrow, the 'oops, I dropped something,' the girl on the hood of a car (below)...


Call it my recession lesson but I don't mind anymore that my boyfriend Ronnie did this. If this is what it takes to get your money, then this is what it takes to get your money. Retirement is expensive. So in that respect, I say HOT but in the respect that the pictures themselves are less than sexy, I say NOT.

What do you... Oh, I didn't show you the pictures! For a preview of the pictures, go HERE.

What do you think? Hot or not?

Susan Krinard's "Lord of Sin" (above)

First of all, this cover is the literal definition of "eye f#cking." Secondly, I'm loving the whole Vampire Lestat look he's got going for himself. Lastly, all I can think of when I read "Her lord. Her savior. Her sin." is what did this bish do? I guess that's what a good book cover is supposed to make you do, want to know more, so congratulations cover design people! p.s. sorry for the blurry picture, my cell phone cam is not a magician...

Alright everyone, welcome to our day after coverage of last night's Tony Awards, honoring the best in American theater for whatever period of eligibility the American Theatre Wing decides upon today. I'm your host, Junior. Let me start off by apologizing to anyone who tried to join me via Live Twitter. Things were going smoothly until around 10 PM Eastern Standard Time, when the folks at Twitter decided that they had heard enough from me and with no vague uncertainties told me to shut the f#ck up. Thus, I was out of commission for the last hour of the show. Lovely.

Don't worry, I still watched the whole thing and we're about to break it down in a second. If you did want to reread my Tweets from the first half or so of the show, I think you can still do that by visiting my Twitter page but who knows? Let's just leave the whole thing alone before I hurt someone. What's next on my cue card? Oh... Black people! Give it up for black people! My people did very well at the Awards last night I must say and for the first time not only in the musical categories, which we are most known for due to our natural rhythm and athletic prowess (Editor's Note: People who are not black, do not repeat these jokes to your friends. No, just don't.)

"Memphis," a new musical about a white DJ in the, I think 60s but I'd have to look it up to be sure and I don't feel like it, who falls in love with a black singer in... Sheboygan! OK, not Sheboygan, you got me, in Memphis won Best Musical, which was kinda a surprise because most people thought it would be either "Fela!," the story of apartheid set to music and dancing, or "Green Day's American Idiot," which I call "Rent" With AC Adapters. I believe the Academy gave it to "Memphis" solely because the songs were (mostly) original because I can't imagine it was the story. Enough with the racial divide "Our love is so dangerous!" stories. We get it, but there were a lot of black people in the cast so go them. Oh, can I just say one thing about "American Idiot." Green Day rocks and I would have been happy if they turned the whole telecast into one long Green Day concert, except, see I have a type of epilepsy where I can't look at flashing lights for too long or I develop an intense migraine that feels like a saw is splitting down the length of my head, so that number from "American Idiot"... Yeah, thanks for that Green Day. Anyway, the black and gay Bill T. Jones won for Choreographing "Fela!" and Katie Finneran, who is not black, won Featured Actress in a Musical and gave one of the best speeches about following your dreams I have ever heard.

I can't find it online yet, but if you can find it watch. She was great. Returning to black people for just a moment, both Denzel Washington and Viola Davis won Leading Actor and Actress in a Play respectively for the revival of August Wilson's "Fences" (above), which also won Best Revival of a Play. I am especially happy for Davis who is one of those great gifted actors like CCH Pounder or Celia Weston who you always see do good work but who never win anything. I have a history with "Fences," which is why I'm happy for it to win. My mother and father went to see the original production with James Earl Jones in 1983 during their livin' for the city days, prolly leaving the then 1-year-old me with some stranger sitter for the first time, and love loved it.

My mother especially wanted to see the revival but because they live two states away and complain about everything, they didn't see it, which is why if we could have even tried to show some of the actual production instead of a goofy music video montage that would have been nice, show producers. Also, show producers, the telecast of the Tonys was crazy sloppy. Missed cues, camera glitches, sound problems, get it together! Also, I forgot to add that I thought Catherine Zeta Jones was great in her number from "A Little Night Music." I just forgot to say that. The microphone in the wig thing threw me off a bit, but she was good. And she was famous already in Hollywood which is what you needed to win a Tony this year. Anyway, back to play news, "Red," the play about artist Mark Rothko that I never heard about until today... I have been slacking in my "Theater Talk" viewing, I must admit... won Best Play and it's cute cast member Eddie Redmayne (above with Alfred Molina) won Featured Actor in a Play, and beat a whole bunch of black men to do it. They're everywhere! Sorry, that was a really bad joke. Anyway, he was adorbs so good for him! Now of course, I want to see "Red" but will never be able to get a ticket for anything reasonable for the rest of the show's run. Damn you, Tony Awards! Let me see if there was anything else awards-wise I wanted to discuss...

No, I think that just about covers it. For the complete list of winners, go here.

As for the show itself, as I said, I thought it was kind of a hot mess. Very unprofessional at times. I thought Sean Hayes went a long way toward making people like him after all his annoying comments to the press about his career and sexuality. That Newsweek kerfuffle certainly helped make him more likeable, and I liked how they didn't refer to it once. It was beneath them all. While I liked Sean Hayes, I don't think it was fair to call him the host when The Mighty Diminutive Diva Herself, Kristin Chenoweth, did much of the heavy lifting!

