I’m a Fast Pedestrian with Angry Thoughts, but at the End of the Day I’m Spiritual So It’s All Good

One of the things I advertise on my OkCupid profile is the fact that I can walk really fast through crowded urban streets.

Screen shot 2014-03-03 at 8.24.16 PMIt’s not that I’ve ever been particularly proud of this ability – frankly, there are many other, more important things that I can do well – but “walking briskly in New York City” was really the only answer I could think of for that question that didn’t make me sound like a pretentious douche bag who looks in the mirror on an hourly basis and probably has a pet name for his penis. Because that’s nobody’s type.

(Although now that I think about it, I have been involved with or know more than a few of those kinds of dudes. And they never seem to run into any problems getting laid. So maybe I’m wrong and that’s actually everybody’s type?)

(Holy shit. I think I just figured out why I’m single.)

(Hold on…)

Screen shot 2014-03-03 at 9.04.04 PMOkay, I’m ready for all the men to want me now.

(Side note: While the above answer is of course a joke, I did have to change my real-life profile to that for about twenty seconds in order to secure the screen shot. And it was the most anxious, frightening, and uncomfortable – and yet oddly invigorating? – twenty seconds of my life.)

Moving on.

Wait, where was I going with all of this anyways?

Oh, slow people. So I started writing this post from my seat on the commuter train, because basically I had to zigzag my way through an army of molasses-paced pod people at Grand Central Station to get there, and it was so fucking annoying because everyone loves to walk in every which direction while being all “I’m slow and I wear mittens” while I’m just internally like, “ARGH! GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY AND LET THE TALL GUY THROUGH SO HE CAN GO HOME AND DRINK WINE AND GOOGLE LYRICS TO NINETIES POP BALLADS AND FANTASIZE ABOUT BEING FRIENDS WITH OPRAH AND VENT ABOUT HOW SLOW YOU ARE ON HIS BLOG.”

But then I started writing, and then that whole OkCupid introduction turned into a way more involved tangent than I had originally intended it to be, and so by the time I was ready to get into how enraging slow people are, the frustration had worn off and my desire to angrily rant was (mostly) diminished. And then I reminded myself that having to deal with dawdling pedestrians is small. fucking. potatoes compared to the real issues in the world (potato famines, for instance), and we are all cut from the same divine thread of oneness and so really I need to be spreading love and light to everyone — even people with shorter legs than me.

Wow. I’m pretty sure this entire post just turned into like, a deep lesson in perspective, love, forgiveness, and the Golden Rule, all at the same time. You’re welcome for the wisdom.

Now move.

 

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True Life: I Use Healthy Substitutions to Rationalize My Binge Eating

Actual conversation that recently occurred between myself and two dude friends at a bar:

  • Dude 1: What did you guys do yesterday?
  • Dude 2: Well, I texted Nic at seven and he was like, “Uhh. I just ate an entire large pizza all by myself. I’m in for the night.”
  • Nic: Yes, that’s what I did. And it was glorious.
  • Dude 2: Where’d you get it from, by the way? That place down the street with the best pizza ever?
  • Nic: No, I went to the one with mediocre pizza that’s a little farther away.
  • Dude 1: Why would you do that?
  • Nic: Because they have whole wheat crust.
  • Dude 2: …And yet you still ate an entire large pizza.
  • Nic: Hence the need for whole wheat crust.
  • Dude 1: That is ridiculous. That’s like me saying, “I’m going to order a greasy bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, but it’s okay because I’m getting it on a whole wheat bagel.”
  • Nic: You just described my Dunkin’ Donuts food order.

Indeed, I have an immense talent for justifying epic food binges by making random healthy-sounding substitutions on a completely arbitrary basis. But I mean, it makes sense, right? If I’m going to give in to any of my myriad pregnant-lady-esque cravings anyways, I might as well try to sneak some essential nutrients into my system along the way to nourish the fetus mitigate the damage.

Lately I’ve found myself indulging my sweet tooth with these Kashi cookies:

IMG_20140301_093847They’re basically like crack – if crack was all natural, made with seven whole grains, and contained fourteen percent of one’s daily fiber intake per serving – which I’m almost positive it doesn’t. (Although I technically wouldn’t know for sure. So if you happen to be a crack dealer and I’m wrong, please forgive me. I apologize for giving your… crop? …such a bad reputation. By the way, while I have you here, can you explain to me what exactly crack is? I get so confused when it comes to street drugs. I’m from Connecticut.)

