a year in my life, comedy, diary, friends, gossip, jry, luxelove, who cares

4:30 am– you bitch!

Thursday, 16 March 2017 — 4:30am

The taxing responsibility of allowing myself days off is something folks find bewildering about me.  I constantly complain about not having enough personal time and drown my sorrows in a good whisky or some vodka, maybe even a decent glass of cabernet sauvignon, but come days off, I rarely drink.  I just don’t care to be torn up on my days off. After a long day of clients, hearing their stories, talking about their brats and their over-pretentious depression about their latest look (bob or lob?), I am brain-fucked, to say the least.

It has been 14 days since my last day off.  I was last off on March 1st.  The rest of the 14 days of this month have been laced in appointments, meetings, education, sales meetings, more education, conference calls, going back to gym, drinking countless cocktails, nearly losing my fucking mind around the sixth and culminated in today: up at 8:30, banking to be done at 9, ship FedEx back to my Education Director by 9:30 for possible delivery tomorrow (FedEx said no after three phone calls to change delivery so now she’ll get it on Friday. FML), nail appointment, meet dishwasher repairman, meet landlord, find out diagnosis for old dishwasher with old dishwater still not drained on bottom, find out that I need a new one around 2:3opm.

3:00pm yesterday, Chris came home, I was answering messages and browsing Orbitz for tickets back to Plano, TX.  while I caught up on The Housewives of Beverly Hills.  

“Care to join me for lunch at Angelo’s, bubs?”

“Sure.”

It wasn’t convincing enough.

“I’m gonna go eat after I finish watching these bitches.” I said playfully.

He went to the toilet. (My reaction exactly)

3:06 we were on our way for pizza, drinks, eggplant parm, more drinks and talking about a lady wearing 1980s shorts and sipping another round of drinks.  After three cocktails, we met our friend out for another one.  Shortly after, we came home.  I set the timer for one hour.  I was determined to have a nightcap.

I don’t drink on a day off because it could easily turn into a holiday.

We went to J.Michael’s and had a beer.  Two gay men drinking beer just looks odd.  It doesn’t fit the stereotype.  I know in 2017, we’re not supposed to be happy with stereotypes, but sometimes I am!  I like being bitchy, I like holding a martini glass, I like camping it up and acting as though we’re in a British comedy.  I try to embody an episode of Absolutely Fabulous and I sip spirits and spew venom about dumb bitches I detest on Instagram and talk shit about porny-pictures of hungry bottoms waiting for a their latest sexual romp on Tumblr.  I enjoy that!  Call it a stereotype!  I like it!  I like being a bitchy gay man.  So please understand, beer just isn’t the picture I’m used to taking of myself as I pub-crawl across the City of Pueblo with my bubs.

9:04: Beers drunk.  Josh and Chris head back home to eat copious amounts of candy and play Grand Theft Auto like two young closeted gay teens before turning in like old gays with old saggy balls at 10:30pm.

Now, it’s 4:30 am and I’m up.

Yesterday I accomplished so much, I even booked my flight for Plano and scored a killer deal on a killer room at NYLO, a boutique loft-style hotel… I did, however, forget to bathe.

My apologies to anyone I hugged yesterday.

 

 

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a year in my life, diary, Family, luxelove, Uncategorized

Tuesday Evening: Thoughts and Death at Christmas

Tuesday, 27 December 2016

Well, this year is almost over.  I can’t believe it, yet I can.  In fact, I’ve already written this year off.  It’s a week of mellowing out and getting ready to face a brand new year of hopes and dreams and goals and successes.

Ya know, in 2016 I don’t think I would have done anything different. I think I would have been more honest to some folks earlier on.  I really do, but thats it.  In 2016, I learned not to let folks get too comfortable and toward the end of the year (after my birthday), I learned to pipe up and let people know that I was getting tired of their bullshit. I’m so tired of fake people and fake friends and fake family members and giving them excuses in my mind for being how they are; you’re either a really good person to me or a shithead.  That’s all there is… for me at least.

