The Prodigal Brother Returns

After 4+ months away, my superstar brother, Jared Zirilli has returned from playing the lead in Altar Boyz the musical in Bethesda, MD. He now goes on unemployment and returns to the winding audition lines in this fair city, in hopes of his next gig.

In the meantime, I'm glad to have that mother effer back - he really is both my best friend and my brother. Okay, before I get emotional and weep like some pussy as I write this post, I'll just go ahead and share a video clip with you.

Here's a one-minute sampling from "The Calling", a song where the "boyz" sing about Jesus calling them... on their cell phone. Of course Jared made it so you only see his part. Such brotherly pride there.

Enjoy!



More Jared Zirilli on Justin Plus One:

Jared and the Altar Boyz on DC TV

Jared and the Altar Boyz web trailer

Manhunt Post #2: Dictionaries are not scary

Let's have a small chitchat, shall we? I know how Manhunters can sometimes be... less literate than some of the smarter primates, to put it bluntly. I've gotten emails that told me that, "if u ar lookin for the bottom of smal dick look no moar i am love." I've seen how many people misspell their own username ("botom4groupfunn." Look it up.). You can't help those people. Nothing I say here will be of any use to them because they don't read blogs that don't start with a P and end with a erezHilton. But for the rest of us, those of us who I thought were better than that, I have some notes.

• The word is "stocky." Not "stalky." Stalky, if it were a word (which it's not), would probably mean "resembling the stem of a herbaceous plant" and I assume that this is not the kind of man you're looking to attract.


• "Discrete" is not the word you're looking, ever. Discrete means "Constituting a separate entity : individually distinct" (Merriam-Webster). The word that you're looking for is "discreet."


• Water sports are weird, but should you choose to engage in them, the correct abbreviation would be "WS." "W/S" would be "Water/Sports," or "I get into water and I get into sports." Or else maybe it means that you've got a little enjambment going on in your profile. Or else you're telling us that you get into the quotient of water (the dividend) and sports (the divisor).


• Please please please please, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, do NOT use the word "boi." It's not cool. It doesn't make you cool. If you're up on your gay history, you'd know that it doesn't even refer to someone who is biologically male. It's supposed to mean a lesbian who resembles a young-ish boy. So stop using it. I'm serious.

I hope that this talk has been informative.

Oh, and no offense meant to Mr Hilton or his readers. I've read his blog once or twice. It's fine, I guess. It's just that if that's all you ever read you're probably an idiot.

This ain't yo mama's THRILLER

You've never seen a Thriller like this before. Sure you've seen the prisoners dancing the Thriller. And you've seen the actual Thriller. But here is a guy who duplicates himself at least 30 times and does a COMPLETELY A CAPELLA version of Thriller.

It's shocking. It's nuts. And it's still very odd to hear someone who doesn't speak a lick of English sing english words... such a divorce from tone and meaning.

This might actually be more creepy than the actual Thriller. No, it definitely is.

Enough of me. Check this shit out:

File under M for "M-in' F-in' Why do You Even Exist?"

Everyone's favorite go-to joke, Sanjaya is still alive, and has, much like the retarded kid who grew up down the street from me, still not realized that people are laughing at him, not with him. Fun story about that retarded kid, by the way: If you gave him a nickle, he would hump anyone you told him to, and the only way that person could stop him (because you can't hit a retarded kid) would be to give him a nickle and sick him on someone else. That little retarded kid made bank. Which I guess brings me back to Sanjaya.

He's got a CD coming out. Sanjaya: Dancing to the Music in My Head. No word yet whether or not it will suck. Oh, wait, this just in....

Broadway Bleeds Out

Shhhh. Do you hear that sound? It's like a mix between a doomsday whistle and a walrus having its throat slashed. It's the collective wail of theater queens everywhere. Go ahead, listen. Sop it up. Revel in it.

This past weekend was one of many Broadway closings. Long-standing and limited-run shows aplenty shuttered their doors, leaving the keys under the mat for more stupid juke box musicals, too-soon revivals, and odd movie adaptations to take their place.

Frankly, I'm glad to see them go. So many of them were not very good. And there's just a hint of promise in the upcoming season. It's also pretty typical that Broadway bleeds out in the beginning of winter, as tourists abandon NYC for warmer climes. But this cadaver count seems a bit high to me.

Here's a near-complete list of the deaths that stained the Great White Way a bloody red.

RIP:
To hell with you, Hairspray!
Later, Liza's At the Palace
Seeya, Slava's Snow Show
Wah wah wah, White Christmas
You're out, Young Frankenstein
Don't cry, Dividing the Estate
Goodbye, Grease
Buh-bye Boeing-Boeing
You suck my balls, 13

And don't think the carnage is over! Keep your splatter guards on because Spamalot and Gaiken are peacing out on the 11th.

Frozen bubbles are beatiful, awesome.

A friend of mine just sent me this gallery of frozen bubbles. I don't know what could possibly be cooler, except maybe finding someway to keep the frozen in a glass tube full of dry ice or something so that I could constantly have them on my desk.

Paul Blart: Long Island's Claim to Fame

Paul Blart: Mall Cop doesn't look funny. Heck, it doesn't even look so-terrible-it-somehow-becomes-funny. It just looks bad. Sure, mall cops are inherently funny - they ride Segways. They have no real power or jurisdiction. The really douchey ones wear sunglasses indoors on cloudy days. They're pretty hilarious.

But casting Kevin James as one, and then creating a whole movie out of the concept of a Mall Cop facing down a sect of terrorists a la Die Hard is not funny. Frankly, a funnier movie would be a behind-the-scenes documentary showing how a movie like this gets made while tons of better films stay on the shelf, or in a writer's sock and broken dreams drawer.

I didn't intend to see Paul Blart: Mall Cop. But then I saw the trailer, and noticed an old friend is starring in it. My old friend, Roosevelt Field Mall - the one place I go to every time I visit home on Long Island.

Yes, it seems like the scouts for Paul Blart: Mall Cop chose the fabulous malls of Long Island for their locations. Roosevelt Field Mall. Broadway Mall. Together they make up the interiors and exteriors of the production.

This will truly be a dumb movie, but I might just see it so I can point out the Cinnabon to my friends, and be that cool guy who can comment on incontinuity issues that only someone who knows the lay of the land would be able to do.

Even though I despise Long Island and most of the byproducts of that place, I often screech with joy when I see it in something. For instance, I was sure to DVR an episode of Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, because a shady restaurant in my town was featured therein. Only then am I proud to admit where I came from. I imagine this will be the same with Paul Blart.

"Hey did you see Paul Blart: Mall Cop?"

"No, I'd rather see my family killed in front of my own eyes."

"Oh, because they shot it in the mall by my house."

