Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head

I've been MIA (not the singer, the adjective) for a while now. My apologies to the fives and tens of you that read my blog, I know how devastating it must've been not to have your sporadic dose of sarcastic gay humour coming from me. But then again, I'm sure you could've just turned on Bravo to get it. Some of you probably did, but I'm going to think at least three of you didn't because it can't compare to mine.

I came down with a serious case of writer's block and for the life of me couldn't figure out what to write about. I wanted to keep it exciting, I wasn't that impressed with my last entry, Milkshake Part I. I drafted something but wasn't too keen on publishing with my name on it. I could've used my pseudonym, but I haven't drafted what that name could be. I've always liked Nick "The Slasher" McGirk or Adrian Charo-Jones. So I've been leaving post-its all over (some mental and some physical) with topics and phrases and paragraphs that have potential topics for future issues of my blog. Here are some that are on the consideration list:

1. Writing a book on gym etiquette. Potential chapters and advise include Attire (denim and flip flops need not attend), proper waiting time for a machine (when you sit there staring like a fat kid with cake, it makes me want to add an extra rep), expressions of exertion (how to let people know the weight you're lifting is heavy and you're not taking a massive number two)

2. Sometimes Tony responds to my comments like I'm speaking another language and looks at me like I'm crazy. Example:
Me: "Babe, you have to help me pick out an outfit, I NEED to look like a whore tonight."
Tony: "Why do you have to look like a whore?"
Me: "What do you mean why?"

3. It's come to my attention that others fantasize about cameras interviewing them as well. Maybe I'm not the only person having confessionals and creating sound bites for my cast interview while I'm driving.

4. My likeness to Ally McBeal, not Calista Flockhart, but rather the character Ally. She hallucinates kicking babies and breathing fire upon associates, I can't say I haven't done the same. Not to mention the inability to hide emotion on the face and facial expressions giving away your thoughts.

5. Debating whether or not binding one's feet is worth it. Yes I know it's painful and can deform your feet and make them look like those root vegetables. BUT if you had deformed feet like a Geisha, you could wear those really cute shoes you bought 2.5 sizes too small all the time. No one would ever have to know. Why? Because you always have on the cutest footwear!

6. The pros and cons of convincing Tony to retire away with me to the woods and become hermits where we can eat carbs all day long and wear sweats and no one would know. Pro: Carbs all day! Cons: Wearing sweats, I despise sweats.

7. Think about how my life would have been different had Mother and Father allowed me to become a child star instead of stifling my dreams and talent subsequently allowing me to reach out to Lindsay Lohan and resurrect her career. In my bizarro world, she and I were friends as child stars, and she went down the dark road as my star grew brighter and brighter; we lost touch and one day during her dark times, I show up at her door, let myself in after years of not seeing her, and pick her up and place her in the bath tub, and she realizes that I will be her support system to coming back to life. I get a thank you in her Oscar speech. (see When I Grow Up, Feb 2011 for more background on me as a child star)

8. The cool language my siblings and I could have had, had we created one as kids. Twins have a secret language usually, and my siblings and I are sometimes closer than some twins. This desire grew even more upon seeing the Richards sisters on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and their secret language. I would've loved to have said something like, "Ya jiro gid rod zib no no miganabwa," to my sister and have my brother respond, "No she already ate."

The blog is coming back, as you can tell, I'm churning out winning ideas.