Happy Helenween

Halloween. So awesome. Everyone's going all out, what with dressing up their freakishly cute kids, getting gussied up themselves, and taking the time to write entertaining and/or scary Halloween posts.

Me...not so much. I wore the only orange in my wardrobe and consumed enough sugar to kill a busload of diabetics. Maybe later I'll hold a seance for my sex life. Good enough.

You kids have fun.

I knew Helen when she used to rock-n-roll

I think it's pretty safe to say that whatever rock cred one had accrued is officially part of her past when she buys her first argyle cardigan. Camel-colored argyle. This is for real; I'm wearing it at this very moment. Five years ago, I would have considered slapping the ever-livin' shit out of a girl wearing an argyle cardigan, just on principle.

Tommy Lee and Helen Damnation, circa 2003

It's not the fact that I bought a camel-colored argyle cardigan for work, though...that could be at least partially explained away. Gotta pay the bills, right? No, that's not the problem. The real issue is the fact that I actually like this here cardigan. When I saw it in the store, I wanted it immediately and was tremendously excited when they had it in my size. But you can't blame me, really...I mean come on, it's Italian silk and cashmere, and it's so soft, and...

Yeah, wow, fuck. My days of partying with rock stars are most assuredly over. If it weren't for the fact that my tits are still fairly fantastic, I'd look just like my grandpa in this damned sweater. It's only a matter of time and gravity before people start calling me "sir" and giving up their seats on the subway for the old dude.

Helen Damnation, projected age progression, circa 2015

Next steps: Mom jeans, easy listening, more cats.

Awesome.

Reason #27,344 that I will not reproduce

I'm taking a class today at work. Because of my firm's partnership with a certain New York City public school that shall remain numberless, there are several teachers and school administrators enrolled in the class along with us corporate loser-drone types.

A few minutes ago I had the pleasure of observing as one of the teachers, a cute gay guy seated directly across the conference table from me, stuck his right index finger into his right ear canal, dug around intensely for a few seconds, and then casually scraped the goo-covered finger along his bottom teeth.

I am very tempted to ask Mr. Waxmouth if he attended New York City public schools as a child, however my deeply ingrained sense of business etiquette prevents me from doing so. (Not that it really matters.) Instead, I think I'm going to buy him a thank you card on behalf of my vagina during our lunch break, since he's helped so much to ensure that it'll never go through the ungodly trauma of having a baby shoved through it.

Adam & Steve heart NJ, maybe

Today, the issue of same-sex marriage will be decided in the New Jersey Supreme Court.

At this very moment, the photo below appears on the splash page for 1010WINS, one of the tri-state area's major news outlets, above a headline reading "'Til Death Do Us Part".

If that's not progress, I don't know what is. We got gay hotties makin' out right on the front goddamn page. Fuck you, red states! Woooooooooo!

Cross your fingers that the court does the right thing. It is Jersey, after all.

UPDATE, 4:16 PM EDT: Holy crap, it did! HOT!

Reality Bites

Now that I've sufficiently calmed myself in the wake of the madly aggravating Project Runway finale, let us discuss, briefly.

The fact is, when it comes to competition-based reality television, the contestant I hate the most is invariably destined to win. It started with Richard Hatch, the child-abusing, tax-evading, ugly-naked bag of stinking Survivor crap. It continued with almost every season of Big Brother, and let's not even talk about Rockstar: Supernova. I'm hoping it ends with Jeffrey Sebelia, the faux-punk, bullshit hard-luck story, pathetically arrogant, horribly untalented ugly handbag of Project Runway crap. Because I doubt that it will, I hereby announce the dissolution my relationship with any and all said reality shows. It's just too annoying. (And believe me, I know how utterly stupid it is that I find it that annoying. One more reason to slowly...back...away.)

I mean, does Heidi Klum expect America to take its fashion cues from someone with a fucking neck tattoo? Seriously? Michael, Nina...come on now. The guy managed to make a six-foot-two-inch anorexic model look like a fat man with osteoporosis. How is that fashionable, exactly? Is there a run on sickly and/or obese men these days that I've somehow missed? Should I look for John Goodman in next month's issue of Vogue? Will he have a new neck tattoo to show us?

Fuck it. Guess this means I'll have to consider leaving the house every once in awhile.

Tell you whut, though...I still wish Tim Gunn was my gay uncle.

