I’m a city boy, I love the energy, excitement and thrills of living in populous areas filled with interesting characters.  But city life sometimes requires creativity in order to blend functionality and convenience into your existence.

My problem: I run to the gym to amplify the total work out gained, but my gym requires a towel (and doesn’t provide one, WTF?!?).  I need to run with as few items as possible, what am I to do?  Solution: I purchased a very cute and functional towel that serves as a head wrap (very Lawrence of Arabia), AND a towel at the gym.

I wear this urban functional towel to the gym for the first time the other day.  Sweaty from my run, I remove the towel from my head and whipe the perspiration away as I walk into the weight run.

“Where’s your towel,” a rent-a-cop security lady at the gym asks me in a Rosie Perez like, sassy way.  Excited to show her how fantastically functional this towel is, I proceed to explain the many perks of this $40 gem I stumbled upon.

“You and I both know that’s not a towel,” she says, sass in full force, hand on waist, a snap and twist couldn’t be far off.

“Don’t presume to know what I know,” I tell her, getting irritated that Blanca, that’s what I named her in my head, couldn’t understand the greatness of the towel.

Words were exchanged, things got heated, and I demanded to see the manager.  The moments that passed were awkward and frustrating, how could she question me, who was SHE to question ME?

Up the stairs came a man that could have performed as the body double for the big black guy in The Green Mile.  He wore a badge that read “Manager,” and I swear I noticed the lights flicker.  With a deep breath I asked myself, “Is this going to be my hate crime?”

“I don’t have time for this,” I protested, looking up at the urban Jolly Green Giant.  “You have wasted my time, I have meetings, important things.  Goodbye!”

I literally ran home, defeated and ashamed.  And I’m out $40 on a shit towel!

I have a high tolerance for pain. Actual pain. When it comes to emotional pain, like matters of the heart, I’m a big softy.

I once dated this guy, well, calling it dating is a stretch, we fucked around. Actually, he fucked and I accommodated.

He was gorgeous, deep, introverted, tortured soul type character. He was like most Johnny Depp characters before he did those pirate movies.

What he liked, I liked. He was into tattoo’s, I got three of em. He enjoyed alcohol, I learned unique drink mixtures (and I don’t drink!). He dug piercings, so I got a bunch of em. My tongue, eyebrow, had my ears stretched, etc.

But I wanted to do something special for him. I wanted to get a piercing that was so unique, he couldn’t help but to take notice, acknowledge my selfless act (aka deprivation) and love me in return, naturally. I got my taint pierced.

SIDENOTE: Those in the biz call it a paranium piercing, but that doesn’t sit well with me (no pun intended). Paranium makes it sound too much like a flower.

He eventually left me, for a woman! All I’ve got to show for our (my) love is a hole in my taint and a couple stretch marks from the stress weight I gained in the months following our demise. I’ve gotten rid of all of my piercings except the taint, I’m too afraid to take it out. I’m single, it would be too awkward to ask one of my friends for assistance. But it could potentially be comedy gold? Hmmm?

Everybody is not gay. That is something that may come as a shock to my homosexual friends out there. Everybody is not gay.

Many gay people will automatically assume that this celebrity or that celebrity is gay. Oprah, George Clooney, Tom Cruise, I’ve even heard Dolly Parton; all are apparently gay. Why? Or rather, how do you know? I will be the first to admit that I have poor gaydar, but I would feel safe putting money down on Dolly Parton being pretty straight. Just saying.

It’s not that we need icons. We’ve got Madonna, Bette, Cher, Barbra. And for the younger gays, they’ve got Britney, Christina, Beyonce. Placing false hope in Clooney coming out of the closest is a waste of time, don’t you think?

Next time I hear somebody say that so and so is gay, I’m going to retort with, “Really? Cause I heard that Melissa Etheridge is actually bisexual,” (nobody would believe she were straight). Or rather, “Ellen DeGeneres secretly married Dr. Phil over the weekend. Seriously. It’s a merger of talk show greatness.”

Ashton Kutcher is gay though, that rumor is true.

It’s the weekend!  Are you as excited as I am?  I’ve got a full load on my plate, but I might have room for seconds.

- Friday: I’ll be hitting up an open mic, it’s all about the stage time.  After that I’ll be going to see Family Hour with Auntie Sara at Comix, it’s going to be a blast!

- Saturday: Running, yoga, an open mic, the gym and then I’ll close out the day at the local gay bar watching my friend shake his money maker.  If you’re in the city, come to Pieces.

- Sunday: Running, the gym, going to see Cloverfieldwith my cinema club and baking Snickerdoodles (in my attempt to master the homemade version’s of my favorite cookies). 

I’m already winded. 

Have a beautiful one y’all, find the joy!

Friends, we got screwed out of a great President. 

I feel I’m at the age where everything I do is a fight between choosing the funky direction or the practical direction.  Everyday the two sides collide.  Tight jeans or loose Gap jeans?  Cute but not winter friendly Converse shoes or arch supporting Asics?  Bikini briefs or free hanging Fruit-of-the-Looms?

This debate even applies to men.  My mid-section tells me to go for the hipster guys with a funky fashion sense (and often times a peculiar odor), but lately my brain has been telling me to go for the young professional type, conservative like.  The great question is, do I go for the guy wearing khaki’s pants or the one who isn’t wearing pants?

