figures i’d like the gay one

my interest in boys peaked around middle school and let me tell you who i was ga-ga over: jonathan knight. from new kids on the block. (yes, this dates me. but whatever! i’m 30 and proud.) you know the one: brother of jordan knight; quiet, sensitive type?

omG how i loved him. (tho 80s jon bon jovi was my all-time #1; more on him some other day) and now word has finally gotten out that he’s a big ol homo. (just like me, for all those new readers that think i’m, haha, a homophobe. in fact i’m a homophile.) 

gossip blogger perez hilton got word out in august (tho of course i missed it at the time), and now knight’s ex is selling pics of the two. (nice, huh? geez.)

i can’t help but laugh. it figures i’d like the gay one.

my gay-ex-wanna-be-never-been lover, jonathan knight: third from left, the tall one w/the swoopy hair next to danny who everyone at school said looked like a monkey. omG look at their hair! whY??!!

 

 

 

 

 

(ok, w/that dog, i  totally coulda called it.)

 

he’s turned out to be a really handsome grown man, too. i wonder if him and doogie hang out? with lance bass? and clay aiken?? haha.  

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i know instant coffee gets a bad rap

but i just want to take this opportunity (as i sip piping hot, yes, instant coffee) to say i think it’s unwarranted.

i am one who isn’t ashamed to admit when she likes something lame, unpopular, uncool or just plain cheesy. i’ve admitted my ongoing affinity for britney spears (despite her varying, very public mental states; hey, don’t judge. how would you act if you were constantly followed and scrutinized? i bet we’d all look more than a little nuts under the microscope). that mtv paris hilton show, “my new bff.” also lindsay lohan’s apparent lez-out w/”gal pal” (i.e. gayhomosexualgirlfriend) samantha ronson (hey, go’head and be gay for a day, girl! i’ve got no problem w/it! send pics!). i also love new jersey (HOLLA! where i was raised, YO). and i’m adding instant coffee to the mix b/c I’M NOT ASHAMED!

i didn’t even know i liked it until sheer desperation of terrible office coffee (eight o’clock bean, ugh) threw me into its freeze-dried embrace. i like to say that “bad coffee is better than no coffee” (i also say “bad curry is better than no curry”; i’m a huge indian food fan) but when it comes to coffee at my office, i need to break my own rule. i just can’t drink it. it actually gives me a headache.

enter instant coffee. all you need is hot water and you’re in business. you can make it as strong as you like and it’s ready immediately. [the best brand, in my humble opinion, is taster’s choice. you can even buy boxes (for just over a buck!) of these adorable little single-serve packets, perfect for when you’re up at the cracka’dawn in western pee-ay and there’s not a caffeinated cuppa coffee to be found.] don’t get me wrong, i loooove freshly brewed coffee but when i’m in need, i reach for the little, brown, caffeinated crunchies–my 9-5 savior. 

so there. i said it. the secret’s out, ppl. check back soon for more skeletons from my gayhomosexual closet.

if you keep your ears open long enough, you’re bound to hear something pervy

altho holly would beg to differ (what, b/c i forget 40% of what she tells me in two minutes or less??), i can be an extremely good listener.

ppl tell me a lot of personal stuff–sometimes ppl i barely know–which honestly? i love. b/c a) i love helping ppl feel better [even if it’s only a matter of lending an ear, telling someone they’re “normal” (i mean, what the hell is “normal” anyway??) or vindicating them with w/a string of new jersey-inspired profanities] and b) i love being the sole receptacle of juicy information (hey, i’m a journalist– occupational hazard).

i think ppl tell me things b/c i’m a good listener and non-judgemental. also, i give good hugs, usually have tissues nearby and always have some sort of hard candy or snack in my bag  (hard candy and/or snacks always seem to cheer ppl up). also i don’t blab. you tell me something and it’s under lock and key, baby. but if i overhear something from someone i don’t know? yeah, all bets are off.

which brings me to last night. last night, c/o of a very generous gift certificate, holly and i had an impromptu date night at baltimore’s eye-poppingly fabulous pazo (the place? seriously? gor-geous). we really needed it. we’re going on month three, post-layoff and yeah, we needed a monday night pick-me-up.

so we sit down at a table, and shortly after we’re seated, another couple is seated close by. it’s this guy and this girl and they’re clearly on a date. a first date or maybe a second. they’re both young-ish, seems like, but not super young. she’s gorgeous, he’s handsome in a regular sort of way.

anyone who’s ever been a restaurant can tell you that sometimes it’s nearly impossible not to hear the conversation going on next to you. this was no exception, and the more they (i.e. he) drank, the easier it was to hear. midway thru our meal, i found out he was a musician. she was some sort of professional, dressed to the nines.

from the start, he was puttin it on pretty thick,  telling her how beautiful her hands were (! haha), and generally cheesin’ it up, as i like to say. like asking the waitress if she was from this country originally, and loudly pointing out that the conductor of the baltimore symphony orchestra (who, admittedly, is quite fabulous) was sitting “over there.” by the time we got to dessert and coffee, he was onto more salacious topics.

“everyone thinks she’s a lesbian, but she’s not,” he said rather proudly of some woman he probably (from the sound of it) thought was hot.

“really?” asked his dining companion.

“yeah.”

don’t ask me how it happened, b/c my ears aren’t that good, and i was on my own date after all (!), but soon he was asking her is she had any “girl fun,” i think was the term he used. i’m like, nohejustdidn’t. and she was like, yeah, but pretty bashful. and he was like, oh yeah? how many times?

she’s like, “two or three.” (or more. in college. busy girl!) now she’s really got his attention–and they’ve both got mine. i’m like, psst! holly! doyouhearwhatthey’retalkingabout?? she’s like, huh? concentrating more on the dessert shimmering in front of us [and i don’t blame her. the espresso ice cream? TDF! (to die for)] than what’s being said next to us. i clue her in and she opens her eyes wide. i keep listening.

“two girls?”

“yeah.”

“how many times?”

(d’oh! missed that one. shoot.)

“wow. two guys?”

didn’t hear her response to this. didn’t hear much more, actually, since i was whispering everything to holly, who apparently couldn’t hear anything. (haha) i think their talk got much more scandalous b/c eventually their voices got pretty low, but he was all up her shiz. they were behind me, but in front of holly. on our way out, holly said from the looks of it, it seemed like maybe she was just after a free, fancy dinner. and hell, at a place like pazo, i don’t blame her.

but still. he was kinda pervy. i kept waiting to see  if she was being tricked on a reality show or something, but alas, we left too soon to find out. (doubt it, tho. when was the last time they had a reality show in baltimore? yeah, exactly. not exactly a hotbed of reality tv over here.)

there’s no moral to this story, really. well, maybe there is: if you’re sitting in a fancy, quiet restaurant and want to talk about past threesomes and other salacious hookups, lower your voices, fer cryin out loud. or drink less. unless, of course, you want the journalist sitting next to you to write about it the next day on her blog. ijs.