Dear John Edwards.... let's have a chat.

Sweet Cheese and Biscuits, John Edwards, how in the name of Madras Pants have you put yourself in a tail spin of almost comical proportions. I feel as the reigning Duchess of Protocol that we need to have a little bit of a chitty chitty chat chat.

John Edwards, first of all, seriously?? I know power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely but you’re not a stupid man, wouldn’t you know that having a mistress would get picked up by at least one of your staffers and then get leaked to the media? I mean where have you been the last I dunno….. bazillion years in American politics???

Secondly, and I mean yes you made a decision to have an affair, ok. Lot’s of American’s have extra-marital sexual encounters all the time, that’s a fact of life. However, you failed to use a condom and she failed to use birth control…. Now let’s just review for a second, not only did you create a life out of the bowels of moral incompetency, which btw you better start a trust fund for that baby because if she makes it out of adolescence without being either the biggest sl*t or making friends with one or many controlled substances I will be shocked, but you could have gotten any number of diseases from that woman and passed it onto your wife and the mother of your children. I’m sure she would agree that having stage 4 cancer is bad enough without having to explain why you also have to be treated for crabs. I would rather walk across my tongue than speak ill of someone but when you have sex with someone named Rielle, you use a condom, it’s just common sense.

And now that I mention it, onto the subject of your wife and your legitimate children. I just wanna sit down with Elizabeth Edwards, pour ourselves some lovely afternoon cocktails and tell that woman that I admire her grace and courage in this entire situation. If it was me, there may or may not have been phrases that started with “slashed” and ended with “tires.” There definitely would have been an interview on Oprah where she would have extolled my virtues as a strong woman and then we would have hugged some Nigerian orphans and had a legends ball, and maybe the words “Hooker Smack Down” would have been applied to your woman friend (just a sidebar I would never personally administer a smackdown, I’m much too concerned with the health of my cuticles to waste it on anyone with a name like Rielle).

…..And it must be mentioned…. The sex tape. John Edwards, you are a lawyer and a previously elected member of the Senate, during tenure in both those capacities you should have realized that if there is no physical evidence you have a better chance of plausible deniability, and beyond that, you are such an idiot for making a sex tape with your mistress. If it was your wife you could chalk it up to spicing up the marriage, which btw, is a totally reasonable thing to do.

So in conclusion. John Edwards, you can wear all the hang dog faces you want and make statements about how you’re so sorry and you’re committed to your family blah blah blah. Your career is on the skids and so is your family life. I won’t be inviting you to any of my rooftop cocktail parties now or in the future and please let your wife know that she and I will be having a martini soon.

I just don't make enough money to be Gay.....

Yester-evening while sitting on my couch, sip sip sipping on my nightcap, I was chatting with one of my friends who recently got his Tax bill back and he owes a nice chunk of change. We were discussing how to get around this snafoo and I suggested he start a farm on his porch or adopt a Himalayan whistle kid stat to declare some stuff that would make uncle sam loosen his pockets back up, but it got me to thinking, you know, in this day and age, to be a young gay male in DC you need some serious money and for the greater majority of us, it just aint working out. Therefore, in our effort to make Gay DC a little bit more sparkly, yours truly has come up with an action plan to send to our president with a list of subsidies that those who are little bit over fabulous and a little bit underfunded can take advantage of. Me and B-Rock will be chatting about it a little bit later while I have his cook make me dinner (btw if that cook was in my kitchen momma would be eating in a LOT more).

Clothing Subsidy – I don’t think that the general public understand how much funding it takes to maintain our level trend setting styles all the time. Not only do most young gays not have the funding it takes to afford the guccis, pradas, and all other accoutrement that comes barreling down the catwalk and into our dreams, we don’t have the luxury of waiting for the bargain basement versions of it to be thrown at us by the H&M’s of the world while in the meantime styles have changed, jean shorts are in, and raybans and cravats are back. I also believe that this subsidy should also be combined with a work outreach program in which male clothing stores are required to have on staff at least one homosexual male individual who would be able to serve as a truthful assessor of whether or not your butt looks good in those pants or whether you should wear orange….because sometimes it’s just not your look and you should be informed.

