So the President of Paraguay is in deep doo doo. He got elected on the campaign of giving the gov’t new life, a fresh start from years of corrupt leadership. Once elected, news comes out that he’s fathered a child with a woman. Then another child with a different lady. And then another. To be honest, at first this didn’t shock me. I mean, hello, we’ve had our frisky leaders before. What makes this story so amazing is that the dude used to be a priest. A priest! I suppose all those years of celibacy will get to ya eventually!

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I no longer use Match.com, but guys keep winking at me.  My friend says I need to delete the account to stop getting messages from guys.  I would do it too, but I like the attention too much.

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AIDS Walk New York is this weekend.  Will you be there?  Register NOW!

Download the podcast here!

The Chinese are overreacting – again! Due to the outbreak of the swine flu (or H1N1, as the smarty pants are calling it), they are taking extraordinary precautions in order to contain the virus. They have quarantined Mexican citizens in China and canceled all air travel between the two countries.  The Mexican government is angry, but fear taking aggressive action against the country.  One wrong move and half of the products sold in Mexico won’t be produced.  How will they push their Chinese made sombrero’s on unsuspecting American tourists on holiday in Cancun?

I’ll admit it, I fear the swine flu.  It’s in New York City!  A bunch kids in Queens caught it, they are fine.  I mean, thank God it was Queens, but it’s still scary!

My Mexican is coming from Los Angeles tomorrow!  I worry about him traveling on a plane during this pandemic scare.  Everyone on the plane will undoubtedly be staring at him because he’s a Mexican traveling on a plane.  If anybody coughs they are going to look to him.  I advised him to take percautionary DayQuill and turn down any offers of bacon.  Godspeed Miggy!

I’ve been a GChatter since it first appeared in my GMail.  That was back when you had to be invited to GMail, remember those days?  How special one felt for having GMail, so exclusive, exciting!  Facebook was similar, in order to be a member you had to have a college e-mail.  I didn’t.  But I had a GMail account!

Now everybody does, and we’re all the same in the eyes of Google.  I don’t mind conformity, but I do feel there should be some general rules of etiquette we all should follow when it comes to GChat useage.

- If you’re going to include a picture to accompany your username, make it a pic of yourself.  I don’t need NYChomie806548 sending me a chat request with a pic of Joan Crawford.  Joan Crawford is not a resident of NYC nor my homie.

- There’s no point repeatedly asking “Are you there?” if I’m not responding.  I’m not there.  Well I might be.  But I could avoiding you.  Life’s rough, deal with it!

THE BIGGEST ETIQUETTE RULE EVERY GCHATTER SHOULD FOLLOW

- Don’t write a novel.  It’s GChat, not “Let’s write a memoir” hour!  Keep it simple, keep it sweet, one or two sentences, then wait for a response.  The Gchat window is already tiny, and I don’t want to have to scroll everytime to read what you’ve written.

Phew, glad I got that my chest (or fingertips I mean).

Obviously not much!  What kind of name is Bo?  I’ve heard of Beau Bridges, I wish I had a beau, but Bo?

Bo is the newest member of the Obama family.  Bo Obama.  It just doesn’t sound right to me.

I am not the biggest fan of dogs.  It’s not that I have anything against them really, I just find them to be a little stupid.  Even with people, I hate it when somebody (or animal) depends on me too much.  Be self-sufficient, do it yourself, get the job done, whipe your own ass!  Cats do this.  Sure, you’ve got to give them kitty litter and feed them, but they always seem to be in a general state of “I got my shit together.”

I think I hate dog owners more than the actual dogs.  The other day I was talking to somebody who was telling me about other parents in her neighborhood.  She kept talking about all the babies walking outside together.  I asked how old the babies were, “only 3 or 4, but in dog years, woof!”  Why would somebody calculate a baby’s age in dog years?  Did she take the movie Benjamin Button too literally?  Then I realized she was talking about dogs in the neighborhood.  “You mean you and other dog owners, oh!”  She got offended when I called her an owner.