"So?"

"Yep, I'm that cool."

Note: I spoke too soon. And clearly assumed that shopping malls are like unique snowflakes of commerce. Turns out that is NOT Roosevelt Field Mall. It is a mall in Massachusetts. Whoops.

Well, on the brighter side - now I don't need to see this movie!

Craigslist Penis Photographer

"Craigslist Penis Photographer" featuring Bob Odenkirk - watch more funny videos

I'm sure that this sort of thing is really going on. How else could you possibly explain all the awful photos that show up on Craigslist.

Um.... I mean, the awful photos that I hear show up on Craigslist. Because I certainly never go on there myself.

A gay old time

This past weekend, my friend Ricardo brought me to a schnazzy loft party in Chelsea. I tagged along with a rabble of gays that is quickly becoming my New Posse. I didn't know what to expect, and I don't think I would have ever expected what I found.

The building's elevator let out directly into the loft. Three bedrooms. Two bathrooms. A gigantic living room area. A fully stocked bar (with hired bartender). Catered. The HD Yule Log crackling away on the television. The smell of money overrode the smell of the cheese platter.

Plenty of older gentlemen, sure, but me and the posse gave the necessary twink injection. In the end we all got a bit drunk, and then headed out. I made my way to Times Square to pick up Jack while the others hightailed it to Pyramid for dancing and lord only knows what sort of trouble.

Anyway, you know I had to make a video. And so here it is. There's incentive to stick around til the end - you'll get some hot guy-on-guy action between my friend Ricardo and his boyfriend Chris.

Enjoy.

xoxoJR

Meet CL!

This week's co-blogger is a man of mystery, and a notorious character in the online gay dating community. You may have been to his blog... if not, be sure to visit (when you're not at work, that is). I think that says more than enough about my good pal CL.

And many thanks to last week's co-blogger, Patrick - who helped me hold down the fort through the New Year, and will surely be returning in the coming months!

My Name:
CL

My Location:
Brooklyn

My Site/ Sites:
Hunters and Gatherers

What I might post about:
Video games, gay porn, grammar, zombies, Manhunt

What I love:
Candy

What I hate:
When I’m on the phone with someone and I hear a toilet flush in the background. My god there’s nothing ruder than that.

The Last Word:
I run the, now on hiatus, website Hunters and Gatherers where we make fun of Manhunters who deserve it. But our format limits us to talking about people’s profiles. So I’ll be using the wonderful Justin’s blog here to talk about other, more overarching things, like online dating etiquette. And I’ll probably pad it with some stuff about video games or Dungeons and Dragons, just like I do on my own blog.

Manhunt Post #1

For those of you who don't know, Manhunt is an online dating/hookup for gay men that's a lot like a fruity girl drink. Everyone pretends to look down on wine coolers, but when there's a Smirnoff Ice left in the fridge, they'll still drink it if no one's watching. Plus, it tastes okay going down, but in the morning you're going to regret it. In my blog, I spent some time detailing all the people who make Manhunt the go-to punchline that is today, but that doesn't stop me from staying logged in almost 24 hours a day.

Still, there are problems with everything. And Manhunt is no exception.

For all that Manhunt bills itself as a den of iniquity, it does a weird bit of moralizing. This was made apparent to me last week when an email from the Manhunt service man let me know that my profile included a drug reference. It didn't, as a matter of fact. What it said was "Shoot me an email." The "shoot" apparently meant that I wanted to find someone who took heroine regularly. So I received an email say that "for your own protection, we cannot allow profiles that promote drug use" and it was decided that I would have to change it to say "send me an email." True story.

The problem with not allowing users to say that they're looking for a partner who uses crystal meth (aside from leading to some silly redactions in innocent profiles) is that you're not given the opportunity to see a major part of your potential date's life. If you can't see, beforehand, that your date smokes five bowls a day or freebases in the bathroom while he waits for his date to pay the check because he hasn't held down a job in three years and spends all of his money on crack (another true story), you can't make an informed decision about whether or not you want to be a part of that. I thought that the point of online dating was that it eliminates some of the chance that you and your date will have some major irreconcilable differences.

Oh Nein -- Tip 6: Physician, Heal Thyself

If you give a man a drink, he'll drink for 15 minutes, if you give him two, he'll forget those drinks for a life time.

My dear friend Jonathan hosted dinner tonight and he was caught mid-sentence with a Cosmopolitan and glass of red wine.

In a year of prescriptive preaching for a better world, take 2009 to focus on you. Start micro in order to better your small space in the world.

The Real Shit Talkers of Orange County

Kanye West calls them, "Gold Diggers," Project Pat calls them, "Chicken Heads,"Don Imus calls them, "Nappy headed hos." Enter, the Real Housewives of Orange County.

They are perfect examples of, "You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you shouldn't take the sugar daddy's dick out of her mouth." Something like that. [Oh, except Gretchen. On the surface she's the likeliest Gold Digger, but is actually the only one that lives on this planet].


The dumb fucking quote of the week came from Tamra, the one that grabs her husbands dick in public and, "just doesn't really THINK that much about her food."

"I think when you're child gets a lot of tattoos, it makes you feel bad inside. It makes you feel like you failed as a parent somehow."

I think when people say things like that, it makes me feel bad inside. It makes me want to drop you off in the projects wearing nothing but your jewelry.

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT (And you did, Cause I'm a dummy)

I forgot to ACTUALLY publish Tip 4 for 2009. Check it.

Final tip to come later today!

Signs of the Apocalypse 8: Lockness Monster Lives

I hate the cold. Everyone knows this. So, naturally, I am made uncomfortable by those who enjoy it. Specifically those who revel in it, even when they don't need to.

A good example of this group of individuals that I do not understand is the infamous Polar Bears - crazy people who choose to go swim in the ocean when the windchill is so low that it is actually killing 14 year olds.

I am now even more frightened by them... I mean, just take a look at their mascot.

Oprah Takes a Break from the Buffet to Speak Out against Overachievers. "Nam, Nam, Nam!"

Aside from her obvious compulsion to fellate eclairs and a thin veneer of actually still caring about being a heifer, Oprah Winfrey is the antithesis of underachiever. Racist, clueless publicity whore, yes. Underachiever, no.

Yet, in, "Why her friends refuse to attend her parties," an article that's actually more gratifying when you draw your own conclusions about the title without actually reading this rotting piece of trash, Oprah.com contributor Lisa Kogan suggests that her friends can't stand to be around her because her perfectionism annoys them.

Here are the Story Highlights included on the page (by the way, if your half page article needs Cliff's Notes, burn it):

-Columnist Lisa Kogan attempts to throw a holiday party
-Friends, boyfriend tell Kogan she is a terrible hostess and refuse to come
-Kogan realizes she is too much of a perfectionist to relax and have fun
-Kogan's boyfriend invites couple over for spur of the moment dinner.

