If It Looks Like Bono And Smells Like Bono…

In an effort to regain some of our college exuberance that is seemingly dead or dying in a gutter somewhere between school and home, my friend Carla and I decided we should embrace spontaneity and travel into Boston for the night. Our plan? Go to Jillian’s. Aaaand that’s about it.

After making it into the bar, we both enjoyed a rum and coke. Then we were immediately bored. So I gave my friend, Liz, a call to see what she was up to. Liz had gone to Syracuse with me, but transferred in the middle of our junior year. Since then, we always try to meet up whenever I’m in town.

She told us she was down in Faneuil Hall, and that we should come on down. We hopped the T and made our way down there. Once we got off, we realized we had no clue where Liz was. And her phone was dead.

Normally, this would be cause for distress. Having traveled 4 or 5 stops on the green line, we were stuck without something to do.

But then, lo and behold, we remembered. Bars. Here a bar. There a bar. Everywhere a barbar.

We wondered into Paddy O’s, where they asked for a ridiculous cover charge of $10. After politely declining, we began to turn around when the cashier called after us, saying Well how about $5 each? We said sure, and walked into the bar.

That’s when we saw the unbelievable. We heard the impossible. We experienced the inconceivable.

U2. Live. On stage. At Paddy O’s.

We made our way closer to the stage, pushing our way through drunk townie after drunk townie, yearning for a closer look of The Edge. Or a glance from Bono. Anything that we could take home with us and forever keep as a piece of memorabilia of the $5 U2 concert.

When we got to the stage, we were meet with crushing disappointment and a small puddle of beer mixed with what looked like snow peas…on the way up.

It wasn’t U2. It was 2U. They may have sounded like U2, and from a distance, they may have looked like U2. But once we got a better glimpse, we were faced with the sad realization that nay, they were but a tribute band.

The bandanna around fake Bono’s head should have tipped us off immediately. notu2.com

Right as we were about to make fun of the situation, Carla and I realized that we were the only sober people in the bar who had the judgment enough to realize that this wasn’t U2. The rest of the bar looked like a televangelist had just healed them of their demons and let loose the Holy Spirit into the room. It. Was. Chaos.

People were jumping up and down. Screaming. Waving. Dancing. Even recording the songs on their cell phones. The Holy Spirit had indeed entered these people, and was apparently having a seizure of monumental proportions, because the moves they were performing were definitely those of the illegal variety featured in Footloose.

After their performance, a line formed, comprised of Boston’s finest, most drunk Irish men and women, just to bask in the glory that is Fake Bono.

I imagine Flickr and Webshots are filled to the brim with photos tagged Bono and ME!!!

A final note. I’m now a strong believer in the fact that I have a serious problem with my addictive personality. As 2U sang their final song [amidst a blaring alarm and firemen armed with axes], I turned to Carla and said, with a tear forming in my eye, I’m sad I didn’t bring a camera. I’ll have no pictures to post to my blog…

All My Friends Are Wicked Cool

I took this video at the beginning of April, but just put it together the other day. With me no longer having access to Tiffany’s video camera or my friend Pete’s fire wire, I’ve reached a sort of impasse with my vlog creating abilities. Soon, though. Someday.

I Do Like The ‘Peace Be With You’ Part…We Should All Do That Everyday On The Street

Last night I went to mass for the first time in years. It was the Feast of the Ascension, and I went with my friend and her mother, where we met up with another friend and her family.

I don’t talk much about religion here, mainly because I feel it’s something that is not only private, but a delicate subject for some people. On the other hand, religion is one of the things that is at the focal point of many of the controversies within the past…oh…forever. Without dialogue, nothing will develop. Also, I talk about what I want, when I want. So here it goes.

Back in high school, I was an avid church goer. Raised Catholic, I was confirmed when I was 15 and became a Peer Leader within a church organization. From then on, I helped run retreats for freshmen and sophomores who were going through their confirmation. Hell, I even worked as an assistant for the parish. Every Sunday I could be seen in the pews, reciting song and prayer along with everyone else. I was also trained as a Eucharistic Minister.

