Dude (Looks Like A Lady)

So, I am just gonna start off this whole story with the truth that I somehow got a subscription to Ladies' Home Journal.

I know what you must be thinking. It was what I was thinking! 

"But, you're not a lady, Greg!" And you'd be right! 

Technically, I am not a Lady. I am a Male. And while I don't subscribe to Cars and Gears Monthly or Gym Weights Weekly, I would like to state that I don't exactly have the same agenda as the good editors' of Ladies' Home Journal. 

I like to run. I drink wine. I travel, go to museums, read, watch movies, and I have lots of other run of the mill, non-gender specific interests. And even though I can bake a mean batch of Triple Chocolate Chip cookies, I didn't get the recipe from a female driven magazine. I got it where I get everything in life: the internet. 

(Seriously, this internet thing = awesome! I can shop from home? Done! I can watch old episodes of TV on my lap top? OK!) 

But, let me take you back a few steps. 

I came home from a long day at work and was actually a little sleepy. It happens. So, when I was sorting through the mail, I assumed that the copy of LADIES' Home Journal, was actually for my female neighbor who lives across the hall. Silly mail man! 

I mean - mail carrier!!! Mail Carrier. Postal Employee. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't assume it was a man who delivered this magazine. Although, I'm pretty sure it is a man because he lives around the corner from me and while I was on a run one night I saw him outside his house smoking in his postal uniform. Which I'm pretty sure is illegal. Actually, I'm not that sure, but it really, really surprised me.

Any-who, my neighbor politely returned the magazine back to me, which - to this day - is still a source of huge embarrassment. It is one thing to say: I think this is your mail. It's another thing when it's your mail in the first place and that mail is actually Ladies' Home Journal. 

So, that was fun! After I walked away from my neighbor and feeling ashamed, I began to feel supremely confused. Which isn't hard for me to feel when I'm tired. 

Tina. Expletive. Fey.

I put the magazine down on my kitchen table and walked away. I left the room for a minute and when I came back, this is what I saw: 

TINA. LADY HOME JOURNAL LOVIN.' FEY.

My idol!

Dressed up like J. Lo. 

With the caption: "Look Better At Any Age."

I was horrified. 

And I stil am horrified. 

In the bottom corner was what I can only assume is her signature. Her autograph! Tina?! You signed this? You are better than this. 

I mean: she will wear a paper bag and still be beautiful to me. And she is beautiful here. But, it is not her. It's not her style. 

It's not even her earrings.

And don't get me started on ... wait, why is she squatting!? And in those shoes?

This meant war. Ladies' Home Journal took my idol and made her out to be some hot-to-trot soccer mom looking to score some pills. And I wasn't going to take this lying down. 

I wanted to call them up and give 'em H - E - Double Hockey sticks! Take this, Ladies Home Journal. You may have gotten to Tina, but I won't let you take Amy Poehler and Mindy Kaling. You can't ruin Jenny Lawson or Rachel Dratch. God help them! What if they had already gotten to Mom?! 

Come to think of it: This is totally something Mom could have masterminded. And by masterminded, I mean "accidentally checked the box for Ladies' Home Journal instead of Entertainment Weekly. 

Regardless, this had to end. I had to find out how did I get this subscription and I had to cancel it to teach them a lesson. 

After a long wait time, I spoke with a phone operator who did not act the LEAST bit surprised that a male like me got a subscription or Ladies' Home Journal. 

I tried a joke. "Come on, right? I mean how many guys get this magazine? Didn't anyone raise an eyebrow when they sent this to me?" The operator didn't reply. 

After a long, awkward pause, I said, "Well, I didn't sign up for Ladies' Home Journal and I want to make sure that I am not being charged for this and I would like to cancel it." 

She explained that this was set up by a third party as a promotional vehicle, that I had a year subscription for free and I could cancel it if I wanted to, but not through her. I would have to call the third party agency. 

The whole thing exhausted me. 

So, I gave up. Sorry Mindy. Sorry Amy. I hope you will still love me. 