The box pictured above, by the way, is empty – and yes, that happened within the course of a single day.

STOP LOOKING AT ME THAT WAY.

Am I doing health wrong?

 

Recent Conversations I’ve Had About the BEYONCÉ Visual Album

With my writing pal Steven:

  • Nic: Dude. I have listened to nothing else for weeks. I stayed home today because of the snow and ended up just sitting on my couch watching the videos in sequential order. Over and over again. For many hours.
  • Steven: Has anyone ever told you that you have an obsessive personality?
  • Nic: I just can’t stop. It’s like I’ve been sucked into a black hole.
  • Nic: The black hole that is Beyoncé’s vagina.
  • Nic: I’M TRAPPED IN BEYONCÉ’S VAGINA.
  • Steven: You’re scaring me.

With my work-wife Mila:

  • Mila: Try watching the videos while eating like a fat pig.
  • Mila: You will feel so inadequate.
  • Nic: I just don’t get how these videos can be so perfect.
  • Nic: And there’s SO MUCH SEX.
  • Mila: I know!
  • Nic: And all of this sex is with a man she’s been with for years and is married to, so it’s super classy. Like, Beyoncé is singing about giving a raunchy limo blowjob and meanwhile I’M the one who is made to feel like a dirty, inferior slut for having multiple partners.
  • Mila: I KNOW!

With myself:

  • Nic: Two more viewings of “Drunk In Love” and then I’ll shower.
  • Nic: Okay, maybe three.
  • Nic: SURF BORDT!
  • Nic: Four.
  • Nic: After the fifth one, I swear I’m going to get my shit together and do something productive with my life.
  • Nic: Fuck it.
  • Nic: Six.

With God:

  • Nic: THANK YOU FOR CREATING THIS WOMAN IN YOUR IMAGE.
  • God: You’re welcome.
  • God: …Surf bordt.

 

I Had Strep and then Got Touched Inappropriately by a Large Bear, Kind Of

On the Sunday before the Sunday before Christmas (are you with me?), after a long day of football-watching and beer-drinking, I passed out at ten at night. Then I woke up at one in the morning and couldn’t fall back asleep. So naturally I stayed up and watched DVR-ed episodes of Super Soul Sunday all through the night until skipping my way to the gym with an inexplicable amount of energy at about five. Then I went to work, drank a gallon-ish of coffee, crashed sometime shortly after lunch, and proceeded to watch my health violently deteriorate at a staggering pace over the following two days until I was eventually forced to go to the doctor where I tested positive for strep.

The weird thing is that it wasn’t the sore throat that bothered me so much. It was more so the severe headache that lasted for forty-eight hours and was accompanied by this weird hot and cold sensation that I’ve since been told is what normal people refer to as a “fever.” I apparently hadn’t had one in so many years that I didn’t even realize what the oft-overused term actually referenced, and yes, I realize that this makes me sound about as smart as Jessica Simpson circa the “Chicken or Fish?” Incident of 2003. Totally oblivious, I aggressively blamed my office environment – alternating between the phrases, “Why is it always so fucking freezing in here?!” and, “UM, WHICH ONE OF YOU JOKESTERS TURNED THE HEAT UP TO EIGHTY?” – until a doctor told me that my temperature was 102 degrees. Then everything clicked, and I was like, “Oh. So that’s what that is.”

Though I initially wanted to address my illness with some healing affirmations and health-positive mantras, the doctor was super anti-that. So I listened to her, and as it turns out, drugs are the fucking best. I got some prescription pain meds along with a cycle of penicillin, and by Christmas Eve I was healthy and drunk and joking with my soon-to-be-married brother and his fiancée about how my Best Man speech is likely going to be eighty-percent about me and twenty-percent about them. Or maybe ninety-ten if I end up having an extra shot of whiskey beforehand and decide to be a total self-absorbed dick. Or maybe seventy-twenty-ten (the ten being Mariah Carey) if it goes over three minutes.

And so that’s what I’ve been up to for the past few weeks. Other highlights of my little holiday sabbatical include:

1. Tailgating and watching the last Pats game of the season in the pouring rain, but feeling too happy and tipsy and grateful for life to really give a shit about something as trivial as being soaked and freezing.

IMG_20131229_155433_674

Of course we won.

2. Ringing in the New Year up in the Catskill Mountains with some of my best friends, a pool table, and one quality cigar that may or may not have made me throw up later (as per usual when I smoke cigars atop mountains).

