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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?”


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.



a year in my life, gossip, jry, who cares

Hot Mess in 2017

Monday, 2 January 2017 —

This morning was a fresh start to a stupid new year.  I have declared this holiday season the “perpetual holiday”.  Christmas Eve was a Saturday, Christmas was a Sunday, so of course, you had Monday off.  New Year’s Eve was a Saturday, New Year’s Day was a Sunday, so, again, you had Monday off.  How many fucking holidays do you need and how much time to you people need off, really?  I was looking so forward to coming to work today.  I am ready for this fresh, new start.  I frankly am tired of people bitching about 2016.  I thought it was alright.  Yeah, Donald Trump won the election.  I have no thoughts regarding Donald anymore.  I’m frankly tired of people talking shit about Donny.  I think Melania is too.  It seems that we’ve moved onto talking shit about Mariah now.  How dare you! I adore her.  I adore Madonna.  I adore Cher like any gay man, I guess. Donald is fair game most days, but I feel like we should give him a day off now.  I’m not saying I like the guy, but he is going to be the next president of the United States, so listen up, speak up when needed and pray for him.  Lord knows he needs all the prayers he can get…right now so does Mariah…

I got home a little after 4pm today.  I know people are going to read this or my Twitter or Instagram feed and know that I didn’t take any cancellations or later appointments.  I couldn’t care less.  I have declared 2017 the year I don’t give a fuck.  I don’t care, really.  I hope I lose friends this year.  I hope I make people mad.  I hope people get angry talking to me and storm off. I hope I give people cramps holding back shit they wanna spill to me.  I hope I get nasty emails… I’ll screen cap ’em.  I hope you send me nasty messages… I’ll screen cap those too.  I hope people get riled up this year reading blogs, tweets, and “insta”s.  I pray that this year is the year I take my verbal power back.  I am so tired of living in a calm slump.

All the Mariah-talk yesterday and today in the New York Times and other news outlets makes me sad for her.  Chances are SHE was running late and didn’t have a soundcheck with the guys from Dick Clark Productions.  Sad for her, entertainment for nasty bloggers.  Mariah and I mirror each other.  Folks love to blog about us.  They love to talk shit.  Guess what? If they’re talking shit, it means they’r still talking.  I wouldn’t shed a tear if I were her.  I’d call it a day, hug my babies and be shameless in my tweets.  Who fucking cares!

Frankly, who cares about whatever happens in 2017.  Donald is president, Mariah is a train wreck and I’m on a mission to raise hell this year.  Go get in line and buy your helmets now because there’s gonna be some debris and shrapnel this year.  Things are gonna get very interesting, I promise.  Frankly, 2017 could be kinda fun cos God knows the last two years have been snoozers.  Time to wake the fuck up and set some shit on fire.

Thanks Donald and MC, you made it alright to be a hot mess in 2017.


a year in my life, Family, spilling tea, who cares

Sunday Afternoon: Dreams and the #realman

Sunday, 27 November 2016 —

Another Sunday waking up on the couch.  Goodness.  I do a lot of couch time at my house.  It’s not like couch time at my house is bad either.  A lot of guys end up sleeping on the couch cos they were fighting with their spouses.  Me, not so much.  I’m just comfy there.  I woke up this morning nearly upset because I had a dream that Chris was yelling at me in the car, my parents were yelling at me and my esthetician was yelling at me.  What was that about?  I’m going to have to look into this.  Generally, it means they’re trying to tell you something, but I got to be sure.  I was upset and crying in the dream too.  I felt a bit defeated waking up and had a headache.  No fun.

I got up this morning like any other Sunday morning and scrolled through my email as I waited for my tea to brew.  I put my headphones on and started listening to The Juan MacLean (who I am digging hard these days).  I started cleaning the house, sipping tea and recounting this horrible dream.  Chris walked into the guest bathroom as I was getting ready to scrub and startled me.  “I had a horrible dream last night, Bubs”, I told him.  He asked me what happened and said he did too.  I think it was a nice way of shutting me up.  I don’t want to hear about anyone’s dreams first thing in the morning either.  I kept listening to the lyrics in my phone and questing why I put lemon wedges in my hot tea.  I’m not British!