It's June now, according to Ladies' Home Journal. And I have met Alison Sweeney, who hosts The Biggest Loser, which is a TV show I actually love. So, it's not all bad. Plus, there are tips on looking better at any age, which - frankly speaking - I don't have the luxury to avoid. We all need to look better. 

But, just don't call me Lady! 

**************************

Writer's Note: - here's a fun drinking game! Re-read this story and take a shot every time I say Ladies' Home Journal. Good luck! 

By the way, don't do that. You'd be crazy to do it. I say Ladies' Home Journal like a thousand times in this story. Seriously, don't do it. Just get a subscription to Ladies' Home Journal instead. They totally need the readers just as much as I do. Ladies' Home Journal and I both want you - alive and healthy. And sober. And laughing. 

Ladies' Home Journal. 

(I had to say it one more time. Sorry.)

I Apologize . . . For Not Wearing Better Shoes Tonight

I know. I'm sorry.

Flip Flops? What was I thinking?

Here we are: 2 stylish friends out on the town on Saturday night and I'm that guy.

But, side note: I'm in pain. I just ran a half marathon this morning and I needed to be in these flip flops.

Most Awesome Advertisement . . . Ever

Darth Vader called and said, "Luke, it's your destiny." I tried to correct him and say my name is Greg, but, well . . . you can argue with that guy. This is the dude who cut off his son's hand with a light saber, so I wasn't about to get all sassy on a phone call.

So, I wore the flip flops. (And they are Cole Haan flip flops, too! I think name dropping the brand helps here when wearing flip flops out to dinner on a Saturday night in Manhattan.)

And despite the pain I was in: I even tried to compensate by wearing a banging outfit, if I say so myself. (See how I'm such a martyr for you and for fashion?)

Tight white skinny jeans (I know, I'm a slave to trends) and a bright colored stripey sweater from J. Crew. I look all very preppy chic. J. Crew might be calling me to go to Cape Cod right this second to be in some pictures for them for the catalog.

And might I add: I can fit into these skinny jeans because I just ran the aforementioned half marathon today! So, the flip flops were a trade off for skinny jeans if you think about it. Which would you rather I wear: baggy jeans or skinny jeans? Um... yeah, skinny jeans! That's what I thought.

I also accessorized the outfit tonight, as best I could in my fractured state. I brought a super cute tote bag and my Mindy Kaling book, and a blue checkered umbrella, because the sky tonight just looks like it's itching for some rain.

And wow do you have a good memory! Yes, I am re-reading Mindy Kaling's amazing book (for the 3rd time). It's almost as if you really, really love this blog. Good for you!

What? You didn't remember. Ugh, I am so disappointed in you.  I still love you.

Here's your homework, though:
http://iamsogayblog.blogspot.com/2012/06/am-i-naked-in-this-blog-or-am-i-just.html

Getting back on track: Mindy Kaling's book in my cute shoulder tote possibly makes me the coolest guy in the East Village tonight. Sure, their outfits all look cheap and cost millions of dollars. Sure, there is a Great Gatsby party going on in the other room with guys LITERALLY in tuxedos. (This is true. They ordered drinks in small little glasses, fancy dresses, the works. And they were obnoxious and oblivious to the other patrons enjoying dinner around them. But, more importantly, I still can't believe those jerks in tuxes had to show me up like that.)

And sure, I am wearing flip flops.

But, you're my friend and you like me. So, maybe I am just the coolest guy in the room because of that fact alone.

You were so great that you didn't even notice that I was wearing flip flops. Until I brought it up like an idiot. You were just impressed that I was able to rally the rest of my body into going from Brooklyn into Manhattan and was able to walk. Because you're cool like that.

They're crazy awesome, right?

But, next time we hang, I will be rocking shoes. I promise. Unless we hang out at the beach. Or any time in August.

Otherwise, I may just one-up those loud (incredibly loud) Gatsby fools with my array of awesome shoes. And then the world can breathe a sigh of relief. Because my Grey and Pink Cole Haan shoes (name dropping) will always trump those guys.

Love,
Greg

I love my Mom (and so do you for reading this.)

I am sure we can all agree that our Moms are the best. Everyone loves their Mom, right? (Well, maybe not the little girl from Mommie Dearest. She probably celebrates Mother's Day in a  . . . different way.) 