IMG_20131231_205950_260IMG_20140101_102801_510 IMG_20131231_241532_366

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And 3. Getting molested by a bear. (An actual bear. Or, rather, a bear-replica. But either way, a bear, the animal. Not to be confused with a large hairy gay man who is likely into sexual accessories of the leather variety – which, for those of you not privy to gay-lingo, is actually a thing.)

IMG_20131231_141434_930

Confession: I liked it.

In related news, I’m not making any grandiose resolutions this year, so yay! You’re spared a list. But I will say that the one word I intend to live by in 2014 is this: Simplicity. As in, not making shit unnecessarily complicated for no reason. Can you imagine a whole year of that? I’m pretty excited about it.

So here’s to a healthy, happy, grateful, healing, hilarious, adventurous, just-uncomfortable-enough-for-growth, strep-free, successful, SIMPLE year ahead! I love y’all.

 

Let’s Talk About Gratitude

The other day I had the privilege of sitting in on an intimate luncheon event at MTV for Hispanic Heritage Month, which featured an interactive chat with the network’s resident chica Melanie Iglesias, star of Guy Code/Girl Code/Guy Court.

In addition to being a presence on approximately nine thousand MTV shows, Melanie is a freaking hottie. Such a hottie, in fact, that her initial break into the entertainment industry happened as a result of being selected by Maxim magazine out of 7,000 girls as the #1 Hometown Hottie of 2010. The woman is stunning.

I mean, see for yourself:

Ignore my weirdness and just focus on the beautiful woman, please.

Ignore my weirdness and just focus on the beautiful woman, please.

In spite of this fact, though — because let’s face it, I’m the gayest man ever and so female hotness can only go so far in terms of winning my admiration — what I like most about Melanie is her relentlessly positive spirit and overall #GoodEnergy.

When asked about how she maintains a consistent level of happiness, she shared that she is simply “grateful to be healthy and alive,” and then questioned how someone could manage to not be happy when approaching every day from such a place of gratitude. She also talked about how we’re all a part of something much larger than ourselves, at which point you know I had to ask her if she was spiritual and/or into meditation.

Interestingly, though not a meditator, she did share that she believes we are all here for a specific purpose, and that her end-of-the-day mission is to contribute to the betterment of humanity in any way and on any level she can — which totally kind of proves that she’s intuitively spiritual anyways, which, don’t you just wish more celebrities were like that?

Spirituality aside, though, Melanie’s initial statement about the correlation between gratitude and happiness resonated with me. It brought me back to a positive place after having gotten a little off track lately.

As a Super Soul Sunday disciple and perpetual seeker, I’ve read and watched quite a bit on the topic of gratitude. I’ve practiced it, too. And, as cliché as it may sound, I have found it to be the most effective way to get over pretty much any negative energy that may manage to creep its way into our consciousness every now and then. And as if that weren’t enough, the universe typically rewards those who are genuinely grateful for what they have now with more to be grateful for later. It’s just like, a law.

So with all of this in mind, I’d like to share a ridiculously small (or just plain ridiculous, whatever) list of things I’m grateful for right now:

  • Pumpkins.
  • The tree outside my apartment window.
  • Mariah Carey’s life-changing 1997 masterpiece album Butterfly.
  • My incredible support system of family and friends and yes, I’m being that guy right now.
  • Clarity.
  • All the life basics. (Seriously, how blessed are we simply to have health and homes and food and, like, water? That alone is pretty much enough for me to be all, “Sit your ass down, Nic,” every time I’m tempted to spiral into a rejection-fueled pity party of any kind.)
  • Cardio. When I actually do it.
  • My brother and his fiancée, and the fact that I’m going to Best Man the shit out of their wedding in January.
  • Books. ALL the books.
  • This photo of Jake Shears. (Note: If your boss happens to be a total dick, then this may be construed as NSFW. But if your boss isn’t a total dick, then please click, enjoy, and thank me/Jake later.)
  • Oprah.
  • Oprah.com.
  • OWN, the Oprah Winfrey Network.
  • O, the Oprah Magazine.
  • O-K, I’m done now. (See what I did there?)
  • Singer/Songwriter/my friend Joey, whose recent Facebook post on what he’s grateful for totally conspired with the Melanie lunch to inspire this post. Thanks, Joey!
  • The Bloggess.
  • Cheesecake.
  • Anything cute.

