People Ask Me Questions

Okay, so, here’s a letter asking for advice.  I’ll try to answer it as best I can, but I’m not a doctor, okay?  Thanks for writing in, guys.

(This is what I showed the guy I’ve been stalking from Starbucks.  I finally got the guts up to approach him.)

Michael,

I’m a 21 year old college student studying abroad in Europe. About 4 months ago, I met a gorgeous man from Warsaw. He’s successful, 13 years older than me, and looks like he came out of a Brooks Brothers catalog. Shortly after meeting we began getting intimate, and it’s been that way ever since. He’s intuitive, well endowed, and extremely wealthy. My life for the past month has consisted of short weekend trips abroad to Milan, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, and Krakow – he wines and dines me at some of Europe’s finest restaurants, and provides me with gifts and amazing sex… it’s probably every gay boy’s dream – until 6 days ago.

I kind of like to know my partner’s middle names for random reasons, so while he was showering I obliged myself to his wallet and snooped around for his middle name – that’s when I found pictures of him, a woman, and a little boy. It really bugged me so the next night I checked his cell phone and found out he has been texting a woman and mentioned “the kids”. Still curious, I began doing research on him and long story short, found he is indeed married and has two little kids. I’m involved in an extramarital affair and have become an official gold digger, and somehow, I’m okay with it.


I confronted him 2 days ago and we originally began yelling and fighting about it, and he admitted it… but somehow it just makes me more attracted to him – and we ended up having the best sex ever that night. I know it’s the worst thing a boy could possibly do, but I feel really comfortable being the middle man – it’s almost an aphrodisiac. How do I separate myself from him and make a clean split? Is it bad that I don’t feel absolutely horrible that I’m actively participating in this and could potentially break a family? I know he’s been technically been using me for sex, but I’ve been sort of using him for the vanity and sex, too… so am I also a guilty/horrible person? I move back to New York City in a month, but I feel like it’s going to be the longest month of my life.

– Tut

Thanks for the letter, Tut.

Okay.  First things first.  I love you for mentioning his penis size in  your very first paragraph.  For some reason, I find that adorable/hilarious.  I bet you’re just the cutest thing, in person.

Couple of things struck me as I read this letter.

I don’t like that you snooped in his wallet and Sherlock Holmesed his phone.  That’s not cool.  Don’t do that again.  Seriously.  This man has spent time and money to make you feel good, and you’ve betrayed his trust.  I had a boyfriend snoop through my email once, and it really killed me inside.  I got over it eventually.  He was mortified that he’d done it, and I was too.  See…  that’s the thing, right?  When you snoop into someone’s private life you sometimes find out if they’re a bad person, but you always find out that you are.  I looked through my parents room once, when I was a kid, and I was mortified about it for months.  Don’t do that again.  Just…  Okay?

Okay.  Enough of the lecture.  On to your questions.

(The Starbucks guy said no.  He has a boyfriend and they’re happy.  Yes I asked if they were happy.  Shut up.)

How do I separate myself from him and make a clean split? I don’t think you will, or want to.  You’ve admitted that you have no qualms being a gold digging little twink.  Go nuts.  Unless he’s falling for you?  But it sounds like he’s got his life pretty compartmentalized.   My gut says he’s using you.  Why not use him?

Is it bad that I don’t feel absolutely horrible that I’m actively participating in this and could potentially break a family? Er…  I dunno? I mean, you don’t feel bad about it.  You said so already.  I’m not sure I could do that, but you don’t seem bothered by it.  But you’re feeling bothered about not feeling bothered?  That’s probably some sort of convoluted moral pang. It’s up to you to judge those pangs and see if they outweigh the fun, money, good sex, and ego boost.  As far as breaking up the family?  Not likely.   My gut says the wife knows about this or suspects it.  You don’t marry a gay man and then let him go out of town every weekend to different countries without having an inkling of what’s what.

I know he’s been technically been using me for sex, but I’ve been sort of using him for the vanity and sex, too… so am I also a guilty/horrible person? Yes.  I already said you were horrible for looking through his things.  Wouldn’t it be so much better not to know all this crap? Have some respect for your sex partner next time.  But seriously – no.  I don’t think you’re a horrible person.  This is what people do.  They cheat on their spouses.  They pretend they don’t know their rich, hung husbands are gay.  They fuck older guys with money for validation.  Consider this.  You’re the youngest person in this situation and therefore the most naive.  Shouldn’t you cut yourself some slack?    I doubt you’re his first or last love affair with a 21 year old.  What makes you responsible for his decisions?  Nothing.  He’s going to be doinking a twink.  It might as well be you.