Every single one of her bits worked, killed, and sent a message. Love that little lady! What else did I like? I loved Addams Family stars Bebe Neuwirth and Nathan Lane's intro to the best musical acting categories. Love love loved Angela Lansbury's passive aggressive verbal smackdown on ingenues thinking they don't have to work to succeed on Broadway. Go Angela! Loved the fact that Raquel Welch forgot to keep her pair of Foster Grants (commercial at left) in that ginormous wig of hers. Seriously, honey, you need them to read so even when you're on TV, put them on your face!

My negatives: I still don't like this idea that the producers have that they can't do performance pieces from the Best Play nominees or at least show taped clips from the plays. Plays need promotion on the telecast too and wouldn't you be interesting in seeing a short segment of what "Red" was all about? Or what about "In the Next Room, or the vibrator play"? That would have been nice. Also, for as much as the show depended on singing and dancing, some of it was not very good. The number from "Memphis" was tone deaf and flat and while Lea Michele from "Glee" will be Patti LuPone in 20 years, I still didn't need to see her yelling at Beyoncé's face. Plus, singing ladies, the whole sitting in an attractive man's lap during your song is played.

Time to end it. Okay, so what did we learn this Tony Awards? We learned Twitter has site limits. We learned that you can win a Tony if you're already a movie star. Black people are also permitted to win Tonys. And that Raquel Welch needs to always remember her Foster Grants! Until next year, this is Junior signing off and signing on to get some "Shakespeare in the Park" tickets! I need a theater fix!

Now, what did you like about the Tonys? What bugged you? And were you too busy watching either basketball or "True Blood" to notice?

Hey kids, do you want to hear a story? *Opens book* This is a very special story about a cute, morbidly obese dark boy who just wants more than anything in the world to love another boy, but none of the other boys in the whole wide world want anything to do with him.

This is why he spends every night alone furiously masturbating to John Cena and eating cake until he wants to puke, but he never pukes because, of course, that would make him thin. Doesn't that sound like a fun story? Let's read it together and all call out the parts of the book that are particularly embarrassing...

Okay, in all seriousness, it's been a little while since I talked about the wet dog that is my love life and, people, let me tell you that I am ready to talk. Oh boy, am I ready to talk. I have never been more ready to talk in my entire life... Alright, let's talk... I hate Manhattan... What was that? Oh, come on, you know I'm telling a story here... I can't just start with the juicy parts, I'm telling a story here! Can I begin again? Thanks. Where was... I hate Manhattan. I mean, I love Manhattan. I will always love Manhattan, but conversely, I hate the place. I hate when you've gone out with a guy who you've been talking to for a month online and end the date blah. You don't even get to end the date badly, in fireworks of "I never want to see you again!" or end the date greatly in making out and plans for the next night, but you end the date blah and then you have to walk through Manhattan to get to your bus stop... The word "bus stop" in that sentence sounds especially sad... I hate Manhattan because as you're walking through the city to get to the bus on a Friday night after your blah ending date, you have to pass scores of people, attractive people, tall people in fancy clothes, in groups having fun, laughing, kissing, hailing cabs to go to more fabulous places, music thumping out of sushi houses, people shouting into cell phones, girls in sparkles, the literal clothing embodiment of a good time.

You have to pass all this on your way to the bus, and frankly, you're pissed. You're pissed because you have no idea if this guy is gonna call you, and you actually like him despite the fact that he put his hand on your shoulder and said you should "keep in touch." And you didn't flinch when he dropped a bomb on you. I can't say what the bomb is because that wouldn't be fair to him, but I will say that it was a bomb, and I didn't flinch. And I could have flinched. A lesser man would have, but I didn't, and I get a hand on the shoulder. Oh, and if he reads this because he knows the url, call me!

Alright, I have to back up a little bit because I've gotten ahead of myself. The scenario I'm talking about above did not happen with Charlie. Remember Charlie, the really sweet prolly gay guy I worked with (still do) who drives me home every single time I ask him and who I flirted with like a house on fire? Yeah, no. The answer to the question of Charlie is no. It's not gonna happen. Wait, I worded that wrong. It's never gonna happen. It's not gonna happen implies that there is a time period which when expired means it could happen between me and Charlie. There is no time that will happen.

Yeah, the correct phrase is it's never gonna happen.

I can't even begin to tell you how far it went wrong with Charlie. I hated typing that sentence. I'm tired of typing that sentence. I'm trying so hard not to become angry or jaded or bitter, but let's go talk about this so I can expunge it from my system. I am tired of Charlie. He is a mystery wrapped in a riddle and no amount of him looking exactly like Charlie Brown is gonna make me care about unmasking that pantomime.

I have done everything short of just openly invading his personal space to find out if this man is A) gay and B) likes me and I've gotten bupkis. Actually, I've gotten bupkis' older cousin Bob Kis who is even more dismissive and evasive.