Hair + Skin Care - I have a dream that one day I will be able to walk into a Sephora, whip out my gay card (an card obviously covered in rainbow sparkles) and set it down on the counter and automatically receive a 25% discount on any of the many products I need to make myself look dewy fresh before I set my pumice stoned toes out of the house in the morning. This extends all the way up to but not including plastic surgery because, while I support the pioneering efforts of many gays to slow the signs of aging, by the time you need plastic surgery let’s face it, you should probably be able to afford it.

Gym Subsidy – this may be the most important subsidy of all. The Catholics have their churches, the Episcopalians have their cathedrals, the Muslims have their mosques….. and the Gays have their gyms. These are sacred institutions where we go to pray to our assorted gods, there’s “The holy bearer of the abdominals” , “The twins of power, Bicep 1 and Bicep 2”…. And let us all not forget his holiness, “Lord Pectoralis.” We need the gym much in the same way that Midwest needs Jesus.

Beverage Stamps – So the food stamp program seems to be working at least marginally well for people that need sustenance. I don’t know about the rest of the gays but I haven’t eaten since 1998 and don’t plan on doing so in the immediate future. My diet consists primarily of protein shakes, Martinis, and Bloody Marys (I have to have vegetables), but I think that we should be able to wet our whistles without breaking the bank!!!

So in closing, if you’re young, gay, overfabulous and underfunded band with me on this issue…. Don’t ask don’t tell?? Sure let’s abolish it…. Gay marriage? I’m all for it… but before we tackle those issues let’s tackle some of the really important gay issues because let’s face it people, trying to live my rainbow champagne dreams on a budlight budget aint easy!!!!

Gay DC or Jersey Shore?– Fun Tuesday Game to Play with your friends

So I was sitting around my residence, watching educational television when my favorite show came on….. that’s right chickens…. The Jersey Shore. I started to wonder, as one is wont to do, about what about this show makes it so appealing to myself and hordes of gay men all across our fair city?  What is it about these people who by all intensive purposes think spaghetti is a food group and tanning is a sport  so interesting??? It dawned on me…. THEY’RE EXACTLY LIKE THE GAYS!!!!  To prove my point please play the following game with me,  it’s called, Gay DC or Jersey Shore.  Bring your friends, colleagues, tricks, and assorted persons to play along!

Vida Fitness or Jersey Shore??? You walk into a gym, you’re surrounded by hairless, tan men, all of whom have 8-pack abs and gelled up hair.  Everyone has on designer gym attire whether it is the under-armors of the world or the latest 2xist wife-beater that clings just right to their rock hard pecs. The pec, bicep, tricep, shoulder, and glute machines are ALWAYS full no matter the time of day and are populated by men grunting so hard you hope they don’t mess themselves. The stretching/ab area is full of guys looking at each other, wondering if their situp technique will really make their abs pop like the guy to their right/left. The bathroom is full of men looking at each other, seemingly appraising the surrounding specimens in comparison to their own bodies, conversations range from protein shakes to which anabolic substances are the cheapest that week…… Vida Fitness or Jersey Shore?

Town Danceboutique or Jersey Shore – Stroll with me into a darkened club.  The music is pumping in an almost robotic beat, the lasers are flashing in time with the music and slowly your eyes adjust to the room.  You are surrounded by people who are wearing t-shirts that look painted on or wearing no shirts at all.  Men who are pumping their fists in the air, looking around for that next conquest and joking with their friends about how many people they’ve “creeped on.” Someone in your group will inevitably call someone else’s friend a b*tch and yelling and pulling of hair will ensue which will eventually be resolved by some sort of dancefloor makeout session and inappropriate exhibition of how far they can really bend over…..Town Danceboutique or Jersey Shore?

Drag Queen or Jersey Shore – You see from the distance, several stunning creatures, more eyeliner than Tammie Fae Baker and more rouge than a hooker during fleet week. Tanner than David Hasselhoff in July and with French tipped nails as far as the eye can see.  They approach and you recognize their “bump its” which are obviously attached to what can only be described as processed animal hair, breasts which haven’t been natural since the 80’s, and throwing attitude like it’s going out of style. They’ll do anything for a free drink and have no qualms about shaking  everything that god (and their local plastic surgeon) have given them….. Drag Queen or Jersey Shore??