You said it yourself.  He’s using you for sex.  Good.  You’re using him for sex and money and ego validation.  What a sneaky twink you are.  But just love yourself, okay?  Let this affair run its course and take stock of yourself when you get back to New York.  If you like what you see, great.  If you don’t, then make a change.

But remember.  You didn’t know this guy had this baggage when you fell in lust with him.  It’s okay.  You’re not terrible.  Love yourself a little more.  Stop looking through people’s stuff.  It’s a violation.   That’s my advice.

I think you’re beautiful.  Thanks for writing in, Jerk.

(I’m officially not stalking you anymore, Corbin.  No more photographing you and then asking Facebook if anyone knows you.  Probably.)


WednesDATE: My Way

From time to time people ask me on dates.  They see me on the internet and who knows?  Maybe they think I’m the answer to their life problems, or loneliness.   In any case – I prove them wrong:

 

Him:  Oh my God.  How did you know I was here at Starbucks? Grindr said you were 71 feet away.

Me:  I didn’t know.  I just come here to stalk a guy, and get coffee on my work break. It’s pure coincidence that we were just chatting on Grindr.

Him:  Well, sit down.  It must be fate. (pause)  Wait, you stalk a guy here at the Starbucks?

Me:  I come here because I know he comes here and I like to look at him.

Him:  So yes, you’re a stalker.

Me:  Yeah, I probably am.

Him:  So you’re working in the neighborhood?

Me:  Yeah.  On Monday and Tuesday I work in Hell’s Kitchen.

Him:  So do you work every day?

Me:  No, I…  er…   Well, kind of…

Him:  What does that mean?

Me:  I do a lot of things for money.  Comedy,  music…  I teach…  I make pies…

Him:  Pies?  Really?

Me:  Really.

Him:  What’s pie?

Me:  Really?

(pause)

Me:  It’s pastry.  It has a crust and you put fruit or chocolate or sometimes savory stuff like pork or chicken.

Him:  Don’t be smart, I know what pie is.

Me:  Oh.  Sorry.  My fault.  I probably thought you didn’t know what pie was, because you asked me what pie was.

Him:  Are you always this difficult?

Me:  Almost without fail.

Him:  I love your pic on Grindr.

Me:  Thanks.  I sent you the body picture too, that you requested.

Him:  Mmmmm.  I saw it.  You’re how old?  27?

Me:  No.  I’m a little older than that.

Him:  It’s your glasses.  Your glasses make you look young.

(Pause.  I take my glasses off)

Me:  What about now?  Do I look significantly older?

Him:  Yes.  You look much older now.

Me:  You’re just saying that to flatter me.  Charm boat…

Him: So you just want a kiss?  Nothing else?

Me:  That’s right.  It’s something I invented – it’s called a ‘kiss date.’  I meet people online, chat with them for a few minutes and then kiss them to see if there’s chemistry.  Also, I write about it online.  Be careful, I might blog about this.

Him:  Are you going to blog about this?

(pause)

Me:  I might.  It really depends on how we behave with each other.  Do you think this is a bed bug bite?  I’m paranoid about bed bugs…  It’s probably just that I burned myself on the oven rack, and don’t remember it.  I do that sometimes.

Him:  Why were you touching an oven rack?

Me:  I…  make… pies…  A pie is a type of pastry.

(pause)

Me:  You have a slight accent.  Are you from the Philippines?

Him:  How did you guess?

Me:  The accent…  Also you look like someone who has a Karaoke machine and likes illegal handguns.

Him:  That’s a stereotype.

Me:  I know.  I’m joking.  You look more like someone who would vote for an unqualified candidate from a political dynasty family that is corrupt.  I’m kidding.  You don’t look like any of that.  I’m just being salty.  I read a lot about the Philippines in the Times.  They love to cover you guys.

Him:  I’m not a nurse either, if that’s what you’re thinking.

Me:  I wasn’t, but don’t worry, there’s still time…  The hospitals aren’t going anywhere.

Him:  You’re funny, but is that appropriate?

Me:  Depends.  Are you going to pay me?  Or shoot me with an illegal handgun for singing My Way at karaoke?

Him:  Pay you for the jokes?  No.

Me:  Then I should stop giving it away for free.  This is probably not a bed bug bite – right?  It’s just a burn from the oven, I think…

Him:  My family doesn’t have a karaoke machine you know.  They just have a microphone.

Me:  Just a microphone?  Where does the music come from?

Him:  It’s programmed into the microphone.  You plug it in and the music comes out of the microphone.  It’s like an iPod plus a microphone all in one.

Me:  That sounds suspiciously like a machine to me.

Him: It’s not.

Me:  I stand corrected.  It’s probably more like a magic wand, and less like a machine.

