Wednesday, February 27, 2008


Okay, she doesn't have a chance in hell to win, but let's give the lady her due.

I mean, she has more balls than 99 percent of the men in America, so no matter what happens, she will go down in history.

What really scares the fuck out of me is that in a recent poll old daddy MaCain is neck and neck with Obama.

Doesn't this country ever learn anything?  

I mean, does 50 percent of the nation really want 4 more years of Bush?

Monday, February 18, 2008


You know, I hate Manhattan on Sundays.

All of the undesirables from New Jersey and Queens swarm the city with their tacky Coach handbags and boot cut jeans.


Sundays are for staying in my apartment.

Saturday, February 16, 2008


Why do str8 people think that just because you're gay, you lust after every other gay person?

Let me explain:

In my quest for love, I let my injection specialist set me up with her friend.

Big mistake.

I mean, I didn't want to go in the first place, but she insisted we were perfect for each other, so she cooked up this idea that we could meet in a bar on the pretense of returning my phone.

He wasn't my type.

He was one of those "power fags" with a short haircut and a designer suit - and he smelled of too much cologne and carried a man purse. I don't think I was his type either. I mean, with my rock-n-roll Farrah flip and East Village hipster style, he looked rather startled when he met me. During our brief time together, he barely glanced in my direction; and within minutes, he grabbed our friend and made a hasty exit.

Odd thing is, the next day my friend called and informed me he wanted the three of us to have dinner.



I can't figure them out.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008


My best buddy Mister Makeup is offering his Valentine's Day beauty advice at

Take a look.

Sunday, February 10, 2008


I was chatting with an old friend the other day, and she had some interesting opinions about love.

In her heyday, my friend, who is one of the most interesting and smartest people I have ever met, was a model that jetsetted around the globe with a worn Filofax that was filled with admirers. In other words, she had a penis in every port.

As she approached 40, she married a suburban Minnesotan and moved into his rambler style house that looked like a garage - you know the style - all garage door and driveway with very little house.

When I inquired about her happiness, she replied:

"Well, my husband is too fat, he drinks too much beer, watches sports constantly, and he farts at inappropriate times. He doesn't "get" me, but then again, whoever did? I know he's very common, but I guess he loves me.

" Am I happy? It's not the life that I dreamed for myself, but he loves me - did I say that already."

I had no idea how to respond to her.

I mean, was this her idea of love?

Saturday, February 09, 2008


It's been a tough week in my search for love. I mean, it's almost Valentine's Day - the most co-dependent day of the year - and I'm alone.

I started out the week with a cute French man. I met him at a bar, and he said I was cute, so I let him kiss me. I wasn't that turned on by him, but you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, right?

I didn't go home with him.

The next night, I walked by a restaurant and noticed a happy young gay couple having dinner. I could tell they were on a date. It made me sad. I mean, it's been like forever since I've had sex with someone I actually liked.

Maybe I'm going about this all wrong.

Maybe I'm putting the horse before the cart.

I guess my fairy tale isn't about to come true anytime soon.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008


Do I have "whore" written on my forehead?

I think I do.

I was riding the 6 train the other day when yet another married man tried to pick me up.

Let me explain:

I was returning home from a shoot with Project Runway's Tim Gunn when a very middle-aged man in a suit kept staring at me. Within moments, he was chatting me up. He told me he lived on Long Island and sold septic tanks for a living. Yes, my dream man had finally arrived on a downtown bound Manhattan train.

I noticed the wedding band on his finger. Oh, don't worry, he said, my wife doesn't need to know a thing.

He said he had a few hours to kill - and asked if he could come over.

I said no, I'm busy.

No more married men - especially ones that sell septic tanks.


What a great time to be an American.

I mean, a woman and a black man running for president?

We're witnessing history, folks.

Sunday, February 03, 2008


You know, I just don't get organized sports...I just don't.

Why do grown men and women get all worked up over watching a bunch of spoiled, uneducated millionaires tossing a ball around?

I just don't get it.

I also don't get how these same grown men and women take to the streets chanting..."We won, we won!!"

What did they win? Are these people living such sad lives that they have to transfer all of their hopes and dreams onto a sports team?

As I said, I just don't get it.