Thursday, May 28, 2015

The bees are dying but the Kardashians are all alive and well.

Bosom friends!

Today Kylie Jenner is making headlines for posting an image supporting 'Chemtrails' Conspiracy to Twitter.
The image claims cloud plumes caused by plane contrails are actually chemicals responsible for mass bee deaths.

 9 million followers exposed to such poorly spelled and written revelation.
Jenner has unknowingly stumbled into the chemtrail conspiracy theory, which dates back to August 1996, when the United States Air Force’s university, Air University, published a paper titled Weather as a Force Multiplier: Owning the Weather in 2025. Some members of society took the paper to mean that the government wanted to control the weather. A conspiracy was born.
True? False?
Many other celebrities do believe in this whole thing and the poor honey bees are paying the highest price: they are dropping like flies. 
Thank you Kylie for yet another pearl of wisdom (AKA suppository of farsightedness...).
Would you like to elaborate about this heavy topic Kylie? I am sure you would. If you could. 

On the other hand and on yet another magazine cover we have the queen bee of the Kardashian/Jenner dynasty this time unleashing her inner Marilyn Monroe.

Kim West Kardashian is featured on the cover of Vogue Brazil properly photoshopped and edited.
Poor Marilyn Monroe has to be associated with such talent.
The magazine mentions that a wig was ordered for the shoot, but since Kim went blonde just before, it was not needed to complete her Marilyn transformation.
Such commitment to her craft.
Bleach and toner were not spared to achieve such mesmerizing metamorphosis.
Personally I don't see any resemblance with the 1950's bombshell but perhaps in Brazil they perceive such similarities differently. They see the Favelas as legit neighborhoods so I suppose the fine line between reality-show-starlet and movie-star-icon is not a big deal.
I call bullshit.
Naturally Kim also gifted us with another of her pearls of wisdom and during the interview told the magazine:
“I challenge anyone to try to do everything I do and then tell me whether or not I have talent”.
The interview also touches on her body image, career and new selfie book, Selfish.
Such achievements.
I call bullshit again.

Perhaps all the chemtrails are put out there not to take care of the bees but to alter our brain chemical balance in order to render all of the Kardashians crap irrelevant once and for all.

That is a conspiracy I would stand for.

Ciao for now.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Sing out, Louise!

Bosom friends!

I noticed that nobody gave a fuck about my down and low kind of day yesterday but as Madre Teresa used to say "Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway."

So I will keep giving my best to you all anyway.
I will win you by default.
God and I will have a chat later. She is busy with much more pressing matters.


I have good and bad news to share.

Let's start with the shit report first. Usually you feel better after you threw up what was upsetting your stomach.
As you may know or not care I have been sending my resume to oh so many job offers I have found online. I put together a lovely motivation opening paragraph and wrote down all my previous jobs and studies. I was quite pleased reading all that I have accomplished since I became the town freak when at age nine I decided I was going to be a professional dancer.
I have traveled the world, learned as much as I could possibly have, became perfectly bilingual and gained a knowledge about entertainment in general that no kind of degree will ever replace.
Well, drum rolls, it turns out I am qualified for nothing.
Mind you I am not aiming that high, I've only applied for jobs that are either entry level or do not require a quantum physics doctorate (mainly retail, fold this shirt, bag this trousers).
But without previous folding experience I am as good as a potty untrained toddler.
I also applied for jobs in entertainment, I have so much on-stage experience I thought that that could have translated well for a behind the scene engagement. Foolish me.
I see a world full of possibilities out there (I've learned English by myself for crying out loud) but I suppose I haven't found myself in the right place at the right time yet.
Better buy a new GPS system and a strontium clock (the most accurate clock ever, won't lose or gain a second in 15 billion years - there you learned something too today...).
You are right if you thinking that I could always serve tables or clean toilets but trust me I have paid my dues many times over. For now I can still afford to keep looking and enjoy the rejection that comes with it. Cleaning bathrooms and waiting tables will always be in demand.

So me good for nothing for the time being.

And now for the good news.

Remember that audition I wrote about? Click here and catch up!

I auditioned for CircX.
I put on three inches of makeup and six inches heels and sang for them the way that I always have in the privacy of my own mind-theater. I did not expect such a good reaction but long story short I will be performing in this company next show at the Gleason Room - Backstage at The Fillmore in South Beach on the 26th and 27th of June.
I will be the first and last act featured in this production.
Me open and close a show with a solo? Don't mind if I do.

I won't spoil the whole surprise but I will be singing in my operatic voice two gorgeous arias one by Puccini and one by Offenbach. Oh and yes, I will look stunning while doing it.
The whole show will be quite risque and I will be the pinch of class that CircX requires for its innovative entertainment recipes.

