Stuff That Makes A Gay Heart Weep

PASS OVER THE WINE AND GUILT, I'M HUNGRY

 "barukh ata adonai eloheinu melekh ha’olam bore pri hagafen"  Which means Mommy has to let out Daddy's pants after all this Brisket.

 

 

Benjamin Kissell

 

What makes a gay heart weep kosher tears quite like a hilariously bad Seder story?  Well, if you're a Gentile, I guess not much of anything [whoops] but, let's not go there.

 

I'm sure we can all laugh together at the sheer absurdity of my first Seder in college. At the time, I was a student, worked as a caterer and had a budding social life [versus my treasured nights at home with my cats these days].

 

.....

 

Outfitted in low-rise jeans, punk boots, mascara, “Dropkick Murphys” tee and a seriously fierce feaux-hawk I sauntered into the second-floor of our catering offices looking for my sunglasses (left-behind the day before after another mother-of-the-bride-batshit-crazy wedding downtown).

 

The plan was to get together with friends and hit the gay club downtown. On Thursdays it was 80s Retro Night there, hence the pseudo-punk and I was ready to get my drink on and dance to “Like a Prayer” [obligatory song for 80s Retro Night].

 

I didn’t even top the stairs before I heard an overly-enthusiastic … “BENJI!”

Now, when you hear an all-too cheerful exultation of your name [even an annoying nickname] you KNOW something fishy is up.

It was my boss, Pescha, approaching me …

 

“Bubbula, you’re free right now, aren’t you?”

“Uhm … I mean, yes, I'm not running anywhere at the moment; but I really only stopped in to pick up my sunglasses … I, uh, have plans tonight.”

[No, it is NOT apparent that I have an issue saying no to authority figures, is it?]

 

“But, you don’t have plans now?”

“No, not at this exact moment – why?”

 

“Good, because I need help downstairs; the Jewish Student Organization is coming by soon for the Passover Seder. We’re hosting it for the students who can't get home.”

“But-t, I – uh … uh, well – I guess if I don’t stay later than 7?”

Promising that the event would run no later than 6:30 that worked, it left me enough time to get all re-dolled up and to grab my friend Hana and run.

 

Changing into a cobalt dress shirt and black tie, eschewing the black slacks in favor of my jeans (two reasons:

1. none of the black slacks really fit me well, either too-small girls’ pants or the guys’ which were too big

2. the jeans were so tight I'd all-but crisco’d myself to get into them I didn't wanna think of the ordeal to get myself in and out of them in my little cubbyhole of an office).

 

 

And this was the era BEFORE skinny jeans came back ... I was totally ahead of the curve.

 

 

I grabbed a black vest just-in-case.

The Heads of the Jewish Student Organization, a young semi-cute boy and a very attractive young lady – very shiksa in her blonde hair and pale dress –  arrived and helped us lay out the Seder plates and such.

 

By the time sunset neared, the guests had arrived and gathered around 5 properly attired tables.

 

I walked the kosher wine and grape-juice to the various settings and matzo crackers as appetizers and caught at least 3 of the cute boys’ eyes darting both to crotch and ass level [hmm, Jewish AND gay?] as well as catching this REALLY sweet young guy’s eye as I proffered him the water, my crotch apparently just-below shoulder level – he blushed almost as crimson as the wine in front of him.

 

I should’ve really wondered why I was getting this attention, but I didn’t.

 

By the time I had meandered around each table, making sure all of our guests were comfortable and good, and making it back into the ante-room, I was well-aware of more than a few girls and guys outright staring at me.

 

Weird.

 

As soon as the door behind me had closed Pescha was at my side, an embarrassed grin on her suntanned Bubbe face. Hana was doubled over in a giggle-fit.

 

“Benjamin, you CANNOT go back out there like that … you are giving those poor girls [and gay boys] whiplash!”

 

It seems, the tight jeans I'd chosen to attract attention for dancing were doing their job; causing these poor Seder-goers to get whiplash from trying to stare at both my crotch and ass – which were both pronounced in them.

 

My bad. [Or a great date-catching plan - you decide.]

 

Not being able to wear a pair of the black slacks upstairs, I opted the simple-fix; grabbing a black apron and making sure it covered up my crotch and at least minimized my booty’s appearance.

 

After that? The Seder went by quietly and in proper reverence [my bulge/booty causing no more stir … but, at least, I’d like to think that my overt-sexuality had made for some good stories to be told around the next Seder table].

 

Hana and I made our excuses and re-primped and headed out. Of course, after walking the 10 blocks to get to the club from campus, we found that it was one of the arbitrary nights when the bouncer was checking IDs and I was the only 21 yr old in our group. 

 

So, we did what anyone thwarted would do: we ditched the dance-plans and did TGI Friday’s instead. Lame? A little. Fun? Definitely. A very interesting first Passover for me.