Once I got to college and came out*, things began to change. Not that I wasn’t aware of who or what I was prior to my college experiences, but there was a definite change in my viewpoints. Coming out forced me to take a much more focused look at some of the things that had been a part of me for so long.

*When looking back on things, I always knew I was gay. I just never identified as a gay person. I just happened to be attracted to men. I didn’t realize until much later in my life that this was ‘gay’. Soon thereafter, I had come out to a friend, back during my junior year of high school. However, I consider my official coming out to be when I decided to not be closeted in college.

One of these things was my religion. Now, I’m speaking from a personal experience here, and am by no means speaking for anyone else but myself. Once I began to get a grasp on how my church viewed me as a person, I started to distance myself. It’s painful to be faced with an entire institution who believes you to be a sinner, an abomination, diseased or all of the above and still sit in those same pews as before. If there’s one thing I try to uphold in my life, it’s honesty. Honesty is the thing that I hold as the most pristine of virtues. And to sit in a place that thinks so lowly of me while I still tried to be an active congregate was dishonest to myself.

So over the years, I gradually stopped going to church. It was too hard to sit in those pews that I once sang in and try to ignore the hatred that cemented that building’s wall. I found it hypocritical of them and weak of me.

For me, the church was a few things. It was a place where I could go to think and be at peace. It was a place where I had formed strong, lasting friendships. It was a place where, every Sunday, without fail, I could be sure to see the faces of friends. It was the place where I formed my relationship with God.

Now, I feel differently. As welcoming as the faces are, and as much love as I feel from them while sharing this time with them, the institution itself doesn’t want me there. That’s something I don’t feel I will ever be able to reconcile with. Yet I’m still torn. Catholicism, and more specifically my church, has given me so much in terms of friendships and experiences, it’s hard to completely ignore.

Am I religious? Spiritual? Celestially obsessed? It depends. I believe in a God. I believe that this God is loving, forgiving and understanding. And I believe this God is accepting of everyone. Do I believe all of the things I’ve learned, read and been told concerning God? Not at all. I don’t think the Bible is the word of God. How can it be? There are words in English that can’t even be translated into French, yet I’m to believe the Bible is as perfect as the day God had someone scribble it down? I don’t think anyone can live by the standards of another man. They can only live to the best of their abilities and hope for the best in the end.

When I’m asked about my religion, I get a little divided. Do I say Catholic? I’m certainly not fluent in any other religion, yet I’m not atheist or agnostic. So I’ve created my own religion, which I feel I’m entirely permitted to do. I’m the only member of Johntholicism, as far as I know, and it’s a religion that suits me surprisingly well.

I Didn’t Blow My Nose In The Cloth Napkin, Either, THANK YOU VERY MUCH

Last night, I went out to dinner with my brother and father to this place called Gavens as a celebratory dinner. What with me graduating college and my brother graduating high school and all, it seemed like a good idea.

As with every big event, it’s only customary for familial clan to fork down as much meat as possible to survive that night’s hibernation, all the while remaining polite and refined. This is one of my family pet peeves. Amongst millions. I have a list. Someday, I’ll share.

My father, in an effort to civilize his otherwise unruly and apish sons, gives a lesson in etiquette at each and every meal. This poses a problem to me for two reasons. Firstly, if I’m a member of a family of apes, then I’m the only one in the bunch speaking in sign language while everyone else speaks in terms of poop and the velocity it can travel between the ass, hand and target.

Secondly, there’s nothing more frustrating to me than having to be corrected on what hand my fork is held in when I put the food to my mouth. What a waste of time it is to cut with the right, put down the knife, switch the fork from the left to the right, then eat. Both my hands are perfectly capable of politely feeding my mouth a morsel of food. I could understand my father’s dismay if my left hand had a tendency of waving the finger while stabbing other patrons with a fork full of steak. But oddly enough, I’m able to control that urge and put the food properly into my mouth with the most graceful of movements.

I’m a fucking ballerina at the table.