Charlie still stands too close to me when we talk. He still asks me 5,000 questions about the things I like, trying to get inside my head. He still has a nickname for me that only he uses. He still never answers any direct question I've asked him. I actually once got so fed up that I turned to him and said "You know Charlie, it's so funny that I don't know anything about you and we've been around each other so much." And he did that giggle that I used to melt over and now just makes me want to kick him in the shin and replied "I'm just not interesting." But you are, Charlie, you are. See, Charlie found a way to make himself interesting, by disagreeing with me at every turn thus making me realize that a relationship between the two of us would be doomed. It happened one night when he was driving me home and for some reason it felt like the longest ride of our lives. It was practically the ride into our future, the future we will never have, the ride when I discovered that not only do we not have anything in common, we can't even fill the air in discussion of the sh!t that we don't have in common. I'll give you a taste of the conversation between Charlie and I as if I transcribed the whole conversation, you'd be pulling your hair out by the end of it. Your pubic hair.

Okay, we're in the car. Vroom, vroom...

Me: So, Charlie, seen any good movies lately? (Editor's Note: I needed something, sue me.)
Charlie: Yeah, I just saw "Iron Man 2" I really liked that. Did you see it? (Editor's Note: This conversation is a little old.)
Me: Yeah
Charlie: Did you like it?
Me: Um, no.
Charlie: What didn't you like about it?
Me: Um, I didn't like the like story or the people or the images, just the whole thing really. (Editor's Note: Yes, I know I'm a b!tch but it was a bad movie.)
Charlie: Oh, I liked it. It was better than that "Sex and the City" crap that's coming out soon. Now, you saw "Iron Man 2," what movie are you seeing next this summer?
Me: "Sex and the City 2"
[Silence]
Me: So are you gonna be doing anything this summer? Taking any trips?
Charlie: I'm not a big trip guy.
Me: Yeah, me neither. Except I'm going to Las Vegas this summer, and I'm going to Atlantic City at the end of the month. And Scranton for a few days but that's with my parents. And Long Island...
[Silence]
Me: You know I never asked you if you liked working at the store. (Editor's Note: You can't say that I don't come back to the well.)
Charlie: I don't. Do you?
Me: Yes kinda, yes.

I then thanked him for the ride and ran out of the car like it was sparking at a gas station. I know that you don't necessarily have to agree on everything when you're in a couple, but that went on the whole time. It was as if I were on one page and he was using the Kindle, the two weren't compatible no matter how many times I tried to throw my book onto that Kindle to get it to go inside. Never worked. Anyway, now when we're working together, it's a little strained and I can tell that he still likes me as a person I guess but that we don't need to spend every minute together and talk anymore.

It is around this time that I have to talk about this friend I have. I love her to pieces, but she is a bit old-fashioned when it comes to matters of courtship. I told her the story above and she gasped. She quickly admonished me for my behavior and gave me some sparkling tips that I could use on my next encounter with a man.

She said that I was to A) stop being so disagreeable. Sometimes it is better for a man to believe his opinion is the best one because it makes him feel better about himself and makes him feel like you understand him. I asked her "So you would have preferred that I lie to Charlie and tell him 'Iron Man 2' was like better than 'Brokeback Mountain'?" "No," she replied. "But you didn't have to joke about the movie and make him feel small." When this started to make sense to me, I knew I had to stop listening for fear of ruining my sanity, but I didn't. My friend also advised me that if I like a guy, I should make an effort to like the things that he likes because that makes him feel like we have a stronger connection to each other.

"What if he doesn't like the things I like?" I asked. "Well, he'll love you more so eventually he'll come around to the things you do. Plus, you may find that you like what he does so much, that you'll do it more," she answered. Unless his thing is eating cake, I don't see how that's gonna be possible. I love her so much, but seriously, I don't know where she gets this stuff. She actually told me that before her dates with guys, she'll find out what they do for a living and study up on it so that she can carry on a conversation with him about it. I wondered why wouldn't she just use the date as a way to ask him about what he does instead of studying up beforehand. "Because it shows that I really care about learning more about him!" she shouted back at me, clearly through with having to teach me these things. I kept harping. I said to her, "Honey, you're in the middle of a doctoral thesis and not once has any of the guys you've gone out with read up on what your thesis is about to talk to you about it. Why the f#ck are you reading this golf book just because some loser told you he likes golf?" I am still waiting for her to answer. Here's the deal: I'm not gonna do that. I'm never gonna be that girl. I'll go along for the ride if I trust you and I'm comfortable, but I'm never gonna just agree with you or say I like something when I don't or stroke your ego just to get you to date me. Maybe this is why I'm still single. Maybe it's because I just refuse to have some guy turn me inside out for his own devices and then leave me for someone younger in the long run. I have in my head that there is some guy out there that will be OK with the fact that I don't eat chicken on the bone or that I don't have a great relationship with my sister or that I really hate cats or that I think most summer action blockbusters are pointless and that money could have gone to feed the homeless. I'm slowly starting to think that guy I keep dreaming about doesn't exist. He very well may not.

Which brings me to my latest predicament I began to describe above. So I went on a date this weekend. That was the thing that kept me from blogging for a little bit. Stop. Clapping. The date was with a new guy you all haven't met before. We'll call him Harrison and he lives in the city and we had been talking online for about a month. Things had been going well up until we actually met face to face, well for me mostly. I really liked this guy. He literally fit into all my little boxes, and I know I shouldn't have little boxes but everyone does so close the trap. Sorry, that was rude. Please close the trap.