The last bullet suggests this woman wouldn't know a climax if she had tectonic plates on her clitoris.

Fact: Perfectionism is only annoying to losers. We can always do better. Kogan's advice is borderline irresponsible and most definitely super-sensitive Kathy-comic nonsense (Oh my god, Kathy's fat and single like Oprah! I sense a pattern). Perfectionism should inspire us all to surpass expectations, realistic or not (but don't be a sadist that constantly shoots the moon -- then everyone will hate you).

By constantly improving as a whole, we can raise the baseline standard for success, hopefully weed out the slower, weaker, dumber in order to have a shot at actually saving this planet from being overrun by hypocritical, insipid, bitchy bloggers (Don't look at me, I just work here).

It's legal, ethical eugenics (see: Free Gift With Purchase).

If you don't agree, you don't really count anyway since you obviously live in a state America will be forced to sell to Mexico to pay for the War you started in Iraq. Oh, and you'll die of Cholera cause you can't afford health care.

Oh Nein -- Tip 5:

Following the year of superlatives including "THE most important Presidential election ever," "the WORST financial crisis in American history," and a (fond) farwell to, "THE BIGGEST IDIOT EVER ELECTED TO PUBLIC OFFICE," (sadly, top prize here is really a matter of opinion), consider curbing the intensity level of your personal news in 2009.

With the shit hitting the fan the way it is, few people have the energy for or interest in, "THE most annoying woman at the supermarket," "the slowest subway ride EVER," or "the WORST commerical you have ever seen IN YOUR LIFE." If you still think your friends might want to know, click here.

Likewise, a bounty of over-enthusiastic high notes will eventually be dismissed as flakey, melo-dramatic or just plain irritating. No one wants to hear about, "the FRESHEST, JUCIEST blueberries you've ever tasted." Just shut up and bake us a pie.

Consider the significance you assign to each piece of personal folklore and note that it speaks volumes about your priorities and understanding of and appreciation of something greater than yourself.

It's said that good writers are allowed a total of five exclamation points ever. Apply this to your storytelling and proceed with care.

Less is More. If that simply CAN'T work for you, consider therapy or a high school education.

My New Year's (in 6 minutes)

God I love my new FLIP Mino HD camcorder. It saves me from having to tell you about my New Year's Eve, and instead allows me to SHOW you my New Year's Eve.

A good time was had by all, as you'll see right here:

Keep an eye out for my boyfriend Jack (the gay devil) co-blogger Kristin (MIA), good friend Krissy (Gem), friend Paul (James Dean) and upcoming co-blogger Lauren (Juno).

And I hope you're all having a wonderful New Year!

xoJR

Oh Nein -- Tip 4: Couture du Jour

NYC Boys, regardless of what the unlimited frozen margaritas at brunch are telling you, 8th Avenue is not your runway, wearing skulls makes you look like a gay pirate, and loud isn't the same as making a statement.

Consider great style icons like Carey Grant or Audrey Hepburn for you ladies (not the clownish imitations donned by Blair Waldorf): Their looks are simple, graceful, and perhaps most importantly, current in their day. Leave the anachronistic 50's haircuts and 90s bedazzled denim at your local Salvation Army before you take the L into Manhattan.

In 2009, keep it simple, keep in comfortable in light of an uncomfortable economy, and save the outlandish pieces for October 31st.

My pick for men's style role-model of 2008 goes to Brad Pitt. In his Oprah appearance where he channeled Clark Gable (sans Pistol and Confederate flag), Pitt showed the appeal of aging appropriately, and thus gracefully, and updating your image in kind. Unlike the Kevin Bacons and Bon Jovis, Pitt opted out of the bleached, blown out. feathered do and instead sported a closely cropped and slightly stylized coif (appropriate for an appearance on National TV; inappropriate for brunch in the Village.

Consider: The Playboy

Montgomery Clift
























Gary Cooper























Rock Hudson






















Ditch: The Rock(abily) Retard


Brett Michaels

























Elvis Presley

Creepy Fucking Santa!

My stepfather is an eBay fanatic. He buys everything on there from fencing foils to ancient armor to fishing poles and guitars... and this creepy Santa robot.

Maybe he's supposed to be merry... but there's just something not right about him. A Yuletide version of the Uncanny Valley, perhaps. The way his arms swing like sausages. Or his basso profundo voice. Or the fact that he stands at the bottom of the spooky stairwell to my basement.

Anyway, enjoy Creepy Fucking Santa's rendition of "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

What a scary way to send off the Christmas season!

Microsoft starts 2009 out right...

If you had a 30 gig Zune MP3 player, you might have had it crash yesterday. Most owners experienced this odd occurrence.

Why? Turns out that while programming the Zunes, Microsoft forgot to account for leap years. Their answer? Just wait a day and all will be fine.

Duh.

Read the full story

Get on the Rag

This job posting requires no commentary. Enjoy.

Employer looking for sales persons for feminine hygiene products (Manhattan new york )

---

Reply to: job-972955603@craigslist.org ^[?]
Date: 2008-12-29, 10:13AM EST

We are looking for sales or marketing persons or both of them for our company that sell feminine cleansing & hygiene products. The line is a new line that we are starting to market in the USA market. The products are manufactured in a pharmaceutical company in very high quality designated for women’s daily health.
We are looking to sell the products to small chain stores and big retailers, wholesalers, hospitals, the healthcare industry and where ever it's possible to sell this product. We are looking for persons that have experience in that filed of marketing and products.
if you think you are suitable to this position. pls. contact via e-mail: tammy@intimore.com , or through our website: www.intimore.com

• Location: Manhattan new york
• Compensation: will be negotiating
• Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
• Please, no phone calls about this job!
• Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.

PostingID: 972955603

We Need a Resolution

Welcome to 2009, where America will no longer have the luxury of indicting Bush for all the nation's wrong-doings (rightfully) and "change" is the people's demand. While some approach New Year's Resolutions with flip obligation, many set goals they truly believe they'll achieve. -- goals they truly believe they may achieve.

Typically, these resolutions are thought of as promises to improve on the previous year's efforts. In lieu of a promise or declaration, I prefer the followinf definition of res·o·lu·tion:

Pronunciation: \ˌre-zə-ˈlü-shən\

Function: noun

1 : the act of answering


Use the new year as a chance to improve on the "why?" behind the "what?". Any four year old can point to Lucky Charms and say, "Gimme," but ask him why and the likely answer is, "Because." Growth s isn't identifying your desires, but evaluating the rationale behind and validity of those desires.

