Today I feel as though a thousand-pound weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Clay Aiken has finally come out of the closet. I’m sure it’s a relief for all those Manhunt users who have been dying to know the true identity of FreckledManilowFan22. Now he can finally add some face pics to his profile to go with all those shots of his Spam-toned nether regions. How liberating!

Staying warm around the house has always been a challenge. We all know what a hassle blankets are. All that slipping and sliding! And sweats? They’re great once you finally get them on. But who has time to for two completely separate garments? Thank God some housewife turned inventor found the time to engineer a high-tech solution to this age-old dilemma.

A few questions immediately sprang to mind after watching this:

1. Is the joke going to be on me when the cost of heating oil and natural gas skyrockets this winter and there’s not a Snuggie to be found in any As-Seen-On-TV product distribution center in America? Perhaps I should buy two. Or maybe I should buy several thousand and resell them on ebay for a tidy profit as the nation grows desperate for fleece-based sleeved blanket products.
2. The ad claims similar products sell for up to $60. Really? There are similar products? And they sell? Maybe they were comparing the Snuggie to its close cousin, the winter-weight choir robe.

I’m heading out for a haircut tomorrow, which means I’ve been doing my usual pre-cut web search for hot, age appropriate haircuts. A quick Google search led me to coolmenshair.com, which gets points for its straight-to-the-point domain name. Eventually I found a post on Alex Evans Emo Hair, which really made me wish I was still under 25. I thought the second cut shown was particularly great, but I think jet black hair is mandatory to pull this off. Dark brown might also be acceptable, but I’m pretty sure golden blond locks like mine are incompatible with anything that resembles a Pete Wentz ‘do. So, it looks like I’ll probably stick with my current wavy, shaggy cut for now. If I decide to take the plunge, however, it’s great that someone as already made an instructional video for any guy looking for the perfect emo hairstyle.

My mom called Wednesday night right after Sarah Palin wrapped up her speech, and we had a very interesting and heated discussion about why she and my father are voting Republican in November. Despite my persistent campaign to gently, kindly convert them to Obama-ism, I had a feeling my parents weren’t going to vote for Barack, and I’m 110% sure they never would have voted for Hillary.

My mom can’t really put her finger on why she hates Hillary. She assumes Hillary will raise taxes, but that’s more of a general beef she has with all Democrats. More than anything, my mom thinks of Hillary as a ruthless bitch, and not in that cool hockey mom way. (Oh, Chelsea! Why couldn’t you have been born an Alaskan boy who liked to stomp in the faces of your rivals with razor-sharp skate blades?) I think Palin’s bitchiness goes down easier because she’s the perfect blue-collar feminist—tough enough to field dress a moose and reapply a coat of Revlon’s Midnight Rose all at the same time; human enough to have a pregnant teenage daughter and pious enough to tell everyone that abortion is never the answer. Oh, and in case you haven’t heard, she also has a baby with special needs. She’ll even let you take a picture with it for a small donation. Just don’t dilly dally because she needs him back in time for an appearance on The View.

My mom loved Sarah’s speech and it’s easy for me to see why. It was brilliantly written and well-delivered, but most of all, it made her seem like the sassy neighbor who every mom in the subdivision can’t help but love. Sarah is selling millions of women on the idea that she’s fighting the good ol’ boys network and no one seems to notice that she’s a card-carrying member. It’s like heralding Aunt Jemima as a neo-feminist who fought the good ol’ boys at Quaker Oats because public opinion finally forced the company to let her take off that doo rag and start a part-time catering business. You go girl! (But don’t start wearing pantsuits just yet and make sure dinner’s still on the table when Uncle Jemima gets home.)

After talking to my mom about Sarah’s weaknesses, it became clear to me that no weapon formed against Palin shall prosper. Want to claim Sarah’s experience as mayor of Wasilla didn’t prepare her to be Vice President? Well I’m sorry that Wasilla isn’t “cosmopolitan” enough for you, city slicker. Want to question her on her own admission that she has no idea what the vice president does all day? Well, she doesn’t have to answer that because she’s not going to Washington to please you, Campbell Brown. She’s an outsider and proud of it, baby! She’ll live in a wigwam on the white house lawn and dry caribou jerky on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, just you wait and see.