Harrison is adorable and feisty and artistic and creative. He kind of reminds me of Thomas Jane (left) if Thomas Jane were shorter, more brunette, and looked intelligent. Harrison seemed to like me which was a major plus in my book and I thought that this could be it. I may finally be able to stop looking. Yeah, right.

Like Jesus loves me.

Anyway, so I did the thing I always do before dates: imagine what our lives would be like together. I liked the picture of me and Harrison. It was a picture I could happily live with. I really have to stop doing that. Anyway, so in the beginning of the date, I was admittedly a little nervous. I didn't know what to do with my hands because the bar we were in for some reason did not believe their stools should have arm rests. But as the night wore on, I loosened up. I was being flirty. I was using all the sh!t I got at my disposal. Then, as I was talking about my family, he dropped a bomb.

A personal, non-health related bomb. It wasn't a Hiroshima-sized bomb, but it def made a ka-boom when it hit the floor. I didn't flinch. I could have if I wanted to. Instead, I said that it was not something I looked upon as a negative and batted my eyes. Then, I did something bad. Because he dropped his bomb and I felt like this first date had stopped being polite and started getting real, I decided to just unload. I was just so fed up with the pleasant delicateness of Charlie and men like him that I felt that Harrison would truly appreciate the honesty of a fellow human just opening up like a flower. I talked a blue streak on every subject in the book that you're not supposed to talk about on a first date. Looking back, don't call me, I'm mortified. Anyway, as you may have guessed, the man who once seemed so into me literally couldn't wait to get away (BUT I DIDN'T FLINCH! DON'T I GET CREDIT FOR THE OBVIOUS NON-FLINCH!) I got a "I'm going this way and you're going that way" with a hand on the shoulder and a "lets keep in touch."

So I turned on some angry Robbie Williams, stomped to the bus through the crowd of better-than-mees, and finally called my bestie once safely being shuttled out of Manhattan. This is not the friend described above. This is the one who's been stalking a boy she's never talked to before who works at a bookstore in town. Oh, I'm sorry, she talked to him once. I have pictures of the bookstore boy on my cell phone because I took them when he wasn't looking so we could stare at him and give our opinions. We are friends because we are a rare breed of amazing person. Anyway, I called her. Her advice: "This date was good experience, but maybe you need more practice, like with talking to people appropriately..."

Hence my next stop: speed dating. I don't see how this could go wrong.

p.s. you want to see what I had to stand next to when I was waiting for the subway to get the heck outta dodge after my disaster date? This (below)...


Now will someone believe me when I joke that Jesus doesn't love me?

Hello, everyone! It's time for a new Question to the World and this time it comes with musical accompaniment.

Be sure to turn on those speakers. Okay, before I get to the question, which you can read in the title so this build-up is a liiitle anticlimactic, I of course will tell you how I chose this question and what my answer is. Then, you can tell me what your answer is in the comments and we'll all grow as people. Or at least this is how I've been told this whole sharing thing is supposed to work. Alright, we're beginning now... So I'm in this interesting place in my life right now.

I guess you could call it a crossroads but I'm not that whimsical about it. Basically, I am at a place where I have to decide what it is I want out of life and how I want the next ostensibly 60 or so years to go. It's not a bad place. Actually, it's a good place. I'm happier now than I've been in years, but it is what I would call a scary time because I am being confronted with the advancement of aspects of my life that I do know if I'm ready to handle. The thing I know more than anything is that I am the person who can create the destiny that I imagine for myself. I know I'm speaking a lot of Oprah words right now, but it's true. More than anything, I think the events of my life and even the recession has taught me that you are the master of your own domain, that no one else cares about you as much as you care about yourself. I know that sounds selfish but I think it's more self-ful. I still love people as much as I ever did, but my loving people isn't gonna stop them from saving themselves from drowning first and then checking to see if I'm OK later. That's human instinct, knowing it doesn't make me love people less. It just makes me want to work harder so I can save myself too.

You learn lessons like these pretty quickly after your mother tells you that you can't stay in your parents' house, the one with all the empty rooms, the one you've stayed in before, for a few months because your rent is too expensive because it would be "too much for her." Too. Much. For. Her.

Anyway, in other news, I have recently had conversations with four (4!) different people who are all making significant changes in their lives in an effort to become the people they want to be. I'm not talking 'bout switching from two-ply to one-ply. I'm talking about moving from New York to Texas or China all by themselves to pursue an opportunity or follow the person they love. The this has to do with me is because as I said, I'm in a place where I could make a change and I've been going back and forth in wondering how transformative I want to be. Do I want a full life lift or just a little life Botox?

Finally, we're getting to the point of today's Question to the World. Basically, because I've been deciding what the f#ck I want out of my life, I've had about 32 moments when I lept off the couch and decided that I was gonna start to change everything about my life at that very moment. Job, romance, health, everything was gonna change! But none of those pronouncements ever took hold. I believe this is because I didn't have the perfect "Picking Myself Up Off the Ground and Moving On" song playing in the background.