In a departure from my usual snark, I sincerely wish each of you success in keeping your resolutions and much honesty and toil in the discovery of those goals.

Obama Can't Golf

Well, since Obama had nothing to do with the Blago Debacle of '08, the media have moved on to their next attack. Unfortunately they don't have much to work with, as BO has done more as President-Elect in the past month than our current schmucko-in-chief has done in 2 years.

So, instead, they've decided to attack him on his golfing ability. God, I wish I made that up... that would make me hilarious if I did.

Barack Obama might have abs that are the envy of men half his age and the ability to command a crowd of 100,000 with his speeches.

But when it comes to the decidedly presidential sport of golf, well, to put it diplomatically — he’s only a little smoother on the links than he is in a bowling alley.

(sigh).

J+1 Interview: Watch it, and get MattInc NAKED

Last week I profiled an up and coming Web Celeb. I called him the Anti-Davey-Wavey. He's a super cutie from Maine named MattInc. (See the profile here).

Anyway, I wrote to Matt and pitched him an interview. He was more than happy to oblige. Below is the video from our interview.


One important note you should be aware of: if all of you

• VIEW the video,
• LEAVE a comment, and
• SUBSCRIBE to Matt's YouTube channel...

he'll do a Davey-Wavey and make his next video shirtless. That's right, the power is in your hands. Help me get MattInc naked, and watch the video!

Oh SNAPshots!

Deco building with whacked color scheme at southeast corner 4th and B.


The Real Doll was on display in the window of a LES store. The associate told us the store had to become an official dealer to carry this anatomically correct mannequin. The carper did, in fact, match the curtains. She's a natural blonde.


Look at this wash from the Levi's store, but please don't touch.

Dress for Success -- A Note on NYE Style

When asked what I'm wearing on New Year's Eve, I had one simple rule in reply:

Whatever you wear, make sure you'll be comfortable walking home in it in the morning.

Happy Hunting.

[Pictures from my romp coming later...]

Should all the parties be forgot

New Years Eve is coming. And if you're trying to stop it, or slow it down, you are failing at your task.

What's left to do is figure out what you will be doing. Patrick over at ABlogAboutThings posted on the 5 types of New Year's parties. I am happy to say that I am not attending the first 4. The club where you dropped hundreds for a terrible time with terrible people. Or the house party you land in by default. Or the random empty restaurant where you don't have to sell your children into slavery in order to attend.

No, I will be at a house party on Long Island. A costumed New Years Eve bash. Jack and I had planned to go as JFK and Marilyn Monroe, but I think I may be too lazy, and he too tired, to pull this off. We'll probably cobble something together.

But I am a huge fan of the intimate house party. New Years Eve, I would say, is the night where every loser and his bigger loser friends hit the town because, GODDAMMIT! they are NOT LOSERS! They are cool, man! They can party like it's 1999! (Someone tell Prince he needs to put out a new track to inform them it is no longer anywhere near 1999).

And I don't want to be out with the desperate on this desperate night. Those poor saps clinging, nay grasping for dear life onto some semblance of a social life. Those drunk morons in Times Square who saw it on TV one time and fell for the tricks of expensive cameras, thinking the celebration is just as glamorous, and doesn't involve people throwing up on their new, expensive shoes.

Rather, I choose to stay in on nights like this. I go out when the losers return to their loser lives. When the people who know how to party and have a good time also return from their voluntary hermit-ization to resume their exciting lifestyles. These are the people who (usually) can hold their liquor. They are out to have fun, not out to prove to themselves that they can have fun.

I digress. New Year's Eve is a time to be with friends or family. To drink and be merry. My mom always told me that how you ring in the New Years is how your year will go. It makes sense, as I separated from my then-boyfriend for the evening (and you can see the result, as I referred to him as a then-boyfriend).

This year I will be partying it up WITH my new boyfriend. And the best friends I've had since high school. And my cousin who is the best friend I've ever had. I will call and wish a happy-happy to my Mom and stepfather, who are partying it up in Florida like the well-to-do snowbirds that they are. And my brother, who will be partying with his supermodel blonde bombshell girlfriend in DC. And my aunt and uncle, who will be doing god knows what. And my grandfather, who will be drinking Diet Sprite and watching the complete Rambo collection on DVD that I bought him for Christmas.

Friends. Family. None of the artifice or desperation. And I will be bringing my FLIP Mino HD camcorder, so I can create a short viral memory documentary so we can all remember the glory long after it is dimmed.

I hope the rest of you have an absolutely fabulous New Year's Eve as well. Each of us deserves it.

Pop-Up Idiot

Much like the XTube video recently shown to me, which involved a man popping a pool ball out of his anus, there are certain things that will perpetually elude my comprehension. Enter: The Pop Culture Expert.

Watch just about any show on VH-1 or Logo and you'll inevitably catch a lower-third touting the funny-to-himself talking head as a pop culture "expert." How does one apply, and better yet, attain this position?


I originally planned to post a job listing for a Pop Culture Expert to Craigslist to evaluate what burn-outs might actually apply, but I'm not a sadist nor do I enjoy proliferating false hope in this outhouse economy.

The fact is, most of these people are experts in nothing.

Their styles are forces, their jokes aren't funny and they're overwhelmingly one-hit-wonders rejected from Celebrity Rehab or fat black women that producers are convinced can make anyone laugh simply by opening their mouths. Reality check: If you want a funny black lady get Wanda Sykes or Jamie Foxx in drag, not some poor man's Vaudevillian knock off. It's kind of like making some watch Friends with Chinese dubbing and expecting them to laugh, or making some watch Friends and expecting them to laugh.

Furthermore, if these people have their fingers on the pulse America, they're feeling it through the armpit. Exactly, it doesn't make sense.

Sorry Kennedy, you're over. You were done a long, long time ago and even your brief stint on the Game Show Network (they get ALL the talent) couldn't revive your career. No whammy, no whammy, no whammy...stop! Please, just stop.


-

NAB-A-DATE: The Interview

Earlier this week I "sat down with" (ie: composed an email full of questions) to Lee Cavellier and Cedric Jones, two off-off Broadway producers.

We talked of many things (fools and kings?) no, but about their upcoming musical, Nab-A-Date, which is taking the stage on Valentine's Day of 2009. As well as their theatrical roots, former projects, and future ideas.

Yesterday I posted videos of their original musical, Guy Pride. You can see those here.

The interview, in full, appears below!

Okay, so let's start easy: You're producing a show set to premiere on February 14th called "NAB-A-DATE: The World's 1st, Best (and only) Musical Dating Show!" That's a lot of words, and a strange idea. Can you explain the show to me and the J+1 readers?

Absolutely! The title, though wordy, is pretty on the nose. We took the idea of the dating shows from the past and decided to utilize that convention, adding in musical numbers to help our ladies impress our bachelor and to keep a quick pace for the action.

