The E! True Hollywood Story - Praz

My cynical mood was cleared this morning when I fell upon a home movie of Praz from the pop sensation duo Nick & Praz.

..but first lets investigate some history.

Nick and Praz rose to fame in 2006 when their single Picture climbed the charts and spread across the airwaves of America like wildfire. Other number ones followed such as Don't go Breakin' My Heart, Ain't No Mountain High Enough, and I Gotta Man.


After further success on American Idol, Nick & Praz took a new direction when they decided to air a reality show on VH1's Tuesday prime time lineup. There Nick, as well as the rest of the world, came to face with the cold truth of the Praz that none of us had seen before...

A seemingly fair and trustworthy Praz fell to temptations of greed when she forgot the cameras were rolling...



It's no secret that Praz has almost always demanded the attention of the spotlight.

There were warning signs in Praz's stardom to fame - raving outbursts which date all the back to some very early staged performances.

Tragedy ensued one day when a 4 year old Praz refused to participate in a home video production with her brother and some neighborhood kids.
There chaos unfolded before the grace of god..

There was language. There was hitting..



Recently, Nick Walsh has found success outside of Nick & Praz as co-anchor of Facebook's Face the News.




The show was a major hit with many Facebook viewers, however a visibly saucy and agitated Praz had a different take of opinion in light of what other Facebooker's had to say..

(also see the popup at the start of the second minute of the FTN video.)


Praz's former manager Patricia McQueeney was quoted in saying,

"It should be said that the title of Praz's hit blockbuster film from last summer seems ironically befitting to her situation."


More headlines succeeded Praz in spring of 2008.

"Praz was yesterday seen at 1 PM PCT drinking a bottle of tequila in her yellow Lamborghini while parked outside the Face the New Studios. Nearby groundskeepers reported seeing a Louisville Slugger perched in her lap. Also, there are further speculations of her concealing a taser in her Marc Jacob's bag. More coverage on this later."





I'm so bored during lunch.

today.

Little ideas get in my head, flirt with other ideas, sometimes mate, and then one day I'll be walking down the street or doing dishes or computing when all of a sudden my mental water will break and a little thought-baby will be born unto me.

but i have to keep them to myself for now. ok?

time to go home.

only trouble is... gee wiz... i'm dreaming my life away.

I like looking at the innocence and purity of what music once was; men singing of broken hearts dressed in fully buttoned up suits and slicked hair. It seemed so much more honest then. In addition to my summer list for a pocket gay will be listening to records by Frankie Lymon, Connie Frances, and the Everly Brothers all summer long.

There is a fine thin line of constructive therapeutic alone time as opposed to reclusive hibernation.

Healthy alone time - reading a copy of Albert Camus's The Stranger in Roselawn cemetery on blue skied afternoon amongst the aura of calming nature - and while entertaining other assorted thoughts.

Questionable alone time - sitting in sweat pants upon my bed, reading back articles of The New Yorker on a blue skied afternoon while consuming Lean Pockets - and while entertaining other assorted thoughts.

An excerpt of today's self talking points:

conscious voice: knock off the solitary confinement, nicolas. your going back to the city soon enough. go out and enjoy what the beautiful day has to offer.

neurotic voice: but I'm constipated by my surroundings and cynical of its inhabitants so this seclusion satisfies me more so. there will be other beautiful days.

Neurotic voice is usually victorious due to having more valid claims.

Though all pseudo analysis aside, I should feel fortunate that I am not a frumpy housewife/mother from a square state that's living in such a comatose. Though I suspect I would need to hear more voices to qualify as such.

I recently posted an advertisement on Craigslist for a running partner. Before that, I made a posting to find like minded friends within the area. I had no interesting results with the exception of a seemingly nice introverted boy called Adam, whom I added to my MySpace.

Basically what I am desiring is a partner to experience 10 year old outdoors therapy with on a regular basis. I recently inherited a vintage Japanese racing bike. I want someone to ride bikes with around neighborhoods and parks, as well as someone to confide random observations to one other with. Maybe even chase an ice cream truck if it just beguiles our fancy. Just a companion to have when other friends are not always around.. It seems like a refreshing enough thought - at least in my mind.
The replies to my running post were of the typical gay men fashion that dulled my senses in the same way passing by an Abercrombie & Fitch store does to me - coming to face with and breathing in the trite, pungent aroma of lack of individuality.

