Middle-Aged Women Love Me

Tonight at The Restaurant (the hip, hot one downtown where I work) I was helping out with a table of three middle-aged women who were well-coiffed and well-dressed, each with their own brand name handbags, each sucking down ice water like crazy. Throughout the evening I kept coming back to make sure they had enough water and each time they thanked me profusely for the water and made polite chatter with me. I thought nothing of it and chatted back and then went about my night.

Later they told me that they'd come in before and that they remembered me. I thought that was sweet but I didn't really think much of it at the time.

At the end of the night I poured them another glass of water and one of the women stopped me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me closer. "I just want to say that you've been so wonderful tonight and I really appreciate everything you've done for us. You're the best." She pushed a five dollar bill in my palm and folded my fingers around the money.

A minute later when I walked by the table another of the ladies smiled and flagged me down and pressed another wad of bills in my hands. "Really," she said, "you've been just great."

And these ladies weren't just being nice. I mean, of course they were being nice, but I think they were being too nice. I started to wonder if there was a reason they were drinking their water so fast. They knew I'd come back and fill their glasses. So was their exorbitant hydration all a ruse to get me to come back to their table for another look-see?

Oh my God, middle-aged women want to bear my children. I wonder what that's all about.

Clueless Girls, Smoking Professors, and the First Spring Thunderstorm

(1) Today a girl sent me a Friendster message and was totally macking on me. I'm thinking she didn't read my profile and catch that whole part about me being a homo. Or maybe she did and she's just kinky like that.

(2) Today I learned that the place to network with your professors is in the smoking pit. I'm not a smoker, but when I happened to walk out one of the side doors of the School of Journalism I found two of my (well-connected) professors talking with each other and puffing away. They started chumming around with me like I was a junior professor or something, addressing me by my first name and tossing around job connection possibilities like there was no tomorrow. Who knew that the smoking pit was the secret to success?

(3) It rained today in Minneapolis and it was gorgeous. While I was walking to class I listened to Ben Harper on my iPod and the sounds of the rumbling, rolling thunder and the ocassional flashes of lighting, accompanied by the rain slapping against my umbrella, made me unspeakably happy. There's something about the first thunderstorm of spring that absolutely does it for me. And the smell in the air after the first spring rain? Oh God, it was so good that I wanted to get it on with the nearest pedestrian. Social decency stopped me, but only just barely.

My Mom is Getting Married!

This weekend my mom is tying the knot with the man she's been in love with and dating since 1999.

This picture was taken at the top of Ben Nevis, a mountain in Scotland which is the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom. The three of us took this trip to the U.K. in 2001, the day after I graduated from high school. Hiking Ben Nevis, which takes most of a day, was a proud accomplishment for all of us.

There's nobody happier to see them get married than me. I'm lucky to have a step dad who is really, really cool and cares about me like a father would care about his son.

To my parents, ladies and gentlemen. May they have a long, happy life together.

Jessica Joins the Proactiv Team

Joining an illustrious list of career-stalled celebrities, Jessica Simpson has now signed on to be a spokesperson for Proactiv Solution, an acne treatment sold on infomercials and in Walgreens.

If you've ever stayed up late at night you may have seen Judith Light (from 1980s sitcom "Who's the Boss?") hosting a Proactiv Solution infomercial marathon, or more recently you may have seen Vanessa Williams workin' the bottles on late night.

No word yet if Jessica will get her own blurry-lens, gently lit infomercial.

If you have Hotmail you'll see Jessica's plug for Proactiv playing at e-mail inbox near you.

"I just had so much build up and so many clogged pores that once I started using Proactiv Solution, my face was just shining," Jessica says on the Proactiv web site. "When your confidence is fixed, everything else shines. I'm passionate about Proactiv because it worked for me and it gave me so much confidence. I'm a very confident woman because I love my skin." (Do you think she could use the word "confident" more in the space of three sentences?)

The best of luck to you, Jessie. And may your new campaign not foretell your career going in the direction of Ms. Judith Light and Vanessa L. Williams, 'cause those bitches is just plain outta work. Gotta make those coins, girrrl.