And, while I do love screaming, "CHRISTINA! HAND ME THE AX!," to anyone I meet, I am no exception to the mother-loving phenomenon. I love my Mom. 

  

I could list a lot of reasons why or how she is better than your Mom, but why brag? I mean, really? Why rub it in your face how clearly awesome my Mom is and yours is truly sub par?

Oh, OK. I will. 

1. My Mom wrote notes in my lunchbox as a kid. Oh your Mom did that too? Did she always make the same Fluffernutter sandwich for you? Nope, didn't think so. 

Nowadays, Mom would get hauled off to County Jail for endangering school children with peanut allergies, but back in the 80s, we just called it lunch time. And it was awesome and I always knew it was packed with love. 

2. My Mom saved me from falling out of the car after seeing the movie, E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. To preface, I am a person who has always been deeply moved by the arts. Films especially. And at the tender age of three, I was no different. (Spoiler alert: E.T. goes home. And an adorable, curly haired child in Massachusetts was devastated.) I identified with Henry Thomas and wanted to ride my bike in the sky with E.T. Or maybe I just wanted to eat Reese's Pieces, the hippest candy of 1982.

In any event, I had to be dragged out of the theater immediately, as my loud cries must have been disturbing other patrons. I must have been "making a real scene" or perhaps (as my acting coach calls it) I was simply "in the moment." 

In response to my display of raw talent, Mom and Dad threw me in the car and Dad immediately sped off. Either seat belts weren't invented then or my parents had a real lack of foresight there, but the result was that my door popped wide open and a sobbing mess known as ME was sliding right out of the car, as my Dad was making a left turn. And Mom, ever so quick and nimble (like a Ninja!) swung from the front seat and grabbed me with one arm and got me back in the car. 

Nowadays, Mom AND Dad probably would be hauled off to the State Penitentiary, but back in the 80s, we were just appreciative that Mom's cat-like reflexes saved my life! Did your mom save your life like that? Hmm.... I didn't think so! 

3. My Mom doesn't swear. And we all know that your mother swears like a truck driver. And a sailor. On shore leave. 

Seriously, though, MY Mom doesn't curse. One time - only just a few years ago -while driving home with her, another driver swerved in front of us in a dangerous way. He cut in front of us, and it caused us to abruptly slam on the brakes on a crowded road. It could have been a real pile up. 

My mother, with all her grit and determination, hung onto her steering wheel as if she was commanding a mighty battleship. She slowly uttered, "Youuuuuuu .... Jerk!" 

I said, "Good, Mom! I'm glad you let that out. Let him have it." We later laughed over that. 

Clearly, the man learned his lesson. Don't mess with Mom. (This is a woman who could have been in jail twice now, so you really don't want to give her road rage to boot.) 

4. My Mom just likes simple things. Your Mom also might like the small stuff, but my Mom does it with a twist. 

She likes a deal at Kohl's. (I mean: who doesn't really? You get the Kohl's Cash and life is pretty thrilling. Am I right? In the sense of my mother, I feel this is the closest she will ever get to stealing. When she gets a small appliance for $6 bucks, Mom is transported to her version of Las Vegas. 

Mom also likes the 2 for $20 meals at Applebees. Eatin' good in the neighborhood. Literally. It's like 6 blocks from their house. I counted. And with the money she saved on dinner, it affords her a raspberry margarita. Tequila and Mom = winning combination, am I right?

She gets really excited when her TV show is going to be on. It's like a treat. But, man, can she get upset when the TV networks program one good show against another show that she also watches. She has to choose. CBS' The Good Wife vs. ABC's Revenge really was hard for all of us to get over. I try to explain the internet, or on demand TV watching, but I might as well as be speaking in Mandarin, because we all know she won't be going to the internet to watch TV, like your mother probably does. (Your mother probably also does online banking, which is clearly dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.) 

 

Lastly, Mom would be really, really, really happy if I sent her cards on her birthdays or Mother's Day. The woman loves a good card. I think Hallmark would have folded years ago if it weren't for my Mom. (She is the largest customer for the dancing and singing snowman they sell each year. God help us, if they do not produce a Snowball who wishes you a Merry Kwanzaa. She will lose her hat.)  