This is only going to get worse as I get older.  What if I blended the two worlds?  Wore Converse shoes with khaki pants?  Dated the professional type while quietly wearing naughty underwear?  Hmm? 

I feel that’s just setting me up to become that creepy 50 year old with a funky gelled hair-do who has a MySpace profile that starts with, “You’re only as young as you feel.” 

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 BTW, check out Danny Leary and Shawn Hollenbach, two great comics.  I performed with them last night at the Laugh Lounge, got to know them afterwards.  Fantastic fellas! 

“Got a problem,” he asked me with a heavy New York accent/attitude.

I was reading his companion’s T-shirt. His companion just happened to be a very well endowed woman.

“Oh honey, I love your shirt,” I told her, lisp and all. I thought it best to play up the gayness in order to avoid an awkward situation with a large New Yorker who could easily have me whacked.

The gay power, or so I call it, works in most situations. To work a deal at the retail store, gay flirt with the lady behind the counter. Want to make a straight man feel important (and in return do what you need to get done but don’t want to do), then act stupid gay and he just might change your tire (not in that way). The realization on the other person’s side that, “Oh, okay, he’s gay,” immediately neutralizes a situation. I’m not saying go crazy, one must be moderate in his use of the gay power. The gay power works especially well with women of color, overweight women, jocks (yes, jocks) and a surprising amount of Radio Shack employee’s (who knew?). I’ve gotten discounted coffee’s at Starbucks, amazing cologne sample’s at Macy’s, even entrance to private parties.

Never underestimate the power of gayness!

Send me an email at HAlanScott@gmail.com

I’m horrible with men. I don’t know what to do with them. One will take an interest in me and eventually I’ll treat them like a pesky waitress at TGIFriday’s, “YES, I’m doing fine, leave me alone!”

The root of my trepidation with men comes from my FFF (Former Fat Fuck) days. In a way it was easier to date as a fatty, I compensated with humor, which made me a fantastic date. Unfortunately most of my humor was based on fat jokes. A skinny guy telling a fat joke about himself just doesn’t hold the hilarity needed to make a lasting impression.

Of course the real kicker is the type of guys that take an interest in me. I seem to attract bipolar and/or shallow guys who lack the chutzpah needed to keep up with me. The shallow behavior can easily be mistaken for confidence, but typically I don’t find out about the bipolar disorder until we’ve already moved in together and are planning to adopt a Chinese baby.

So who is my ideal man? Well, he’d have to be funny (but not funnier than me). So I guess he’d have to have a little Steve Carell in him. I’d like him to have the intelligence of Anderson Cooper with the spontaneity of Steve Martin. (Sidebar: I think I have a thing for a older guys, hmmmm?). I’d also like him to have a little Betty White in him, just cause she’s gives all in her presence that homey feeling. I wonder what this creation would look like?
Yes boys and girls, it’s Jesse Irwin, my new love and the lead singer of the Dock Ellis Band. I wrote about him and the band a couple of blogs ago, check out the video. If only Jesse knew about our love, he’d probably write a witty song about it and book a chapel in Massachusetts.

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BTW, loving the snow here in the Midwest. It’s certainly a winter wonderland.Gotta go play, peace out friends!

Send me an email at TheScottBlog@gmail.com

I have nothing to write about, life is good. I feel obligated to update. Here goes…

* Obese black ladies with kick ass voices rock my world. Seriously, rock my motha-friggin world!

* I can’t stop baking. Today I made gingerbread muffins, carrot cake and pumpkin cookies. I rule!

* Jesse Irwin is still my boyfriend.

* I started my bike training today. Ow! Totally different set of muscles. You know you have your priorities out of whack when you treat yourself to a cupcake after a work out.

* I need a date.

* Lori White is my Alicia Keys.

* Alicia Keys is everything.

Smile y’all, Christmas is just around the corner! Peace out.

Send me an email at TheScottBlog@gmail.com

I got a call yesterday from the Human Right’s Campaign (HRC) asking for more money.

“We need the support now, ENDA…,” the Employment Non-Discrimination Act,”…has passed the House and there’s a good chance that this could get signed into law. Years of work has brought us to this moment. Please, support us now as you have in the past.”

“But ENDA doesn’t include discrimination on the basis of gender identity. What about the T at the end of LGBT?”

“HRC struggled over this but eventually came to the decision that we need to act now on what is easily obtainable, and then work in the future to include gender identity.”

“I’m sorry, I support the work that HRC has done, but no longer can financially support an organization that will waiver on a faction of people that are apart of the community. For better or worse, we have adopted the transgendered community. One for all we should stand. Not one for the majority.”

The trans community never asked to be apart of the queer community, but every organization brought them into the fold, and we (and them) were the better for it. In this day and age, the trans community could benefit from the passing of ENDA more than the queer community. I have no proof of this, but I think it’s probably fair to say that proportionally more people experienced job discrimination or termination on the basis of gender identity.

I support the National Gay/Lesbian Task Force and the American Civil Liberties Union for standing up for the entire community and working towards an all-inclusive version of ENDA.

One for all and all for one.

Send me an email at TheScottBlog@gmail.com