Because I am an overly-dramatic gay man, I need one of these songs to validate my feelings and help continue the idea I have that my life is one really long Lifetime movie. Now, you may be asking, what is a "Picking Myself Off the Ground and Moving On" song? You know, they're those songs that every big budget movie with female protagonists that was made in the late 80s and early 90s (and a handful in the 2000s) had playing in the background during a montage of the main characters cleaning up their lives and TAKING CHARGE! These songs typically highlighted the fact that the woman was a woman who didn't need a man, and who was gonna be the one to change her reality to get what she deserves! If I had had one of these songs playing in the background, I'm sure I would have chosen a life path by now! That's why I have to choose one, but that was easier said than done.

With so many songs to choose from, which one describes my own personal journey to my best self? Let's see, 1996's "The First Wives Club" used both the 1985 classic "Sisters Are Doin' it for Themselves" (video above) by the Eurythmics with Annie Lennox and Aretha Franklin and Lesley Gore's "You Don't Own Me." Both are great inspirational anthems and definitely fit into my current predicament nicely. Let's break them down...

"I'm young and I love to be young. I'm free and I love to be free, to live my life the way I want, to say and do whatever I please." - Miss Lesley Gore

Now, miss Lesley is def singing my tune, but maybe the song is a little too specific to being in a domineering relationship. The problem I have is being in a domineering life. Whatchagot, Annie and Aretha?

"Sisters are doing it for themselves! Standing on their own two feet and ringing on their own bells!" - Annie & Aretha

I could get behind "Sisters" except for the fact that everyone and their godmother has used this song as their anthem at some point in time. Don't look at me like that, you know you have. Then, when you add the fact that I don't know what "ringing on their own bells" means, I've decided to nix this song... Seriously, what could that mean? Now, I was also considering Katrina and the Waves' "Walking on Sunshine" but that song has also been used like 1,000 times by everyone we all know and I can't find a version of the video to embed here so it gets nixed. Also, it really is more of a song you sing after you've done everything you want to do to make your life better, no? I can't sing it now. That'd be cheating. Now, 2006's "Devil Wears Prada" uses a more recent song as its anthem; it uses Madonna's "Jump" (video above). I personally love this song, it's one of my favorites off of "Confessions" but we can't just give it the win. Let's see if it fits in with what's going on in my life right now...

"I haven't got much time to waste. It's time to make my way. I'm not afraid of what I'll face, but I'm afraid to stay. I'm going down my own road and I can make it alone. I'll work and I'll fight 'til I find a place of my own." - Madge

I like this idea, I really do. But I think it may be a little to literal for my taste. I may have something that fits the situation while still leaving enough ambiguity for any change in my life. And it happens to be one of my favorite songs. Roll it...


Talking Heads - "And She Was" (video above)

Not only do I happen to love this song, but it fits all my other criteria. It has some of the most beautiful lyrics I've ever heard to describe elevation and moving forward... Yes, we know the song is about a girl taking acid. That's not the point. Songs are interpretive, and when I listen to the 1985 classic, I take away the idea of moving forward in your life and rising above the din to find solace in what you truly love. Plus, it was in "Look Who's Talking"!

"The world was moving and she was right there with it, and she was. The world was moving and she was floating above it, and she was." - Talking Heads

See, think of it my way for a second. Riiight? It works, doesn't it? "And She Was" is my brand new "Picking Myself Up Off the Ground and Moving On" anthem! I shall play it whenever I feel a moment of transformation afoot! And I'll wear blazers with big shoulder pads because that's what those ladies always did in those 80s movies! Now as this is a Question to the world, I must know...

What Is Your Personal "Picking Myself Up Off the Ground and Moving On" Anthem?

It can be any song! Tell us, and include why it means something to you! Can't wait!

Courtesy of Australian Men's Health.

All I have to say is I want to go to there...

(p.s. I don't know who won. Don't ask me. I don't care.)

I was going to write about something else for today, but I can't. I have to get this, my thoughts about this, out into the ether to make myself feel better and hopefully find that there are some people in the world who agree with me. Okay, I saw the above commercial for Huggies Jeans Diapers while I was watching "General Hospital" yesterday and I almost upchucked. I was actually so shocked and disgusted that I was vibrating. Did I really just see what I thought I just saw? No, couldn't be. No... OMG, yes. Yes, I did just see that. Let me break it down for you. Huggies just made a commercial where a baby wearing a men's style button-down shirt and a diaper walks down the street and adults, all adults, stare at him because they think he looks good.

Everything about the sentence I just typed is wrong. THIS IS ALL WRONG! VERY VERY BAD AND VERY VERY WRONG! MAKE IT STOP!

Not only is this image very very wrong and bad, it's also very very disgusting and disturbing, so much so that I'm surprised that no one else is complaining. Oh, I know why no one else is complaining... It's because we do it all the time, but I'll get to that later. What am I railing on against, you ask? I'll tell you...