An example of one reply:
Hey whats up? I wanna go to this crazy marathon n chicago and need to train your plan sounds great and hope i can join you. My name is dustin and live in royal oak 2. By the high school. u should get a pic with this email if not i can send more. 24yr wguy n fit shape. cool goffy guy here. give me a call if i can run with you. would like the challenge and inspiration. 248***-**** Peace -dustin

I have always held a fast and steady rule - I can only run with 24 year olds that didn't cheat on their remedial reading homework.

Now after receiving more of these e-mails of same or lesser quality, then conceptualizing the idea at hand some more I concluded it's more logical to save myself the time and embarrassment to seek people over the Internet in this style. It would of been more practical to put an advertisement in a Facebook note to those I already am acquainted with in some minimal kind of way. However, there comes these spontaneous inclinations I have on occasions where I want to be more outwardly convivial with society, but then I get slapped back into reality when I can only find guys that withhold diametrically opposing views of narcissistic attitudes than my own. I don't mind being judged so much, but not by gay men of the caliber that would likely be prone to mistaking my awkwardness as stupidity. I could imagine it would be difficult to recognise clairvoyance in ones character when one is blinded and consumed by brands that eradicate almost all displays of singulaity.
I know what it especially feels like to feel socially inept on a first impression; it would so much more consoling to come across a likewise understanding with someone I can sympathise with in respect to such ways of being.... Perhaps I just need to leave the suburbs altogether to attain more of that.
Speaking opportunely of which:
Last night, a friend of a friend of whom I met at the end of my stay in Prague contacted me and offered a room for rent at a nice happening area in Chicago at a reasonable rate. I would have to inform her by the end of the month if I would be willing to accept the offer, sign the lease, and move in on July 31'st. I am considering this.

Wouldn't it be nice...

I despise writing oh poor me blogs, but after the day I have had it seems to be the direction it's going to go in. Throughout much of my life, I have been dependent upon people in upsetting ways.

The perspective of a 13 year old onlooker: watching his mothers numerous sobbing and pleading demonstrations to her invective boyfriend to not leave her (even after he beat her own son). I eventually began to mimic those ideas in desperate situations with my ex boyfriends. When both of my relationships ended - I demanded of both of my boyfriends to be there for me at my time of bereavement. I usually don't like to ruminate on those memories on the kind of person I once was, or what I had seen as a boy to cause that development of mind.

I eventually decided to disassociate myself completely of all depend-abilities concerning people. I made a solemn vow to myself that when I left for Europe that I wasn't going to desire emotional needing. I was moving to a country I had never seen beyond pages of books, a place where I didn't speak the language - but none of that mattered, I was going to endure. I swore that I was going to be a self sufficient force of dynamical proportions that was going to be eternally changed for the better. That of course in hindsight was absolutely ludicrous of me to configure up. It was the state of mind I was in though (just skim the blogs I made before the last three). I had just undergone quite a distressing amount of loss and I felt it was the necessary way to be.

But on the contrary, it also worked in more ways than I bargained for. It had such a powerful effect actually that I now find that demanding to need people out of times of vulnerability is to be a complete defect of character by my understanding. As a result, I am having difficulty sympathising with such humanistic point of views with others along with considering the concept of asking that of someone else to do such for me... I absolutely have no problems with people coming to me in a time of need because I empathise so greatly for others. However when it comes to asking emotional strength from people I care about - I perceive it as if it's some carnal sin. I know I need to remind myself I am not in Prague anymore and that I actually have people here with whom I can trust my feelings to. My female friends that is no trouble, but with men it is especially dissimilar. All thanks to former relationships and my evasive father.

For no particular reason today, I wanted to let my dad know I loved him. Something interfered with that though (as it has been for the last 11 years). Basically I am what my father exudes in certain ways; he is divorced and he is a hard pressed for his feelings from it. By this, he lives in seclusion and in his own little figments of boyhood. He will be this way until he dies. I resent him for staying that way for the last decade as well as the obviously indifferent attitude he has maintained towards me.

Truthfully, if I didn't have friends like Stephanie to whom I can rationally explain such problems to I feel I would be quite the hopeless case right now. She reiterated to me she noticed a major change in my demeanor, that I have been blossoming in the ability to be more outward with myself in the past few weeks. She assures me of the credit that I can never give myself. She has more vision, defiance, and good will in her that I can only hope to exhibit. I don't ever boast about people like that, but if I didn't I feel as if I would be doing a great unjust to her. She is someone I do need in my life and is family to me.