Today, Chris and I are supposed to make tamales.  He’s outside changing the oil in the car.  I took a picture of him working on the car the other day and hashtagged #realman on Instagram to show people that YES Gay Men can and WILL do their own manual labor and work on cars like classically straight men or really butch lesbians .  Chris’ brother came over the other night and lit my temper on fire as Chris was working.  I had a little tantrum and stormed off to the wine bar for a glass of wine and told Chris to call someone (not his brother) to help us with the car.  Today, Chris went back downstairs and figured out what he needed to with a joyous expression and attitude.  Good, Bubs.  You show ’em.  Show everyone (family included) that you can do it! I lost my temper the other night and it’s sad to say that I’m not very sorry for doing so.  I can’t handle anyone that is a disrespectful smart ass or mumbles under their mother fuckin’ breath.  It was the Sabbath to boot!  I take “keep the Sabbath holy” pretty serious.  It means: no working on cars (that’s WORK), no attitude and don’t piss off the Sabbath-observer.  I came home that night and power drank Crown Royal and watched movies and fell asleep.  It wasn’t an ideal night of Torah study or being happy with my bubs.  It was stressed and annoying.  I’ll talk to Chris’ brother soon enough, but in the meantime, I’m still relatively pissed.  I can’t stand anyone doubting or talking down to Chris, much less, myself.

Before the tamales and before we go shopping, I have to head to the salon and do my eyebrows and finish some end of the month paperwork.  Tomorrow, I’m making an in-store appearance for Label.m and possibly demoing some looks from our Fashion Fix education, per request.  I’m back to work on Tuesday and Wednesday and then December begins Thursday.  I have to decorate the salon for Christmas and get it all going ASAP.  I’m already drained this holiday season and it just fucking started.


a year in my life, living well, spilling tea, who cares

Friday Afternoon: Grow a Pair

Friday, 19 August 2016 — 

Sitting in the salon today after taking care of paperwork, placing the color at the color bar, then taking it all off and reorganizing it (because I can’t stand a damn mess, ever) and just finished cutting’s my grandma’s hair.  She was a little “out of it”.  She says she wasn’t feeling well.  I don’t like hearing stuff like that.  It’s a summer cold, she told me, but it makes my insides twist when she talks like that.  She’s not elderly by any means, but humans are not permanent in this world, you know?  We’re having dinner tonight.  At 70-something, it’s important to me that I spend as much time as possible with her.  She loved her hair and quizzed me about what ALL the Label.m products do.

Yesterday was incredibly busy in the salon.  I was here for nearly 12 hours yesterday.  Thursdays are a different kind of beast.  That is the ONE day in the week that kills me when I “clock out” and head home.  I think Chris is used to us stopping in a drive thru after work  on Thursday nights by this point.  I don’t want to cook.  In fact, I crave a cheeseburger after a day like that. I don’t want to hear anyone ask me if it’s unkosher, paleo or gluten-free.  I couldn’t give two shits after standing for 12 hours.

My birthday party is getting closer and I’m excited to entertain.  I think that’s what I’m most happy about.  I just want people to put their lives away for one day and enjoy themselves.  No kids, no drama, no obligations.  Drink! Eat! Be merry!  That’s all I want.

The last blog shook some folks up.  I’m sure it pissed some off too.  I have never had so many messages and Facebook comments regarding “behavior” and etiquette in the salon.  I have to tell you: in 2016, it’s like folks have forgotten consideration and what it means.  Take time to set your iPhones down and enjoy the moment.  Be on time, look at your calendar and be where you’re supposed to be when you say you’ll be there.  That’s the message I was conveying.  I’m not a hateful person, really. I do have high standards though I think everyone should abide by them if they want to be anywhere near my world. If that’s too harsh, then whatever.  Quit getting so butthurt over reading a blog or peering into my Twitter or Instagram world.  Grow a pair!  I love you all, I just want you to understand that when I’m at the salon I’m all business.  I’m your friend, but I’m also a business man.  Respect me, my time and my business. I respect each of you as long as you’re kind and show up on time.