(Long pause.  He eyes me suspiciously for a good while.)

Me:  Well, I should get back to work.

Him:  Yes.  Be sure to favorite me on Grindr.  I’m going to Amsterdam this weekend but I’ll be back soon.

Me:  Okay!  Sounds good!  I’d kiss you, but I’ve been drinking coffee.

Him:  See you soon.

Me:  Okay!

(Surprise ending:  I didn’t favorite him on Grindr)

Please enjoy this picture of my butt crack, Jerks.

 

 

 

 

 

TuesDATE: Excuse Me?

Sometimes people ask me on dates.  They see me online and they think I’m the answer to their life’s problems or loneliness.  Invariably I prove them wrong.

But, then again, sometimes people just run into me at the store, and make me smile for days.  Invariably I prove them right.

Her:  Excuse me?

Me:  What?

Her:  Well…  nothing, I guess…

Me:  Nothing’s ever Nothing.

Her: What?

Me: An old saying…

Her:  Nobody buys flour anymore.  I’m happy to see you buying flour.  Did I tell you?  I’m Seventy Two…

Me:  That’s older than me.  I’m a baker.  I bake stuff…    I’m here visiting my brother and his lovely wife and family.

Her: How’s that?

Me:  I gotta tell you, it’s pretty amazing.

Her: MY brother has a wife and family.  But he married a Roman Catholic.

(pause)

Me:  Well.

(pause)

Me:  It could have been ‘worse…”  He could have married a Muslim or a Buddhist…

Her:  Huh.  But he MARRIED a Roman Catholic

(long pause where this is supposed to set in…)

Me:  Yeah – that’s bound to be…

Her:  We never see him….  He’s always with people different than us…

Me:  Yeah that sucks…

 

(long pause.)

 

Her:  You know, my minister is gay.  Of the Baptist Church.

Me:  Is that a fact?

Her: Yes.  This IS Ohio, after all…

Me: (bewildered) Yeah, you’re right…  I forgot that it was…

Her:  He’s Gay.  And I respect that…   You…  I mean, look at you…   I’m pretty sure, if you look at it scientifically….  I mean.  Gay people are smart?  Right?

Me: I am inclined to agree with you…

Him:  That will be $15:23, sir.  Do you have a club card?

Me:  No.  I’m from out of town.

Her:  I think he can use my club card.  I’d like that…

Him:  You want to use her club card?

Me:  Do you mind if we game the system?

Him:  $13:04 please.

Me:  What’s your name?

Her:  Esther Price.  It’s very nice to meet you.

Me:  On the contrary – it’s very nice to meet you, Esther Price.

Her:  If you say so.

Me:  I do say so…

Her:  Just don’t marry any Roman Catholics…

Me:  I probably won’t…

(Enjoy the TuesDATE, Jerks)

Show Us Your Dish

I was asked to do an online cooking show.  Don’t get excited.  Or do.  It was fun and they were nice, but it wasn’t like some cheerfully lit, antiseptic gorgeous kitchen on The Food Network.  It was more like a ramshackle basement where a bunch of funny guys might hang out in some post-adolescent Peter Pan  Newcastle and pot smoke induced haze.  In other words, my kind of place.

Plus my friend Morgan Phillips lives with those guys, and he’s great.  He’s funny and supportive and is very well liked/respected in the New York comedy community.

Show us your dish is a show where four comics invite a fifth over to cook food and chat about comedy.  Nick is the host, and he’s wing-manned by Marshal and Borris.  Jesse is the camera man/editor/ tech guy.  Also, he hit on me the whole episode.  It was embarrassing.  I thought he was going to date rape me.

Next time, Jesse.

The guys were fun, and funny, and very tolerant of my comedy weirdness/political rants.  Here’s the episode:

It was the funnest thing ever.  And, as you can see, Jesse was hitting on me the WHOLE TIME.  Jesse, my eyes are up here!

Thanks for asking me, guys.  I’d come back any time!  As for the rest of you – Enjoy the Chicken Pot Pie, Jerks!!!

SunDATE: Would You Let Me Stay?

orenstein_martin_6.jpg

Jason Blaine came over to make some bread pudding.  We made it out of Blueberry Muffins from the Blue Stove Pie store in Williamsburg.  We added dark chocolate chips and cinnamon.  It was off the chain.

Also, as per request of Tara Copeland, we recorded a song that I wrote.   Tara’s a comic and an actress based out of New York City.  She’s in a new movie that opened recently.  Check her site for updates.

Okay, Tara.  Here’s a song for you.

As for the rest of you, enjoy getting Folked in the Face.  Jerks.

Feel Better, Japan

Oh Jesus.  Are you kidding me?  A BENEFIT?  I have to make and DONATE a pie?  Why?

