Satisfaction Guaranteed (I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change)

I want to go back. I miss it. I haven't been to Mexico in eight years. Since my last visit, there have been two marriages and and six births. People have moved away. Children have grown up. People have run for office. Businesses have been sold or bought or passed on to the next generation. Drug traffickers have moved into town and put everyone on edge. Threats have been placed against my family. Phone lines have been tapped. Cottages have been built.

It's a city where the men wear dress shirt at all times, the top three buttons always undone, no matter how formal the occasion, and the women all colour their hair and have nose jobs, or other any other type of surgery they feel necessary to enhance their appearance. Where the women are say every hello and goobye with a kiss on the cheek, and the men, a handshake. A city where everyone sports Louis Vuitton, Burberry, and Caroline Hererra. Where youth gather at country clubs on Thursdays and Saturday nights to party, drink obscene amounts of alcohol, and daddy pays the bill the following afternoon. A city where drivers are as young as fourteen, the streets have no lanes, and everyone drives SUVs. A city where the children are more well-spoken than most adults in Canada. A city where people marry and they marry for money, where Lebanese parents do not let their Lebanese children date Mexicans, no matter how much they love them. A city where the women turn a blind eye to their husbands cheating on them. Where no man shaves his chest, and boy are those men hairy. And I love it.

The trip was exactly what I needed. For ten days I spent absolutely no money, gained up to $1500, and rested. I seldom thought of my life at home. I had no troubles. I was loved by my relatives. I was given money and shelter and was not judged. I was comfortable. I didn't want to return.

I'm back in Toronto.

I don't want to be here. I can't wait to leave again. This is not the place for me anymore.

Don't Unmask Your Beauty To The Moon (Rockabye Hamlet)

So about a month ago I guess I must have put something out into the universe and the laws of attraction have been sending men my way. It's an odd thing. I've never felt unattractive, but I've also never had any delusions. I never pick up and rarely get looked at. I've always been cool with that. I like me. I never give out the I'm-the-guy-you-wanna-take-home-right-now vibes. Yet, a month ago, I was singing some karaoke and rocking it out, when a boy asked for my phone number. I was flattered, of course, but uninterested. I suppose I'd been feeling very confident around this time, but still was not looking to meet anyone new unless they suited my taste, which this fellow did not. After some mild pressure from my friends, I went over and gave him my number. He called me and we've been dating ever since. That's fine. But this dude really likes me. No, but like really likes me. And I... really like that about him. On our third date, we were kissing and he said "I really like you, Skinny-Rabbit." I can't say I was feeling the same so I sarcastically said "Oh, really, I couldn't tell." On our seventh date we had a talk were he told me that he thinks about me a lot and I reiterated what I told him on our fourth date, that I want to take things slow and not get serious too soon after meeting each other. We still have so much to learn about each other and don't forget, he asked me out. Therefore, from the get-go he's been more into me than I into he. We've just had our eighth date tonight. Things have been going very well. He's slept over a few times now and we kept our clothes on every time. We haven't even touched each other in our special areas yet! He did once accidentally and immediately apologized, and I just laughed at him. But seriously, how respectful, hey! There's nothing wrong with him except that I'm just not that into him. That doesn't seem fair, but it's true. I get to like him more and more every time I see him and I very much enjoy spending time with him. Both of us are planning to leave Toronto before the next year is over and he has admitted that the long distance thing has never worked for him. So where could this possibly go? I don't even have a nickname yet to call him on my blog, except maybe firecrotch.

Moving on to a slightly different, but still a related topic... Maybe it's because I know that someone wants me, but I'm now finding that I'm getting checked out everywhere I go. I may just be noticing it more because I'm checking them out in return now, which I never would have done before. Someone told me that the reason for this can be found in The Secret. Because someone is attracted to me, I believe myself to be attractive, therefore other people are attracted to me. What a theory! On our second date, I was approached by someone telling me that I am "extremely good looking" and another dude tried to follow me into the bathroom. I see a lot of cute homos at my work and they all like to check out me and the other gay hosts. I always smile back but never do anything about it. Today, after my date, I was on the streetcar home, and I turned around to see a fellow standing by the doors and smiling at me. He signaled that I should get off with him. I smiled, shook my head and turned away. I don't know. I might have gotten off with him. I might have given the cute boy at table 27 my number. I might have invited that drunk guy into the bathroom with me. But as long as I'm dating someone I don't feel comfortable doing anything more than flirting with a stranger. I have joked that I am going to keep dating this dude and use this law of attraction to land myself someone better. I'm kind of kidding though. Besides, I've never been the slutty type.

