Have you heard of the new fad in social networking?  It’s called FourSquare, and it’s basically a more interactive Yelp.  How it works is when you’re out and about, you jump on FourSquare and check in, maybe write a little thing about what you think of the place.  Then your friends get a pop up on their phones letting you know where you are (weird!), and what you think of the place (who cares!).  The more you visit a place, the more points you get, resulting in you eventually becoming Mayor of a particular location (and owning that shit!).

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?

My mother will whisper things she doesn’t think are appropriate to say out loud. I remember once, when talking about female wrestlers, she said in a regular volume, “You know most of them,” and then whispered, “lesbians.”

I don’t know if this is a uniquely American thing. When I studied in Germany I wanted a bagel, but there never were any to be had. Lots of other pastries, but no bagels. I asked why, but they never gave a reason other than, “we do not eat them.” But let’s be honest, Jews are famous for their bagels, but they’re famous in Germany for other reasons. So there they just avoid rather than whisper.

What’s amazing is that usually when people whisper things they think might offend others, it’s almost always in the company of like minded people. For example, my mom will say, “So I went to my hairdresser,” and then whisper, “she’s black,” standing around 4 upper-middle class white women in their 50’s. I have a feeling they probably have said/heard worse.

Perhaps Obamas ascendancy to the Presidency will squelch the use of the unnecessary whisper. It would sound a little silly to say, “Obama is the first,” and then whisper, “black President.” But maybe part of the Obama strategy was to fool all of those middle aged Midwesterners into thinking he’s just very tan, I mean, they did play up the fact that he’s from Hawaii. It’s conceivable they had no idea he’s… well, you know… black, shhhh.

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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.

I’ve seen 2 Broadway shows this week. Color me cultured, right? I saw Jane Fonda in 33 Variations and then Shrek: The Musical last night. Really enjoyed both. Jane Fonda is hot, enough said. I think I shall pick up her auto-bio, she’s kinda, sorta, fantastic! And Shrek was just fun, plain and simple.

But Shrek wasn’t without a little awkwardness. Of course a lot of children were at the show, which was lovely. It was so nice to hear a kid laugh at a fart joke. That sound of utter enjoyment of something, without pretense, is amazing. Kids are so pure, I love that about them. Adults get tainted by social norm shit.

Anyway, I digress. At intermission I had to use the restroom. Standing at the urinal doing my thing, I was bookended by children. They were both at crotch level, overtly staring at what I had to offer. As I stood there, I just kept telling myself, “Do not look down Scott, don’t look down.” First off, my gay hat and scarf combo screamed faggot (however, the clogs probably were enough of a spotter), and secondly, I didn’t know if there dad wasn’t standing behind me. It literally could have been a hate crime waiting to happen.

But alas, I made it out and alright and enjoyed the rest of the show. Phew, that was a close one!