As we played around, we found that not only was it a fun idea, but we could actually create a lot of wonderful characters, moments and turns...we could use the construct of a dating game to help drive the stories of all of these people along. It turns out that everyone on the show has enough behind them to make an audience not only enjoy watching them, but also care about what happens to them.

As for the basics, the evening will be taking place at 8pm at The Reprise Room at Dillon's on Valentine's Day (2/14/09), and will include a raffle to take place immediately following the show.

Tickets for the premiere are available through SmartTix

For more info on the show, including cast, crew and the NEW demo recording of the opening number, visit the NAB-A-DATE web site.

I know that a lot of folks (gays, straights, ostriches) hate valentines day because they're alone, or wish they would be left alone. Why should an unhappy non-Valentine come to NAB-A-DATE?

We love ostriches...Though I was unaware that they harbored any kind of hostility toward the 'day of love'. As for the rest, I remind everyone that tv dating shows have been around for a long time, and we've all had our guilty pleasures.

You don't need to be in a relationship to enjoy fun personalities making lots of sexual innuendo. Now toss in a ton of humor, lots of drinks, constant theater and pop culture references and some great voices singing tight harmonies...who could ask for anything more?

The show is not about being 'lucky in love'. Each of our girls has come there for a different reason, and we are lucky enough to view the journey that they each take.

Okay, and if you can't drag the non-valentine out of his cave, how can they see the show after they come out?

Well, that one's easy... We (Guy Pride Productions) are very excited to have been invited back to our summer stomping grounds, The Duplex, where will be doing the show for a full run every Thursday this coming March at 9:30pm.

I will spread the word though, as incentive to catch that V-Day opener, that folks arriving in March with a ticket stub from the February performance will be receiving 2 for 1 cover! So if you come out for the 14th and can't stop raving, give a friend your ticket stub and let them see for themselves, at buy one get one free!

NAB-A-DATE wasn't your first production. What was your previous theatrical project? And did it have a cool catch, too?

As a team, Cedric Jones and myself created an equally wordy titled show called "Guy Pride: The World's 1st MAN-sical!" I absolutely feel that because almost every story has been told so many times, the best thing you can do to keep it fresh is find an interesting perspective to tell it from.

Guy Pride started as a spoof of all those shows/cabarets out there where people were so proud to be gay/latin/female/a donkey...etc. We wanted to find a different angle.

Interestingly enough, what started out as a mock up of those kinds of shows, became more of a send up of ourselves. Our own quirks, flaws, and insecurities were showcased and exaggerated to create a very fun show of it's own genre, poking more fun of itself than of anyone or anything else. As the transition occurred, I believe we went from potentially offensive, to promisingly funny...and I'm pretty sure our audiences agreed.

And what learnings did you take away from this original show that you brought over to NAB-A-DATE?

We're men...it's hard to learn when you already know it all! Though my collaborator Cedric states that those of the 'pink persuasion' are consistently attempting to increase their knowledge, so I'll throw in what I understand to be his thoughts...

- We learned a lot about production, promotion, and budgets...
- We learned that friends can work together...and can create some pretty great stuff.
- We learned that above all, people want/need to laugh right now...

AND...

- We learned that The Duplex is a great spot to hold a show, or throw a party...or just hang.

You've produced a great number of shows already – what inspired you to take up this line of work? How did you get started?

Because of an early run-in with Donny Osmond (I fell in love with the show "Joseph" when I saw him in Toronto), I studied musical theater in college. As far as production, I remember taking a Cabaret course in my senior year. We had to write, produce, book the location, promote... everything related to getting the show up and filling the seats. It was incredibly difficult, but also very satisfying, and there's a great thrill to seeing people enjoy what you've put together.

And so, when Ceddy and I started to kick ideas around for Guy Pride, I felt I had a decent understanding of what to do. Though, to be honest, there's always a lot to learn.

Judging from how quickly you moved from your last show to this current one, there MUST be some other brilliant ideas bouncing around in your head… what's coming next?

There ARE some pretty brilliant ideas bouncing up there. We've got a couple shows on the back burner that I'm not yet at liberty to discuss...but I am able to mention that we are planning to reprise Guy Pride this coming summer around Gay Pride (keep checking www.theMAN-sical.com for dates!).

And following up in the fall with a brand spankin' NEW piece entitled "Addicts Anonymous: A Musical Twelve Step Program!" AA is a celebration of all those little things that "make you rave, then make you crave and ultimately misbehave, because you've just GOTTA have 'em!"

What part can I play in your next project? Or can we maybe write JustinPlusOne.com into the script? I don't have a resume, but I can make a convincing one up.

Are you addicted to anything? :-) I can certainly find a place to mention JustinPlusOne.com, resume or no!

Oh Nein -- Tip 2: CunniLingo or My Friend the Dicktionary

If Christian Siriano didn't drive the word "fierce" into an already dug grave, then I'm calling for 4 more years of Bush/Cheney. If you're still christening everything "fabulous," step into 2009 where Queer Eye for the Straight Guy was canceled years ago and Kimora Lee Simmons is now a divorced fat, gold-digging, no talent hoochie (nee a married fat, gold-digging no talent hoochie).

Chelsea Handler (my baby mama/destined to be best friend -- Seriously, Chelsea, you give me a hernia from laughter) pronounced the death of the "Cougar" (aka Old Slut: 1 part KY/1 glass Merlot) earlier this year after its 3 year run in pop-culture lingo (sorry to anyone in Nebraska that's just now discovering this word, but it's over. So are beauty pageants. And track suits. And Born Again Christianity... even Sarah Palin couldn't revitalize "the base").

In kind, it's well past time for gay men to take their hands off the lexicon lepers (i.e. "Fierce" and "Fabulous") and use their statistically better educated, higher earning, better spoken minds to develop and disseminate fresh buzzwords. Honestly, you've left your semen on the stalls at Therapy and your dignity in the water bowl outside Rawhide, so mark your territory and spit the new good word to your fellow faggots.

Oh, and if possible, let's avoid douchey anachronisms favored by hipster kids like "rad." Seriously? Go dust off your Cure boxed set and cry yourselves to sleep. It's therapeutic AND saves on eyeliner remover.

In ancient times, victors in war sought to strengthen their hold on conquered lands by taking away the people's native language. A loss of obvious cultural identity hastens assimilation into the new, dominant mode. With the blow of Prop 8, it's important for our community to maintain its voice. One way to move forward is breaking down syntax stereotypes while maintaining the cleverness and bite that sets us apart from the moral majority. Complacency, like illiteracy, is neither fierce nor fabulous; just fucking stupid.