I'd like to say I sent her a card this year, but I didn't. In addition to 2 phone calls this weekend (I rock), she also gets this lovely blog post devoted exclusively to her. Son of the Year 2013, I say! 

5. My Mom is just really nice. Your mother probably is, but mostly just pretends to be nice to people. My mom is the real deal. 

I never have heard people say, "Oh, that woman's your mother?! Well, she's a real bee....hive." 

Most people almost always first remark how I look like her. (It's true. Dark hair and eyes, pale skin, same nose. And we both are age-defying, so whatever. I'll take it.) 

They also always state plainly how nice she is. To which, I always say something funny back. 

"You don't live with her."

"She beats me when you're not looking. I can show you the bruises!"

"She's stealing from your office, you know?" 

"Really? She always says just the opposite about you!" 

"When she's sober!" 

I have a million comebacks. But no one believes me. Because my Mom actually is pretty darn nice. A woman who doesn't curse would give that impression. It's hopeless for us. I've tried to set the world straight. If they only knew her diabolical plans....

6. My Mom still worries about me. 

Now, many of you would probably say, "WITH GOOD REASON." And you'd be wrong, "friends."

My Mom is just a classic worrier. Maybe she watched too many episodes of Dark Shadows as a kid, but she's always thinking something dark and deadly is lurking around the corner. Maybe she's right. But, leave it to Mom to tell me today, " I hope it doesn't rain" about a half marathon I will be running in SIX days. Who thinks of that? Even my iPhone worries about weather that is only FIVE days away. 

My mom outworries technology. Can your Mom do that? Again, didn't think so!   

7. Last, but not least, My Mom is MY Mom. She gave birth to me, for God's sakes! Without meds!!!! 

Evidently, there were TV shows about how hospital drugs used during birth in the 70s were giving defects to babies. Counter productive if you ask me, and Mom agreed with me. So she did it all "military-tough" like. I picture Mom surviving Guantanamo pretty well. 

Dad said she didn't even scream. 

Mom's simple reply, "What's the point? It was still going to hurt." 

Did I mention that I was also ... three weeks late? (Classic Me to be late to my own birthday!)

On the date of my birth, Mom weighed something around 700 lbs. It was a real hardship for her. I was supposed to be a belated April birthday present to her. Instead, I ended up being an early Mother's Day present. (You're welcome!) 

So, Samuel L. Jackson would undoubtedly call my Mom a "bad-ache mother-lover." (That's what he says, right?)

The thing is: my mom is pretty selfless. She sacrificed a lot during my childhood and always liked doing the Mom stuff. 

I like seeing her do things for herself now. Treating herself when the occasion seems fitting to her. Keep doing it, Mom. You deserve it. 

I love you, Mom (and so do you for reading this.) 

From Thirty Four, With Love

On Saturday, May 4th, 2013, I turned "Thirty-Four." Which totally wasn't scary. I mean it can be. Age is tricky that way. But, this year wasn't scary for some reason. I can't explain it, but I was all very zen and low key about turning another year.

"Thirty-Four" seems pretty chill so far. I kicked off my year a bit earlier than ever.

Even though I was born in May, I decided to call April my "birthday month" -  or if any coworkers asked why I was getting so many shoes delivered to the office, I would answer simply that it was all pre-birthday presents. (In my defense, I believe it was only 2 pairs of shoes. And a pair of sandals. And a belt. And some new underwear. And some drugstore.com stuff. Hey, we all need shampoo, am I right here?)

As I said last year, you have to treat yourself.

http://iamsogayblog.blogspot.com/2012/06/so-i-turned-33-alone-and-i-survived-and.html

Last year, I splurged on The Book of Mormon. And while I didn't get a picture of myself with a celeb as cute as Andrew Rannells (am I right, ladies and gents?) like last year, I did have a pretty great day/weekend/month regardless. 

This year, I decided to just start having fun. I was going to celebrate myself. I was going to smile. A lot. 
I like to think I nailed it. 