CircX is a traveling performance troupe and production company based out of Miami Florida. Directed By Diana Lozano, each performance is dedicated to creating unique, cutting edge interactive entertainment. From the premier night clubs to Fortune 500 companies, CircX has accumulated an impressive clientele list including, Mercy Hospital, Bacardi, Mac Cosmetics, Heineken, Audi, and the Adrienne Arsht Performing Arts Center to name only a few.

Thank you Diana for trusting my talent.

Make sure you get your tickets for one of the shows!!!
Friday June 26th one show only @ 9 PM,
Saturday June 27th early show @ 7.30 PM and late show @ 10.30 PM.
Click on this link CircX TICKETS and choose between the round table seats and the general admission seats (the blue section of the seating map).
Also spread the word and make sure you do not miss CircX latest production!!!!
One Part Circus, Two Part Burlesque, A Pinch of Class, and a Dash of Trash. 

OK. Now that I have done some promoting (but don't worry I will bombard you all from now on...) this whole situation begs for a bit of a reflection.

How is it that when I put my best job-interview-outfit on and I charm the pants off the manager I am being interviewed by I get nothing? I mean I am well spoken, I have sense of style to give away for free, I am the poster gay guy when it comes to sell a life style and to inspire confidence. Thanks to the hubby I do know about costumer service and damn it any team should be so lucky to have me. Blowing my own horn ladies and gentlemen. Keeping my own parade nice and dry (don't rain on my parade reference, Funny Girl? Come on...!)
I must be doing something wrong.
Or perhaps (fairly certain actually) there will always be somebody with more experience than me running for the same position.

And how is it that when I dress like a freak and sing like Maria Callas I get noticed?
Could that be a career choice? 
Should that be a career choice?
Would that be a career choice?

Coulda Shoulda Woulda.

For now just make sure you get your tickets to go and see CircX and myself at the Fillmore so you can let me know if I should really consider waiting tables and sing only while scrubbing a toilet bowl.

Ciao for now.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

The sound of silence.

Bosom friends!

Bitchy Tuesday should be back....

The fact that I have a ton of laundry to get done is not conducive to a good mood either and what is trending right now on line really just makes me wanna pop a Xanax and watch Sex and the City from season one to six.

Plus my head is feeling completely empty just like Paris Hilton's.

So for today I've chosen to keep my mouth shut and let a beautiful silence nurture us.

If you have nothing nice to say then say nothing.

I will follow that mantra for today.

Keeping my mouth zipped.

Ciao for now.

Ps: you are more than welcome to beg me to start writing my intelligent and witty posts and to check that all hope has not gone lost...

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Mariah? I don't Care-y anymore.

Bosom Friends!

I know I am bit late but I will join the Bill Board Awards bitch fest today.
Better late than never.

We all knew who was going to walk away with the most Top-of's.
National Treasure Taylor Swift and newly slimmed down and on the road to recovery Sam Smith took home basically all the top acknowledgements of the night.
Taylor was sporting a white jump suit and gray-ish green-ish hair color and premiered her new video for her new song. Bad blood and bad ass warrior chicks to the front of the line please.
Sam thanked his fans on a mute video in witch he showed us a series of written messages since he is not allowed to talk after his vocal chord surgery. Sweet boy but he could have made an effort to look a bit more presentable. His voice is at rest but his stylist should have remained fully functional...

I don't think I saw anything groundbreaking during this year show.

- Britney lipsynched her new single with Iggy Azalea - groundbreaking;

- Taylor Swift looked awkward (yet beautiful) in her new high-end music video - groundbreaking;

- Some of the Kardashian-Jenner family were there regardless their lack of contribution to the music industry whatsoever - groundbreaking;

- Kanye Genius West gifted us with some more mastermind wizardry...groundbreaking;

But let's talk about the elephant in the room. Finally Mariah Carey returned to the Bill Board stage after 17 years.
Boy oh boy.
What can I say.
She shouldn't have.
I understand that she has yet another #1 hits album out and a two years residency in Las Vegas to promote but this live performance was very much like bad publicity more than anything else.
Actually it was like watching a car crash happening, you are fairly sure of the outcome and you know it won't be good news but you still can't help but keep your focus on the action even thought the result won't be pleasant.
Have you seen Mariah's latest album cover? I am all up for some good old hair-brushing. Fix a blemish, smooth some wrinkles. But don't blatantly lie to me! Miss Carey is an attractive woman and it would be so amazing if she would just own up to the fact that she looks the way she looks. That album cover is not enhanced, it is a total lie. There she was onstage looking like the inflated version of herself. Not because she was unpleasantly put together but only because our term of paragon were all those damn promotional pictures for her album and Vegas residency. See for yourself.

Album cover...