I have a serious problem with the obvious sexual objectification of a muthaf#cking baby, that's what. From his slow-motion walk, to the men's style shirt which was clearly chosen to make him appear like a little adult, to the fact that a number of adults are staring at him, this ad is clearly sexualized. I know that there are people out there who think this is just humorous fun; it's funny to see babies act like adults just like it's funny to see adults act like babies. I would agree with that. Every time I see a precocious child, I think they are adorable, but this is not precociousness, this is sexualization, which IS SO WRONG IT HURTS ME INSIDE! Sexualization doesn't just mean someone is being overtly sexual as in kissing or taking their clothes off, it can be as simple as referring to concepts having to do with adult relationships and sexuality without using vulgarity or nudity. That's what this ad does, except it does it WITH MUTHAF#CKING BABIES WHO ARE NOT SEXUAL AND SHOULD NEVER BE SEXUAL IN ANY CONTEXT EVER ESPECIALLY ON TELEVISION! How this ad even made it past the planning stages is beyond me. I cannot believe that no one else noticed the wrongness of the fact that adult women are staring at a male baby who isn't even wearing pants walking down the street. Alright, calming down for a moment, I have to say that I understand the general idea of the ad although that idea is wrong.

The general concept is that the Huggies Jeans diapers will make your baby look so cool that people will stare at them. The problem with this idea is that in our adult culture, "cool" has a very close relationship with "sexy," which is very clearly illustrated by the women at the cafe pulling their sunglasses down in the same way people do when they see someone attractive they see walking down the street. But it's a baby. Have I mentioned that we're talking about a baby here? A baby. Seriously. A baby.

Am I the only person with even a modicum of class left? Even NAMBLA members are like "Damn, that commercial is tasteless." You can't involve babies in anything that is even related to "sexy" as babies do not have the presence of mind to be sexual. They don't even have the presence of mind to be babies BECAUSE THEY'RE BABIES! They're just getting used to the notion that they are alive! This is inappropriate! TOTES INAPPROPES! I would feel a little better about the ad if let's say, everyone in the ad was a baby. If the women at the cafe were little girls and the guy on the Vespa was a baby, if everyone in the ad was a baby, it would still be a little uncomfortable but at least it wouldn't look like what it is: adults objectifying a baby in a not-so-vaguely sexual manner. If everyone was a baby, the ad would actually be funnier and make more sense: it would say that because that one baby looks good in their jean diapers, the other babies want jean diapers. But in the ad as it is, the adults don't want to wear jean diapers. They just like the way the baby looks. NO ADULT SHOULD BE LOOKING AT A BABY LIKE THAT! Do you see how it's different than seeing a baby in your own life and saying something like "Hi, little Susie, I like your sunflower hat. I wish I could have a hat like that..." Actually, if that's what this commercial said, I wouldn't have a problem with it.

Instead, it presents that idea and creeps it the f#ck out. People have a lot of time in life to be "cool," "attractive," and "sexy." There's no reason to force that upon babies, especially when there are enough sick criminals out there sexualizing babies and children and causing terrible damage to the lives of those children as they grow up. Lastly, here's the thing that trips me up the most; this isn't the first time something like this has happened.


On the contrary, media and advertising has often objectified babies because for some reason, the juxtaposition of babies and adult behavior never fails to capture people's attention. Remember that E-Trade ad that Lindsay Lohan sued about a while back (above)? That was another lovely example of taking babies and transferring adult behavior onto them. While I hated all these ads because I felt like there was no need to treat babies this way, at least adults weren't gawking at them. We have just crossed into a new realm of creepiness. Oh, it's so creepy. It's not bad because I think babies are gonna see it and know what's going on... THEY'RE BABIES! Sometimes babies discover their own feet as if they've never seen them before. Obviously, babies are clueless. The problem is adults thinking this behavior is appropriate. Adults do bad things and the less we can involve babies, the better.

Okay, I feel better. I know my little tirade won't stop anyone, but maybe someone out there will see this and agree with me and I won't feel like Countess Luann all alone out here... "money can't buy you class! elegance is leaaaarned, my friends!" Now, here's your chance to talk...

Do you think this commercial is wrong on many levels or just a few? Do you think I'm overreacting or am right on target? Do you think the casting sessions for the baby must have been pedo central? Does anyone else wish Huggies would just go back to the Potty Dance?

New York City Boys
Chapter Six - Party

(Revisit Chapters One, Two & Three, Four, and Five)

Marcus Lansing considered himself to be a sensible man. He went to Brown. He purchased a reasonably-priced brownstone in Brooklyn before that was de rigueur for urban professionals such as himself. He parted his stringy black hair on the left, and it was always very neatly trimmed. He paid exactly $20 in cash for his Tom Ford tortoise-shell eyeglasses, and despite having enough money, he made sure his insurance paid for the balance of the frames' cost as well as that of his strong prescription lenses. He had recently purchased a composting bin for his kitchen because he had heard about the benefits of waste composting on NPR.

He had worked as Andrew Kirshner's financial officer, a title Andrew invented when he decided that the label "accountant" was unsexy, for the past seven years. In the position, he not only managed Andrew's money but he also acted as an adviser to Andrew, tempering his irresponsible dreams with truth and facts. Marcus was single on purpose. He was waiting for Andrew to love him.

