My mom tells stories by starting every sentence with, “I said…,” “Then she said…,” “And I went…,” and “I’m going…”  You’d think with that level of detail I would be able to follow, but I still don’t know who said what or where they went.

Missouri is known as the “Show Me State.”  They should amend this to, “Show Me Your Passive Aggressive State.”  Everywhere I’ve gone I’ve witnessed moments of passive aggressive awkwardness.  My brother said to my mother, “I guess I’ll just wait for coffee.”  I heard somebody say, “Wow, that’s a great parking spot, I was going for it, but I’m glad you got it!”  Probably my favorite is the bus signs all around the neighborhood, “Service terminated due to lack of funding.”

There’s no place like home.

I don’t have a dad. Well, that’s a lie, everybody has a dad. Even though I do think there’s a real possibility that I got here by immaculate conception.

My mother was probably drinking a Fresca during the hot July month in 1982, perplexed as to why she gained so much weight over the past couple of months. Whip, bam, boom, out popped the H. Actually, if you talk to my Mom, I didn’t pop out, but rather was pulled out kicking and screaming, in the process breaking three of her ribs.

My parents divorced in the late 80’s, I lived with my father for a couple year’s thereafter, until he decided that I should live with my Mom. He was around for a couple of years after that, but then in 1996, he disappeared. I know he moved to Germany, and the one time I spoke to him in the year’s since he was living in Virginia.

I’m not sad over his absence, I have a wonderful step-dad, but I can’t help but wonder sometimes what he’s up to. I think I’ve come up with a pretty good list of possibilities:

1) He’s the guy who puts the lovely chocolate mint on our pillows at hotels.

2) He’s hunting down Osama bin Laden.

3) He’s Rachel Maddow’s personal assistant.

4) He’s the cab driver that stops for you the moment it starts to rain.

5) He’s a Fresca delivery man.

I think the latter option is more likely than the others.

Wherever he is, he should remain a mystery. I like thinking about him every time I drink a Fresca rather than actually have him in my life.

Unless he’s a millionaire and needs to get rid of some dough. I’m just saying, I got a one-man show that isn’t going to pay for itself!

Many more videos to come in the weeks ahead as I learn Spanish, figure out what to do in Buenos Aires, and learn the Argentine way of life.

This Cinco de Mayo is bittersweet in light of the recent events in Arizona. I’m convinced they passed that horrible piece of racist legislation just so that the police fould make bookoo bucks in overtime pay today. Lame!

And now, the unofficial Mexican ambassador to the world (even though she’s really Spanish), CHARO!

And now a “WHO KNEW!” moment: Charo’s full name is María Rosario Pilar Martínez Molina Moquiere de les Esperades Santa Ana Romanguera y de la Najosa Rasten.

You’re welcome.

And it’s not what you’re probably thinking (at least with the VHS tapes).

For example, if they wanted to watch Die Hard, and put in the tape, they would have found the film Steel Magnolias conveniently left at the dramatic emotional breakdown of Sally Field.

Maybe they would want to listen to the Greatest Hits of Bob Marley.  They would have been surprised that Bob sounded an awful lot like Whitney Houston.

BTW - I practiced over and over the moment that I would one day be able to say to somebody, “You got a, you got a, way the you’re makin’ me, feel I can, feel I can, do anything for ya baby.”  It’s gonna happen… someday.

It’s amazing how the things we like can also be the same things that give us shame.

Naturally it got easier to be more open with my “sissy” artistic tastes, but not always.  Even today, among a bunch of homo’s, there’s a lot of shame in some circles for liking Madonna or Lady Gaga, etc.

And to that, I give you this, and kindly say, “Get over yourself and have some fun!”

I vlogged a log.  Check it out.

You see, to many Mormons, Jesus was just a good party promoter.  He “worked” as a carpenter, but let’s be honest, that was just a front to chat it up with people about his link to God.  Can you name one thing he built?  Thank you.

If you think about it, he kind of did what most people do everyday, hang out on Facebook.  Except his was a more organic Facebook, with actual pokes and verbal comments.

My mom puts it best, “Jesus is like Jay Leno, he never did a hard day’s work in his life!”

I clearly remember the first time I noticed sweat under my arms.

It was my first day of 5th grade (but everybody else’s second, my family was still on vacation for the first day of school).   I wore a maroon Arizona Jean’s Company T-Shirt that day.  That morning I noticed sweat dripping down from my armpits.  “What’s going on,” I thought?  To conceal the sweat, I began to stuff the shirt into my armpits.

Well, lunchtime eventually came and I had to stand up from my desk.  As I stood, the wet, stuffed remnants of my shirt cascaded down leaving me with two very large circles of sweat.

Great first impression.

I’m still a sweater, but I’ve since learned ways to conceal the sweat: wear black!

Being a social networking slut (follow me on Twitter), of course I use it.  I’m often distracted by where my friends are visiting (one friend makes a daily trip to the bakery.  no judgement, I swear!), and enjoy catching them in little white lies (”I swear, I really have a sensitivity to gluten, I just go to that bakery for the coffee!”).

In my case, my check-in’s paint a unique and well rounded lifestyle.  Of course I have many points from comedy clubs, I’m very high up in attendance at Crunch gym locations, and I hold my own with the FourSquare bar lovers!  My day job is at a very popular AIDS service location in New York City.  It’s a wonderful job, I love it, and I check in there daily.  I’m so close to gaining Mayor status!

So what does this say about me to somebody who doesn’t know me?  Essentially they see me as an incredibly physically fit comedian with an alcohol problem who may or may not have AIDS.

Maybe I should rethink this FourSquare thing?