Live Performance... the differences...
However the most painful thing was listening to the once upon a time powerhouse that was Carey.
Don't get me wrong I LOVED her for most of my life. For a while she was invincible and she had an amazing career to prove it. Her voice (now only her recordings) still makes me a little bit gayer every time I indulge in my guilty pleasure of working out while listening to the 90's and early 2000's Mariah.
During Carey's performance at the Bill Board Awards I only felt very sad. Her voice is gone and it's not coming back any time soon. What she sang live was barely decent and all of the high notes and her signature whistle-like finale were all together manufactured and prerecorded. You can argue as much as you like but you will never convince me that any of those crystal clear notes she hits nowadays are coming out of her mouth. It is sad and disappointing. And it keeps happening...I have not forgotten her less than pleasant rendition of "All I want for Christmas" from the last Rockefeller Plaza Holidays show. I prefer to watch her great past live performances. Period.
There is such a thing as knowing when it's time to become smarter about career decisions.
Mariah has the status to be a great attraction in Vegas but unfortunately she doesn't have the goods to backup her diva rank.
For instance the other night at the finale of Dancing with the Stars Patty LaBelle (now 70) gave us an unbelievable LIVE performance of "Two Steps Away". YOU MUST HEAD TO THIS LINK AND LISTEN!!!!

She is a diva because no matter how much of a bitch she may be she still has an incomparable instrument to rub in your face: her VOICE.
Mariah shouldn't have any excuse. If she is going to put a whole parade together to promote her new enterprise she should have more to offer than her past glories.
The New York Times basically killed the opening night of her show in Las Vegas (May 6).
Here below the worst-best lines from the article:

Ms. Carey is still durable, and sometimes excellent, but her once-transcendent voice is like decaying manufacturing machinery: It still churns, but the product might be polished or dinged.

When it came to the notes, though, the struggle was real. From the beginning of the night, she was tentative and inconsistent. She sang parts of several songs an octave lower than the recordings.

“Fantasy” featured Ol’ Dirty Bastard, who died in 2004, rapping via video, and he felt more alive than Ms. Carey, who was right there onstage.

She stood the most still when she was aiming the highest: not for the run-of-the-mill big notes, but the stratospheric ones that made her untouchable 25 years ago. She has a routine. Before she sings them, she pauses for a bit, puts her hand to her eardrum, then points to the sky as the laserlike shrieks come out.
All those gestures were there during this show. But as the night wore on, it became increasingly unclear whether the sounds coming through the speakers were coming from her mouth. They were crisp and clean, while many of her lesser notes were gruff and unsteady. It’s more probable that to fail at those places would have been too great a tragedy to bear.
And so went this show, which was far more about defense than offense. Whether the decision to undertake this project was born of necessity, hubris or obliviousness, it has put Ms. Carey in a precarious position — she is in decline and trapped in a cage of her own making. It would be so much easier to turn away if the spotlight weren’t so bright.

Mind you Mariah still have 50 something shows to get herself through. By the way she already cancelled one because of "bronchitis"...and it won't be rescheduled.

It's true what some say:
better retire while you are still on top. 

The higher you are the greater the fall. And I am not talking about notes.

Ciao for now.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Welcome to the HOUSE.

Bosom friends!

I have to apologize for neglecting you a little this past few days.

In all honesty I was recovering from a very fun night I spent with hubby and HT (our friend with the right disposition) at a club literally two blocks away from our apartment.

I had to retreat into my sanctuary and watch Sunset Boulevard on a loop to put all the pieces back together.

I am now fully recovered if we don't consider the pain that the high heels has inflicted onto my poor toes. But hey, no pain no gain, right?


Last Saturday hubby felt the need to shake his booty after a very busy work week. Let our hair down and put our hands up in the air kind of affair.
Since we wanted to try a new place we opted to grace with our presence HOUSE Nightclub.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that we are basically neighbours to this place located at 1915 NW Miami Ct. Our Uber ride was only $4. We could have walked but these heels aren't made for walking and that's just what they will do, take a Uber to travel 0.3 mile.

Since the HOUSE Saturday night is called "My Rules Saturday" and they have a strict dress code I decided to take Prima Donna out for a stroll.
At HOUSE they encourage creative couture, from sexy pajamas to leather to pink panties. DRESS UP TO DRESS DOWN. Save the tank tops and tennis shoes for the beach, or prepare to have them removed.
While waiting to be be escorted to our VIP table (the table was actually a huge bed with black velvet covers) I managed to glance at a few bubble butts proudly displayed by some party goers.
That did look very promising indeed.
Once we made it inside I was happy to notice that this club was not your average skanky gay night hang out. The interiors are very well put together and the decor has nothing to envy to those honestly overrated clubs in South Beach. HOUSE looks very classy and edgy at the same time with a touch of unexpected madness that only makes you even more eager to find out what they have in store next.
The fact that they have a strict no pictures policy inside should prepare you for a place where boundaries are to be left at the entrance door. Nevertheless HOUSE entertainment never becomes a cheap or trashy spectacle and all you have to do is to feast your eyes on those gorgeous entertainers and bar tenders wearing little to nothing.
Every detail at HOUSE is well thought and the reining atmosphere is cool and very modern yet sexy and decadent.
HOUSE doesn't like labels at all, it's not a gay club, it's not a straight club.
HOUSE it's an experience club. (By the way this line is my own, House if you want it give me a call...)
Almost forgot, you can even get your own personal key to the's up to you to find out how...
I won't get into too many details, you must try HOUSE first hand.

