Fag-u-lous!

I love gay men.

Unfortunately, they don't love me back. Well, not in that way... Not that I really want them to, actually. But what's a single girl to do when the perfect man is usually just a sexual preference away. It's not fair!

I definitely don't have gay-dar. My sophomore year roommate was a body-hair-having, Indigo-Girls-worshiping, RAINBOW-BELT-WEARING lesbian. I traveled all around Europe for a semester and even had a joke about "spooning" with another girl -- both rugby teammates of mine, no less. I had no clue until months later on both accounts! (Btw, should I be offended that I never got hit on?)

However, I do have fabulous-dar. I can find fabulous from five miles away, lady. And where's there's fabulous, there's usually gay men.* That's why gay men and I are instant cohorts. I guess I am boldly including myself in the fabulous category here, but I'm low-woman on the totem pole fo sho'. Maybe it's because there's no sexual tension, so it's safe to do and say and drink and eat whatever the fuck I want without being judged as a potential mother of future children, which is good because I probably score low in the "nurture" category these days.

What can I say? I love a good party. So do my gays. We laugh and call each other "lady" and they call me "mister." When I complain that keeping an all-gay-man audience derails my potential for marital bliss, they make snide remarks about my vagina and tell me I need to broaden my horizons and consider dating trannies. And then we fall out laughing and act obscene.

Gay men -- especially in L.A. -- don't give a shit about your trite hangups. They are accepting, caring and FUNNY, lady! They are always full of life. They're like Italians; they dress better, eat better, decorate better and drink more than me. Damn them!

I want to be a gay Italian man when I grow up.

*Please note, I do not mean to insinuate that gay women are not fabulous. I watch the L Word; I know they are.

That's a Wrap 2006

As we're 1/12 of the way into 2007, I thought I'd give a quick follow-up on a few things since my posts in 2006. Please note: this may or may not be funnier if you go back and read my previous posts if you have not already. Chronologically from the first post:

Obrigado: Marcio and I talked on the phone a few times. He's very sweet and eager, but in the end I threw him back.

Hollah!: My dance instructor came up to me while I was eating at the gym's restaurant and commented that my thumbs were smoking from sending text messages -- just like his 25 year old daughter's do... He's my dad's age.

Be You: I am still awkward around men. This week I saw the man of my dreams sitting at the table next to mine. I couldn't stop looking at him. I finally worked up some nerve, wrote my phone number on the back of a receipt and left it on the bench when I left. Unfortunately, the receipt folded itself in half so the writing was hidden. He didn't even see it. My friends told me I'm passive-agressive.

I heart iTunes: I went to see Justin Timberlake in concert a few weeks ago and it's confirmed. He's f'n sexy. Just as I was about to melt into my seat, Timbaland took like 20 minutes of the show to do a self-tribute. It sucked. Timbaland is the Scientology of hip hop. JT's high-pitched singing annoys me sometimes but he is a sexy bitch all the same.

Go Dog, Go!: I still am all over the place. Last week, I flew from LA to Seattle to Orlando to San Diego.

9/11: My family is struggling with the idea of Bush's "surge" plan because it means my brother will likely be sent to Iraq again, this time leaving behind his young new family. We continue to support the troops.

Flexitarian: I am still revolted by the idea of chicken and eggs. I had to have the last hotel switch all my down pillows. Thank goodness I live in California, where people are proud to be particular about what they eat. Most of the rest of the country thinks I am absurd.

Boris the Filthasaurus: We think Boris is dead. = ( A neighbor left us a note that she was going to take him in at night. We haven't seen him -- even around the neighborhood -- since. RIP, Boris, we miss you.

Just Breathe: I still smoke occasionally. Now it's mostly when I'm pretty drunk. I'm likely to make friends later in the evening with unsuspecting folks toting a pack. It's getting better, though. I rock the lozenges.

Kick It: My work study boss from college got a last-minute deal on a weekend trip to LA the same weekend of my company's holiday party. So, once again, I went with a woman. And this time, it was a 45 year old one. We had a blast. I've received some interesting feedback on my "requirements." One of my ex's told me he had four strikes in the first six requirements. I also received an email from a guy who did a line-by-line tally and came out 24/26. Not bad.

Take Five: I was promoted in January and now have my own, brand new office in a building right down the street from my house. It takes me seven minutes to get to work. Totally sweet.

You Go, Gore: I got a great deal on the lightbulbs, but left them in my friend's car, so they're not yet installed.

Boyz II Men: I was in Orlando last week on business. I don't often travel for business, so I am seldom alone with nothing to entertain me but my cell phone. I had cause for celebration because it was my nephew's first birthday, so I swan-dove into the mini bar and had a party for "one." Watching the Disney World fireworks from my balcony, I was elated. So, despite my recent soap-box rant about communication etiquette, I proceeded to drunk dial and text EVERYONE in my phone. My "outbox" has been renamed, "cringe!" My publicist has released the following: "My client apologizes for her blatant hypocrisy and retracts her earlier statements; you all may now soberly and/or drunkenly text her whenever you want. No further comment."

Here's to a safe, ridiculous 2007!