Also, please don’t tell me I have too much aftershave on me for a restaurant. That’s not aftershave. It’s deodorant. My deodorant may have an odor, yes. And it may [shock and alarm!] smell good to those very close to me. Yet I have a hard time believing that my odor is so overpowering that the people at the next table would have to ask Waiter? Could we be moved to a different table? This young man’s scent is interfering with my delicate taste buds. And even if it were, it’s AXE deodorant. Commercially speaking, I should be getting a bj under the table because of this stuff.

Other than the lessons in fine dining, everything went well. The food was good. The conversation was good. And the fact that I can now drink and subdue my otherwise over zealous diner that lives inside of me is very good.

You Want A Piece Of This?!…How Much A Year?

One of the most amazing things to me is that there are companies and organizations out there who are actually INTERESTED in the things I’ve done in the past 4 years of my life.

Interested enough to call me, talk with me, then ask me to come down to New York City and meet with them.

Yesterday, I got a job interview down in the city, and today another company called me up saying they want me to come down and talk with them, as well. After that, I reconnected with some other places whom I haven’t heard from in about a week, and after speaking extensively with one of the HR administrators, she had me resend my resume and cover letter directly to her.

I wonder how they’ll feel after I tell them what type of office I need. Or the salary to pay for my sweet pad, unicorns and helper monkeys.

Reasons Why I Know The Real World Won’t Be So Bad

*I’ve won $37 in scratch tickets so far.

*I may be getting a raise at American Eagle because they are excited that I’m coming back. Also, they’ve paid me cold hard cash for the first day.

*Applying for jobs is actually fun. Though I need to stop obsessively checking my email every 5 minutes to see if someone had replied to my application. I also need to be realistic and come to terms with the fact that I won’t be starting off in any company as a high paid executive. I keep envisioning myself in my own office with glass walls, a view of Central Park, beautifully painted walls with unique art and a cherry wood desk. Why cherry, I don’t know, but doesn’t it sound like a nice office?

*There’s a guy at American Eagle, Teddy, who has one of the thickest Boston accents I’ve ever heard. To hear him call across the floor Yo Kathleen! Do we got any more of those lacy spahkle tanks in lahge?! is priceless.

*I’m not going to jinx it by mentioning anything certain, but let’s just say that at 2 pm today, Los Angeles is calling me about a job. Shh. I didn’t say that.

*The thought of apartment hunting makes me giddy with excitement. My ideal apartment? Brick walls on one side of the apartment with a deep yellow painted wall on the somewhere else, and hardwood floors complete with high ceilings. The kitchen will be sectioned off, and the dining area will be in a large nook in the apartment that is windowed floor to ceiling. As long as we’re day dreaming, I’ll have helper monkeys to clean the place and Unicorns to ride from my door to the metro.

*There’s another piece of news I SO want to share about a friend of mine, but can’t yet until I get the whole go ahead. But it’s fucking exciting.

Now I just need to move the hell out of my house. Oh the celebrating that will commence on that joyous day.

Quick Reminder…

If you can’t see the videos I post, make sure you read this to double check things for your computer.

Also, please remember that it can sometimes take a little while to load, so you may have to open up the video in a new tab and check back on it later.

If you don’t have the patience for that, though, you can always right click on the link, or control-click if you’re using a Mac, and download the video itself. This way, you have it on your computer, can watch it whenever, then delete it as soon as you’re done. Simple.

Once I have the capacity to comfortably host videos from the site [which would require more bandwidth, no doubt, as well as probably countless amounts of other things], then things should run smoother, as I’ll be able to put video directly on the site, rather than feeding it through another page. This won’t happen, though, until I get my own domain and what not and move out of Blogger’s house.

Hmm…do you think that could be happening in the next few months? Hmm?!

[maniacal laughter]

Not So Much David Blaine

I made this movie a little over a month ago, a week or so after the Wall of Hate. For some reason, though, Our Media was acting up or something, so it wouldn’t load onto the internet. When it finally did, it appeared as a bunch of text and wing dings and other foolish crap.