Don't Walk Away (Xanadu)

Tonight, I did what I've never done. I walked out on a waitress. So I was sitting in a diner with a friend after a movie. The service was as good as can be expected in a semi-trashy diner on College St. When the waitress came over to pick up our plates she asked if we needed anything else and my friend said no, just the bill, and pointed out a table that was trying to get her attention. She took a look at them and said "They can wait." She left, brought us back our bill, and didn't go to that table. She eventually did, I suppose, and they asked for a water, which, for as long as I sat there, they never received. Nor did we see her again. Despite the fact that my debit card was sitting on the little tray, she walked by us a few times and did nothing. More time passed and we were getting frustrated. My friend said "Well, I'm leaving," and stood up, putting on her coat, ready to leave me there waiting to pay. I had waited long enough. "Me too," I announced. I put my coat on. She asked if I was really going to dine and dash (we were both servers at the same restaurant and knew that walking out on your server is an evil deed), and I replied that if she wants my money she should come take it, and since she never came for it, she doesn't get it. So we left. We didn't run, we didn't look back. We were casual, normal people leaving of a restaurant. I wasn't afraid. Our waitress was an old dame. A foreigner, even. I didn't feel bad. The woman had bitch in her and gave bad service. Done. I could feel her presence behind me so I turned around and she was running after us. Now I felt a little bad. She ran out in her little t-shirt in the freezing cold. For a bill of less than $20. She said that if we walk out she has to pay for our bill. I walked back with her and explained that I'll gladly pay, but that I wasn't about to sit and wait for forty-five minute to do so. She apologized and said that she was having a hard time with a table that was complaining about their food and their drinks. I said, "That's fine, I'm a server too, but I always go back to my tables." I was very sweet to her despite having just given her a heart attack. She said "Do you want me to pay the bill." And I said no, I had no problem paying. So I paid and I even tipped. She's lucky. If I had waiting inside for that long and paid without walking out first, she wouldn't have received a tip. So I guess I did a good deed. I don't feel like an asshole about it, but I do feel very sorry for her. I wonder if she's always that shitty at her job, and if so, I wonder if she's good at anything. That thought depresses me. I'd rather not think about it. I'm not sure why I blogged about it.

Life Is So Peculiar (Five Guys Named Moe)

My life seems to be filled with random instances of late. Some examples, you ask? Sure thing Marigold!

1. a) When I started working at the Hard Rock here in Toronto back in 2004, I met a girl. I told her she looked familiar. I asked her where she's from and she said Ottawa. I'm from Ottawa! She asked what high school I went to. She went to the same school. Two kids from the same high school only 3 years apart meet in Toronto and become fast friends. Fast forward to 2007 when she asks me my roommate's name. Turns out she has been working in the same group as my roommate and when she added her on Facebook she noticed the connection. Weird?

1. b) A while back I was at this friend's apartment. She gave me the tour and I loved how her bedroom leads into the walk-in closet which leads into the bathroom which leads back into the living room. I commented that this is Carrie Bradshaw's apartment and how I want to live there. I came home and told my roommate all about this and how we need to move there ASAP. A couple of months go by maybe and my roommate who is in this girl's group goes to the very same apartment to work on school things, unaware that this girl in her group is actually my friend. She uses the bathroom and notices the closet and thinks to herself that this is Carrie Bradshaw's apartment. She "wonders if Skinny Rabbit's friend lives in the same building." Little did we know it was the exact same apartment. DUN DUN DUN!