He never told Andrew this because it was unprofessional, and the potential breach in conduct was too much for Marcus to bear. Plus, he had been a first-hand witness to the wild shifts in Andrew's personal life. Thus, Marcus figured that eventually Andrew would appreciate the calm he could provide and would want to forge a relationship with him. Marcus also strongly believed that there was no reason to taint the air between them by disclosing his honest feelings, especially before Andrew was emotionally ready to handle a truly adult relationship. He just had to wait out Andrew's flavors of the month, Marcus often said to himself. However, originally, Marcus didn't think Andrew would keep uncovering these new obsessions of his like layers of an improbably deep casserole.

One afternoon, Marcus met Andrew in the back of the men's store at Saks on Fifth Avenue where Andrew stood on a raised platform draped in a black three-button suit dotted with pins carefully applied by a dexterous tailor, hands in several places at once. Marcus sat in a nearby chair and undid a button on his own sportcoat. It was Friday, so Marcus decided upon something less formal, a tweed sportcoat in sand. Marcus coughed before he went to speak and the noise alerted Andrew, who took the opportunity to spin around and show off to Marcus how well his new suit fit as well as begin the conversation first.

"Like I was born in it, right?" beamed Andrew.

Marcus coughed again, "It's a beautiful suit, but if I can ask..."

"Yes, I know, you're thinking that I have a suit, plenty of suits, but I'm wearing this one for Gil's party tonight so I couldn't wear one I've been photographed in before. That would be fashion suicide..." Andrew crinkled his face and shuddered dramatically when he finished as if he truly cared if anyone noticed that he wore something to more than one event. In his mind, Marcus was still conceptualizing the suit's value.

"How much does it cost?"

Andrew shook his hand, "Marc, we're not playing this game. I can afford it and I want a new suit so I'm buying it. Just give me one of my credit cards."

Marc fished around in his attaché case for the wallet that held all of Andrew's credit cards. He snorted, "You could have sent an assistant down here if all you wanted was to put an unnecessary suit on a credit card."

"Ouch," Andrew grimaced, swatting Flavio, his tailor, in the head. "The pins go in the suit, Flavio. Unless you're trying to hurt me because I need all the alterations finished today. Who always tips you so generously at Christmas?"

Flavio took a pin out of his mouth, "Andrew, as I tell you, it's no problem."

"Andrew?"

"Jesus, Marc, of course I didn't want to see you for a credit card. I wanted to make sure you got that money to Jon for his rent. I don't want him to get evicted because of something his asshole of a boyfriend did. Scusi, Flavio, for the language," Andrew apologized while comparing the lengths of his jacket sleeves.

Marcus pursed his lips, crossed his legs, and waited a long time before he said anything. Andrew was facing the mirror in the alterations room and had to turn back to make sure Marcus was even still there.

"Hello," Andrew shouted. "Did you?"

Marcus scratched his head than quickly smoothed his hair back into place. "I don't like the idea of just giving him your money like this. You already paid him for months and months when he didn't do any real work and now he's asking for money. I thought the whole reason you chose him was because he wasn't a gold digger and now here he is..."

Andrew couldn't stop himself from laughing, which caused him to bend forward. Flavio joshed him in the stomach to remind him to stand up straight. "You make it sound like I have a look book of all the gay men in New York City and I periodically go through it to choose the men I want to date."

"Well, don't you," spat Marcus.

"I chose Jon to work at the magazine because he was their most talented writer. It took longer than we thought to relaunch the damn thing so I paid him in the interim. The fact that I have been sexually attracted to him this entire time has nothing to do with it. He came to me with a problem and I helped him, just like I would for any of my employees, including you," explained Andrew. "And, he's gonna pay me back."

"I'm not so sure about that," Marcus said under his breath.

[Editor's Note: Straight men should draw their attention here for the duration of the post as we are talking "Sex and the City" and you don't understand. Don't say you do because you watched a few times with your girlfriend. You don't. Also, the title of the post should be filed in the encyclopedia under the phrase "I'm trying. Work with me here people."]

Alright everyone, I saw it. You maybe saw it. Regardless, we meet today to discuss "Sex and the City 2" (left) the sequel to the first "Sex and the City" movie, which was based on the "Sex and the City" TV show that aired on HBO for six seasons, which was based on a book, which was based on a column... whew. Okay, we're gonna break it down, but before we break it down, I want to give my general impressions of the movie, then, we'll break it down because, you know, how can I not? OK, you guys know that I love "Sex and the City"... I've watched every single episode and I saw the first movie in theaters. I feel like I could call Miranda Hobbes, I know her so well. But something happened in between watching the first movie and this one... I realized that I would never get what I want. The beautiful love letter to New York City I wanted would never exist because the love letter to New York City stopped existing on the show since season 4. It's somewhere around that time that the show decided to stop focusing on the plight of New York singles and decided to focus solely on the lives of Sarah Jessica Parker's Carrie, Kristen Davis' Charlotte, Kim Cattrall's Samantha, and Cynthia Nixon's Miranda. Ever since then, the show itself has decided that their story is enough to propel it forward and not the idea of New York City single life, which I found interesting. Anyway, although I wanted the first movie to be more representative of the show as a whole, I had to accept it for what it was. Because this movie was also planned as a summer blockbuster, I realized it would never been interesting the way I wanted. Thus, I went into this movie with no expectations, no hopes, just ready to see what they would bring me.