Spring Cleaning

Spring is finally here, faithful readers, and, as I've done every spring, I eagerly cut off my shaggy hair and got a new goddamned job! To mark the occasion, here is a picture of me walking to my new job at the Walker Art Center with my new haircut!

I can already tell that you love my new haircut so much that you're thinking about visiting me at the Walker Art Center just to see it. But you'll have to wait until April 17th because the Walker isn't reopening until then. I'm so pumped! The new space is absolutely breathtaking, and the Wolfgang Puck-run restaurant named 20.21 will be so cool. Also, mega-superstar hottie artist and filmmaker Matthew Barney of Cremaster fame was in the building tonight working something out for the opening gala on the 17th, so I'm excited to see what it is. Please come!

Egads! A Gay Kiss!

Okay, please don't disown me. I have a confession to make.

I definitely did rent the first season of "The O.C." via Netflix. And, yes, it is bullshit pop culture like everybody says, but it's also shockingly addicting. Like heroin, it gets you the first fucking time. It's like trying to eat one Pringle chip. You can't! You have to have two. And then three. And then you fucking watch the whole disc in one evening. It's very disturbing.

I'm only confessing this to you, however, because I wanted to share with you the screenshot of these two hot guys in suits makin' out. (The guy on the right plays the part of Luke's father who gets outed in the episode.)

The kiss lasts a full seven seconds of screen time, which is forever in TV world.

Why haven't shows like "Will & Grace" that have been on air for years not been brave enough to show a kiss like this when a bullshit nighttime soap opera like "The O.C." that plays on FOX is willing to do it?

Anyway, enjoy the kiss. And maybe check out "The O.C." when nobody you know is looking and you can sneak it into your place. It'll be like that stash of Oreos that nobody knows you have and you greedily eat when you watch infomercials at 3 a.m. in your boxers.

Escape to Manhattan: Four

After Braden left the apartment Christian told me that he was going to Todd’s for the evening. It took all of us quite a while to calm down after Braden had shown up out of nowhere and started a fight with Nick, but once we’d calmed down a bit Christian and Todd left the apartment looking happy and holding hands.

I felt bad for Nick because it was my fault the whole fight had happened in the first place. What was I doing wandering around the city with a strange guy and stealing kisses under the neon lights of Times Square?

“I feel really bad about what happened,” Nick said, his hands in his pockets. He shuffled his feet. “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard. It’s just that, you know, I saw him push you and I saw your head slam into the wall and I just—I guess I got protective. I don’t know. I swear that it’s not normal for me or anything like that. I don’t go around starting fights.”

I held the ice pack to my head. My head was throbbing, even after the four Excedrin. The bottle had said to take two and I figured it was going to take twice that much to take care of the headache.

“I don’t want you to think that Braden is really that kind of guy, either,” I told Nick. “I think he was just probably really stressed out after taking a red eye to get here to see me and he’s been paranoid about Christian anyway because Christian and I were boyfriends ages ago.” I shook my head. “And I was really shitty to Braden the other day on the phone. He was really paranoid about Christian and for whatever reason it just rubbed me the wrong way and I just kind of chewed him out on the phone. Then I topped that all off by walking through the door of the apartment holding your hand after he came all the way to see me when I didn’t call him after what happened to me—I mean, I can start to understand why he did what he did tonight.”

Nick leaned up against the countertop. “Do you love him?”

I looked out the window. “You know, I don’t know.” I sighed. “I really don’t know right now."

Click here to continue reading "Escape to Manhattan: Four."

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Josh & Josh Invade Ikea

Yesterday Josh and I hopped the light rail and hit Ikea to start planning what we're going to do with our new apartment. (We're moving to our hot new place on September 1st. More details to follow soon...)

Josh and I nearly shit ourselves as we browsed some of the model rooms. We picked out some of the actual pieces we want in our new place. Our bedrooms are going to rock your faces off.

Josh and I are in love with Ikea. There's no way around it.

We started getting really cozy in some of the model rooms, especially the kitchens. The picture below is of Josh and I settled into a model dining room and partying it up like we're rich and famous bitches.

