Had Jennifer Hudson’s show (and showmanship, for that matter) been as electric as Robin Thicke’s, the sour notes in the second-half of the double-billed evening would have been easier to swallow. Surprisingly, neither were.
Lost: Something I had for four years. Can’t fathom where it got to. Watch the video and see if you can help me figure it out.
The loss of a new friend from public spotlight-itis makes me wonder whether it’s worth it to continue living my life as an open blog. Right now, I don’t have an answer to that question. I’m just taking the fall…
Today, I’m the featured guest on Chicago’s homegrown Feast of Fools podcast, the most popular LGBT-themed daily talk show on the planet. Wonder twin powers, activate! Form of: a giddy gay blogger!
I will never be George Bailey. My tolerance for others and wisdom with money leave a lot to be desired. But we have one thing in common: we’ve both had the punishing desire to run away. Try as he might, George never did manage to follow his dreams out of old Bedford Falls. In the end, that turned out to be a good thing.
Sometimes I need a brick to the head to get the message. Starting to date a native son of Chicago last month showed both of us how apparent that is. I suppose some internal barriers, like some waiting periods, were meant to be broken.
Recently on Facebook I was tagged with that overly persistent 25 Things meme. What could I write about myself that I haven’t already shared on the blog? About 25 other things, as it turns out.
I thought the wake of Valentine’s Day would be a good time to tell you why I love some of the fine sites that I include in my blogroll.
I haven’t just been suffering through a string of bad dates this year. Like any improperly imperfect gay man my age, lately I’ve also been getting more than my fair share of standups, slowdowns, and excuses for breaking them in the first place. Some of the excuses have been outlandish, others blatant baloney. But they’ve all been carefully written down, for tracking purposes. Here they are.
Life would be easier, certainly happier, if the dating foibles I scribe about on CARLESS weren’t true. As it turns out, they’re so true sometimes these days I feel like the butt of the joke of my own love life.