Reason #383 why I am and shall remain single

Because I keep finding gems like this in my Friendster inbox (note: I copied and pasted, making no edits...brilliance like this is beyond my abilities):

Hi Cool Babe,
Hope this email finds you in good health, I come across your Profile In This Site And I Have interest In You beside your picture attracted me a lot and i deem it very very necessary to get in touch with you for a long-lasting relationship. beside My name is Remmy 32yrs old male, has decent hobbies like Tour, Music,reading, swimmimg and travelling and i desires to make long-lasting friendship with you. Do you think age, colour or distance is any bar to make such friendly relationship with you? If not, then stretch your hand to me and accept mine. i believe this enchanting relation will certainly bring the pleasure in our life for unlimited time. on the contrary, I hope to find that special person in you, and someone with whom I can create the real relation I’ve always wanted, If you feel like we will be friends fine and please mail me back so that I will forward you my photos and Introduce myself to you more, So from there we will get to know each other very well .Mail me with this email address (redacted, because even I'm not THAT mean) There is only one happiness in life,to love and be loved.
I will always remain yours in love.
Big Kisess And Huggs! .
Remmy M

As an added bonus, here's the photo from my new lovah's profile...

Isn't he lovely?? And on sale, even! Does it get any better than this??

Sadly, no. I don't believe it does.

Too bad he lives in France. Moving's gonna be a bitch.

Top of the world, Ma

Today is my mother's birthday.

She turns 69.

Because I am a thirteen-year-old boy trapped in a woman's body, I find this funny.

Because she is my mother and the joke has a sexual connotation, I cannot laugh.

My problems, they are serious.

One nation, under Stan

I was a pretty nerdy kid. I evolved into a pretty nerdy grownup. I have an X-Men tattoo, okay? So me personally, I didn't need another reason to love Stan Lee.

You cool kids might, though. Those of you who had friends and social lives and whatnot when you were growing up might not quite understand the force of nature that is The Stan. You should read this. Because behind all the labels, aren't we all just the same?

If you read comic books, you'd already know that. Think about it.



ps. Don't worry, I still hate everyone. Everyone but Stan.

Happy National Coming Out Day!

Unless you're coming out as a closet Republican, that is.
In that case, fuck you.

Save the children

Sometimes I love New York. Mostly I hate its guts these days, but not always. It doesn't happen often anymore, but every once in awhile, after this dirty slut of a city has slapped me around and left me a frustrated mess, it throws me a bone, as if apologizing for its transgressions.

Last night, for instance...

While slouching with tired impatience at the edge of the subway platform in Grand Central, I vaguely noticed a girl, late teens or early twenties, standing next to me with a decidedly pissy look on her face. At first glance, all I noticed was the expression, in profile, and the fact that her t-shirt was green. But a few moments later she turned toward me, and I felt my mouth drop open in a mix of shock and wonder.

This, you see, was emblazoned upon the aforementioned green t-shirt:

It took me a moment to fully register this awestriking synchronicity, and then pull my gaze away so as not to appear a boob-starer. (I totally am a boob-starer, by the way; I just didn't want Miss Pissy-Face to know that.) I giggled to myself, suddenly feeling less alone. What a timely reminder that either a) there are others out there like me and I'm not a total freak, or b) everyone in the world really DOES read my blog, and they all want to be me! Either way, I was deeply pleased.

She turned to face the tracks. My gaze, unable to help itself, drifted back to her.

That's when I noticed that she was pregnant.

Oy.

You can imagine the amazing and much-needed jump my self-esteem took when it occurred to me that as emotionally malformed as I may be, at least I have the good sense not to reproduce.

Thanks, New York. I needed that.

Truth in advertising

It's been brought to my attention that I am completely emotionally unavailable.

Apparently, this was news to no one but me. Even my fish (okay, virtual fish, who dwell happily in an online tank that I never have to clean thankyouverymuch), when presented with this information, were like, "well duh."

I guess the fact that even my fish are basically imaginary shoulda been a tipoff, huh? (We won't get into the fact that I discussed this issue with them.)

At any rate, I'm not the least bit upset about this revelation, if only because my profound level of detachment won't permit it.

In fact, I think I may even buy this t-shirt, with the intent to joyfully proclaim my achievement to the world...


...and, of course, to keep people away. That's what we call a win-win situation here in the Ninth Circle. Or, more correctly, what I call a win-win. Since, you know, there's no one else here. Except for my fake fish, that is. And they don't seem to give a shit about such things.

Sunshine and rainbows

As far as I can tell, there are three and only three things to be happy about right now:

1. Against staggering odds, Aaron Lazar gets another year older today. You go Gurn.



2. New season of Lost is underway. There better be more fucking this year.



3. I am one step closer to never taking the goddamn subway ever, ever again. These guys better hurry up and get this shit working, before I go all Bernie Goetz on the 5 train.

Everything else is crap.

Have a lovely fucking day.