I am trying to believe that doesn't make me an inadequate person - to need people in moderation (something I never of which had appropriately modeled for me). I still have quite a long way to go on many issues. I need to get over the anxiety I feel every time I see a beat up grey car out of the corner of my eye, and not allow myself to be overwhelmed with tension and fear that it's my ex. I need to build a system of trust. I need to learn that I needn't have to run far away because there are people already here that see merit and an eloquence within me.

On a unrelated note, I do feel the need to run away from here. Here, as in Oakland County. It was a beautiful blue skied day today, and my mood was heavily fazed. I walked alone through downtown Hazel Park and I took a rather concentrated notice to what an absently dispiriting place it is. Hazel Park is a dried up ghost town of what was once the model of a picturesque 1950's Leave it to Beaver suburbia. There are still standing appliance stores and bicycle shops, which seems to mirror reality as we know it like outdated dreams. As an observer, I felt like Enid from the graphic novel Ghost World.

As if upon my promenade I should find the blear old man on the bench that has been patiently waiting for the bus out of town; the one that stopped coming years ago.

rephrase that dyslexic czech boy.

I would make youtube videos in Europe for everyone back home so I would feel less forgotten. I didn't particularly love making them because I saw myself as, for lack of a better word, silly (I already seem awkward enough as is when out of the public eye of video). I became more sullenly introverted in Prague over time and it showed through the course of passing months as well as in the chronological order of these videos. Even my speech began to suffer. For instance, notice below in the last video of my walking into work; I used the wrong preposition - "this is the business office to the school I work at". As a result of frequently listening to Czechs broken English then combined with my own neurotic disarraying thoughts, I had succumbed to casual gibberish without even my realising. I couldn't use too large of a vocabulary around clients because it would go beyond their intellect of English - which could be humiliating for them and myself. The typical conversations I had on most days other than work was going into one of the 300 bakeries/sandwich shops throughout Prague, and making my order with carefully enunciated speech followed by gawky hand gestures.

1."Dobry den.... (good day)

2. I... want...two(point up two fingers with one hand and the other hand signals the item of choice) of these... please....

3. Yes (nod).. Take away.

4. Na shledanou (thank you)."

Day in and day out I often felt functionally impaired.
It's more perturbing than it may seem.

I love the way you talk to me...

Like a grade school fantasy, I told myself in my going to Europe I wasn't to return home to the States until I was married to an English boy and my paperwork for citizenship was in the final stage of review. I couldn't quite bag Daniel Radcliffe but through my experiences in England and Prague I had the opportunities to connect with a fair share of blokes. Some as platonic friendships and some were more deeper that that. Here are the better few:

Neil and Andy are boyfriends in their late 20's. They live in Leicester, which is the largest city in the East Midlands of England. They own a house together. Neil works in an administrative office setting and Andy is a store manager for Topman, the stand alone business counterpart of Topshop which caters exclusively for men's clothing. I acquainted with Neil through MySpace; we both share a passion for the Titanic (the actual history of it, not the DiCaprio film). When I initially arrived in Europe they were the ones that first greeted me at Heathrow. Sure it felt awkward at first but they were all well and polite. They had a derisive style of humour that made me feel comfortable quickly. Andy hadn't met many Americans or someone of an accent of my Yankee type, so consequently he often would mock my speech jokingly. That was fine by me (at times I couldn't quite decipher a few comments he said either). I also saw how the twos underlying wit contributed to their relationship. I have noticed similar findings with other committed gay couples, American and English alike, that share both a love and a mortgage together (which can really seal the deal). They often find humour in teasing each other because they seem to know their subtleties and quirks to a tee. Of course this can be found within heterosexual relationships as well but watching gay men do it, let alone English gay men - it's much more entertaining. The idea of entering into that seems convenient and discouraging at the same time, but with a English boy it seems more amusing - as skin-deep as that sounds.

We toured a couple of port towns to satisfy the likings of the ship enthusiasts. We also toured Stonehenge which was quite spectacular. Neil and Andy had a comfortable home in Leicester in which Neil conceded to me that he will be paying off until retirement. Neil was a Midlands homebody and despised the congested streets of London, so while there his obvious peeves were always made apparent in any confusing fast paced situations. Andy seemed more open minded and was in good spirits wherever we went. They balance each other out well.

Also, Neil and Andy's neighbors met us in London. They were a lesbian couple of polar opposites except for the width of their body frames. I do forget their names. One woman was younger and closer to my age. She dressed mostly in black and had the dominant role in the relationship. She spoke in the very brash fashion lesbians have stereotypically bestowed upon them - then mixed with dry English wit, it made her into even more of a bruiser.