Introducing The Brooklyn Literacy Initiative

Try playing reverse mad libs with these snapshots from my afternoon in Bushwick.

I feel like...

...tonight.

...your sex life.

Fuck You, Death Cab

The world of music rights is getting on my nerves. A video I published today, of clips from my neighborhood, was taken off of YouTube because it featured a backup track of "I Will Possess Your Heart" by Death Cab For Cutie.

A copyright owner has claimed it owns some or all of the audio content in your video 86th at 9. The audio content identified in your video is I Will Possess Your Heart by Death Cab for Cutie. We regret to inform you that your video has been blocked from playback due to a music rights issue.

Really? Was that at all necessary? Who am I? I'm a blogger and videographer. I loved your song so much that I wanted to use it in my own original work.

Was I trying to sell the song? Was I screening this movie somewhere for profit? NO!

So, fuck you Death Cab for Cutie. You're so edgy with your long hair and 14-minute long songs. You're so cool and so anti-establishment.

Oh wait, you have a ton of stupid ass lawyers who are patrolling YouTube and pulling down harmless videos.

Whatever, guess who has music ON YouTube for its members to use? The genius himself, Trent Fucking Reznor, and his amazing band, Nine Inch Nails. That's right, he has sanctioned the use of his music, and put it on a new YouTube service called "Audio Swap" where users like me, who have unceremoniously lost privileges to their work, can quickly swap out the audio for something else.

So when 86 at 9 is back on YouTube, it will be backed up by Nine Inch Nails, and Death Cab can KISS MY ASS.

Trent is a savior. Death Cab is full of shit.

(end rant)

GUY PRIDE: The Videos

Tomorrow I will be posting my recent interview with Lee Cavellier and Cedric Jones, the men behind the upcoming NAB-A-DATE: The World's 1st, Best (and only) Musical Dating Show. Set to premiere on Valentine's Day at The Reprise Room at Dillon's.

To get you jazzed and ready for it, I am posting a few videos from their last popular theatrical event which played at The Duplex: GUY PRIDE: The World’s 1st MAN-sical

Stay tuned to Justin Plus One tomorrow to hear from the geniuses behind the show, and to get a special deal on tickets!

Guy Love



Big Ass Rock



What a Day

Big Effing Boner, Thanks Logo

Perhaps it's as premature as the load I shot upon seeing the trailer, but I'm calling the biggest TV Craze of 2009: Rupaul's Drag Race.

While it may lack the obvious breadth of Tyra's forehead or limit of Heidi Klum's English vocabulary, I know this show will possess the delicate nuances of tummy fat corseted into boobs and genital tape downs that you can't see on other reality shows.

Finally, Logo has finally hit their rhinestone mine. Let's hope for no nude photo shoots.

Step into my hood

Yesterday, after much hunting, I successfully tracked down the FLIP Mino HD camcorder.

Smaller than a tiny cell phone, this camcorder weighs an ounce if it weighs anything, and is capable of shooting HD video that exports magnificently to YouTube and other video sharing sites. Needless to say, you can expect a lot more video work from me in the near future!

Below is my first test of the FLIP Mino HD edited in iMovie. I titled it 86th at 9... because I filmed it up and down 86th street at 9PM. Oh, and the soundtrack is courtesy of Death Cab For Cutie... thanks, guys.

PS: Be sure to click through and view the video in Hi-Def, otherwise you won't get the full effect.

xoJR

Oh Nein -- Trends to Avoid in the New Year: Tip 1

If you didn't jump onto the bandwagon of bottled water, bunkers and stuffing your savings into a mattress with your favorite copy of the Holy Bible in 1999, the manufacturers of y2k have the latest garbage marketing scheme for the New Year (expect e-mails from your Aunt Claire in Minnesota and Shelly in Accounts Payable): 2008 will have an extra second.

My recommendation for this extra second: Use it to party. Take a shot of your favorite dark liquor to reward yourself for participating in the hyper social-conscious that marked 2008 and help you ring in the New Year with a stellar performance on Guys Gone Wild.

Welcome to my series, "Oh Nein: 6 Trends of 2008 to Avoid in New Year."



Today, Keep in Gay in 2009. In the wake of Obamamania and Anne Hathaway bangs
(currently seen on Ms. Hathaway's talentless co-star Kate Hudson in their upcoming estrogen laden, Down's Syndrome inducing flick, Bride Wars), take a break from the tree planting and protesting Prop 8 and do something stupid.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull I-Banker, and we see how well 2008 panned out for them.

Use 2009 to expand your comfort zone and not in a Natasha Bedingfield way (the Dim Brit equates laughing out loud on the subway with being "a non-conformist"). Get a little uneasy, and challenge your own status quo instead of the rocking the social foundation, which thankfully has a more solid forecast post-Innauguration.

Re-Meet Patrick!

Many thanks to Austin, who helped me hold down the fort last week during Christmas hell. His and my feelings were correct: blog visitors didn't decline during the holiday week, they sky-rocketed! Many welcomes to all of you who are new to Justin Plus One. I hope you stick around, and send some of your friends over to check us out.

This week's Blogger has been here before. Deja Vu, I know. His name is Patrick and he is an absolutely fantastic, witty, intelligent, no-holds-barred motherfucker. He has the charm and manners of a southern gentleman, but he'll rip your kidney out through your asshole if you hurt someone he cares about.

We also used to blog here together during a former incarnation. We had pseudonyms and tore the world apart. That might happen again this week, if you're lucky.

What more could you ask for?

I'll let him do the rest!


My Name:
Patrick

My Location:
New York

My Site/ Sites:
Poor Man’s Food
Socialite Commentary

Why I came back to Justin Plus One:
To redeem the dream.

What I might blog about this time:
2009, Recessionistas, Style, NYC, Chelsea Handler is my Baby Mama

What’s happened to me since the last time I blogged:
I enjoyed a spectacular holiday party season and practiced the fine art of changing the subject and keeping one hand open at a cocktail party to greet new friends. I'm dating someone I've known for 3 years and couldn't stand for 2 of them (the same is true), and he's wonderful -- perhaps it's the trick? I developed a renewed love for cooking for others and perfected my Mac'n'Cheese recipe. I had a physical and discovered I'm the same weight I was my junior year of high school (and have been since).

The Last Word:
You may have it, but I'm still right!

I Love....

Guitar Hero: World Tour

Why? Because I can play guitar naked.

Just thought I would share.





Justin, wanna start a band?

Signs of the Apocalypse 7: Food Even I Wouldn't Eat

I found this disturbing display at one of my fifteen neighborhood Starbucks stores. That limp, soggy pile you see before you is the coffee company's egg sandwich lineup (well, egg sandwich pile).

