Every year when that time a year rolls around where every other post from a gay dude mentions the movie Hocus Pocus, that dreaded battle always enters my head: do I want to walk that carnival making everyone I can crack up in amusement? Or do I want to throw funny out the window for a night and just try to snag the attention of one of the thousand sexy shirtless vampires out there? It is possible to do both? Yes. Can I? I’m not a wizard, people.
This past week I have been checked out EVERY time I’ve worked out. Like stared down. At the Gym. At Bootcamp. At Runyon Canyon. Kathy Griffin strolled right past us on that more-social-than-struggle of a mountain, but everyone was looking at me. And I got to say those words I’ve always wanted to say.
Here’s something I’ve never quite grasped. Dressing for the gym. We’ll just get this out of the way right now: the fact that I can even dress myself without being mistaken for a homeless man is remarkable. Though if someone were to throw a dollar into my coffee cup on Larchmont once in a while I wouldn’t complain.