Happy New Year 2013!

Happy New Year! We survived the Mayan Apocalypse and made it to 2013 only to find out that Kim and Kanye are having a baby. Oh well. You can’t win them all.

For the past few months I’ve been following one of my new favorite blogs, My Friends Are Married and laughing at how closely I can relate to so many of its posts. Seriously, I know at least 6 friends around my age who are currently pregnant and I’m over here at dinner like, “Hey guess what I did with the bellboy at my New Orleans hotel!?” For a couple days I couldn’t stop thinking if maybe it was time for me to settle down and finally go to a second or third world country to adopt a little brown baby for myself.

Then I came to my senses and realized that while I’m excited to be uncle/fairy godfather/cool adult figure in my friends’ kids’ lives, I am nowhere near ready to have my own. I’m having way too much fun. My story isn’t written yet. There are still so many more drinks to be drunk, adventures to go on, fine men with which to do inappropriate things in hotel corridors and shenanigans to be had before I settle down and have kids of my own … assuming I ever settle down. I mean, really. Somebody’s gotta be that cool adult figure in these kid’s lives.

In 2013 I will continue to do what I did in 2012, which is have a great fucking time.

Happy New Year. May you make all of your dreams come true in 2013, ’cause if you sit around and wait for them to happen on their own you’re gonna be waiting for a long, damn time.

Get it.

Mercy

So my friend Rachel decided she would spend her afternoon posting GIF’s on people’s Facebook walls and because she knows me so damn well this is the one she picked out for me.

Watch it while you listen to this song.

After you’ve composed yourself from the onslaught of laughter and changed your pants, go to her website WTForever21 and show her your thanks.

The Church of Beyoncé

So I’ve been having a rough time at work lately and as usual when I’m having a tough time, I put on some Beyoncé in an attempt to bodyroll the blues away. My coworker and I had a discussion about Beyoncé’s music and it’s powers. I argued that if we could get the receptionist to play “Get Me Bodied” over the building’s intercom system, it would boost the morale of the entire building. She disagreed. Clearly, she has never experienced the healing powers of Beyoncé.

That’s when the ridiculous powers of my brain kicked in and I wondered how many people hadn’t felt a deep spiritual connection with the Almighty Beysus. Clearly we needed to start the first ever Church of Beyoncé. In the next half hour of discussion, my coworker and I managed to come up with the following things about the soon-to-be-founded Church of Beyoncé.

• All pastor’s robes would be from the House of Deréon.
• Weaves and wigs would be of only the finest human hair. No synthetic fibers.
• The pastor would wear a bejeweled robotic glove while giving out blessings, just like Beysus wore in the Single Ladies video.
• Sunday school children would be told parables of all of Beysus’ works and color pictures of important scenes from her music videos.
• Outreach ministries would help underprivileged youth attend summer dance camps to learn to dance like the one true Beysus.
• All hymns sung would be various Beysus singles, adapted to fit being sung by a full choir.
• All are welcome to join the choir, regardless of singing capability. As Beysus isn’t the greatest singer, so the Church of Beyoncé welcomes all.
• Stained glass windows in the Church of Beyoncé would have all former members of Destiny’s Child: Kelly Rowland, Michelle Williams and also include LeToya Luckett, LaTavia Roberson, and Farrah Franklin as well as Beysus’ sister, Solange.
• Just as Christian churches have speaking in tongues when their disciples are filled with the Holy Spirit, the Church of Beyoncé would have bodyrolling when the Children of Destiny are filled with the Spirit of Beysus. There would be altar callings for people to come to the altar and bodyroll.

Because if you have never experienced the true power of a full-body bodyroll, you haven’t lived.

Beymen

College Kids

I was in Berkeley for the first time this weekend. I may or may not have been drunk when this went down.

Me: Grrrrrl, look at all the fine looking white college boys I could have my way with here.
BFF: Yup, college kids for days.
Me: Why don’t we come to Berkeley more often?
BFF: Because you live in Soledad.
Me: I’m moving.

Weight Watching

I just finished my 3rd week of boot camp classes. I’ve also been trying to eat better, gave up fast food and soda, bought a juicer that I actually use and have incorporated walking a few nights a week just for that extra boost. So far, so good. I haven’t broken down and cried yet. Not like last year …

In the spring of last year I’d been jogging a couple of times a week for over a month and was really proud of how far I’d gotten. It was my 3rd day of tracking my food through Weight Watchers Online and after having blown out all of my daily and weekly reserve points on a 55-point Snapple drink the day before I was determined to stay under my daily allotment.

We were out on the trail we always ran and two days before I’d gotten down to a 9-minute mile, mainly because I had inspiration I was chasing after. Inspiration in the form of a tall, white, skater, and judging from the baby blue scrubs he was wearing, a doctor or at least future doctor. He could’ve just been a receptionist at a medical office but while I was chasing after him running behind him I didn’t have time to deal with little details. Part of my brain was struggling to keep up and comprehend why I was running so damn fast without flames all around me and the other part of my brain was busy planning my wedding to Dr. Skater-in-Scrubs and how we’d tell our wedding guests how we met out on the running trail and how that had been the start of my marathon training.