Besides the shopping, I treated myself to Broadway, which increasingly over the past year I have regarded as ice cream that I must allow myself to eat from time to time. It's a treat that one MUST totally take part in. Imagine life with no toppings? Personally, I've always liked the toppings the most. 

I saw Lucky Guy with Tom Hanks (written by my heroine, Nora Ephron). I was in the second to last row of the cheapest of cheap seats, but I felt like I was at a real scene. Something to be seen, you know? 

I saw Nathan Lane in The Nance. How could I write a blog called I Am So Gay and not seen Nathan Lane in a show about a gay vaudeville actor? Sacrilege, right? Well, I saw it and it was awesome. I wonder what it was to see The Producers . . .

I saw Vanessa Williams, Cuba Gooding, Jr. and - best of all - Cicely Tyson in The Trip To Bountiful, a show where the audience  (I KID YOU NOT) spontaneously bursts into song with Ms. Tyson. I cried at one point. I missed my Grandmother, maybe. I missed a time gone by. I admired the spunk of the character. I went on the journey with her. 

I saw The Big Knife with Bobby Cannavale (HOT guy from Will and Grace. He was Will's boyfriend. Just Google it already!)

And when I saw my most recent show, I totally imagined I was Liz Lemon while watching Alec Baldwin in Orphans from Orchestra, Row G. It was Jack! LIVE! Awesome!

The thing about my month or so of splurging was taking part into things that have been in NYC for a long time and I never really took part in. And that just seemed like a shame. In the end, my seats might not have always been as Grrrrreat as G, but I dove into the adventure. The thrill of getting a ticket and seeing a Broadway show. To go to Broadway . . . well, there is just nothing like it. Even in the cheap seats, life can be a thrill. (Remember that!) 

Now, you might be thinking to yourself: "OK, Greg Broadway and shoes. Really?" 

Well, I did even more. I celebrated time. I celebrated time with others. And  I liked the quality time and laughs with special people the most. 

I am very fortunate. I know A LOT of great special people. And they are all over the place. Some I couldn't see for my birthday/weekend/month. But the handful of truly good people I did see, made "Thirty-Four" tick right along. 

I'd say with most of all of my friends, we giggle when we get together. And when we haven't seen each other in months, or even a year, we can still pick up like no time has gone by. That's truth. That's beauty. 

Well, last Wednesday, I had Pre-Birthday Dinner #1. I smile just thinking about that dinner. Friends cooked in my kitchen. I got really good hugs that night and drank too much wine. Smiles. 

I had Pre-Birthday Dinner #2 on Friday, and this time it was a surprise dinner. Four of my oldest DC friends popped out of nowhere while Drake, Delilah and I were having drinks on the Potomac River. I was in my beloved Georgetown at a restaurant I had loved when I lived there. Could it get better? Life is ice cream with the toppings. That night, I had ALL the toppings. 

On my actual birthday, I slept in, but still early enough to hear my parents call me at 8:23 am (when I was actually born) so they could sing to me. Cheesy and awesome. Who else gets that every year? I eat it up. 

Drake, Delilah and I went outlet shopping and then onto wineries. The combination of sunshine, 40% off everything at the J. Crew Factory Store, and delicious cheese and wine is a level of fun known only to the gods. Just try to argue with me on this! 

It was a long day. And it was a great day. I wasn't able to beat The Charles Sasser Challenge of 5 wineries in one day. We did four on May 4th, so I think I'm still impressive and very cool (numerically speaking, at the very least).

Relaxing, travelling, shopping, nature, wine, eating, laughing, smiling, sunshine, friends. 

Ice Cream with the toppings. 

On a final note, I want to say to you, Mr "Thirty-Four," a few of my hopes: 

I hope I cherish you. 
I hope I own this year. 
I hope I make the moments count. 

I hope for health. Mine and others. Because life is so very, very short.

I hope if I see something I want, I do it or buy it (within reason) because I never want to regret it. 

I hope a boy is really awesome to me this year and vice versa. 

I hope I run. I hope I laugh. I hope. 

I hope I come out ahead on my way to "Thirty-Five."

I hope I eat lots and lots of toppings. :)