 

Moishe led the Jews on Exodus and I? Led my friends to dinner. Not quite the same, but, there you are.

 

Creepy Croc Pumps

I bet they get what they want in the boardroom!

 

 

Too Much Love For Chanel

 
A weeping Coco just rolled over in her grave. 

 
The L must be up his ass.

 

Peekaboo Eyewear and Flair Hair Visors

Not the shades OR hair you want to be seen in this summer. Contrary to what the 80's dance song sings, every day is NOT Halloween! It's three months away, come on people! Visors don't need hair and glasses shouldn't look like an alien is about to take over your body.

 

School Girl Fashion Violation

 
Seriously Baby Jane, the men with the big nets are on their way.

AIRPORT FASHION FAILURES

 

By Benjamin Kissell

AKA: Fashion Failures at the Boarding Gates

What makes this Gay Heart Weep tears of Burberry tinted horror at the Boarding Gates? Why, looking up and seeing scads of shabbily, shoddily, scantily -clad passengers hoofing it past me.

Okay, I'm not the paragon of fashion perfection and I'm far from garbed in couture [Gap jeans, white-checked dress shirt from Old Navy, Mossimo blazer and my recently coloured hair], but even I respect the Old School Flying etiquette: Dress for appeal and comfort!

Think Bogart and Bacall, not Spears and Federline.

 

Arriving at Dulles Intl Airport (at 5:20 - 3 hrs before our flight) we exited the shuttle bus to a complete visual atrocity.

Never had my eyes been accosted with so many tired, greasy and gross combinations of sweats and track-pants. By the time I arrived at my Boarding Gate, 'twas all I could do not to physically cringe each time I saw a Hello Kitty XS tee on a 40something, paunchy Japanese man.

I all-but break out the giant sunglasses to hide behind.

Now, don't get me wrong; there are numerous fine examples of fabulous flying frocks all around me - the lovely woman in pressed white slacks with vintage paisley-patterned blouse.

Or the young man in designer jeans, RalphLauren polo and matching leather jacket and shoes.

And, ooh, the lovely gay couple who seem to be striving for 'Modern Family pilot' (complete with bearded redhead and Korean baby), they're rather adorable.

Yumm! As I type, a lovely 40something woman with blown-out blonde hair strolls by in a perfect combination of 50s hat, midi-trench, slim-fit slacks and heels. She? Got the memo!

Hrmm, the 50something balding Borgnine-type in a black sweater with rainbow fishscales? [The header photo of the article] Good attempt; you get a C for effort. Of course when you pair that with a pair of brown boots (the only colour NOT in said sweater) I must downgrade to a C-.

[Sidenote: for the woman who plopped down with a just-bought copy of Nicholas Sparks' The Choice, please pick up a copy of Stuff That Makes A Gay Heart Weep for its entry on that weepiest of authors.]

But you! Mister Tatty Track Pants, Grody Navy Flip-flops [because I wanna see your nasty green toenails? I think not] and Stained Black 1998 Red Hot Chili Peppers Tee and Oil-Slick-Survivor Cap? You? Oh 'sir' you merit my super-special GayHeartsWeep Fashion Card.

I present this award to you in deference to the extreme care and choosing you obviously went through in the 2 minutes you got dressed in the dark.

I thank you for this sight as it saves me the trouble of letting my stressed stomach roil on its own.

[Writer's Note: this blog was actually written while sitting at the Boarding Gate in Dulles, on 03/26/2011]

ATTACK OF THE ABERZOMBIE HIPSTERS

By Benjamin Kissell

You know what makes a Gay Heart Weep skinny-leg jean tears of black denim? Realizing he can no longer make loud, braying laughter at the expense of the hordes of AberZombie Hipsters [hipsters who sport logos of Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, Aeropostale and American Eagle in an attempt to deny both age and lack of singularity] because he has, in fact, become one of them.

I will admit, off-and-on since 2002 I've worn a 'look', which, until recently, had been stylish enough to get me good attention and different enough not be considered a fashion zombie. However, in October 2009 I made a fatal mistake: I bought my first pair of skinny-leg jeans since 1987. Like the innocuous bite in a Zombie flick, it left only a minute trail of hinting horror for the audience.

As with any zombie infection, it spread to other aspects of me: I bought thicker-framed glasses [ostensibly to hide the dark circles and slowly encroaching fine lines under my eyes], I began sporting tighter fitting versions of my Grunge-influenced casual shirts, and because I was lazy/cheap, I didn't cut my hair, instead, I began wearing my knitted/sock hats to cover up my hair. My basic wardrobe still incorporated my nicer looks - dress casual attire - but, more and more did I appear in what can only be described as Hipster chic. G*D save my fashion soul!