With this all being said, I actually liked "Sex and the City 2" and I would say that I would watch it again (not in theaters) more than I would watch the first movie again. There was just so much I didn't like about the first movie -- how heavy handed it was, how the story was so down on the ladies, Mr. Big -- that whenever I have seen it on cable, I just couldn't invest in watching it again. Luckily, although this movie gave me virtually no New York and a lot of Abu Dhabi (more like Abu Don'tbi), the one memo the creators got was to make it more lighthearted. This movie was miles funnier and actually seemed to enjoy itself in a way the too-serious first movie did not. Some moments were cringe-worthily hamtastic and blah but it was general fun, it a little too long.

I was also happy that Samantha was a major part of this movie, as she was simply an afterthought in the first one. Actually, I'm gonna call it. If Kristin Davis was the winner of the first movie, I have to say that Kim Catrall was DEFINITELY the winner of this movie. While Carrie spent her days fretting about being rich and married to the man she wanted to marry (OMG b!tch please) and Charlotte spent her days complaining about having two of the sweetest looking children on the face of the earth (OMG b!tch please) and Miranda complained about working too hard (OMG b!tch, wasn't this your storyline in season 3?), Samantha was actually out having a life f#cking Mario Cantone's Anthony's brother (Noah Mills looking like everything I would want in a man), working a movie premiere, and getting a deal for a trip that many would die for. Not me because I'm gay and I have NO IDEA what they do to gay people in those Middle Eastern countries. Actually, I do know and it begins with kill and it ends with kill. I also thought for an incredibly gay movie, it was strange that it was taking place there, but anyway... Plus, the scenes with Samantha offending the locals in Abu Dhabi-- I won't spoil it for you if you haven't seen it, but I don't think this is that much of a spoiler -- gave Cattrall a whole lotta scenery to chew, and she did, but in a funny and real-to-her-character kind of way that was nice to watch from her.

The main negatives I had were obviously, why are we in Abu Dhabi again? Like if they brought me that storyline I would have vetoed it immediately. I also thought the acting in the first half to be incredibly wooden. It was like they were all robots impersonating characters. I'm not going to even discuss the gay wedding because it's completely unbelievable based on the history of the characters and so ridiculous that it negated itself. I actually thought the best actor in the entire first segment was Penelope Cruz in a blink-or-you'll-miss-it scene. She was so good and so comfortable and natural that I wanted them to leave the lot of them in the party and follow Cruz's character home. But other than that, I liked it. It reminded me a lot of a really long and fancy episode of "The Golden Girls," like however will the girls get out of their next predicament?! Tee hee! Cute, not genius.

Okay, ready to break it down.

I promise this won't take long. Let's begin. I want there to be a third movie. I felt like this movie was clearly a middle and we haven't exactly left the girls in a place where you can fade to black on them and have everyone feel like they have closure. There was no movement in relationships in this movie, nothing at stake, it was basically all fluff. However, if they do make a third movie and I hope they do, I HOPE THEY SERIOUSLY CONSIDER USING MY IDEA OR ONE LIKE IT! The only direction for another movie to go is back to New York, back to the idea of singles in the city, back to what made the show successful in the first place. Also, as the box office numbers aren't doing so well, I think the third movie has to be moved out of the summer and to the winter. The seasons of the TV show used to begin in the winter so it's not strange. This is not a summer blockbuster franchise. People who want to see it are not rabid action fans or comic book geeks, we can wait to see the movie, it doesn't have to be opening day. Thus, a winter premiere would allow for less pressure to be a hit. Here's the final suggestion: MICHAEL PATRICK KING (above with rest of the cast) MUST GO! He cannot write and direct the third movie. I'm not trying to begrudge him input. He can input all the f#ck he wants, but the writers from the show have to have more input. King is simply not a good enough writer and his ideas are so hokey and predictable that they leave you feeling restless because you know that nothing surprising will ever happen in this movie.

I have already offered and I will offer again; I will write the movie if they want. But as they prolly don't want to pay my fees (I'm very expensive), I suggest they get Jenny Bicks or Darren Star to write the next script. King can direct if he must, but we would prefer that he didn't. Overhead shots of the Chrysler Building do not New York City make! All lighting does not need to come from overhead! Seriously, the women looked rough under those lights. Anyway, generally, King seems to be obsessed with caricature and not characters and it's simply not good enough for yet another movie.


Because "Sex and the City" is a character driven show, the script is the key and although I didn't like the first movie, I think the script was more complex. It wasn't funny, but it was complex. This movie was funnier but not complex. I don't want to give King another chance to figure out how to create balance in a screenplay. Two strikes, you're out in my world! We need a writer who isn't going to be afraid to mix the characters up... USE THEM! Don't be afraid to have new characters come in and drive the story. Every single scene doesn't have to feature all four main characters and it's OK if they have intersecting stories or stories that involve new people. If they don't do this, I'm convinced a third movie would get even more panned by critics than this one and in today's world, that could keep everyone out of the theater the day after opening...

That's it broken down. I know, it's a lot. How about you do some work around here...

Did you see "Sex and the City 2"? What were your thoughts? My bestie really liked it but had never watched the show.

Was this movie created for those people, I wonder? Do tell!