Being home, I’ve had a lot of time to sit down and just figure things out. So here we are, fresh and new. To you guys, at least.

Anyways, enjoy. I have one or two more movies on the way, then a bunch more as soon as I buy my own camera and fire wire. Which will probably take forever and a day because this man right here has shit in terms of money.

Funny how a college degree only gets you poor and unemployed.

ps…ignore my fat ass face in the video. I look huge and I was tired when this was filmed. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Why Did None Of You TELL ME ABOUT THIS SHOW EARLIER…You And I Aren’t Talking Anymore

I’ve waited a little while to post this, only because it took me so long to get over the SHOCK and UTTER AMAZEMENT.

GREY’S ANATOMY?! ANYBODY?! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!

And you know what? I only started watching the day before the season finale. On Monday, I organized a Grey’s Anatomy party, complete with finger foods and cocktails. The day after seeing the show for the first time. Which leads me to believe that I have much more of an addictive personality than is healthy to have.

Anyways. What. Is going. To happen.

**spoilers ahead**

**and lots of words in caps, too**

Meredith and Derek had sex?! What about Chris O’Donnell and Addison?! Maybe you guys shouldn’t have touched hands while caressing the head of your dead dog. Or hell. Maybe you shouldn’t have OWNED A DOG TOGETHER!

Izzy quit?! And Denny DIED?! AFTER THEY STOLE A HEART FOR HIM FROM ANOTHER PERSON WHO NEEDED IT TO LIVE?! Why don’t we just go out and club a bunch of baby seals while we’re at it, hmm?

Sandra. Fucking. Oh. What in the name of BABY JESUS do you think you’re doing ABANDONING DR. BURKE in his time of NEED! Walk away from him during the apex of his pain? God, you bitch. Someone should slap you right across your cold, uncaring face.

Callie. You NEED to start getting along with George’s friends. No one likes a bitch [take note, Sandra, you callous hearted banshee], so you better shape up because otherwise he’s going to LEAVE your ass. Be NICE to his friends. As his girlfriend, it’s your OBLIGATION to try and get along with your boyfriend’s friends. And not ignore them when they have DOGS DYING FROM CANCER! We all know no one likes an uptight girlfriend. Especially if she’s bigger than her boyfriend. That woman has broader shoulders than an eastern European Olympic wrestler.

Prom? In a hospital? No wonder Denny died. Everyone was doing the electric slide when the blood clot entered his brain. Way to go, asswipes. Next time let’s play Pin the IV on the invalid.

That girl is dying from cancer, and all she can say is ‘At least I’ve been loved’? CHRIST! So brave. Oh so brave.

You may as well just kill me now, because if you don’t I’m just going to dehydrate from crying my eyes out. Praise be to Shonda Rhimes that I have the rest of the summer to recuperate from these three hours of television. Otherwise, you could expect this blog to turn into a daily outlet for my tears and fears.

Lazy Doesn’t Even Begin to Accurately Describe Me

I’ve not a valid excuse in the world to give anyone for the impeded posting as of late. None whatsoever. I’ve led a life of absolute hedonism, what with getting up after noon, watching Friends, Will & Grace and other random movies on DVD, going out to the bar and just being an overall lazy bum.

My plans this week? Glad you asked.

*Send out the resume.
*Read the two books [or at least start them] that I got at Barnes & Noble.
*Get drunk a lot at the local bars.
*Streak the quad.
*Videotape it.
*Say my last goodbyes.
*Visit Tiffany on the way home and attend her brother’s high school grad party.
*Return to American Eagle [oh remember those days?] and make some cash until I get whatever job I get and move to NYC…very weird, by the way, because my boss, Rob, JUST called me as I wrote that saying he wants me to work Saturday night. Hello, monies. I’ve missed you.

So with the To Do list all set up, now it’s just a matter of getting it all To Done. I leave here on Saturday, so with nothing of importance to achieve school wise, I’ve got everything pretty open and clear.

Knowing me, virtually none of this will be accomplished. Minus the drinking. And perhaps the streaking.

I should do some push-ups and crunches.