As usual I was a success with my look...if you don't put in account that infamous pageant when my undergarments and back fat were analyzed under a microscope.
This time around I truly embrace the assignment: my rules Saturday.

I put together a very androgynous look by wearing a tuxedo jacket and bow tie, no fake tits, no wig, just a flawlessly painted face, black fishnets and patent leather high hells.
I felt comfortable and confident as I have never felt before. Mind you my toes are still numb from the shoes but at least I didn't have to battle with hair getting on my lipstick and undergarment wires digging their own grave into my ribcage. There was still pain involved into looking drop dead gorgeous but after the first couple of compliments I didn't give a fuck about imminent bunions.

I have to admit that I did have a bit of an agenda going to such a club all done up ready for the kill. I knew that someone involved in the entertainment side of things for HOUSE was going to be there and I did hope to "accidentally" bump into that someone. And so I did. Indeed.

I have an audition with the House Master of HOUSE club tomorrow.  

It's All About Eve bosom friends...

Ciao for now.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

From lemons to Limoncello.

Bosom Friends!

Yesterday I went to my first audition in a VERY long time.

I have never particularly enjoyed auditions.
If you are lucky you feel like a piece of meat ready to be chosen by a costumer at a butchery.
In any case showbiz wouldn't exist without auditions and rich Jewish patrons, so when life trows you lemons you better make Limoncello with them and drink your way to your goals.

I took all the lemons that I got thrown at during the last pageant I competed in and I just decided to do what I love doing: painting my face and singing a bit of opera arias. (check my The Chronicles of Pageant to find out all that went down that infamous night.)

I turned my lemons into something nicer by inventing this new character.
I put on my face, full make up and all, but I only wear a demure tuxedo and patent leather high heels.
Red nails and wedding black diamond to finish the look.

On my way to the theater.

Most important thing I sing like I always have since I found out I had the ability to force my voice into sounding very much like an operatic diva.

The audition took place at the Fillmore theater in South Beach. By the way that place is a gem!
Circx  (a traveling performance troupe and production company based out of Miami) was looking for new talents to add to their portfolio for an upcoming show they are putting together (26th and 27th of June, get your tickets!).
I cannot tell you how wonderful it was just walking into a theater from a backstage door. Seeing a stage from the only angle I have seen one for many years felt so damn right. Being a performer you get to see the sides of a stage with all its ropes and curtains. An audience only get to see what we want it to see.
As I said it felt just right.

My view from the wings at Fillmore.

Before my performance auditioned a belly dancer, an improv street style dancer, a girl who juggled things on fire (only they were not on fire right then and there for safety issues...) and some other acrobats of some sort.
As usual I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was the tallest and most done up of the whole lot.
Luckily my face didn't melt under the ferocious Miami sun even after I had to get off and back on the car three times to find the right entrance and having to ask to non English speaking valet parking hombres where the hell I could park without getting towed. A drag queen at two in the afternoon under an African sun trotting around in heels for sure left an ever lasting impression. I wish I had a photographer following me around to capture the singular situation I manage to get myself into. If you know of anybody interested...

Finally I got to sing my song.
I chose Giacomo Puccini's O Mio Babbino Caro from the short opera Gianni Schicchi.
Google it, I am sure you must have heard it one way or the other.

It felt so good standing in the middle of a stage and sing that beautiful aria.
Even if I was singing to an empty theater I loved every moment of it. The beautiful crystal chandelier inside the house were listening quietly and perfectly still.
I sang and listened to my voice for the first time reverberating inside a theater. Every word meant something more so since I was singing in my mother tongue, beautiful Italian.
Two and half minutes of bliss.

The founder and director of Circx was very happy with my performance.
More importantly I was reminded that all I have to do is to remain true to what I love and the result can only be a positive one.

I have no idea if this audition will lead to anything but those few moments I was gifted on the Fillmore stage were all I need to turn all the lemons I collected into delicious Limoncello.

Ciao for now.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Don't cry me a river.

Bosom friends!

A little bit of silly today for you all.