Professionally, I’ve blossomed.  I’m excited for my journey with Label.m, Rockstars + Lambs is growing and I’m learning a lot of lessons on a financial level.  I have got to get my  IRS issues under control.  I owe them some money.  I don’t keep this a secret.  I think a lot of successful people do.  Joan Rivers did when she died, but I’m not dead.  I need to pay up.  I need to stumble across a gold brick or something.  I can budget well, but I don’t know if I can possibly make as many budget cuts necessary as I need to.  Here’s what I can tell you: I will make it happen.  I always do.

Personally, I feel like Chris and I have evolved.  I feel like my parents and I have evolved.  I know that my sister and I have evolved.  She’s living with her boyfriend and his son now and its a very tough change for me.  I can’t accept her as a 29-year-old woman.  It’s tough.  She’s in full-on stepmom territory.  My Guela is getting older and I constantly count the days.  I don’t want to think about the limited time I may/may not have with her.

Then George Michael died…. omg.  

Christmas Day, Chris and I were driving to see his aunt and all of a sudden I read on Apple News that Georgie passed.  I just can’t.  I just can’t.  (Let me repeat)—- I just can’t.  I loved him.  I thought of all the horrible things that people would say about him and what he died from. People are mean to gay people when they die: they always say they died of AIDS or drug usage.  It’s so stupid.  Don’t get me wrong, the stereotypes exist: someone that fucked everyone may die of a sexually transmitted disease (gross), a drug user may have shared a needle or caused damage to their organs (not cool), but a lot of us gay people lived mostly celibate lives.  George certainly DID NOT live a celibate life… and he admitted it.

As I lay in bed last night, I thought about how I miss my mom, I’m gonna miss my grandma, I’m miss me and Adrian being little kids (even though she’s a shit sometimes), I miss George, I miss a simple life, I miss a privileged life of no worries….

Christmas day was smooth, Christmas Eve was smooth, George died smoothly according to his partner. All I want to do is move smoothly into 2017. Fuck everyone and everything else.  Let’s make some money, let’s travel, let’s eat and drink because I have learned that no matter what stage of life you are in, you’re gonna die, you’re gonna be talked about, the holidays are still gonna come and you might die then.  Don’t ever worry about what people think.  George didn’t!  My grandma doesn’t care, my mom doesn’t either and I most certainly from this point on DON’T.

 

 

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a year in my life, etiquette, Family, living well, luxelove, rules for life

Shabbat: Well-Laundered Armani

Saturday, 17 December 2016 — Shabbat

Tonight, I have a family Christmas dinner planned with my aunt, her sister, uncle, my mom and dad… possibly Chris.  Chris sits out family events quite a bit.  I don’t blame him. My mom and Chris haven’t classically gotten along in the past.  I feel like things are getting better between the two of them, but if sitting absent is more comfortable, I respect that.  I don’t particularly love it, but I respect it.  For the past few years, we have started this tradition of going out to eat the Friday or Saturday before Christmas.  I love the connection and the conversation.  We’ve tried a few new restaurants in the process which has exposed my parents to a lot of new options in the Pueblo area.

One really cool thing about Marty and Brenda living here before we arrived was that they know all of the cool, old school places that are historic or raved about by locals.  Sometimes the paint is so old in these places, you can read the age in the walls . It’s comforting.  The dishes aren’t always fancy and that’s ok.  The food has always been good, so we’re going to try a new place tonight.  I checked out their Facebook page and it looks like they have a good down-home bar and the plating is not spectacular, but people rave about their food.  I don’t think I’ll be wearing Armani tonight, but we’ll see.  I don’t want to come to Christmas dinner looking like a slob either.  If the restaurant serves our water in plastic tumblers though… that means I’m overdressed.  Even if the Armani I’m wearing is a t-shirt.