My grandma and mom have “kinda” leaked that they read my blogs.  They just shake their heads and laugh or say “well, yeah!” in agreement.

I knew I got this brashness from somewhere…


a year in my life, diary, who cares

Wednesday Afternoon: The List and the Day Off

Wednesday, 10 August 2016 — An Actual Day Off… How did that happen?

Last night Chris and I fell asleep in the living room.  I was up till about midnight watching Beth Minardi education videos on YouTube.  He was playing some game he’s been obsessed with lately.  He’s leading in score, I believe.  It’s a team sorta thing.  I was very proud of him, but don’t really know how it works.  I don’t know how much of the internet works much these days or I’m not interested, more so. I was so excited to lay down and watch YouTube videos with my earbuds in.  On a normal evening, that would never happen.  I act like I’m busier than I really am when I get home, but truth is, I’m generally very bored at home.  There’s probably something to clean, but that’s never fun to do, is it? I woke up this morning and heard Chris watching YouTube videos in the bedroom.  Poor bubs, we should have gotten up and went to bed, but I just did not want to move from my big comfy couch.

I addressed the last of my birthday invitations this morning.  I was totally thinking that the RSVP listed was August 13th (this Saturday), but it’s actually the 19th! I opened the box from Shutterfly yesterday and immediately looked at the date.  I don’t know why I was so worried.  I know I proofread these things over and over.  I always have a fear that they’ll be printed wrong or a vindictive worker at Shutterfly will purposely wanna fuck my shit up.  The menu is all planned for the party, the drink specials are in place, my goal today is to mail these suckers and get some adult party favors.  It’s funny, I am very leery of discussing my birthday party in the salon as not everyone is invited.  It’s tough narrowing that list down.  I’m not someone that invites EVERYONE. I don’t even invite most family members.  I refuse to worry about cussing too much, drinking too much or someone being offended or feeling out of place.  If I think they won’t gel, I just don’t invite them.  I love my party so much and want to have a good time on a Sunday afternoon.  Let’s hope people don’t read the blog and get sad that they aren’t invited.  Of course, it’s a Josh Cooley event, so there’s a controversy surrounding it hidden in some corner of the gossip world. LOL.

A day off in the world of Josh consists of the most menial things: cleaning the house or at least tidying up, breakfast and then like 90 minutes to two hours of reading The New York Times, checking emails and messages, social media and blogging.  After two hours, my ass gets sore and I contemplate going to the gym (I never do).  I’m hoping to get to the tanning salon today and run some errands and maybe take in lunch with Chris somewhere.  Once that happens, really it’s over.  That’s a day off.  I don’t want to discuss hair today if I can avoid it.  I don’t want to be a son, partner or best friend today either. I just want to breathe in my Joshdom.  It sounds so selfish, but seriously, I haven’t had a peaceful moment to myself since before I left for Ft. Lauderdale last month!

I have been told over and over again and again that I look tired this past three weeks.  People think they’re being sincere, but they don’t understand how fucking defeating that is to hear.  Shut up!  Do I tell you I see your circles under your eyes and you look bloated? I mean really! “You look and seem really tired, Josh”.  Is that their way of getting closer to me and pretending to break the ice for the day?

I’ll tell you what it’s not: it’s not a way to get on the list to my birthday party. Remember that.


a year in my life, diary, Family, who cares

Wednesday Night: Welcome Home, Joshua

Wednesday, 20 July 2016 — Just back from Label.m training in Ft. Lauderdale 

I woke up today at 2:46 pm.  I got home yesterday about 4am from Ft. Lauderdale.  The 2-hour difference hit my brain when I got home and thought to myself, “I’ve been up 24 hours.”  I was bitchy! Chris and Miya picked me up from the airport in Denver about midnight and we ended up having car trouble on the way home: Smoke, no oil, the whole number.  Today, Chris called the dealership to discuss this issue.  We’ve had the Fiat for 4 months in two days.  Not even a full four months in and there are already issues.  I lost my shit when I got home and slammed the door and threw my bag against the wall and said, “I just came back from a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and want to live my Label.m high and like all real-life situations, it has slapped me in the motherfucking face!” Seriously. “Why can’t one day be calm.” I think it’s Colorado.  I think Colorado is a sad place with sad people and unfortunate things happen. Time to start packing and get back on the plane.  Where should I go? I thought.