Does anybody remember my piece about Dancing With The Stars?
Here is the link in case you have missed it: Dancing With the Stars.

We are now close to the end of the competition and the show has become hubby and I guilty pleasure for the past few months.
Yes it is rather cheesy and very politically correct, but DWTS is like the costumes all the female dancers wear: deliciously over the top.

However today the attention is not focused on the remaining contestants. At least not directly.

On Monday night, Army veteran and "Dancing with the Stars" semifinalist Noah Galloway proposed to his girlfriend Jamie Boyd live after he performed to David Cook's "Time of My Life." Erin Andrews was standing nearby when it all went down and this the face that was caught on camera:

Don't confuse Erin Andrews' crying with an eye roll. 
Us Weekly noted that Twitter users were criticizing the co-host for "looking more than annoyed" during the surprise romantic moment. TMZ claimed she was rolling her eyes.
Andrews, however, was just trying to hold back her tears. 

To be said that when a cry face is ugly it's a thing to treasure. Let's put aside whatever causes the crying. There are some ugly cry faces out there and there is nothing wrong with that. We cannot help the way we cry. Cry should be a freeing act, we are getting reed of an emotion to big for us to keep inside. Crying is a perfect remedy just like eating a shit load of fattening food. As long as we do it every once in a while it can only help to put out there our uncontainable feelings. Like my granny used to say for bodily gas: better out than in. Crying is as physiological as any flatulence, we must let it happen no matter how ugly it may look or sound (or smell).

Obviously TMZ had to create a silly story around a girl trying not to cry her eyes out live on national TV. TMZ is the devil. Period. They are the ones who were cracking jokes about Bruce Jenner first attempts at his imminent transition. What a delightful bunch.

Poor Erin is a lovely gal, they even figured out a good hair style for her (EVENTUALLY!). Yes she can be a bit awkward at times but so can Taylor Swift on heels.
Erin was not rolling her eyes, she was just feeling emotional over such a lovely proposal. Mind you she even had to keep holding the microphone in front of Noah during the whole thing. Have you ever been a third wheel? I have. It is as comfortable as a 12 hours flight in coach with a screaming baby next row over.

Besides, even if Erin really rolled her eyes for a split second who are we to judge? A surprise live TV broadcast marriage proposal can turn out being rather uncomfortable especially if you are the tall blond girl in a puffy sparkly dress who ends up being the involuntary master of ceremony. Perhaps she thought "here we go, never the bride always the bridesmaid". We are entitled to our feelings people! Erin did not kill a puppy on live television, let's get some perspective here...

I say good for you Erin for keeping it together and for gifting us with such a lovely ugly cry face.

At the end of the day the bedazzled dancing competition is a guilty pleasure and as such we better embrace its campy and sometimes awkward style. Rhinestones, sequins, feathers and tears.

Ciao for now.

Monday, May 11, 2015

Welcome to Me. 100 times Me.

Bosom friends!

We made it to 100 posts!

Indeed this is the 100th mixture of rumbling, preaching and (hopefully) witty writing I am going to send out in this huge void that is the Internet.

It's a milestone and as such it deserves a little reflection.
A blog is very often about personal views and opinions. I tell to who cares what I have been up to, I share how I feel about whatever attracts my attention and I try to describe the mess that is my train of thought.

This pats weekend I watch the movie Welcome to Me.  Bare with me, I have got a point.
Alice (Kristen Wiig from Bridesmaids) is a woman with severe personality disorders who wins the lottery and stops taking her medication in order to pursue her dream of making her own talk show (in which she relives the most painful moments of her past, cooks food, takes naps, and neuters animals). Things go exactly as badly as you think they will.

This movie is not one of those mega productions with box office royalty all wrapped up in superheros costumes. No.
It’s not an easy sell to audiences, except that it’s wonderful and funny and heartbreaking in so many ways you rarely get from mainstream cinema.
It's a lovely comedy-drama with great characters and a super performance by Kristen Wiig. 

I am sure most of you will find this story a bit strange but this is exactly the kind of movie I am crazy about (pun intended).
Films about mental illness deal with touchy subject matters to begin with. When the film is a comedy the fine line between mockery and heartfelt portray becomes even thinner.
Welcome to Me manages to walk this fine line like a dexterous tightrope walker.

What I loved the most about this movie is how it sets up a scenario where you think you’re going to be laughing at this woman and her behavior, but that’s not really how it plays out.  
Alice is indeed mentally disturbed. 
When she needs to say something important she actually writes it down before hand and when she is about to deliver it in a speech she starts by saying "I have a prepared statement".
She hasn't turned off her TV in 11 years.
She writes a check for 15 million dollars to a tiny network so that they will have the funds to produce her own talk show. Alice wants it to be just like Oprah's talk show (by the way she has all the bog O's episodes on tape and knows them by heart - word by word). 
The only difference is she won't have guests or a different topic to tackle every day. No. 
Alice will have two hours live on the air daily and she will talk about herself. 
The one and only subject will be herself in her mentally unstable totality.
Alice talk show is called Welcome to Me.