Last night I had dinner with my good friend Elizabeth.  We are into having dinner monthly these days.  We’re both salon owners, we both have a lot of fun.  Our conversations are wonderful: I talk, she listens.  I told her to stop me if I make her ears bleed.  I believe in my heart of hearts that she enjoys my company or we wouldn’t be breaking bread together. Frankly, making people laugh makes me happy.  Lately, I feel very serious and caught up in my own brain.  I really find it fucking annoying.  There’s no way I can go into 2017 sulking in self-analyzation.  I just can’t.

One thing I’ve evaluated in 2016 is the over seriousness of my own nature.  At work, I’m a powerhouse.  I border on seriousness and being funny.  I have so much on my plate that I don’t know what the fuck to do most of the time.  I feel pulled in sixteen directions all the time.  I have also been more sick this year than any other.  I had three Crohn’s flare-ups and a Bladder infection this year.  I’ve suffered from dehydration and thrown up too many times after over drinking/eating more than ever as well.  What a mess.  What an absolute mess.

I’ve been bored to tears, angered to tears, been pissed at friends, lost friends, disconnected from people I’m close to and weathered the storm of returning back to public life.  In 2017, there’s alot of changes coming: my diet has got to be more alkaline, the new love of drinking water all fucking day is a new way of life for me, telling people to leave me alone when I’m stressed is necessary and sometimes being brutally vocal and honest has got to take place.  I have never held my tongue so much as I have the last two years and frankly, the last two years has been annoying and given me a head ache because I’m afraid to offend people.  Who am I?  I had balls once. I’m such a pussy these days.  

On the flip side, I’ve fired three clients this year: two were drunk when they came in, one bounced her second check to me.  WTF, PEOPLE! All of these folks are power players in town as well.  Do they think they’re above the rules of life?  Rule #1 of life is this: Don’t be a fucking mess.  Rule #2 is don’t be so entitled that people whisper “bitch” or the c-word behind your back.  If folks are calling you nasty words, you probably ooze nastiness.  Rule #3 should be for you to get off your goddamned phones.  Really?  Facebook is not going anywhere.  Get off your phone.  You can only check-in so much!  The same people you’re tweeting would probably not even sit at a dinner table with you.  You’re diluted and delusional if you think someone on the internet is your best friend.  Gimme me a break.  It’s time to lock the phones up in a cage and get back to writing letters and talking to people again.

Part of me feels like I’m reclaiming my power.  It feels good.  I really just want my salon to do well.  I want this Label.m gig to continue to grow me and the brand in the industry.  I want to be more active again publicly, I want to lose some weight and tone up and look kind of hot for a man under 5′ 5”.  At midget-like height, you can’t gain 2 lbs!  2 pounds on me looks like Danny DeVito.  No shade on Danny, but I’m a style maker.  I’m a top colorist, I’m a blogger, I’m a speaker for a living.  You have to be pretty.  (If you’re pretty, you have to have an amazing personality!) My last few Facebook Live videos look bloody rough.  I need to tan and quit eating carbs.  I look horrible if you ask me.  I need a facelift.  

First things first: I have to get out of my own head.  My life is like my clothes, it doesn’t matter if the Armani is a button-up or a t-shirt, if it’s not pressed out and taken care of, it’ll just look a mess.  I’m not a mess, believe me, but it’s time to get the iron out and press out some wrinkles in my life.  2017 is going to be well-laundered, if you ask me.

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a year in my life, Dinner, friends, luxelove, Shabbat, spilling tea

Wednesday Afternoon: Booking, Blogging and Binge-drinking.

Wednesday, 19 October 2016 —

Today’s start was much later than planned.  I really was intending to spend some time with my mom at my parent’s house today, but I got stuck being Josh Cooley and texting, emailing and taking phone calls.  I was really preoccupied booking a model for a Facebook Live! broadcast I’m making happen tomorrow. I am really determined to be a known educator at some point in my career.  This Label.m opportunity has lit a fire under my ass to be as good and as fabulous as my friends in New York, Miami and London.  I want a piece of the online action.