Last but really totally first, I’m grateful for y’all. For reading me, putting up with me, encouraging me, and supporting me. Especially when I’m freaking blog-M.I.A. half the damn time. Your love is honestly just… like, seriously. Thank you.

OK so before I start crying and having a totally uncalled for “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH ALL OF THESE EMOTIONS I JUST LOVE YOU OMG OPRAH SAVE ME” moment, please jump in.

What are you grateful for today?

 

My Team Lost — but I’m OK and Thank You, Mariah Carey

Remember how at the beginning of this year’s football season I wrote that whole post about how I went to the Pats home opener after having spent most of my summer wasting time with that guy who called me fat and a variety of other noncommittal a-holes? And then we lost?

Well, yeah. That pretty much happened again last week. Except this time, instead of losing a game at the beginning of the regular season, we lost in the AFC Championship — and I just… I can’t deal.

For those of you who aren’t into football — this means that our season is over, we aren’t going to the Super Bowl, and yes, I’m using terms like our and we — and yes, I’m being a baby about it.

Here’s a picture of me pretending to grill a mere five hours before my dreams were crushed:

Gronk

Sigh. I vaguely remember what it’s like to smile like that.

Okay, I’m going to stop being lugubrious now and start writing about how Mariah Carey makes life worth living.

Yes, I’m talking about Idol. If you follow me on Twitter, then you already know how I feel about this — I think it is the greatest thing to happen to the world ever. Or it’s at least in the top three.

In fact, here is a list of the top three best things to happen to the world ever:

  1. Sliced bread
  2. Mariah Carey
  3. Mariah Carey as a judge on American Idol

Seriously, y’all. It’s amazing. The fact that the we can all now see Mariah’s hilarity and brilliance and amazing facial expressions in a natural setting (sitting at a table beside Nicki Minaj, even!) for a full two hours every week is, frankly, a modern miracle.

If I ever had a doubt that Mariah and I were soul mates, it disappeared when Nicki called her a bitch and she was just like (to everyone and no one), “If she called me something that begins with a ‘B’ and ends with an ‘itch,’ I rebuke it.”

MARIAH SAYS “REBUKE.”

And that’s just a small example of why she’s perfect.

Literally everything she does is entertaining. And the best part about it is that you can tell that she’s just like, there, and on some level she realizes how ridiculous the Nicki feud is (and how ridiculous life is, really) and so she’s just calm and smart and occasionally British.

So, yeah. With that in mind, click HERE to see my official response to the Pats loss last week (and really, as already admitted elsewhere, my official response to everything ever).

And like Mariah said to the guy who didn’t make it to Hollywood who I’m pretty sure she was only half-listening to anyways (because I know I would have been) — there’s always next year.

 

 

Four Non-Tweets

Rather than reflect on the milestones, revelations, and addictions to dating websites that I experienced this year, I think I’d prefer to share a few totally insignificant things that happened to me – because I never blog about those, and it just occurred to me that it’s kind of discriminatory. (Am I a blog-bigot?)

So here are a few trivial moments that punctuated my year, in the form of would-be tweets that could never actually happen because of character limits and the fact that I’m incapable of being anything other than verbose:

1. I started doing this thing where I get home from work at night and eat pepperoncini directly from the jar. I’m troubled to report that it’s kind of something I look forward to all day long — in addition to crying into wine glasses while listening to Taylor Swift songs and mentally revisiting that time I got called fat, of course. But I don’t so much look forward to that last routine as much as I just accept it as a sad inevitability, so never mind. But I stand by the pepperoncini.

Did I use the word "insignificant" before? I totally take that back.

                Did I use the word “insignificant” before? I totally take that back.

2. I saw a video about how purposely taking one-minute-long cold showers is supposed to be like, amazing for the mind, body, and soul. What stood out most to me is that it’s (allegedly) a major fat-burning tool, so I (predictably, obviously, inevitably – these all work) tried it. And uh, my buns – they don’t feel nothin’ like steel. (If you immediately recognized and appreciated this Clueless reference, let’s be friends.)

3. I listened to Mariah Carey’s Glitter-era gem, “Lead the Way,” while eating Chipotle and commuting home from work one day, and was severely disillusioned to realize that there’s a moment in the song where she sings “you and me” when it should have been “you and I” – and this is extremely basic grammar, and Mariah is a deity in my eyes, and so now I’m disillusioned with a deity, and so now I kind of feel like this is the year I learned that Santa’s not real, my parents aren’t perfect, and taxes are a thing all at the same time. (Ironically, I’m fairly certain that this non-tweet includes some of my worst grammar to date. It’s Mariah’s fault.)

