Friday, June 29, 2012

Card Her

Is this girl old enough to be handling bananas in such a manner?

The Club Opens at 10:25am

Finish my NBC Writer's On The Verge application by the three o'clock deadline, or go see the first showing of Magic Mike at my local AMC?

Every day, gay men still face unprecedented challenges.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012


Like most Ephronians, I had no idea Nora was ill, but she had been on my mind the past six days. I was in New York, staying on the Upper West Side, a neighborhood she immortalized through her essays and films like You've Got Mail.  I landed Thursday morning, and by Thursday evening was already suffering Nora induced Tourettes while at dinner on Amsterdam Avenue. I regaled my friends Carly and Amy with her opinions about the city as if she and I shared a brownstone. Nora's writing makes me feel certain I was a New York Jewish mother in a past life. Some may see this as a testament to my craziness, I see it as a testament to the crazy power of a brilliant writer.

Nora was brave enough to let us know her through her words. We got to be there when she fell in love with The Apthorp, Shake Shack custard, the MetroCard bag, and e-mail. We got to be there when she fell out of love with her purse, her neck, Bill Clinton, and eventually, The Apthorp and e-mail. Above all else, we got to be there as she fell in love with modern day New York in a way no other writer has. Walking through her city, it's hard not to wonder what would Nora say about... the closing of H&H Bagels, or the addition of CNN ticker-like screens on the steps of The Met, or the poached egg and lobster croissant at Piccolo Cafe? I envisioned Nora one day opening a bed and breakfast a block off the park, where she'd offer complimentary wine and cheese from Zabar's, and assist guests in changing their dinner reservations to someplace acceptable.

As a filmmaker, Nora made movies we wanted to live in. As an essayist, Nora told stories we wanted to be a part of. As a person, Nora was someone we wanted to have dinner with. That dinner will never happen for me. But I did meet Nora once, at Amy Pascal's Brentwood home in February of 2007. We didn't actually talk. She was a guest, I was in an apron. I guess I saw her more than met her, but I stared long enough that it feels like we met. It was a birthday party for Howard Stringer, and Nora was master of ceremonies. I huddled in the corner of the tent so I could watch, but tragically positioned myself by the heater and the air singed my calves throughout Nora's speech. Then Ron Howard took the stage and Nora came and stood a foot away from me. I forgot about my burning calves; my heart began palpitating. I never thought a women could do that to my heart, but Nora proved me wrong. And yes, she was wearing a beautiful scarf that hid her neck perfectly.

Like any great artist, Nora connected us: to America, to the city, to our hearts. She approached writing with a romantic curiosity that's sure to leave countless Ephronians forever delightfully addicted to her words.

- My best friend Kate Lambert and I watched this clip together over the phone years ago, it has since brought me more joy than my therapist deems healthy. If you didn't love Nora before, get ready to fall.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Gay Garbage

The hard thing about being gay and an environmentalist is that the trash created from Pride leaves you wanting to commit a hate crime.

Proof of Pride

The problem with Pride is I never feel gay enough to belong, so this year I collected evidence to prove I'm rainbow deserving.

Exhibit A: When I text yay, my Blackberry autocorrects with gay.

Exhibit B: Texting the word yay.

Now Look In The Mirror, and Repeat

 I've found my new mantra.

Mario Batali Better Send a Card

The fact Crocs is celebrating 10 years should make any failed business owner feel even worse about himself.

Friday, June 22, 2012

Segregate The Bookshelves

I usually don't condone capital punishment...

But whoever placed Kendra's book next to Fareed Zakaria's at this bookstore should be executed, or worse, forced to read her memoir.

Samantha Don't Live Here No More

The sidewalks of the Meatpacking District used to be littered with discarded transvestite hair extensions, now they're littered with discarded baby binkies.

Sad to see a good neighborhood fall victim to such vagrants.

Marc's Monopoly

The West Village should be renamed The West Village by Marc Jacobs.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

On The Street...UWS

My New York bound suitcase has been systematically packed with items that should finally land me on The Sartorialist.

Never did I imagine I'd seek fashion validation from a straight man.

Gotta Getta Gimmick

If your feature item of the week is Arrowhead water, you need to hire a new marketing team; I'm talking to you, CVS.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

The Fountain of LaBeouf

I always assumed seeing Shia LaBeouf's penis would be a watershed moment for me, but sadly I awoke today feeling completely the same.

Applaud, or Else...

If I were Neil Patrick Harris, I'd mind my ears at next year's Tonys.


Being single in Los Angeles is so hard, I'm considering giving this woman my credit card number, expiration date, and CSC.

Homeo & Juliet

Our newest episode features comedians Amy Witry & Shelby Stockton.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Fumbling Towards Bestiality

On Friday night I attended an Ahmanson preview of War Horse, a love story about a precocious young man and his precious pony.

Or as the right-wing pundits paraphrase: a fable about the societal dangers if gay marriage becomes federally legalized.

Triple Threat

I'm equal parts intimidated by her bank account, blonde locks, and sheer stage presence.

Fanny Fan

This photo proves if you study hard at the gym, you can make a fanny pack seem sexy.

Catch J.Ro LIVE this Saturday at The Metropolitan Room PRIDE Show in NYC. (34 W. 22nd St. 9:30pm)

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Love! Valour! Jealousy!

To celebrate Pride, I finally watched Love! Valour! Compassion!

It left me longing to own a lake house, a tutu, and six bitchy friends.

Mercedes Mantra

To the owner of this Mercedes 560 SL...

Before embarking on any first dates, opt for your BMW.

Magic Marketing Misconduct

In a disturbing misappropriation of power, Facebook has sold my gay information to the marketing team behind Magic Mike.

I feel severely targeted, ghettoized, and grateful.

Teenage Dream

To celebrate Pride, the Screening Exchange invited me to join hundreds of thirteen year old girls at an advanced screening of Katy Perry's 3-D movie.

This is so much cooler than any parade.

Everyone Is Succeeding But You

If you're not staffed on a show, reading will require a stronger dosage of Zoloft.

Unibrow Studies

Recently, I performed improv at a local elementary school, where I discovered second graders are painting Frida Kahlo renditions.

I didn't even know who Frida was until college, and that's only because Salma Hayek hosted SNL to promote the movie.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Madagascar Lane

Dear Dreamworks PR Team,

Driving behind these characters in rush hour traffic does not make a moviegoer think fondly of them. 


1998 Gold Chrysler Convertible

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

The Fabulous Bakery Boys

This weekend in Chinatown, I spotted the cutest same sex wedding cake couple, ever!

Damn, Girl!

Am I getting desperate, or is Madea getting hotter?

Serial Scott

Sometimes I think The Sartorialist moonlights as a high brow serial killer, like Hannibal Lecter or Walter Sickert.

Gosling Handwriting

Drive woulda been cooler if it hadn't employed Lucida Handwriting.

Too Ja Rule for School


It's official. Rims are getting trashier.