SGM Seeks LTR in NYC: What's Your Naughty Celebrity Fantasy?

All right, how about that f*ckin’ storm, huh?

First things first. I want to thank everyone who sent me emails, messages, tweets, twits, and twinkies making sure I was okay and hadn’t fallen victim to Hurricane Irene’s malevolent bosom. Much appreciated!

Sadly, I actually don’t have a tense, gripping survival story to tell. In fact, I wasn’t even in New York for the event. As I’ve said before, my mom lives at the Jersey Shore …

She’s the one in the middle.

… an area for which New Jersey governor/Bush crony and all around raging D-bag Gas Gassy ordered a mandatory evacuation.

The only winds more powerful than Irene’s were the ones that came out of his ass.

He may not be a fan of gay marriage but I heard he thinks my fart jokes are hilarious.

My mom was going to stay with her great aunt (my great great aunt) Sylvia at her home in central New Jersey. To lend a hand, I went to stay with them. Because if there’s anything JT knows about, it’s how to take care of the ladies.

Aunt Sylvia is a pistol, let me tell ya. At 92 years young, she lives in a big old farmhouse completely alone and takes care of everything herself. She’s in much better physical shape – and of sharper intellect – than I can ever hope to be.

I arrived on Saturday morning and took a look at the house.

“Do you want me to go around and board up the windows, Aunt Sylvia?” I asked her.

“Oh, I already took care of that yesterday, dear,” she said, dropping to the ground and knocking out a few one-armed push-ups. “But that’s sweet of you to offer.”

I was a little concerned, because we were expecting massive flooding, and the farmhouse she lives in is on a flat patch of land near a very large creek.

Not THAT large. Get outta here, Dawson.