Oh.  Japan.  That’s right.  Sorry.  I’m self absorbed.  It’s a real problem.

Of course I’ll make a pie for a benefit for Japan.  What am I a monster?   Yes.  But I’ll do it anyway.

My friend Kirk pretended to go to Japan.  About four or five months ago he started telling everyone in the New York sketch and improv communities about how he booked a show in Tokyo.  He was going to play a role in Picasso at the Lapin Agile.  It was an elaborate ruse.  He stopped coming to The Upright Citizen’s Brigade where he performs regularly while he was ‘in Japan.’  He even set up a sham tumblr where he photographed food and tried to convince people that breakfast can talk.

Sidebar:  This is Corey.  I know, right?  DOING!!  He’s a really nice guy and he helped me make the pie for the Kettle of Fish Benefit for Japan.

He’s a dancer.  He just got back from doing a dance show in Pennsylvania, and now he’s traveling around the country, judging dance contests.  That’s what he does for a living.  Pretty cool right?  He’s been asking to be on the blog for a while, and what am I stupid?  Of course he can.  He’s successful and beautiful.  (doing!)

So, back to Kirk – he claimed to have a friend from school who runs an ex-pat theater company in Tokyo.  Also, he claims that the show was written by Steve Martin, which doesn’t make any sense because why would Steve Martin write a play about a guy who’s obsessed with cake puppets and female roller derby.?? But we all went along with it.  We joked to each other things like “Oh me too!!  I’m going to Afghanistan to star in Sylvester Stallone’s performance art installation piece about British Colonialism.  He’s not even known as a movie star there!  It’s where he gets the real work done.”

We made a triple berry pie.  It had Strawberries, Blueberries and Raspberries.   I found all of them cheap and ripe at the local Korean market.  People always ask me to post recipes, but I don’t.  Mostly because I improvise a lot of my pie fillings.  Here’s what I did:  An assload of strawberries.  Like, Two big things.  A titload of blueberries: two small things or whatever.  and a little penisload of raspberries.  One tiny thing.  They’re tart and they can take over. I stirred all that together with a couple of tablespoons of corn starch, and a couple of heaping tablespoons of sugar. I put some powdered ginger to brighten up the tartness of the berries.

“Oh, I’m leaving town too!!  Me too!!  Carnie Wilson wrote an opera and we’re doing it in Dresdin in this huge bomb shelter that’s been converted to an ampitheater.   It’s about the Irish Potato Famine and Feminism.  She’s real down to earth. I hear she might bring her dad, Brian Wilson, but that’s just a rumor.”

We dotted the filling with butter.  About two tablespoons, give or take.  I eyeballed it.

I put an egg wash on the pie too – just the whites, because I’m racist.  Then I sprinkled it with cinnamon sugar.

There was a really funny improv team that performed at the benefit.  They’re called Thank You Robot.  They had a great set.  I kept mentioning to one of the team members (who I don’t know at all) that Kirk was the absolute wrong choice to host a show, and didn’t anyone realize how he was just milking this earthquake benefit to call attention to his tumblr about his fake trip to Japan.  The guy kept talking about how great Kirk is and asking me if I’d been drinking a lot.  I told him that I was totally sober and didn’t anyone realize that Kirk keeps bidding on the prizes where you get to be alone with girls?

Anyway.  I was just joking, guy from Thank You Robot.  I think Kirk was a funny, charming host.  I just like to break balls.  It’s the only real way I can show affection.  Well, that, and…  ‘pie making.’

That’s Kirk and Poupak.  Poupak runs the UCB Difference Tumblr.  They both helped organize the benefit.

Corey was fun and easy going.  It has been a while since I’ve seen him, and we had a good time together.  I’d have him back anytime.

And guys, listen.  Kirk’s not a bad guy.  He’s funny and charismatic and charming.  So he made up a theater gig in Japan, and created an elaborate hoax to support that theory – so what?  He’s my friend.  And listen, if you’re in the New York sketch/improv comedy community – I say, let’s just humor him about it, huh?  Let’s all pretend that he actually went to Japan, and actually lived through the earthquake there.  What’s the harm?  Becasue the end result was a great, fun, funny benefit.  A good amount of money was raised to help Japan, which is a real place (I checked).

I mean look at that face.  You’re not a monster are you?  Yes, of course you are, but why spoil Kirk’s fun?  He doesn’t read this blog (he thinks it will make him gay), so if we all agree, we can just pretend that he went to Japan.  That will make us kind, benevolent friends…  Because what are we, without our delusions?  We’re nothing. Artists are nothing without their delusions.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back to being an internet superstar.  Jerks.