I didn't realize that I had become infected, that I was carrying this awful disease within me, until I had my eyes opened by 3 factors: First, my best friend sat me down after seeing where my wardrobe had led me. Second, that the only guys hitting on me these days are the same age that I dated when I was 19-22, namely, boys that are 18-22. Twink-y, attractive boys [because, what else am I going to call guys almost a good decade younger than I am?] had begun to throw themselves at me [I know, some of you say, 'And this is a problem, how?']. And third, when I took a picture of myself at work in my "feeling sexy" outfit before a casual date with a 19 yr old. Look and judge for yourselves.

 

See? Now, take a look at me from 2002.

 

From 2005.

 

From 2006.

 

See? Wearing that kinda stuff for YEARS (or types therein). Guess that means I'm either a slow-developer OR I am the Original Zombie Hipster [does that make me their Queen?].

Levis Ex-Girlfriend Skinny Jean For Men

 
Way to go Levis! Just what all men, gay or straight, yearn to buy: Ex Girlfriend Skinny Jeans. We all want to be reminded of our ex's, thank you so much! Why not just call them "Your Hot Lover Dumped You Jeans" or "Break Up Anorexia Jeans" or how about "If You Are Not Shaped Like A Skinny Bitch Girl You Will Look Like A Hippo In A Condom" jeans.

Apparently the concept behind the "Ex Girlfriend" was born from Levis wanting to create a jean for all the men shopping in the women's department looking for girl cut jeans. [Are there really that many men crossing the aisles to buy womens jeans??? I've known a few young high school dudes in a band who did, but seriously?? ] Seemingly desperate to come up with a new style name to go with their girlie jean concept, Levis marketing monkeys somehow decided that these men who shop in the women's section would want to look as hot as their ex girlfriend. ...ummm, okay Levis, if you say so! [Marketing meeting with open bar  + bitch session about former lovers = Ex Girlfriend Skinny Jeans! Yay! Give me two pair! Do you have anything in a stalker cut?] Below is a funny Yahoo Odd News Report about it. Anchor, Greg Proops is HILARIOUS! I'm an instant fan.

But in regards to you Levis, come on. Ex-Girlfriend Skinny Jeans? Straight male hearts are going, "WTF? No way in hell! My Ex was a  bitch, why would I want to be reminded of her, let alone look like her?" and Gay hearts are weeping with a roll of the eyes: "Whatever Levis, we are onto way better designers that make amazing skinny jeans FOR MEN."

 

HOT TOPIC HAS BIEBER FEVER

 
By Benjamin Kissell

Flying the new version of a freak flag like a G6, Hot Topic shed its punk/retro/subversive feel and embraced Bieber Fever - causing millions of cool gay hearts [and soccer moms in denial] to donn black whilst weeping into their leather and Guinness [okay, for some of them, cosmotinis].

It sends this gay heart into mourning realizing that the company which made itself a name with counter-culture punk, hardcore metal rock and 80s retro has embraced such a mainstream 'pink' image. Of course, as of late the fashions coming out of the store have been more on the absurd side - Domo, It's Adventure Time, Phineas & Ferb [because, what says punk more than cute Disney characters worn "ironically"? I'm looking at you, Tinkerbell.]

Hot Topic, a company which once made billions banking on gay hearts embracing their angst, looks like it's putting its guy-liner, manscara and black fishnets back into the closet. Unless, of course, Bieber is the new punk. And if that's the case, this gay heart will weep himself into an asthma attack of biblical proportions. [Who's with me?]

Crazy Ladies on the NYC Subway Wearing Scary Hats

 
My friend Kerry was on the NYC subway and text me this Hat Violation pic of a crazy lady wearing a giant fur hat that looks like a Mongolian Battle Helmet. What made her "crazy" was her voice: she had sheet music out and was singing to herself. Hearts were weeping, ears were bleeding.

Gifts That Will Get Returned: Ugly Pajamas

 
Many gay hearts love to wear fun, novelty PJ's on Christmas Day or cold winter nights, but these blinding purple nightmares with creepy-eyed owls will not only make a gay heart weep, but send them screaming out into a snow drift. Never give a gay heart ugly PJ's, you might be unwrapping them yourself next year!

 

MARIE CLAIRE AND MAURA KELLY

 

By Benjamin Kissell

Few things make a gay heart weep into hysterics (then kick off the shoes to get into fightin' mode) quite like bullying. In the wake of the bullying-induced suicides in October [yeah, yeah, I know, 2 months later I get around to writing this] the nation focused and gay (and non-gay) hearts stood up and said 'enough bullying'.

Unfortunately, Marie Claire didn't get that memo. Despite having a huge gay heart market, sponsoring Project Runway [Oh Heidi, I'm so disappointed - auf wiedersehen] for example, Marie Claire turned on gay hearts and their staunchest supporters ... "fat chicks".