Running this day was so much harder. I was struggling to keep with with my two running buddies and they weren’t even going that fast. I figured

I pushed hard and tried to keep up but the pain was just too much. I ended up walking a major part of the 4 mile run and left home feeling defeated. On my drive home I kept thinking of how good I’d done two days before, how bad I’d done that day and how badly I wanted a Subway sandwich but didn’t have enough Weight Watchers points to get what I wanted. I called my friend Vanilla Ninja since she’s a natural athlete and figured she could give me some encouraging words. She didn’t answer and I figured she was out having fun on the streets of NYC, where she lives, and I was right. So I hung up and felt worse about myself without having someone to talk to. And then a tear ran down my face.

Not having cried in about 4 years I thought I was still sweating from my run, but no. Then another tear, then another, then they just ran down my face and I sobbed, out loud, “I …just want … a SAMMICH!”

Here I was, a 30-year-old grown ass man crying over a fucking sandwich. And also over the fact that I’d bottled up the feelings I had because my mom was slowly dying in hospice and that a few months before I’d broken up (for the 3rd or 4th time) with the only guy I actually ever cared about. But in that moment I was crying because I wanted a sandwich and didn’t have enough points.

The next week I found out I had a sinus infection that lasted two weeks and had pain so bad that the doctor actually had to give me Vicodin (Shout out to Vicondin!) and that was the reason that I had no energy and my body couldn’t run like it had before.

Thankfully a breakdown of that magnitude hasn’t happened yet in this year’s attempt at working on my fitness. Here’s hoping I can keep the momentum going, get back down to a 9-minute mile and complete all my workouts with a smile like this.

*Author’s Note
It took me about two months after this happened before I was able to tell anyone I cried over a jog and a sandwich and it took me over a year to be able to write about it and post it on the Interwebz but I figure what’s the point of having a blog where I make fun of everything else if I can’t make fun of myself?

Dirty 31

Picture it, my 31st birthday 6 months ago. It is now about 10pm and I have been drinking like a frat boy with money to burn since 5pm. 2 glasses of Nuvo, a bucket of 60 oz of alcohol, a mini bottle of wine, a shot called a Wet Pussy, which incidentally is probably one of the few times my mouth will be anywhere near one, and various vodka drinks later I was ready for my performance.

My plan was to sing my own personal anthem “Teenage Dream” but since it wasn’t on the karaoke machine I went with my backup song, Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl”. I already knew I could kill this song without even trying as I’d done it before, also drunk as hell. The only difference would be that this time I’d be wearing pants.

Up until I came onstage every single karaoke performer before me stuck to the back of the stage and sang their song while gently swaying side to side. Every. Single. One. Then I come up, yell at the crowd “It’s my birthday and I’ve been drunk since 6!” and proceed to perform and murder this song so hard you’d think I was running my own bootleg performance of the California Dreams Tour.

Seriously, I killed. Take a look.

“I Kissed a Girl” karaoke from Aldo C. on Vimeo.

I guess this could’ve been a sign that this year would contain as little sense as possible.

The Summer of More Bleach Than Sense

So once again it had been a while since I’d posted but in these past 6 months there’d been so much going on it was hard to keep up with life, much less blogging about it.

• Turned 31 and karaoke’d Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl” so hard that the song should be retired from all future karaoke events.
• I was a first-time bridesmaid at my friend Rachel’s wedding.
• We partied in Vegas 2 nights before the wedding for a whirlwind bachelorette party that ended up with us almost clutching our nonexistent pearls when during our 20-minute heart-to-heart conversation with the room service delivery guy, he said the word “pussy” to us.
• Decided that in my heart I have quit my job even though I’ll stay around for the rest of the year. They no longer get to crush my soul because I am leaving my soul at home from now on.
• I came to the realization that I’m still upset Melrose Place 2.0 only lasted one season.
• My mom died.
• I took a bartending course and signed up for more.
• I started walking/hiking on the weekends and joined a boot camp that I will be attending 3x a week.
• I became a blonde.

Yeah, #6 up on that list was the biggie but 2 months later I’m feeling back to my normal self and this Stella’s ready to get her groove on with a fierce mane of platinum blonde hair.

With that in mind, my BFF/wife by gay marriage Patrice and I have decided to call this summer The Summer of More Bleach Than Sense. I will now spend the summer doing the damn thing and doing just enough work to keep my job long enough to finance my summer trips.

In 3 weeks I will be going to Chicago for the sole reason that I’ve never been there. I will be meeting a friend, getting drunk and watching Magic Mike on the biggest screen I can find. I plan on getting so drunk that throwing dollar bills at the screen won’t be out of the question. I only wish this movie was in 3D.

In August I plan on heading down to LA for a live taping of a Keith and The Girl event. Jet-setting off to NYC for the Afro Punk Music Fest and further shenanigating with my NYC loves: the wife, the hermana and the boo.  And if any hurricanes or other events of nature try and fuck up my plans like Hurricunt Irene did last year, please be aware that I will fight you. Yes, I will physically fight a hurricane or other natural disaster. This is MY summer, not yours. Basically I plan on spending my summer doing this -

 

If anyone has other ideas or would like to join in on the Summer of More Bleach Than Sense please let me know. Leave a comment, send an email, smoke signal, raven, or whatever. The only requirement is that you pretty much act like this -

 

Sense is for other people. Let’s get this summer started, putas.