Now really, Siren... do you expect anyone who hasn't already eaten one of these to be enticed by this poor showing?

The sandwich on the top left looks like it's sticking a phlegmy tongue out at me.

I won't even comment on what the green and oozing orifice of the piadini at the top right looks like.

And, what, you couldn't find a better place for your feta wrap, so you shoved it in a ceramic ramekin in the back to the right?

And ALL of the fake egg fillings seem to be crawling, desperately, trying to escape from their fake breaded prisons. Or, if you prefer a different simile they all look like the smiles of toothless, demented senior citizens who forgot to fully swallow their Early Bird specials.

All in all, I've seen piles of cadavers near mass graves that looked more appetizing than this. Mmmmm cadavers (drools).

Technological Meltdown

Thank God I have a week off, because I have much to do. Besides spending all of the money and gift cards I got from loved ones, I must get a few of my malfunctioning gadgets deal with.


Public Enemy Number 1: My iPod.

Oh iPod 60 gig. We started off badly. I dropped a few hundred bucks on you, only to find out the next week that your 80 gig brother had been released... at the same price I paid for you. That's fine. I got over it.

The problem
Your headphone jack is fucked. I thought it was my headphones, until I bought a new pair and found the same issue. I can only hear your dulcet tones in one ear. And this is not fun. The right ear pipes in now and again and throws off my equilibrium. I stand to be hit by a taxi if I continue to suffer this injustice.

Of course, I found a homemade solution, which is pushing down hard on the top of my headphone cord and somehow summoning the right ear to do its work. But this is about as accurate of a prescription as fucking around with the bunny ears on a television set, or blowing into an old Nintendo cartridge.

Whose fault?
Okay, apparently this is mine. I didn't discover, until yesterday when my brother told me, that you are NOT supposed to wrap your headphone cord around the iPod when you put it in your pocket. Or if you do, you're supposed to disconnect the headphone plug. Who the fuck knew this? I didn't!

What I must do
I need to go to the nearby Best Buy (after digging up my pricey 3-year warranty). Then I must be nice until they offer up confrontation. Then I must curse and wave my warranty about in the air. Then they will honor the warranty.

My Dream Outcome
The customer service angel will say "just exchange the iPod for a new one, so we don't need to mail this back to Apple." They then let me trade up my 60 gig for the 160 gig (I will gladly pay the extra cash). The customer service person then gives me a bag of money and a timeshare in Paris.


Public Enemy Number 2: My Verizon enV phone

Oh enV, your name is so appropriate... because ever since I bought you, I've envied every iPhone 3G owner. They have the graphic web! They have instant messaging that's actually instant! They don't have to see the same stupid advertisement for Katy Perry's I Kissed A Girl on their news homepage (is anyone even BUYING that song any more?) Plus, your camera is too touch sensitive, and always gives me a blurry photo.

The problem
Beyond your general suckiness, you've now begun to suck in overtime. Your P button is stuck. I never noticed how much I used "P" until this occurred. There are a lot of odd messages you can send when you forget a "P" or two. Your "OK" button has also begun to stick. This is so not OK. I need to send text messages. I need to press OK.

And then, you've recently begun to turn yourself off when I close you. I didn't ask you to do that. No one wants you to do that. You need to stop doing that.

Whose fault?
I am very careful with my enV. This is Verizon's fault, and they must pay dearly.

What I must do
If I recall correctly, I am paying monthly amounts for Verizon insurance. I never used it when my last phone went to Shitsville, but this time I must. I will stop at the Verizon store en route to Best Buy and ask for a new phone. If they don't give me one, there will be blood.

My Dream Outcome
The kind Verizon folks will offer to give me a new one, and then let me either trade up to an enV 2 or, even more preferred, a Blackberry Storm (yes, even though apparently the Storm is a stinker next to the iPhone). Again, I will gladly pay the extra. This is about getting the latest and greatest, versus the grittiest and shittiest.


And so there you have it. I rarely return or exchange anything, so this should certainly be an adventure. More on it as it unfolds.

xoJR

Post-Christmas Recap

So I made it home safely without a hitch. Now I am sitting in my Upper East Side apartment and thinking that they should have a name for the day after Christmas. I mean, we have Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and... what? I think I'll call it... Post-Christmas Enjoy Your Family and Presents Day. I think it'll catch on.

So on this Post-Christmas Enjoy Your Family and Presents Day, I am taking stock of my gifts from Santa and otherwise this year. Among the socks and scarves and cash, my biggest gifts this year were a Playstation 3, along with Guitar Hero World Tour, Mirror's Edge, and Metal Gear Solid 4 (I'm such a dork) and a nice digital camera. I also go the first two seasons of Dexter on DVD. Let's see.... Pjs, button ups, a tie, a few pullovers and sweaters. It was a good Christmas Day.

So today I'm dedicated to making Post-Christmas Enjoy Your Family and Presents Day even better! And first order of business? Come up with a new name for Post-Christmas Enjoy Your Family and Presents Day. It's not quite as catchy as I thought after typing it four times.

I'll get on that...

Merry Christmas, from baby Justin

Okay, so my last post was totes depressing. I apologize for it. I just needed to share my anger and sadness with the rest of you. It's a horrible thing to see that story when you've just eaten your weight in cookies!

Any way, consider this my apology for the last post. I'll one-up the sadness with perhaps the cutest thing you'll see today - me! As a one year old! Yes, I've been digging through the old and out-of-shape photo books in my bedroom here at home on Long Island.

I came across this photo and promptly spread it around the vicinity. And you know what? It may be almost 26 years later, but not much has changed. I still smile all the time. I'm still cute and cuddly. And I still have a huge as all fuck head.

So Merry Christmas - from baby Justin, and grown up still-baby Justin.

xoJR

You think your Christmas was bad?

Sure maybe you're uncle is a drunk. Maybe your cousins smell like wet socks and toothpaste. Perhaps your significant other's mom couldn't cook a ravioli or shrimp if someone else did it for her...

But at least a man in a santa suit didn't show up, kill five of your family members, and set yourself on fire.

In a bizarre Christmas Eve rampage in a Los Angeles suburb, a 45-year-old man in a Santa Claus outfit opened fire at a group of revelers in a house that moments later went up in flames, killing at least five people and injuring several others, the authorities said on Thursday.

Why oh why would New York Times pick this as their head story on the web site? Didn't a dog in a santa hat save a pair of puppies? Didn't some dying old man give his wealth to a homeless person?

This is why people don't read the news. Because the reporters have to report the sad shit, and make it front and center.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Since I am about to go over to the only part of the family I haven't seen yet and then promptly head to the airport, I may not get to post again until much later this evening. So, in order to sate your appetite, enjoy this video. I estimate you only have to watch in on a continuous loop 162 times till I can post something new. Enjoy!