I began today by cleaning up the house.  There’s not that much to clean up, but I can’t handle messy beds and dirty dishes.  I think a dirty house produces stagnant energy.  No creative person can flourish in a mess.  I don’t care what Buzzfeed tells you: a mess is counterproductive… especially for type-A folks like me.  I went through my inbox and had an email from a website that wants to syndicate my blog.  I was immediately thrilled! I was perplexed though: do we file it under “voices”, “essay”, “religion”, “lifestyle”, “comedy”, what? The idea of millions of folks reading my work worldwide via the traffic of a larger site makes me shiver with anticipation.  I could use this to my advantage to publish my book later on.

Last week, I took myself on a little solo date night while Chris worked a catering.  I went for a haircut with my favorite stylist ever Elizabeth and then had a cocktail at the wine bar.  Chris had a short stint filling in for the main bartender who is vacationing in Croatia and after a week, the owner tried to argue with Chris about how to make a double.  I’m so bored by arguments like that and I like the wine bar, so Chris being dismissed was a blessing in disguise.  I think it’s unreasonable and close-minded of the owner, but whatever, I don’t own the place.  I’ll spend money there, but I’m annoyed slightly. Nevertheless, I went to dinner at a new Italian place and was thoroughly impressed.  It was just like being in Italy! I went back to the wine bar (not so annoyed, right?) and proceeded to get messy drunk in front of another salon owner in town.  I dismissed my drunk self and fell asleep at home before Chris got home.  My buzz was so good  I was supposedly sleep walking according to Chris.  What a fucking mess! It could have been a really peaceful, alcohol-fueled Shabbat evening, but Malbec and imported Prosecco won that night.

Now, after the emails, the FaceTime meetings and the model booking, I’m sipping wine and getting ready for another Italian dinner with my mom and dad.  Tomorrow’s color ideas are in my head, but I have no commitments.  I’m slightly nervous, but so excited. Miya is going to be my cameraman.   Here’s hoping wine inspires me, not wins like last Friday…

 

 

 

 

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a year in my life, Family, luxelove, rules for life

Tuesday Evening: …Seems Calm

Tuesday, 4 October 2016 — Second Day of Rosh Hashanah 

I had lunch with my mom today at Suehiro.  She and my dad have fallen in love with the place and the nice, friendly owners.  Thank you, Lord!  It feels as though things are finally getting back to normal in my personal life.  I can’t handle tension between family members.  It’s a nice, clean start to the new year.  Two days into the Jewish new year of 5777, we’re good.  Things are smooth and I’ll be truthful and tell you that anyone that wants to add tension or drama to this ten day period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur will quickly be getting written off very fast if they want to argue without any reason or want to grudge to grudge.  I won’t write that in my own plans for the new year.   Toxicity is not allowed.  This may become a rather quiet year for me… oh god!  Is this what being a grown-up feel like? Fuck.

These past days were very fun.  I was interested to know how I was going to spend the first two days of the new year because they tend to set the mood for the entire Jewish year.  Yesterday, we went out of town, came home, napped.  Easy enough.  I was with Miya and Chris most of the day.  Miya and I went to McDonald’s earlier.  Probably not the most kosher meal, but whatever, I’m not perfect, but we got some good sister-brother time in. Last night, I came home and watched some Real Housewives on Bravo and actually got bored.  What?! I fell asleep watching Netflix with Chris.  Very comfortable day.  Today, I went to the store with my mom and the were out of everything I usually buy.  Our little Sephora is so sad.  They have two bottles and two buyers.  They can’t accommodate us.  The displays were dirty.  I’m just gonna shop online or get on a plane and shop elsewhere.  You had one job, Sephora.  Stock my shit.  I was flexible and bought some Shiseido instead of Dr. Jart products.  Please understand that this was a huge sacrifice for me.  It was also an act of maturity.  I visited a new tanning salon since my favorite one closed.  I had been going there since I was 17 years old.  The owner didn’t want it anymore.  I’ve had to be incredibly flexible the past couple of days.  Guess what? I lived.