He Never Copped a Feel

Listen up, Ladies and Gentlemen: Michael Jackson takes the stand in his own defense.

Is That Really Neccessary?

Sometimes when I'm up really late and I hear the neighborhood hoodlums firing their sawed-off rifles, like, really close by, I love to unpack my own weaponry and join in on the fun. Tonight, though, I didn't quite feel up to it and, for that, I'd like to publicly apologize.

Maybe next time?

Also, I do believe the transient who loudly coughs on the front stoop of my apartment building late at night can meet my faggoty ass in hell, where I hope we'll both enjoy a stiff drink together and laugh about the times when he annoyed the shit out of me while I attempted to enjoy some online porn.

*UPDATE*
Transient who loudly coughs is inside the building. This I know for sure. Yes, yes indeed: the coughing has moved, my good online friends. But I'm not worried. This happened last night, too, and I awoke this morning without a bleeding anus; I should be okay tonight, too.

I Think I'm Having My Man Period

This afternoon I started having ravenous cravings for chocolate. After I snarfed down a Krunch bar I was still jonesing for some more chocolate so I got a chocolate croissant at Caribou Coffee.

Then, just as the chocolate craving ended, I had a huge craving for some French fries. I snarfed down a (small) plate of those and then, at last, I felt my cravings calm down.

Either I am (a) pregnant or (b) having my man period. Something is going on here. I never have these cravings. I have no idea what this is all about.

Suggestions?

Behind the Scenes Tour of Gay Mecca

This afternoon I took a private, behind-the-scenes tour of the Aveda headquarters nestled in the green hills of Blaine, Minnesota. The two-hour tour was led by a 15-year Aveda veteran who got me and three friends in for a secret sneak peek into the goings on at Aveda.

We toured the laboratories where all the scents for Aveda are made and stored for worldwide distribution. We went on the production floor and saw hundreds of bottles of shampoo, hair product, and makeup being produced. We toured the business and marketing offices and saw all the cogs that make the great machine of Aveda hum and thrum like the profitable, environmentally reponsible, fabulous company that they really are.

Josh & Josh Take a Road Trip

Josh K. knitting away whilst on our fabulous road trip. Josh H. took this picture while drivin'.

Josh and I took our first road trip together today. My little nine-year-old sister is on spring break and so we took her half way to Madison, Wisconsin, where we met up with my grandparents to exchange my little sister and eat smutty snacks at McDonald's in super classy Osseo, Wisconsin.

My little sister made the musical selections for the first 125 miles and thus we listened to the "Moulin Rouge" soundtrack (which she knows backward and forward) and Britney Spears' second album "Oops...I Did It Again." Josh and I pretended like we were just going along with the whole musical scheme, but damn it if we didn't lip synch right along (just like Britney does!)

Thumbs up to road trips with the Joshes.

We're going to be taking another huge one this September...

When Physics Goes To Hell

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so "profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed).

Here's what this student wrote:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.  As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different Religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.  With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.  This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?  If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you", and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over. The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is, therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven and thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."

Lil Kim Faces Separation Anxiety

You guys, I have to confess that I'm a little worried for Lil Kim. I mean, I hear she's facing five years for her involvement in covering up information about a shooting that that involved her posse outside a radio station.

(What is it with these celebrities lying to cover shit up, by the way? Even presidents like to do it. If Bill, Martha, and Lil Kim would have just 'fessed up right away they'd have been in half the mess.)

But more than anything else, I'm worried about the separation Lil Kim may feel while she's away from her plastic surgeon. I mean, my contacts in Los Angeles tell me that those bitches are way close, especially considering all the time that Lil Kim spends in her plastic surgeon's office. I mean, Lil Kim has been named Customer of the Month at least twice.

Tell your prayer circles to keep Lil Kim in their thoughts. Prison ain't easy in the first place (can you imagine Lil Kim being some huge, fat woman's bitch in prison?) but when you feel the additional pain of being separated from your surgeon, things can get rough.

Yo mama was right. Lyin' don't pay.

When the Shark Bites

You know a made-for-tv movie is bad when a puca-shell-wearing muscle-bound Abercrombie model look-alike laughably delivers this line: "I can't believe you slipped a roofie in my girlfriend's drink!"