I hate these people.

I wonder if Bo will take a crap in the oval office?  I guess it won’t be such a big deal, I mean, that office has seen it’s share of little shits…

New York Magazine has this great feature in its current issue about noteworthy people’s arrival in NYC.  I consider myself noteworthy, so I’m sure the invitation to take part in the article from NY Mag got lost in the mail.  In any case, I shall share my story here.

I moved to NYC on Wednesday, November 17, 2004, however I didn’t know it at the time.  I worked in politics and I had just concluded a failed U.S. Senate race in Missouri.  Before my anticipated move back to Chicago, I planned on visiting my friend Lori in Philadelphia, and then my friend Dylan (and future roommate) in NYC.

I took the Chinatown bus up from Philadelphia.  Dylan told me to find the Q train, but didn’t give directions through Chinatown.  After many failed attempts at asking for directions (FYI – never ask for directions in Chinatown, everyone is either Chinese or a tourist), I finally stumbled upon the Q train.

It was late afternoon, the sun was just setting.  The Q train came out onto the Manhattan bridge.  The view of lower Manhattan took my breath away.   There was no way I was going back to Chicago.

A week later I moved into a 4-bedroom apartment overlooking Prospect Park in the Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn.  It was a total culture shock for me.  Here I was, a fat, gay, white, man moving into a predominantly black and Hasidic Jewish neighborhood with 3 straight guys from Little Rock, Arkansas.  I wasn’t in Boystown anymore!

I took a job with a closeted gay man running for Manhattan Borough President, but didn’t really do anything at the job.  I hated it, and the only reason I took it was because it paid well, I got my own office and it was in Midtown.  For the first few months in NYC all I did was work and watch marathons of TV on DVD.  Eventually I put down the pizza slice, discovered the benefits of living right on a park, and lost 100 lbs.

I owe NYC so much.  Without it, I probably never would have lost the weight or have shifted from politics to comedy.  NYC is my inspiration.

And now the American Express commercial can begin!

I don’t understand young people who act older.

Example: I know this 24 year old, who makes a big to do about getting older.  Once on the phone, she commented on the person’s age, saying, “Wow, you’re only 22, you’re a youngin,” to which he replied, “How old are you?”  She then said, “Not 22,” as if 24 were light years away.

Why are we in such a hurry to be older?  I feel like so many young people starting out feel the need to fit in, be mature, professional, and so they act way older then they are.  But yo, if you’re young, be young!  There’s a difference between being mature for your age and being of a mature age.

I am 26, which means I am professional, mature, but also enjoy stumbling in at 4AM on work night from time to time.  I have health insurance, but my 401K plan is debatable.  I pay all my own bills, but will not turn down the financial generosity of my parents when offered!

Be your age, own that shit!  And listen to some Aretha, it’ll do ya good.

I’ve always loved Panda’s.  They are cute, cuddly, and seem to have an awesome all around attitude on life.  As a kid, whenever my family would order Chinese food, I would protest, because it contained bamboo.  Our consumption of this evil food took away food from the endangered Panda’s.

I am currently in Washington, DC.  This morning I ended my run at the DC zoo, to take a gander (my first) at the Panda’s.  They are beautiful, you should see them!

99% of a Panda’s diet is bamboo.  My protest as a child was warranted, thank you very much!  Panda’s, once in captivity, lose their desire to reproduce.  In an effort to get the Panda’s to do the dirty, scientists have taken to extreme measures such as showing Panda’s videos of other Panda’s mating, and offering male Panda’s Viagra.

I never realized Panda’s had so much in common with humans.  You give a guy all the food he can eat, without fear of hunters, make em comfortable, and they lose all interest in sex.

Rosie the Panda says to Billy, “Billy, maybe tonight?”

Billy, “Give me five minutes, I just want to finish this bamboo stick”

And she waits, and waits, and waits.