That got me thinking.

Isn't it that what most of us are already doing thanks to the social medias and modern forms of interaction in general?

We are perpetually welcoming people (most of whom are basically strangers) into our lives.
Showing them what we look like when we wake up or when we are ready to go out, what we eat, where we go, what we are listening to. We wash our dirty laundry on FaceBook and we are more than happy to give up our privacy in the name of instant gratification, likes, followers, re-tweets.
We write about our latest colonic (sparing no details mind you) but we also make sure that our last Instagram selfie has been filtered as much as expensive vodka: to perfection.

However let me talk for myself.
It's always wiser not to generalize...

Just like Alice I share a lot of my life. It is basically all out there, Grinder smoldering profile pic included. If you have the time and the will to read or at least click on my post's links you should have a pretty accurate idea of what the hell I have been up to not only since I moved to Miami but even further back.
The only difference between Alice and I is that she has no filter. She is not able to mitigate her emotions when they take over. In other words she is completely transparent. Her mind is not capable of triggering only the socially approved amount of emotions. Alice just let it rip. 

Alice talks exclusively about herself during her talk show. She goes as far as investing millions of dollars to enable herself to be the center of the universe for tow hours at the time on live TV. 
I write to achieve that.
I post lovely pictures to achieve that.
I check-in on FaceBook to achieve that.
I tweet to achieve that...the list could go on and I could also easily substitute the "I" with "WE" and I would be rather accurate as well. 

But Alice is mad. She has an excuse to be so blatantly egocentric. 
What is my/our excuse? 
Where is this all leading to?

Heavy shit I tell you.

On a lighter note Alice loves swans and walks around under a tiny parasol. 
I loved swans so much as a child I managed to be cast as the lead in The Ugly Duckling on my first year in elementary school (the lead was always reserved for the fifth year kids). I loved swans so much that I eventually got bitten by one of them at a public park since I tried to pet them while they were minding their own business in the pond. My left index finger was not pleased.

Regarding the parasol I won't need to waste a word. I will only post these pics:

True story...

I do find Alice's idea for a talk show rather amazing and if any of you should have a few million dollars to spare I would be more than happy to present this format to any cable Network willing to transform me into Welcome to Me

You are welcome.

Ciao for now.

Thursday, May 7, 2015

False Idols.

Bosom friends!

Here we go again and again and again.

I am very relieved to finally learn that Kylie Jenner's lips are in fact filled up just like a Krispy Kreme doughnut. As you see the K curse is still alive and kicking. Kylie Krispy Kreme Kardashian Jenner.

In the sneak peek to this Sunday's brand new Keeping Up With the Kardashians, Kylie admits, "I have temporary lip fillers, it's just an insecurity of mine and it's what I wanted to do."
She adds that being in the spotlight isn't easy and "Everyone always picks us apart." Because of the extreme scrutiny she's always under she explains, "I want to admit to the lips, but people are so quick to judge me on everything, so I might have tiptoed around the truth, but I didn't lie."

I am enlightened by such wisdom and farsightedness.

The whole family talks abut it like they were discussing what happened in Nepal. They all treat the issue as if they were planning to go and build a new orphanage in Haiti.

At Kylie's age the only thing I wanted to get bigger was my monthly allowance.

We all go through those damn teen years, some of us come out of them alive, some of us carry that baggage for years and some others surface from that phase with plumper lips and some not so well deserved publicity.
Kylie is the perfect example that you don't cure your insecurities by fixing the way you look. That can perk you up temporarily (pun intended) but the real work needs to be done by facing our weaknesses and anxieties.
Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep
Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep.

On the other hand we have a lady who is so secure of herself and so well established that she can afford to call an Academy Award (AKA Oscar) a false idol.
I am talking about Natalie Portman. Yes, the Oscar winner for Black Swan. She said she doesn't exactly know where the golden statue is located in her house but for sure she is not going to display it since she recently realized that worshipping a fake idol is not something she is going to endorse.
In her own words:

"I don't know where it is, I think it's in the safe or something. I don't know. I haven't seen it in a while. I was reading the story of Abraham to my child and talking about, like, not worshipping false idols. And this is literally like gold men. This is lit­er­ally worshipping gold idols — if you worship it. That's why it's not displayed on the wall. It's a false idol."

Fair enough.
I am sure there are many of her colleagues who would sell their first born for an Oscar but I suppose once you actually get that kind of acknowledgment over your career the trophy that comes with it becomes nothing more than a dust-collecting-false-idol.

