On Underwear, H&M and Wanting to Be Slim, Stylish and Aloof

I’m having some underwear issues today.

The issue is that I am wearing new underwear and they seem to be a tad binding around the thighs. I’m not in any great danger of losing circulation and having to amputate my legs, but I’m slightly less comfortable than I was before putting on the new underwear.

Part of the problem is that I have massive thighs. I’ve always had massive thighs. I come from a family with massive thighs. And I am pretty sure that no matter what I do in this life or the next, I will always have massive thighs. It’s just one of many curses I have to endure.

The other part of the problem is that I bought my new underwear at H&M. For those of you who are fortunate enough to live where there is no such thing as H&M, I should explain that this clothing store comes to us from Europe and caters to people who never eat. Walking into an H&M is like walking on to the set of America’s Next Skinny Bitch. I imagine it is a nightmare even if you are not generally considered to be an obese slob. For those of us who are generally considered as such, walking into an H&M is downright ghastly.

I went to H&M over the weekend because my brother and sister were in town. We were down on Michigan Avenue, seeing the sights and doing our best to wear holes into our credit cards. Coming from California, the siblings were freezing and so, against my better judgment, we stopped into H&M so that they could cover themselves in hats, scarves, gloves and anything else that would protect them from the mild fall weather we are having here in Chicago.

And so I found myself in H&M.

At first I simply followed my siblings around, helping them determine which winter wear would work best for them. They are utterly clueless when it comes to dressing for the cold. After a while, however, I began to drift. Soon enough, I found myself in the underwear section.

The underwear selection at H&M is phenomenal – colorful, playful, sexy. As I stood looking at all the colors and patterns, I couldn’t help but notice all the other men also browsing the underwear. It was like watching a live advertisement for the quintessential gay man. They were all stylish and aloof and slim. They all had cutting edge hair styles and fantastic shoes. They all had just enough facial hair to keep anyone from mistaking them for women. They were, in short, everything I am not. And they were buying underwear from H&M.

I decided then and there that I too would buy underwear from H&M. Maybe I can never be slim, stylish and aloof, but I can certainly wear the same underwear as someone who is all those things and more. Before I even had time to think things through, I plopped down my Mastercard and walked out of H&M with six pairs of really cute underwear.

And now my thighs are paying the price.

I should have known that anything from H&M would never fit my body. I should have known that I need to stick to buying underwear from Target even though slim, stylish and aloof men never shop there. I should have known that I am not and never will be the kind of guy who can pull off cutting edge hair styles and fantastic shoes. I am not H&M material.

But at least my underwear drawer is looking a lot better these days.

On Halloween, Indiana Jones and Trick-or-Treating for Fabulous Ideas

Halloween is tomorrow. Is anyone else as surprised by this as I am? The fact that time is flying by as fast as it is may be the scarier than any witches or ghosts that are lurking in the shadows.

Halloween is a pretty big deal here in Chicago. I’ve come to the conclusion that everyone here subconsciously thinks of Halloween as their last chance to let loose before winter comes to town and ices over the city. A trigger is switched deep down in our psyches that forces us to have a good time because within a few weeks we’ll be bundled up in our respective homes, hidden from the wind, cold, snow and all social interaction.

The fact that Halloween lands on a Friday this year is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing for all those ghouls and goblins who are looking to drink the night away and not pay for it the next morning by showing up hung over to work. It’s a curse for those of us who really have no idea what to wear but will most certainly be forced to partake in the festivities. It’s a lot harder to talk your way out of Halloween when it lands on a Friday.

And so I am once again facing the Eve of Halloween without a costume. You would think that after all the times I’ve been caught in this situation, I’d have learned my lesson. Unfortunately, I never learn my lesson.

I now have a little over twenty-four hours to come up with a Halloween costume. It needs to be comfortable. It needs to be creative. It needs to be fun. It certainly needs to be cheap. And according to a friend, it needs to be something that will encourage men to talk to me.

The thought that is screaming the loudest from within my head is to go as Indiana Jones. I can wear some khakis and a white shirt. I can buy a cheap hat and a whip. It’s easy and comfortable and people will most likely get it. And if I carry a whip, my friend will be happy. Gay men like to talk to other gay men who carry whips.

Then again, I’m not a big fan of Indiana Jones so it seems a little odd to make myself up as him for Halloween. But I have no other ideas. As my friends are running around and putting together outlandish and elaborate costumes, I am busy blogging about not having anything to wear. It hardly seems like the best use of my time, but I know where my strengths lie. And they certainly do not lie in transforming myself into a Halloween spectacle.

So perhaps Indiana Jones is the way for me to go. Unless, that is, someone supplies me with a fabulous idea before Friday evening. I’m very much open to fabulous ideas. And if I get a fabulous idea and decide to use it, I might be tempted to post photos of said fabulous idea at a later date.

Then again, I may just turn the ringer off on my phone, buy a huge bag of candy and curl up on the couch to watch a horror movie marathon.

On Representation, Splits and Being the Change this Country Needs

A week from today it will all be over and it will all just be beginning. Barring any major electoral mix-ups, a week from today we will know who is going to be sitting in the White House for the next four years.

Over the weekend, my brother expressed his fears about the upcoming election. I don’t think his fears are unfounded. I don’t think his fears are unique.

