1. Revelation: I am officially too jaded and cynical to believe in something that never was. As I explained, I lost my iPod in a vodka induced trance last Friday. I didn’t mention that I lost a lot more than that. On Wednesday of last week I found out that my biggest crush of all time, the guy I swooned over for all four years of college was going to be in New York City. I haven’t spoken to him since 2002 and even then, I was choppy at best. We shared one awesome night (no sex, I swear) together in 1999. Yes, this is pre-new-millenial crushness. It never worked out but we had talked about that night and he agreed that it was something special and there was something there, even it was just a brief encounter, clouded with Parliament Lights and a haze of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. He was the guy that my friends forbid me of mentioning about halfway through our junior year because I refused to do anything about it. I had planned on stalking said crush, but chose not to, because it’s been 4 years and really, I like to remember him in the context of the ways things were in college. In a word: hopeful. Unfortunately, fate decided to spin her wheel and bring us back together, in an accidental meeting outside of an Upper East Side watering hole. I had no choice but to say hello (already the vodka had taken over). Again I was hopeful, but the look on his face suggested otherwise (I swear, it was like I was breaking a restraining order) so I left him alone all night, avoided any and all contact. My friends can rejoice: this crush is over. Fate let me know he’s not the one and I’m over it. Finally. Really. I swear.
2. Revelation: Divas are funny, especially Clay Aiken. American Idol. Two words that I haven’t really held value to since the first season, aka, the launch of my true idol, Kelly Clarkson. But this finale was perhaps the funniest thing I’ve seen on TV since watching Ashlee Simpson and her hoe-down idiocy on SNL last year. Tony Braxton drunk of her as trying to grind on Taylor = funny. Dionne Warwick looking like she may break hip = pretty damn hysterical. And the Gaiken comes out (unfortunately, not all the way out) and reveals to America that he is slowly morphing into Barry Manilow and/or a woman. Gives his Diva look to the sad sack trying to sing like him and then proceeds to serenade his look alike. Creepy? Sort of. Not as creepy as Kevin Covais singing “What’s New Pussycat?.” Comedy gold? Most Def.
3. Revelation: I miss the Mastercard ads. Here is mine of the week. Losing my iPod and having to buy new one= $193.00. New makeup to impress Fleet Week seamen = $15.00. Getting gussied up and walking by a group of hot sailors and having brand new iPod randomly shuffle to Cher’s “If I Could Turn Back Time” = Priceless.
4. Revelation: Ugly guys can be sexy. Not gonna lie. Was a little upset to find out Elliot Yamin had a girlfriend. Whatevs, I think I made out with him on a spring break somewhere.
Elliot Yamin's offspring will look like this:
Let’s hope this week (and especially the upcoming long weekend) is as full of clarity and insight as the last. And let’s hope I get to have fun with some seamen. What do you do with a drunken sailor? I can think of some things. [insert evil plotting laugh and envision Jonesy rubbing hands together maliciously here]