I turned my phones on today and the messages were out of control.  People are texting, emailing, loving, tweeting and in a new different light.  It seems to me that things are shifting in the Universe.  I’m incredibly excited for that.  I have felt a shift in my friendships the last few months and I probably am to blame for some of the distance, but I think mostly, people change and we are no longer interested in each other or we need a break.  The folks that want to stick around will and everyone else is really not my concern. I’m here.  Same number, same email, same Instagram, same address, same salon.  You know how to find me.

This afternoon I got home and made some espresso in my new Bialetti espresso maker.  How Euro.  How chic.  I opened my new Japanese sleeping mask, we all three smelled it.  It feels special in texture.  I deserve special. We all do.

It’s cocktail time.  I may  have a one at home and breathe in the last of my day off as the sun sets.

Thanks to the Creator for a new year.  Rosh Hashanah this year seems calm.  Let’s keep it that way.

 

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a year in my life, Dinner, Eating Habits, etiquette, Family, Food, jry, living well, luxelove, rules for life

Thursday Evening: It’s Time To “Take” A Holiday

Thursday, 11 August 2016 — 

I’m sitting at the wine bar typing.  Chris is in Denver with Miya.  I’m all alone for the evening.  Solito pa’ moi — it’s a bit refreshing, but at on the same token, not what I expected this evening.  Miya is at a concert tonight and Chris is being a good big brother and chaperoning.  I expect to see him about midnight or one. We’ll see.  In the meantime, I’m single tonight and single now does not feel like single did when I was actually, well, single.

I’ve been talking to my clients a bit about my trip to Florida and a few have had no idea whether I was gone for business or pleasure, but lucky for me it all plays out as pleasure since I love what I do for a living.  As I was sitting with Richard at the end of my visit last month, he said he wouldn’t be able to touch base with me because was going to be “on holiday” for most of August.  He asked me where I was going for holiday and I wanted to respond to him that we don’t really do that here.  It’s sad, really.  I want to go “on holiday”!

I wonder why we don’t take holiday in the United States.  Are we addicted to work? of all things

September rolls around two days after my birthday and ever since I was a child, all I remember was that September 1st meant we were back to business: school is back in session, the Jewish High Holy Days begin soon, fashion week causes a commotion on the television and print media.  There’s a part of the world that celebrates the Jewish New Year by celebrating fashion week and a new “season”.  The television series on network television begin again, magazines are dedicated to beauty forecasts and the New York Times seems like it begins anew as well.

Every September, I revamp the website, look at pricing at the salon, drop color lines, drop services, drop retail lines, add a new line, add a new color line, refresh my game if you will.  Why in all the years have I not taken holiday, celebrated my birthday, and begun anew on September 1st?

I think, come 2017, I’m going to begin taking holiday… in August, and celebrate my birthday… in August.  Yes.  Holiday it is!

I have to tell you: working for a European company has changed my breakfast habits and ideas of “work”.  I don’t know why we don’t take more breaks, eat better food, enjoy life and live without smartphones.  I really don’t.

I am feeling a strange rebirth taking place in my life.  I don’t want to go on being so American and so obsessed with work and money.  I want to live a little.  I want to “take” holiday.  I want to “take” exercise (as the English would say).  I want to take siesta (like the Spaniards) and mostly, I want to learn to love existing again. Living to work is not the way life should be.

Save your money.  Give it your all each day. Eat good cheese, good bread, good butter.  Fuck what people say! Take a holiday, learn to breathe, learn to take a break and enjoy this life.

We only have one, my darlings.

 

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a year in my life, controversy, friends, gossip, luxelove, spilling tea

Sunday Evening: How Many F++ks Do I Give?