Her partner, a woman of 40 something, upheld a more sophisticated ambiance. Unlike her virile ill-bred partner, she was polite, inquisitive, and made more of an attempt to be social to me without the attribute of being innately crass. She was what I had then expected by mere assumption of how a middle aged English woman was supposed to act. The only qualm I had of her was she brought a large formal wardrobe for traveling. She dumbfound-idly decided to walk around my first night in London in heels. She also did the same in Southampton. The picture you see of Neil and I with some beers was in Southampton. I had just finished airing my clothes with a hand dryer in the restaurants restroom after we were engulfed by down pouring summer rain due to the absence of an umbrella, and as the result of the steady paced blue coated women pictured above. I brooded in silence throughout that entire dinner.

Walking with them was like stop and go traffic and it detracted the great anticipation I had for my first memories in England. I was rather pouty over this (see my face). Neil and Andy understood this and later said they regretted even inviting them. Returning to Andy and Neil's home sweet home in Leicester was a nice relaxing change of pace. We toured an extravagant historical park, ate out locally at variety restaurants that had flair on the walls, and went to the movies. It felt like Oakland County but only English (minus the extravagant park). Neil and Andy will probably be the ones I will most likely keep in touch with in the future.

I also met Jack via Internet as I meet almost all gay males. Jack is 3 years my junior. He was born and raised in London (which is a type of all its own). He attended University in Bournemouth which was an hour south of London. Frankly I was really taken by my first impression of Jack. I see attraction through an array of minimal and subtle features and he captivated that so well. He had a very refined London accent, which are less common to find as you may think. He had a tendency to ramble at times which was cute of course because I adored his accent. He had an adventurous sense of style. He could pull off a glittery sweater that was meant exclusively for the character of one of the Golden Girls (Blanch Devereaux) and it would still compliment him. Perhaps because he had such a boyish appeal he couldn't help but not look charming in anything. Young Londoner's wear all sorts of tacky and colourful articles of clothing; where in comparison by here you would be perceived as a class five hipster that seems like he is trying too hard, but in London it's widely embraced amongst the more progressive generations. We spent nights at each other place. I liked his family as well. Jack's mother is a high school teacher that lives with her girlfriend of nearly a decade who works at a rehabilitation facility of some sorts. It was such a lovely family dynamic. I remember having dinners at their East London homestead where all of us gays, young and older, gathered around the table and discussed casual topics of interest over wine. Afterwards we would adjourn to the living room for a movie and tea. It felt comfortable with him but nothing lasting could work as a result of particular circumstances; Jack was definitely not one for committed relationships at this time in his life and obviously nor was I. We also argued at times over trivial matters. We were alike in many ways; we both could be brutally curt and we often made snap judgements at the explanations of ones perspectives. Regardless of similar antics, he was nice companionship. He recently wrote me and wished me a happy birthday and asked of my doings, which was kind of him.

Alasdair was a free spirited 21 yr old I met from some mutual friends in Prague shortly before I returned home. It was infatuation at first sight and we had a short lived romance. He spent some years living in America because his father was stationed in the navy. It was refreshing to hear how well he knew geography in the US. He was also in Prague teaching English for a stint which he had come to loathe. We both liked 80's synth pop and when in privacy we would listen to it dreamingly. Alasdair moved to India a week before I came home. We often sat in pubs through late hours of the night contemplating what will be in store in the soon to be future of our lives. He was going to be riding elephants in New Delhi while I was going to be coming back to a place where people eat in delis like elephants. I haven't been in contact with him since I came home because I am foolishly pendulous like that.

Robert was a good friend in Prague that I had throughout the extent of my stay. He was a independent and an observing thinker like me, which patened a rather maladroit friendship. We didn't always have an enormous amount to moot on about together, but we still enjoyed one anothers company nevertheless. He had been living in non-native English language countries for the past 4 yrs or so I could imagine if that made an impression on making a little small talk. I was only there for a little less than a year and I know for a fact it made an impact on my way of casual conversing (to put that lightly). Robert and I were there for each other when we both quit our jobs in Prague out of frustration. He lived in London for a couple months. I visited him there directly before I flew home to Michigan. Robert didn't last in London and I foresaw that even though I encouraged him to be optimistic about it. Robert found London to be too superficial, and one night he really demonstrated his feelings concerning that at a bar in Soho. Just a few days ago he moved back to Prague. His facebook status yesterday indicated that he was having his first beer in Prague. I think I'll send him a message.