Good for you Natalie.

My sole encounter with Natalie happened at the Venice airport in Italy. She was leaving the floating city after the Film Festival and I was leaving after the I-never-see-enough-of-you Festival hosted by my mother.
At that point Natalie already had Black Swan under her belt and a baby in the oven. I didn't know about the baby. The rest of the world didn't. Maybe she didn't even know back then. Such a mesmerizing detail...
Since the hubby is a huge fan of frigging Star Wars I very discreetly and politely approached her just to tell her that my husband loved the saga in which she played Queen Padme Amidala. Then I would have told her that I loved her in a kind of unknown movie called Closer. Then I would have told her that the hubby made me sit through all three of the Star Wars new episodes and that I was so glad she was in those movies because she was the only reason why I managed to suffer through them. Then we would have had a giggle together, perhaps she would have whispered in my ear "nobody knows but I am pregnant" I would have told her Mazel Tov and I would have cherished that rendezvous for the rest of my life.
Instead as soon as I said "Natalie I don't mean to disturb you" she looked at me like a reindeer in headlights, then she looked at her body guard (who was the size of the Hulk minus the green complexion) and I only manged to say "We love you". Creepy enough...we??? Who's we? Myself and the voices in my head? I meant hubby and I...poor me... At that point she looked at me like I had a freshly laid poo on my head and said "oh, that's nice, thank you".

That is how I managed to spook Queen Padme Amidala.

The "force" was not with me at all.

Ciao for now.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Cray Cray.

Bosom friends.

Today I will take a walk on the crazy side.

The side where most of the time we find ourselves wondering when left unsupervised with an Internet connection.

I tell you it's impossible not to bump into a sign that says "Free sample of crazy this way".
I use the term crazy very loosely since the degree of bonkers can easily go from mild and giggle friendly to hard core barking mad like Jame "Buffalo Bill" Gumb from The Silence of the Lambs. In comparison Norma Desmond from Sunset Boulevard was a well balanced lady with a keen interest in chimps and a passion for old fashion movies. 
It seems though we are perpetually ready for our close up just like Norma. Ready to take the ever so filtered selfie in an auto-celebratory act of self-dry-humping.

Here is a selection of today's crazy:

-Nebraska Woman Sues All Homosexuals, Names God And Jesus As Plaintiffs.

This is a very true story.
The battle between LGBT equality and religious freedom took an odd turn on Friday, when 66-year-old Omaha woman Sylvia Driskell filed a federal lawsuit against all homosexuals, naming herself the “ambassador” for the plaintiffs, “God  and His son, Jesus Christ.”
The seven-page complaint was beautifully handwritten.
What to say...
Sylvia has indeed a nice calligraphy.
She is also as daft as a brush.

- Men are stripping down to their underwear in public restrooms for the Undies Out Restrooms Instagram account.

Now some of them are a sight for sore eyes but I wonder what kind of force must push a member of our society to "drop trou" in a public bathroom and then proceed to post it on Instagram. True that a fair amount of gay and straight man have already posted selfies of themselves wearing little to nothing (including myself) but I wonder where the celebration of ones bulge or fit bod is going to head to. More so ask yourself why this delightful new trend has only gotten popular amongst men. Women would never go to the a public restroom, drop their clothes and snap a quick pic in front of a mirror so that they can upload it STAT onto Instagram.
Women have better things to do with their brain function.

This Instagram account has almost 13k followers but only 143 brave posts. Go check it out, there is a bit for, nerdy, funny, clueless, nice underwear, dubious briefs patterns choices...
Here is a selection of the best and worst...I cropped their faces for privacy...although I sense those chaps do not care about that at all...What the hell faces stays on.

Airplane bathroom. Dude is hot and he loves every minute of it.

Miley Cyrus thought him well.

This one looks like he is deeply confused by it all.

       So you would drop your pants and take a selfie in a public bathroom but you won't put your backpack on that floor???     Make sense to me.

If you got it flaunt it.

Quick stop at Starbucks for a green tea and a selfie with my pants off. Pout and all. Convenient.

- The Wine Rack Bra.

A bizarre bra has gone on sale which is designed to help women hide a bottle of wine in their underwear during a night out.The 'Wine Rack Bra' looks like a normal sports bra, but actually holds 750ml (an entire bottle of wine) inside the cups.
The question is how do you keep your boobs even while sipping the night away?
You start the night with a full D cup and end up hours later drunk and flat chested???
Can you refill it on the go or do you have to take the whole contraption off?
Is it heat resistant so that you can fill it with hot water for those bitterly cold winter days?
Is it wise to keep it in the fridge until right before your Uber ride comes to pick you up?
Basically it would be like breast feeding yourself. You whip out your practical tube and suck a little "adult grape juice" out of it either red or white. Or you can mix it up, Merlot for the right boo and Chardonnay for the left one. If you want the extra perk for your bosom you can choose to fill it with some bubbly. Treat yourself to a nice double D cup of Champagne.
I have the feeling this wonderful gadget was invented by a man.
Nevertheless I am waiting for the male version with bated breath.
Remain to be seen where guys are going to hide the liquid reserve since clearly most of us don't want to hide much from the world.
Some dudes are happy to show it all as long as somebody clicks on "follow".