My body is readjusting to dry Colorado weather.  I am sneezing, coughing and blowing my nose constantly.  When you are in a humid environment for almost five days and come back to cornflake weather, it’s natural that your body starts to produce too much mucus to moisten itself on the inside.  Yuck!  Tomorrow, I’m back in my salon! I’m excited, but it’s going to be a long day.  I can tell. I have a full roster of clients and bill pay, pay roll and getting back on track. It’s gonna be exhausting.  I have to tell you three days of non-stop education is just like working.  24 hours clocked in education and now onto completing a full roster for the next three days. Welcome home, Joshua! I hope I shake this coughing though.  It’s rather annoying.

This morning I had a bagel and an omelette while Chris talked to people at the dealership.  I called my mom and told her I may need to borrow a car to run errands at some point.  She said to let her know, but I don’t want to have to be an inconvenience.  Car troubles can be so expensive so Chris has anxiety about the whole situation which in turn makes me irritable.  I think everything will work out, but man, I sure miss the marina, the humidity and change of scenery. I came home and the car took a shit.  I have to remind myself that all things work out in the end, they always do.



a year in my life, diary, Family, sunday, who cares

Sunday Afternoon: Sunday Routine

Sunday, 10 July 2016 —

I have a Sunday Routine in my head that I only follow on Sundays and on days off.  I am the only person that follows this routine in the world because the only record of this is in my mind.  Chris may ONE DAY crack the code.  My mom MIGHT one day as well, but I get very irritable if people don’t read my mind and know NOT TO bother me till noon or after on a Sunday or a day off.  How would they know this? Read a blog, I guess.

Sundays, I don’t set an alarm.  I am sometimes up at 8 or I’m up at 11, but I don’t believe in alarms on Sundays or days off. I wake up, make coffee, and immediately start cleaning the house.  I don’t think anyone can function or be productive in a nasty work space or living space.  From there, I head to my Mac and start looking at The New York Times and shake my head at the world and dream about living in New York or Europe because it seems to me that the United States is fucked all together these days.  We’re going to Hell in a handbasket at the press of an app.  “We need to get it together,” I think. From The Times, I move on to emails and then on to looking at both phones.  What client needs my attention today? Did my mom call?  Any friendly texts from my friends? Instagram, Twitter and Facebook come next.  More head shaking proceeds.  Blogging is my favorite round up to this social routine. I then move onto a shower, errands, lunch-dinner with Chris or mom and whatever else happens happens.  Ideally, I’d like to read a few chapters of the many books I’m into or finish a magazine I’m thumbing through.  The evening ends with reconciling emails, the schedule for the week and any paperwork I didn’t get to at the salon from the week.  It’s all very boring past this point as I don’t consider my work week “fun”, per se.  Sundays aren’t fun either.  It’s all very busy.  Today I’m prepping for my trip to Florida and need to work on my birthday party. Sunday is a day off disguised as an office day and errand day.  That little bitch is an ugly whore wearing make-up luring me into the seduction of a day off with a workday finish.  No fun, what a let-down.

I keep debating whether to put everything in a carry-on bag or actually check my luggage.  I love traveling, but the task of waiting for a suitcase pisses me off.  I look really awkward chasing my suitcase on the conveyor belt.  I look a lot like Mario chasing that damn mushroom on Super Mario Bros.  I never grow or shoot fire, but I get my clothes, flat iron and toiletries all the same.

Sundays aren’t so bad.  Chris is making me eggs.  THERE’S a plus!