He believes that if Barack Obama is elected President of the United States next week, fear and racism will lead people to do desperate things. One of these desperate things will be an assassination attempt on Obama. The news that broke a few days ago of white supremacists being caught while planning such an act only heightened my brother’s fears.

While I believe that his fears are rational, I have to admit that I don’t think the hatred toward Obama is any worse than the hatred toward McCain. And I don’t think that the hatred toward McCain is any worse than the hatred toward George W. Bush or Bill Clinton.

Any time this country faces a presidential election, this country also faces a severe split. Party affiliations, political and religious beliefs, economic status, race and all the other sensitive issues we are not supposed to discuss in polite society come boiling to the surface. As a result, we as a nation are forced to face these issues head on and see these differences in others, differences we feel are a threat to our very way of life.

No matter who the candidates are, this always has been and always will be the case.

Yes, Obama is black. Yes, Sarah Palin is a woman. But more than that, these candidates, along with all the others, represent different things for different people. For some of us, Obama represents hope. For others, McCain represents the same. And in a time when our country is in dire need of change, those representations matter more than ever.

What we need to remember is that we are all in this together. No matter who is sitting in the White House, the United States is made up of the people who call it home. That will not change. We need to embody the hope we seek for one another. We need to embrace our differences rather than fear them.

We need to be the change this country so desperately needs.

On Moves, Winks and Not Finding a Certain Kind of Love at the Madonna Concert

Let me begin by recounting what did not happen last night. I did not, by any stretch of any psychotic imagination, meet the man of my dreams. I’d be a liar if I were to say that deep down I wasn’t hoping to find him last night. There is this ongoing fantasy in my head that involves meeting an adorable man at a Madonna concert, discovering we have seats next to each other and falling in love while the Queen of Pop sings Like a Prayer.

Last night marked the fifth time I’ve seen Madonna in concert. I did not fall in love over Like a Prayer.

I did have a hopeful moment, however. Before the lights went out, a man who, in the right light, could certainly pass for adorable sat two seats away from me. He was there alone. He was all smiles and nervous energy and for more than a split second I could see us holding each other during You Must Love Me and kissing for the first time during Ray of Light. This illusion, however, was violently shattered when I looked over at my would-be lover during Vogue and saw him sitting down. Who in their right mind sits through a live performance of Vogue? Even my grandmother would be rocking that moment to the fullest.

Good night, Loner Boy. I need a man who knows when to move.

And speaking of moving, Madonna may be fifty and going through a divorce, but the woman is certainly at the top of her game. Last night I witnessed the most cheerful, energetic Madonna show I have ever seen. She was all smiles and winks. She talked to the audience. She laughed and jumped rope and rode in a Rolls Royce. She was having fun. And as a fan who has watched her become somewhat of a joyless matron over the last few years, last night’s spectacle did my heart a world of good. Perhaps I did not find the man of my dreams, but I certainly fell a little deeper in love with Madonna.

One highlight of many from last night’s show occurred when Madonna strutted down the catwalk to confront a quartet of dancers dressed as her past incarnations. There was the Material Girl bombshell. There was the Like a Virgin bride. The Open Your Heart hussy made an appearance. We even got to see the conical bra of yore. And Madonna, belting out She’s Not Me, took each one down. And yet, it was done with a playful awareness that I’ve come to miss from Madonna. Too often she has sternly turned her back on her past, but last night she let her old selves out to play and it was magical. I could almost imagine what it must have been like to see her take the stage for the first time in 1985.

Yes, Madonna had a twinkle in her eye last night that made me just a little giddy. And I jumped and danced and screamed like my life depended on it. And by the time she made her way through Human Nature and Borderline and Into the Groove and Music and Hung Up and 4 Minutes, I’d forgotten all about finding the man of my dreams.

I was there, after all, to see Madonna, and once again it was love at first sight.

On Mather, Burberry and Dr. Sparky’s 30th Birthday Wish List

In a few short weeks I will leave my twenties behind and barrel through into the next decade of my life. Unlike many, I am actually looking forward to the transition. My twenties have not exactly been roaring and I am hoping my thirties will bring a much-needed change to my life.

To set this change off, I am going to tempt the fates by presenting a birthday wish list here and now. Feel free to use this as a guideline when you are out shopping for my gift. Somethings are unattainable, but all things I desire greatly. And those who can get me the unattainable for my birthday are those I love most, of course.

Dr. Sparky’s 30th Birthday Wish List

Barak Obama as President of the United States

A more rigorous and consistent sex life

A small fortune

A smaller wiast

WALL-E on DVD

A working computer

A date with Mather Zickel

After my date with Mather Zickel, a date with someone with whom I can find love

New watches

My first professional massage

A renewed burst of creative energy

The chance to write an episode of Gossip Girl

Obligatory world peace

White cake with white frosting

Madonna to wish me a happy birthday in Atlantic City

The complete series of Rags to Riches on DVD

Jeans that fit

A property management company that is at least mildly responsive

Burberry Weekend cologne

There are a few other things I would love to have, but I don’t want to appear too greedy. Besides, I wanted to make it easy on the fates to ensure I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted.

Let the shower of gifts begin!