Mind you I only took you on a very quick stroll on the crazy side.
There are still miles and miles of crazy out there to walk on.

Feel free to share any other crazy path you may come across.

The ways of the Lord are infinite.
The ways of crazy are just as well.

Ciao for now.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Wedding 2.0

Bosom friends!

Boy do I have a delicious tale to share with you all.

As you may or may not know last 25th of April marked hubby and I 10th anniversary since we first meet in Aruba. This sentence alone could use a page long anecdote but for that you will need to invite me out for an adult beverage and a face to face chat.

The card I made him. Our foot prints on the sand.

I was told by the hubby not to worry about getting him a present but only advised to get him a card to commemorate our special day.
To be said that a 10 years anniversary for male gay standards is quite an achievement considering also the fact our relationship has been battered with painful periods of long distance arrangements and everything else that a couple from two different continents has to deal with.
I tell you it was no walk in the park. It was more like American Ninja Warrior, everyone's favorite heart-racing obstacle course.
Keeping it together and keeping us together took a lot of resilience, will power and copious amounts of wine.
Ah, and of course LOVE. Barrels of that. Buckets. A whole shit load. A mother load. The mother of all the mother loads.


I had the feeling that something was cooking and since hubby and I have a joined bank account (what is he gonna take from me? my bags?) I did see some suspicious transactions happening here and there for the past few months but I am very good at denial so I just looked the other way and kept busy one way or another.
Blissful ignorance.
I have been left pasturing in a filed of oblivion for at least three months while everybody else (including my mother) was in the know. Even hubby's boss was knee deep in the know.
The lies I was told and the deceiving manoeuvres I unknowingly endured where so skillfully arranged that I had to wonder how many other times I have been kept in the dark to make certain things happen.
Apparently I can freak out and go ape-shit easily over things. Whatever. I am not THAT dramatic.

The eve of our anniversary arrived and the hubby told me we were going for dinner with HT (our German friend with the right disposition) to kick off our week end of celebration.
All I was told was to pack an overnight bag. The hubby let me prepare my suitcase even when the plan entitled something completely different. Sadist.
Off we went to the Oak Tavern for what I thought was going be a quite gathering with the usual amount of bubbly.

Now, have you ever watched one of those TV shows where somebody get surprised big time with a new car or Ellen DeGeneres pays off their credit card debt? What awaited for me inside that restaurant was of a similar magnitude.

The master mind of the hubby organized to have my family and our best friends fly over to Miami to be with us for our 10th anniversary.
They were all in there waiting to surprise me. I believe they also wanted to see if I was gonna pee myself or black out all together.
It's so wonderful eventually seeing somebody you miss and not knowing that the reunion is about to happen.
I was surprised, happy, emotional, speechless, stunned as if I just learned I had been nominated for an Oscar or something. I was already thinking what to say during my acceptance speech...

Little Brother, his wife, Mother, hubby and I.
However the escalation was not over.
Once I said hi to the whole lot of our loved ones the hubby got on his knee and handed me a box of Cracker Jack. Inside the box he had placed a beautiful wedding ring and as soon as I took it out he asked me to marry him for the second time. (If you don't know the Cracker Jack Breakfast at Tiffany's reference Google it...)

Words cannot begin to describe what I felt then and there. I didn't care that we were already married. When the love of your life asks you to spend the rest of your life together it doesn't matter if it is for the first of the millionth time. You can't help but feel beautiful, wanted, needed, appreciated and all of that warm feeling stuff that makes this life worth living.

This time we were going to have a proper wedding with all the trimmings minus the bridezilla nonsense since I wasn't given the chance to get to that level of derangement. Good thinking hubby.

On April 25th 2015, ten years since we first met hubby and I got married at sunset in a gorgeous venue at the Mondrian Hotel in South Beach surrounded by our loved ones.

Hubby choose everything (from the flowers to the cake design) to be in Art Deco style.

The venue before the guests arrived.

Us and the minister.

Reception table setting.

Menu hint.

More table decors.

Our wedding rings both have a 5 carats flawless black diamond from South Africa with a platinum setting. They can be seen from space.

Everything felt familiar and brand new,
intimidating yet welcoming,
emotional and exciting,
surreal yet humbling.

Everything felt beautiful.

And beautiful is forever.

Ciao for now.