I'm speaking of CBS' "Spring Break: Shark Attack," which seems to count among its crew those unfortunate actors who did not make the cut for "The O.C." and, incidentally, one who did. This story, unlike "The O.C.," takes place in Florida, where, as one character warns, a man-made reef meant to attract snorkeling tourists will instead be an inviting home for hundreds of blood-hungry sharks.

But not a single goddamned person believes him until the sharks show up at a crowded beach and start eating drunk teenagers.

The best part of the movie comes after one idiot, in a moment of clarity, bottom-lines it for the rest of the cast and says: "We gotta lure 'em out to sea." So he, his girlfriend (the same one who was slipped a roofie), and the shark expert get in a motorboat and trail behind it a huge cage filled with bloody masses (I'm going to pass on the abortion joke tonight, but please feel free to add your own embellishments as the opportunities present themselves) that do indeed lure the sharks back out to sea. But, as luck would have it, something on the boat breaks and the only way to fix it is to go in the shark-infested water.

The scene: Hot boyfriend has been shot in the arm with a harpoon. By an angry shark. Or, he shot himself. Whatever. Either way, his bloody wound kept him from being the likely candidate for fixing the boat. So they send the girl in. They send the girl with a bloody wound comparable to Hot Boyfriend's in. I kept thinking "You're sending your girlfriend in the shark-infested water? Your girlfriend who could be on the rag and have a personal furry area that's bloodier than your goddamned shoulder?! What? Why don't you sacrifice the ugly shark expert?"

Unbelievable.

I didn't see the whole movie, so I probably shouldn't make any judgements based on the fifteen minutes I did see, but I'm pretty sure the previous 85 minutes were complete shit, too.

Escape to Manhattan: Three

I was really embarrassed on the ambulance ride to Mount Sinai Medical Center. I’d tried to explain that I was actually okay to the two Port Authority officers and the police officer that had been standing over me but they would hear nothing of it.

“You might have a concussion,” the police officer had said, pointing to the lump forming at the back of my head. And come to think of it, it was kind of painful. But I still wasn’t sure that the whole ambulance treatment, complete with flashing lights and roaring siren, was completely necessary.

Mount Sinai on Friday night is every bit the mess you would imagine it to be. I felt like I was stepping into a taping of “ER.” A red-haired woman with a sharp Brooklyn accent took my insurance information and immediately I started worrying what my mom would think when they contacted her and told her that I’d been brought in for treatment after a good old fashioned New York mugging.

Oh God. How cliché. A mugging? In New York? In a subway tunnel? I was bored to tears just thinking about it. More than anything I just wanted to get out of the hospital and enjoy the rest of my vacation. I also wanted my iPod, watch, and sixty bucks in cash back, but the officer who had insisted I go to the hospital had informed me that there was almost no chance of getting my stuff back.

I sighed. As I laid on a examination table with a heavy metal bib on my chest while they took x-rays of my skull I thought, ‘Well, welcome to New York.’

Click here to continue reading "Escape to Manhattan: Three."

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Holy Shit, Y'all, I'm Almost Done!

Look! Only two credits left!

Holy shit!

Good news, right? Right. But before they fill my sweaty little hands with my hard-earned diploma (a B.A. in art--could it be any more useless?), I have to do some fancy schmancy footwork to get some credits transferred from a previous college in order to fulfill some "Liberal Arts" requirements. In other words, if these credits don't transfer, they'll let me walk in May but I'll be taking summer classes up the wazoo in order to officially "graduate." It's useless hoop-jumping, if you ask me. Oy.

But: Holy shit! I'm almost done!

Celebrity Sightings at The Restaurant

For those of you who don't know, I got a job at a place we'll call The Restaurant, a hot new establishment in downtown Minneapolis. The Restaurant made the cover of a local magazine and got a great review in the big local paper. It's a great restaurant and I think everybody who works there is really proud of it.

Part of the territory with hot new places like The Restaurant includes local celebrities coming in to scope the place out.