SNL Christmas Song

Harold Pinter is Dead

In case you haven't read the article yet.

Harold Pinter, the British playwright whose gifts for finding the ominous in the everyday and the noise within silence made him the most influential and imitated dramatist of his generation, died on Wednesday. He was 78 and lived in London. The cause was cancer, his wife, Lady Antonia Fraser, said on Thursday.

Mr. Pinter learned he had cancer of the esophagus in 2002. In 2005, when he received the Nobel Prize in Literature, he was unable to attend the awards ceremony at the Swedish Academy in Stockholm but delivered an acceptance speech from a wheelchair in a recorded video.

The Christmas Airport Debacle of 2008: Part 3

And now the final installment of Austin and the Airport, already in progres...

...the fates had other plans in store. I boarded the plane, surprised when I was in the first Zone called for once. I hadn't really noticed that my ticket was 1A, until I came aboard and realized that I was flying first class. I had never flown first class before, so I was extremely amazed.

I took my seat in large leather cabin chair next to a gentlemen in full army gear, apparently headed home to Jackson for the holidays. And of course, he was sitting there reading his Bible, very meticulously so. "Oh god," I thought.

When the flight attendant came around for my first class, pre-flight drink, I asked how much a beer was. "Oh," she says, "All alcoholic refreshments are free in first class." I suddenly heard the Hallelujah chorus in my head as I order my first beer.

So I'm enjoying my beer when I very quickly realized that we have been sitting at the terminal for quite a while. At that moment, the captain comes on and explains that the plane needs some maintenance before we start to taxi. The maintenance crew is on their way and everything should be fine. Fantastic.

We wait, they arrive, they run diagnostics, everything is fine. Great, let's go. However, we don't move. At this point, Army Guy has put his Bible away and is starting to get impatient. The flight attendant comes on this time to instruct everyone to use the lavatory in back in of cabin due to an "situation" in the front bathroom. There is a cleanup crew on its way. I order my second beer.

So as I sit, I watch not one, not two, but three cleanup guys come into the aircraft carrying only paper towels and a garbage bag. All three look into the bathroom, flinch, look at their paper towels, and leave. It's going to require more than that, it seems. Keep in mind that the time between each cleanup guy is around 20-40 minutes. We sit and wait.

At this point, Army Guy starts talking to himself about the absurdity of waiting this long for a bathroom to be cleaned. The self-important middle-aged lady across the aisle hears his mutterings and starts agreeing with him, which serves only to embolden Private Grumpy to talk louder and get more people on his side. He starts saying things like, "Two hours on a runway? Ridiculous!" and "Give me a mop and some rubber gloves and I'll have it done in five minutes!" All of which makes the flight attendant seem really uneasy. I simply smile at her and say, "Is it possible to have one more beer while we wait?" She obliges.

So first class is getting restless and increasingly more vocal about their inconvenience. Right when I think it's about to be mutiny, the fourth and final cleanup man shows up with the right equipment and diffuses the situation. Finally, he leaves, the doors are sealed and we start to inch toward the runway.

We get to the runway and stop, which is normally usual, but the captain comes on again and says that due to our long tenure at the gate, we have to wait for new flight clearance. Well Sgt. Asshole starts to lose it, saying things like, "Oh, of course!" and laughing derisively. I am uncomfortable, and it's too late for another until we get to cruising altitude.

Fortunately, this time on the runway did not last long, and we were quickly on our way. We got up, I drank more, we landed. My family greeted me and didn't ask questions when I couldn't necessarily walk straight.

And that's my story. I took me three days to write it. Ironic, since I will be leaving again today to fly back to NYC. I hope I get home quicker next time, but still with the same amount of booze. If I don't... well I guess I'll have to save that story till next time I get asked on to JPO... if I do. :-)

My Haul, thus far

We've just woken up and the intimate family giving has yet to kick off. However, between Boyfriend Christmas with Jack on the 23rd, and extended family Christmas last night, I have already hauled in the following fantastic gifts:

• Raul Esparza in Company on Blu-Ray
• Sleeping Beauty on Blu-Ray
• August: Osage County in softcover
• The Beauty Queen of Lenane in softcover
• Three plays I've never heard of, also in softcover
• An etching of my favorite place in Central Park
• Wall-e on Blu-Ray
• Cloverfield on Blu-Ray
• 75 bucks
• "I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell" the softcover book
• 25 bucks Dunkin Donuts card
• Assorted shirts and sweaters from Gap and American Eagle, and a cute necklace
• Socks
  

And that's it so far... but this morning will be the motherload. But, as tradition states, I must first go out and buy bagels for the family. And coffee for myself. Then the unwrapping can begin.

Austin - I, too go to mass only to make my mother happy. However, this year I didn't as I actually had to WORK ON XMAS EVE. Yes, I got out at three, but it was far too late to make it to mass. In fact, my family cutely titled my train the "4:12 missing-mass express." They're so cute that way.

And this just in, not only is my Mom on Facebook... she's also now the proud owner of a Wii.

Yep. She's just adopting technology in leaps and bounds now.

Merry Christmas, all!

xoJR

Reverie

I'm sitting in my hometown Southern Baptist church in East Jesus Nowhere, MS for an "informal" Christmas Eve service. I'm wearing my skinny jeans, a tight white v-neck, and my Ed Hardy Chuck's. In addition, I am proudly sporting two new piercings (one in my lobe and another in my cartilage), and my meticulously arrange dyed blonde hair.

I am watching a parade of "singers" taking their turn at the mic singing their rendition of every Christmas song in the hymnal. My mom turns and smiles at me. At this point in my life, she knows I only come to these services to make her happy.

As usual, the nativity story turns in a sermon on repentance. I sigh and look at my watch. I begin to tune out when I see the preacher look at someone behind me and say, "And we have a sinner among us tonight, brothers and sisters." He suddenly leaves his pulpit and starts making his way down the aisle.

My amazement suddenly turns to dread as I realize that he is not heading toward someone behind me, but he is headed directly toward me. As he approaches with Bible in hand, he is proclaiming, "This boy has moved to the city, left the fold, and like the prodigal son, has indulged himself in debaucherous living. He keeps the company of alcoholics, sex fiends, deviants, and homosexuals! We must cast out the demon of unbelief and save this young man's soul, brothers and sisters!"

The preacher then places his hand on my forehead, messing up my perfect hair in the process. He raises his Bible into the air and begins to pray. My mother is horrified, my aunt is crying, and I can only sit there and squirm in my disbelief and obvious fear.

At this point, I wake up from my daydream just in time to hear the end of a very screechy version of O Holy Night. My mom smiles at me. I sigh and check my watch.

Marry Christmas, mom.