4. All I want for Christmas this year is a jar of pepperoncini, a cold shower that actually burns fat as promised, and to reclaim my belief in grammar. And love. (I guess this one could have actually been a real tweet, as it would clearly fit within Twitter parameters. Although now, with this parenthetical tangent, it’s hard to tell. Definitely too long. Though I suppose if it had actually originated on Twitter, I’d never have had the need to clarify that it could have fit within Twitter parameters in the first place — because that would have already been implied given the venue in which it was being displayed — and this whole parenthetical tangent could have been avoided entirely. But now it’s here, and I’m leaving it. Because frankly, taking it out would be discriminatory, and I’m not a blog-bigot.)

Twitter

                                                        Someday…

 

P.S. Shout-out to nineties female power group Four Non-Blondes for inspiring this blog post title! If you have never heard “What’s Up,” then please reevaluate everything about your life immediately. And then go listen to it on YouTube.

 

That Time I Fell in Love with a Stranger (Again)

As you may or may not already know, I kind of have this problem where my main goal in life is to find and wed the real-life gay version of Mad Men lothario Don Draper — despite the fact that I’m fairly certain he doesn’t actually exist.

Or at least I was fairly certain that he doesn’t actually exist until last week when my friend Kendra and I totally ran into him on the ice rink in Rockefeller Center and subsequently discovered that he is a closet Mariah Carey fan with a really nice neck who enjoys bopping to Christmas carols.

Allow me to explain.

Kendra and I were lucky enough to make it onto the guest list for the taping of Mariah’s Christmas at Rockefeller Center performances last Tuesday, and that is where we discovered Don Draper Guy II. (For those who don’t already know: the original Don Draper Guy.)

Mariah is a deity. A blurry deity, but still a deity.

                            Mariah is a deity. A blurry deity, but still a deity.

Don Draper Guy II (hereinafter referred to as DDGII) first caught my eye because of his tall height, dark brown hair, and distinguished facial features that revealed absolutely nothing about his age. (Seriously –  we couldn’t tell if he was 19 or 43. We ultimately settled on a hypothesis of about 27, but really remained clueless throughout the evening. And to this day, for that matter.)

What really won me over, though, was his hot and manly Draper-esque neck.

Isn’t it crazy how man-necks can be so sexy sometimes? No? I have a weird fetish for necks? Stop judging me! You’re the one who reads blogs written by neck-fetish-harboring freaks with self-esteem issues. Weirdo.

Anyway, Kendra was similarly smitten with DDGII, so our entire evening pretty much evolved into a really intense game of Gay, Straight, or European? that Kendra seemed to keep winning at because of DDGII’s masculine demeanor. But then we’d both remember that we were at a Mariah Carey show and suddenly I would be back in the game.

Another game we played was Creepily Stalk the Hot Guy, at which I’m pretty much an expert by now.

In our efforts to keep tabs on DDGII, we:

  • risked our lives at a crosswalk,
  • positioned ourselves at a spot in the crowd that had a slightly obstructed view of Mariah (but a perfectly framed view of DDGII’s neck), and
  • did a few other things that I’m not proud of and refuse to divulge publicly.

As Mariah was about to appear onstage, I longed to initiate conversation with him – both to mitigate the creepiness of my stalking and also to get the ball rolling on our wedding preparations (I had some great ideas involving September 2013, swans, and Maine that I wanted to run by him).

Then I got all depressed because I realized that Kendra and I still didn’t have a clear winner in our game of Gay, Straight, or European? and I was starting to lose hope.

And then he started enthusiastically rocking out to Mariah’s holiday gem “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

Score!

Needless to say, I interpreted DDGII’s bopping as conclusive evidence of his open gayness. And also as confirmation of the fact that we have “mutual interests.”

And also as his acceptance of my whole marriage proposal/wedding suggestion.

Nic. DDGII. September 2013. Swans. Maine.

Get ready, y’all.

P.S. I should clarify that Kendra and I never actually had a real conversation with DDGII. Though he did throw a chuckle her way at one point in the evening.

P.P.S. It just occurred to me that DDGII chuckled only at Kendra and not me. He’s totally straight, I’m fat, and the wedding’s off. DAMMIT!

 

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