Oct 25th, MarieClaire.com posted its lovely [note sarcasm] article, "Should Fat People Get a Room, Even on TV?" by Maura Kelly. The article, a review of the show Mike and Molly, was assigned by the editors to Ms Kelly, who had never actually seen the show. [At last check, she still hadn't.]

A lovely (and pertinent) fact is that Ms Kelly is a recovering anorexic. In the article, go ahead, read it, she complains about how disgusting it is to see two overweight people on tv making out. What's the next step, saying how disgusting it is to see two gay heart men? Two women? A slippery slope. Just days after its release, two of my favourite authors - both self-described "fat chicks" (and gay heart supporters) - helped lead the charge against this idiocy. Jen Lancaster's blog I've Got Your Counterpoint Right Here, Marie Claire and Stacey Ballis' Marie Claire You Are So Dead to Me made me proud to be both a gay heart AND an honorary "fat chick" [go #TeamFatChick].

 

 
*me with Jen in 2007, we're so prom*

In an attempt to bring this to a national/international audience, Jen appeared on BBC RadioTalk with a 'certified fittness expert' [translation: complete tool] to discuss the article and its reprecussions. 45 minutes later, cut to the audience wondering if the expert was secretly Ms Kelly's bf, due to his fanaticism-like responses defending her. More than one listener asked if he got blow-by-blows from her [tacky, but funny] to keep him on her side.

In the gay heart community we embrace all kinds and sizes - from twinks to bears, lipstick to lumberjack - and it takes every one of us acting together to change this closed-mindset.

Despite her "apology" (the italicized paragraphs under the main body of her article) it doesn't feel like Maura Kelly or Marie Claire is truly sorry for insulting, bullying and alienating so many gay hearts (and honorary gay hearts). For that, they both made this gay heart weep [and tear up that adorable Emma Watson/Hermione cover issue]. Who's with me?

 

[You can follow Jen Lancaster and Stacey Ballis on twitter, there may even be archived tweets from our #MarieClaire gayheart attack. Bad, shameless, self-promoting gay heart.]

Boys Underwear For Men

 

Spotted these at Target - in the Men's Dept! I'm sure they are selling out at the West Hollywood store but I stared at them dazed and confused. My inner child was saying must have, must have, buy now....BUY NOW! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR? FIND YOUR SIZE! NOW!

Then I came to my weepy senses and actually visualized myself wearing them... and sort of threw up in mouth a little. It would be like how some dogs react to a wearing a costume. I'd stand there feeling like a moron, completley immobile, unable to move in my batman briefs.

Don't get me wrong, I love different types of underwear - briefs, jocks, boxers, and even some novelty boxers (I'll buy anything with South Park on it), but seriously, novelty briefs that look like they were rejects from the boys department? My gay heart is weeping.

And if I'm gonna wear any kind of batman underwear get up it will be for roleplay and it has to be designed by Marc Jacobs, and come with the muscle suit, sleek hooded mask, and long leather cape. Oh and I'll want some really cool Batcave-inspired toys. Batman must be fully equipped.

ummm...no. Flash is not the savior of my universe.

 

If I were to say fuck it and go with my inner boy, this would be my number two choice after Batman. Besides beig hot, Iron Man is a badass.

 

 
No way. I love spidey but these just creep me out.

 

Spongebob Snuggie

 
OH NOOOOO! THEY GOT OUR BOY! NOT SPONGEBOB! AAAAAAAAAGH!! My gay heart is weeping uncontrollably. I could not believe my burning eyes at Walgreens (hence the blurry pic). Surely Spongebob was forced to do this agaisnt his will. He would never sell out like this! ....er...oh wait...yeah, I guess he would. I already have a soft, fuzzy spongebob to throw around me and keep me cozy, and I'm happy to say it's a BLANKET, not a fuckin Snuggie. 

 

 

Realizing You Turned Into Your Mother

By Benjamin Kissell

Nothing makes a gay heart weep quite like realizing that you've seen the new thing you just bought somewhere else (on your gay heart mother) and that age-old fear rears its head: turning into her.

Even worse, is when someone else notices this first. A full-blown gay heart tantrum may occur.

Forgetting my usual pair of glasses yesterday at home, and despite having about 7 different pairs already littering my writing desk, bedside table, bureau etc, I decided 10 hours of half-ass vision was too much at work and bought another pair. A gay heart friendly purple pair [don't judge me]. 

 
*the purple doesn't translate well in blackberry photos*

Liking what I saw, I wore them again to work. Of course, a co-worker walked up and asked "Doesn't your mother have the same pair?"

[Control stabby-urge.]

It's enough to make a gay heart weep [a-and maybe throw a few hissy fits] ... but don't think I'm not still wearing them even as I type. C'mon, they're purple, wouldn't you?

 
So would my mum, guess I turned into her after all.

 
*note, couldn't find a pic of her in the same ones*