Rehomo Beach or Jersey Shore – You stroll onto the hot sands of the shore. As far as you can see are tanned, ripped bodies, who, surprisingly enough are already dark brown even though it’s only Memorial Day. Nobody goes near the water for fear of messing up their hair, except to walk along the water so they can appraise future conquests and potential competition. You venture off the beach to one of the shared group homes and you find within more hair gel than soap, more vodka bottles than sandals, and more random people’s underwear lying around that strangely enough doesn’t belong to anyone in the house.  The occupants return to discuss for at least an hour what they’re wearing out that night all the while making themselves red bull and vodkas and rendering their hair immobile and their eyebrows un-bushy, before going out for a night out on a beach bar and using the pickup line “hey wanna see my hot tub?” which refers to a hot tub that should probably be reported to the local health department…. Rehomo or Jersey Shore??

So take this game, play with your friends, but always remember… fake tans and leopard print tops make a statement…. is that the statement YOU want to make??

Friday Five, the B*tch is BACK!

Well it’s obviously been 3 years and much has changed since we last spoke…. The things that I’ve done and seen in that time would curl your toenails my dear readers, however, I think I’m finally ready to hike up my skirt and step my stiletto back into the world of blogging. And what better way to do that than to start off with my Friday Five!!!!!!

Five things that I did in the 3 years since we last spoke that are worth noting….

1). Graduate School – that’s right ladies, I packed up my Jack Spade bag beach tote and threw on my argyle socks and I took myself back to school. I spent the better part of 2007-2009 sitting in the library trying to artfully place pens and highlighters in my hair while I was supposed to be writing policy reports on Epidemic outbreaks. An example of my response to an epidemic outbreak through contaminated Ice Cream….. “Ummmmm who eats ice cream, that is SO not atkins friendly.” And let’s not even get started on my solution to fix childhood obesity, but it definitely involved a taser and a lot of spandex shorts.

2). Rehoboth – let’s break this one down by year shall we:

2007 - the year of shame and the year of excess… highlights included me trying on a 145,000 diamond and the jeweler telling one of my friends whom we pretended was my fiancé, that he’d sell him the ring at a reduction of 10,000. And then going right from there to a bar where we watched a drag king sing patsy kline….. we were confused.


2008 – The year where I lived at the beach. Being in school I decided that I was going to flee DC for about a month from mid july to mid august. So I did…. Thankfully dear readers I have a very loving family that has property on the shore that let me stay with them for a couple weeks till my parents came down and rented a separate house (they’re too lazy to buy a beach house) and stayed there for a couple weeks.

2009- De-bauch-er-y. This was the year I kissed Bruce vilanch on the cheek, convinced a random stranger to take off his shirt on the street so that I may appraise him, got so tan that I applied for the United Negro College Fund, and had to sleep in bunk beds because my younger sister and her boyfriend got the adult sized bed…. Fair? I’m still pissed.

3). Dating life…. What dating life? Between school and working the streets of DC to make ends meet how does a single lady have time to find a gentleman caller suitable for her station? I guess the key words that come to mind if you want to go through my dating life for the past three years….. Old, crazy, clingy, red head (fire crotch!), air force, dumb as a box of hair….. and I think that covers all of them

4). Yes I worked the streets of DC… and no not like you think with me lying on my back and my heels pointed toward Jesus, just in the back of a van offering men money to talk to me about sex. For real… and I got paid for it….jealous?

5). OOOOH Braces…. Oh that’s right ladies and “ladies.” Momma decided to make her social life even more abundant by attaching painful pieces of metal and ceramic to her teeth for 1.5 years. Number of awkward makeout sessions resulted?? Probably more than I care to imagine. Number of times broccoli got caught in my braces? Yeah thank god I switched entirely to a liquid diet in 2007. thankfully this summer off they came and the boys…well they didn’t come a runnin…. Hmmm maybe I need to start offering candy again…..