Last night Ms. Celebrity, a local woman who's been in the spotlight for a few decades, came into The Restaurant with her significant other. She ordered a table for six, but only two sat for more than a half hour. They ordered food and started eating before the other four guests arrived, normally considered a major faux pas.

Ms. Celebrity, who is now in her fifties, looks like she may have had a thing or two "done." I felt a bit sorry for the poor woman because things did look a bit, uhm, stretched.

Ms. Celebrity finished her drinks faster than the server could get them to the table. In fact, when the drinks didn't come fast enough, she called the owner of The Restaurant over to see why the alcohol was taking so long.

Hmmm.

It's so interesting to see celebrities, even the smaller ones, out of the context that you think that you know them, and to really see that they're people like you and me, even though they may have an additional propensity for plastic surgery and a liver that's begging for a little something more.

Happy Belated St. Patrick's Day!

Watch and enjoy this insanely cool animation, ya'll, with your computer plugged in to some ghetto bass-blasting sub woofers.

Also, as an added Friday treat, I'm reposting the hilarious Oprah's Favorite Things and the bitchy but surprisingly insightful Madge as she auditions for GayTV.

Perhaps the Party Isn't Over...

After United Nations-style negotiations, we have decided to consider extending the run of our blog.

The third installment of the "Escape to Manhattan" series will be released Saturday, March 19, 2005.

Do not despair, fair gentlemen. There is always more of the Josh & Josh fabulousness to go around.

P.S. Four comments in the space of ten hours is a record for our site. Really, we didn't even know if anybody was reading. At one point we thought we were just doing it to amuse ourselves. Isn't that hilarious/embarrassing/brave/weird/
interesting?

Not So Fast, Goddamned It!

AH!

All of it sounds so final, Josh H.! That's so sad!

Let's reconsider. Call me.

-Josh K.

p.s. Jesus, guys, I had no idea you all stopped by so goddamned often.

Josh and Josh Take a Sabbatical

Ladies and gentlemen, the sad time has come to announce that Josh and Josh are taking a sabbatical. This blog is thus on hiatus until further notice.

We want to thank all of our sweet readers for the comments and e-mails we've received. We've had a great time and, rest assured, someday we'll probably be back with another cracked out blog.

In the mean time, enjoy our previous fifty posts and let us know if there's one you especially loved.

Cheers, mates! To being Rich & Famous!

--Josh and Josh

Escape to Manhattan: Two

When I woke up Friday morning in Christian’s Manhattan apartment I smiled and then closed my eyes again. I rolled around on the futon where I’d slept and fought the urge to start giggling. I was thousands of miles away from college and all of my homework and responsibilities and I had an entire unscheduled day ahead of me.

I heard the shower going and Christian singing an old Broadway show tune over the sound of rushing water. I got out of bed and folded up the futon. A few minutes later Christian emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Morning baby,” Christian said. “Why don’t you hit the shower and then we’ll go grab some breakfast?”

“Okay,” I said. “But you know, I’d be fine if we ate breakfast here. We don’t have to go out just because I’m here or anything.”

Christian laughed. “Follow me for a minute,” he said, walking toward the kitchen and motioning for me to follow. He stopped in front of the refrigerator, his chest still beaded with moisture from the shower, and grabbed the handle. “Take a peek in here,” he said, opening the door.

I looked inside and squinted. The bulb was burned out, but I could see that the fridge contained two bottles of Pellegrino water, half of a red cabbage, and a jar of Miracle Whip.

“New Yorkers don’t use their fridges,” Christian said with a grin. “We eat out.”

I grinned and eyed the contents of the fridge. “Okay then,” I said. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

It was the beginning of a day that would end in a way I would never have imagined.

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Phillip the Fabulous Takes on the World

My friend Phil is out traveling the world. Literally.

When Phil was twelve or thirteen he started saving money and sat on his growing nest egg for almost a decade. When he graduated from college he decided to take his stash of cash and travel the world for a few months.

Some people say “travel the world” and they mean that they’re going to see Western Europe and maybe even adventure into South America a bit before heading home. Phil, however, wants to try and hit at least six of the seven continents and really experience the places he’s visiting and exploring.