So what’s a gay guy to do? My best friend advised that I should play the gay card. Remind my mother that Sarah Palin won’t support my right to get married or adopt kids, and that a vote for Palin is a vote against the basic human rights of her own flesh and blood. On the one hand, I don’t hesitate to point out that I can’t vote Republican because the Republicans are only hands off when it comes to helping the poor, but not when it comes to stem cells or marijuana or unwanted pregnancy or gay sex or any other moral regulation God needs help with.

On the other hand, I don’t think I can control who my parents vote for by threatening to never speak to them again and I don’t like to press my luck when it comes to their tolerance of my “lifestyle” and my “friend.” When I was 17 and my parents found out I was using their AOL account to meet guys online, I suddenly found myself on a plane to spend Christmas with my biological father in Iowa. It was the first time I ever had to spend the holidays away from home and at the time, I wondered if my relationship with my mother would ever recover. So, I’m pretty happy that they don’t spit on my boyfriend and that we’re both welcome at all major family functions these days.

In the end, I’m still not sure if my friend is right. Maybe I’m too complacent. Maybe he’s doing more for gay rights by demanding political solidarity from anyone who claims to love and care about him. It’s hard to know when you’ll catch more flies with honey. I like to think the best option lies somewhere in the middle—to speak softly and carry a lot of pamphlets. At the very least, we owe it to ourselves to be well informed and to know the views and plans of all the candidates inside and out. We may not be able to win over others with vinegar or honey, but we may be able to bring them a little closer to our side with patience and a lot of accurate information.

 Loading …

Maintaining the title of cheapest gay man in America is no easy task. We live in a nation full of pricey temptations and seductive luxuries, and at times even I find myself mesmerized by their siren song. I recently visited Zappos.com hoping to find a cheap new pair of black dress shoes. I thought my mission was sufficiently specific and that I could make it in and out in a snap. Two hours later, I was still there, obsessively examining every single item in men’s loafers. Eventually I started entertaining options that were more and more casual and before I knew it, I wondered if what I really needed was a new pair of sneakers. After 30 minutes in the casual shoes department, I found my way back to dress shoes and came across some promising options:

Lacoste Argon 3 (Not black, I realize, but the contrasting white stitching makes these so much better in brown.)

Bruno Magli Malazu (My boyfriend said I can’t buy Bruno Maglis because O.J. Simpson wears them. Plus they cost even more than these Prada frames that have been on my wish list forever and a day.)

Fitzwell Gavin (This is the kind of comfortable shoe I keep saying I’m going to start wearing to work, but I always wind up getting drawn in by something more sexy and painful.)

During my shoe hunt, I went through the many stages of purchase rationalization. First there was the, “Oh, just buy them all. You deserve it.” moment. Then I thought, “If I can find them cheaper somewhere else, that will make it alright.” Eventually, I did find the Bruno Magli’s on Amazon for $165. But by that point, I had completely talked myself out of buying any new shoes at all.

It’s not easy to know when we’ve earned the right to treat ourselves to something we want. On the one hand, I’m a big fan of mulling over any purchase for at least 24 hours before pulling the trigger. On the other hand, those Bruno Maglis that haunted my dreams aren’t available for $165 any more.

In the end, I don’t regret my decision. I hesitated because I’ve come to realize that no one at work notices my shoes, and I should probably wait until I find something that will make for a more comfortable walk to and from the train. In addition, I just finished up some summer traveling and swore I’d keep my expenses in check for a month or two before the holiday shopping season arrives. Of course, if you’d like to tell me what a horrible mistake I’m making and show your support for a particular shoe, feel free. I’m also happy to entertain alternative shoe suggestions.

In the mean time, I’m treating this as a victory against those corporate fat cats at Zappos and pitching it to the Hallmark channel as an inspiring tale of one man’s triumph over materialism. That is, until those O.J. shoes are 70% off, of course. If those babies go under 100 bucks, I will not be responsible for my behavior.