Sunday, 7 August 2016 —

I have done hair since I was 21 years old.  I am happily celebrating 11 years doing hair very soon.  It’s crazy to think that for a decade I have dedicated my life to a customer-service based industry.  There are so many days when the last thing I want to do is listen to one more fussy person tell what they do and don’t like about their hair; there are also the days when I couldn’t see myself doing anything different.  I originally wanted to go to fashion school and become a Creative Director or Fashion Director for a high-brow magazine.  My love of fashion is not what it once was and I think I would have become increasingly bored by the bulimia and arrogant designers and undermentioned teams that make their names the stars of Bryant Park every September. 11 years in, I can’t imagine working at another salon.  I can’t imagine not calling my own shots and I can truly tell you that 95% of the decisions made professionally for me were made directly by me, no one held my feet to the fire or killed my spirit without my permission.  The 5% of my disconnect in my career is sometimes based on location and fear holding me back.  At 32 years old, I have made the decision when the plane left Denver, Colorado to pursue this Label.m gig and to not hold myself back from achieving greatness.  All of this confidence in that decision has caused multitudes of clients and friends to ask me if I’m leaving Pueblo.  The answer is, “no… not now.”

I met my parents for lunch today at Red Lobster.  I abhor big box restaurants as most people know, but today wasn’t too bad.  The waitress was trying to be funny and I kept thanking her for her personality.  My dad, who is usually Mr. Personality, seemed less than enthused.  My mom had no concern for anything at the table besides listening to my retelling of my air travel from two and half weeks ago.  My goal was to make them laugh and shoo the obnoxious waitress away between crab legs.  The check came, I picked up the tab and all of sudden my dad sat up in excitement, “wow! Thank you! What a treat! That was nice of you.”  I was thinking to myself that the poor waitress didn’t have to perform for us, I would have entertained my own table of mundaneness. $110 later, I thanked her, handed her a $20 and headed back home.  Sometimes my parents need to remember that the service industry is a hard gig, she was only trying to do her job and do it well, a little side smile may have taken the edge off of our service.

I received an email today from a life coach we’ve been seeing once a month and evaluating if I will be seeing him past Rosh Hashanah.  As the year moves into the next and the Jewish New Year is celebrated in October this year, I (like years prior) am taking evaluation of friendships, connections, business partnerships and family matters as the time draws nigh.  Is there a need to see Blair past that point?  Am I done learning what I can from him?  I have learned from the past that where there are questions and doubt, there may be a transition coming.  We meet this week, I’m going to weigh what I’ve learned this past year with him vs what I feel like now.  Is there any further to go or are we rounding up this journey together.  I also have a few friendships that have come to my attention.  I see so many of my interests and theirs changing or even just notice how nosey some have become and how self-serving some of my business connections seem.  All of those can just move on without me, I don’t care to be in a “union” with peeps that think “What’s in it for me?” at the end of the day.  I know we need to worry about ourselves, but there comes a point when its time to let them move on in their own direction before an eyeroll sets in.  I can feel my eyes squinting in hesitation when selected individuals speak to me.  I’m not feeling anyone’s bullshit normally and lately I find myself shaking my head after selected conversations have happened.  I can’t continue to expel energy into multiple connections that don’t worry about my well being or even consider our mutual interests.  I know it sounds deep, but it’s worth looking at, ya know?  I can’t fake my affection.  If it’s not there between me and selected individuals anymore, it’s just not.  Time to move on. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you, it just means I’m not interested in continuing a fake friendship or connection any longer.

There’s a song from Erika Jayne that I keep playing in the car, on my iPod and on Apple Music called “How Many Fucks?” that just went to #1 on the Dance/Club Charts three weeks ago as I touched back down from my Label.m trip.  It seemed almost heralded as I anticipated a new era of business pairings and interests.  This year, I changed my ringtone to “Bitch Better Have My Money” by Rihanna and felt the empowerment of that song.  It’s brash, it’s catty, it’s hard lyrics summon a control that I wanted 2016 to represent.  As Rosh Hashanah approaches, I keep asking how many fucks do I personally give about what people have to think or where this new year will take me.  For once in my life, I am incredibly concerned with me and couldn’t care less who — clients, parents, friends, business connections– thinks I should do this or that.  The canvas is pretty bare at this point in my life, it’s time to add a new color or experiment with style more and pursue more.  Either you’ll follow and stay interested or you’ll stray away.  I’m really not interested in performing as hard as our waitress did today at Red Lobster for attention.

Stay tuned… things should get interesting…

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