Phil is traveling through New Zealand and right now. (He already finished Australia.) At night he sleeps in a tent and during the day he hikes around and takes amazing pictures like the one above with Phil looking out at Mt. Cook. (It may look familiar as part of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy was filmed there.)

I love Phil. I do. But at the same time the whole thing is kind of driving me nuts. I’m sitting here in Minneapolis, just weeks from graduation and without a clear sense of what’s next, and I'm thinking, “Oh my God, Phil is out there seeing the world. He’s really doing it! People really do this!”

And then I gulp and think, “Well, what am I doing?”

How many people talk about doing the kind of thing Phil is doing and then never do it?

I want to think that someday I’ll be doing something equally as fabulous, but it’s hard to hold on to that as if the fledgling idea that someday I may do something fabulous should pacify me.

But really, Phil, I love you. And you really are fabulous.

Do You Want to Talk to Her, Or Should I?

Okay, somebody has got to talk to Kelly Osborne immediately. Uhm, could that 1960s hair get any bigger? Could she hike the boobs higher? Could she be wearing a tighter corset? Poor thing looks like a washed up drag queen. Maybe it's just because it's midterm exam time and I'm feeling a little punchy, but I just have to say that this girl... I mean, what's going on? Do you want to talk to her or should I?


And I know Paris Hilton has never really been very good at picking men (Rick Solomon from her sex tape had a big dong but lacked a lot in the face/brains department) but her new guy looks kind of heinous. And his name--I'm not kidding--is also Paris. Hmmm. I sort of wish that maybe she'd get lost like her cell phone and then not reappear. Sort of.


All I have to say about this is that some women were not meant to be skinny. I think Star Jones looks fucking scary as hell after her weight loss. Her head still looks gigantic but now she has this tiny neck and I'm afraid her head is going to go rolling of that neck and shoulders and land somewhere, still hogging the red carpet and thanking Payless Shoes for helping her pay for her wedding to that Al guy. I think Bridezilla should put a few back on, honestly. Don't you?

They Call it the "Quarter-Life Crisis"

It is when you stop going along with the crowd and start realizing that there are many things about yourself that you didn't know and may not like. You start feeling insecure and wonder where you will be in a year or two, but then get scared because you barely know where you are now. You start realizing that people are selfish and that, maybe, those friends that you thought you were so close to aren't exactly the greatest people you have ever met, and the people you have lost touch with are some of the most important ones. What you don't recognize is that they are realizing that too, and aren't really cold, catty, mean or insincere, but that they are as confused as you.

You look at your job and it is not even close to what you thought you would be doing, or maybe you are looking for a job and realizing that you are going to have to start at the bottom and that scares you. Your opinions have gotten stronger. You see what others are doing and find yourself judging more than usual because suddenly you realize that you have certain boundaries in your life and are constantly adding things to your list of what is acceptable and what isn't. One minute, you are insecure and then the next, secure. You feel alone and scared and confused.

Suddenly, you realize that the past is drifting further and further away, and there is nothing to do but stay where you are or move forward. You get your heart broken and wonder how someone you loved could do such damage to you. Or you lie in bed and wonder why you can't meet anyone decent enough that you want to get to know better. Or maybe you think you love someone but can never be too sure, and don't know what to say because you don't want to mess up something potentially good.

One night stands and random hook ups start to look cheap and ridiculous. Getting wasted and acting like an idiot looks pathetic. You go through the same emotions and questions over and over. You worry about loans, money, the future and making a life for yourself. And while winning the race would be great, right now you'd just like to be a contender!

What you may not realize is that everyone reading this relates to it. We are in our best of times and our worst of times, trying as hard as we can to figure this whole thing out.

Josh K. sent this to me today via e-mail. He got it from an old friend who thought he'd appreciate it. He did. And I did, too.

Josh K. Befriends Gay Reality TV Star

I won't say who, but our very own Josh K. has befriended a gay reality TV star. They've been swapping Friendster messages back and forth. The guy is hot, too, but it's kind of a shame that he lives all the way in California and Joshie K. is here in Minneapolis.

Still, cheers to the hot gay reality TV star, and may there be many more witty e-mails batted back and forth.