2. a) I wasn't supposed to be at work last Saturday night. I had worked a day shift and was asked if I'd like to stay the night... wait, asked to stay and work the night shift (nothing romantic, I swear!), but had to decline because I was catching a GO bus to Milton for a one year old's birthday party. A friend of mine calls me and asks if I'd like to join them for a birthday dinner at the very restaurant I work in. I have to decline that as well. So I go to Union Station to catch a bus and discover it will take me two hours to get there and back. A waste of time. I decline that and call up the other birthday party to RSVP yes. So I join some friends for dinner at the very restaurant I work in but wasn't there to work on that particular night. While we're being billed, out of nowhere, a friend of mine shows up with her family from Ottawa. Her mother was telling the hosts that she is my mother so that she could get a nice table. So I greet the family that I haven't seen in a long time and I forget that one of my friends from the party knows the friend from Ottawa who just showed up. As we're all talking, I turn around and see another face from Ottawa. A fellow I went to high school with. So that's weird. Then I see my cousin and a friend of hers, also from Ottawa! Totally random, totally bizarre. Let's count that. Three different groups of people from my home town that I know for different reasons all in my place of work at the same time on a night I wasn't supposed to be there. Something's going on with the universe.

2. b) So at that dinner, I was sitting next to someone I hadn't seen in a long time and we were catching each other up on ourselves. She asked if I was seeing anyone so I told her all about this dude that I'm dating and how we met and what I think of him... Two nights later I'm with the boy and we discover that we both know that girl, he went to high school with her. Then the next day they run into each other at The Gap! At the time of my conversation with her I had no idea she knew him and she had no idea he was the guy that I'm seeing and all three of us had encounters within 3 days after her not seeing either of us for over a year.

3. I never work Sundays. So I texted the chick at work one day the following text. (I worded it this way out of the blue, for no reason in particular): "Ok, ok, I'll make myself available on Sundays." She texted back "Huh?" I texted back "You can schedule me on Sunday mornings if you want to." Turns out that just then she had been thinking about how I don't work Sundays and how she could use me in the morning. Isn't that weird? That I texted her as if in the middle of a conversation with her where she'd be telling me exactly what she had actually been thinking?

Heaven Help Me (Footloose)

Ok, here we go, we're blogging. A new post from Neenia and Princesse, now one from me, ArtsMonkey and NoSiren never stopped... But I think we've lost Miss Pants and BedroomPrince. Let's reconnect.

So life. Ah fucking life. It's almost perfect right now. Seriously. I love my job. Everyone there loves me. It's stress free. I always run into people I know there. It's nice. Just a great place to be. I'm keeping up with my singing lessons and I have a recital on Sunday. Wanna come? I have a paying gig as a mother fucking performer that starts very soon and lasts for four months. That's crazy hot and I can't wait. There's a boy in my life who really, really likes me and I really, really like that. And I have a plan. A plan that I'm looking forward to putting into motion which will ultimately lead to my moving to New York for a few months in the fall. I'm just salivating thinking about it. Too bad I hate the first place I hate where I begin and end my days. The bookend needs replacing.

A Little Less Conversation (All Shook Up)

I passed by ArtsMonkey on Queen Street tonight at around 5:35pm and I didn't say hello. I just let her pass me. She was with a man. She didn't see me. I was with a chick. I wonder what would have happened had I said hello. The conversation would have gone one of two ways.

Scenario One:

SkinnyRabbit: Hey! I can't talk. I'm walking Natasha to work and she starts very soon.
ArtsMonkey: This is awkward.

Scenario Two:

ArtsMonkey sees SkinnyRabbit and excitedly hollers a friendly hello. SkinnyRabbit barely nods and walks around her.

Could It Be You? (Something For The Boys)

I had an appointment at the chiropodist about two weeks ago, a follow-up to an appointment I had two months earlier. The doctor engaged me in conversation of things we had talked about when he first met me. Namely that I am an actor. So we talked about an actor's life and he mentioned a friend of his who might be just a bit younger than me who does Stratford, as well as living downtown versus living at Yonge and Davisville. As I sat there in this chair at Yonge and Davisville, having a nice and perfectly comfortable conversation with this young doctor touching my feet (a most intimate thing as I have issues with my feet and keep my socks on when I go to bed with people), and I started imagining my life with this man. I'd be living at Yonge and Davisville with my doctor boyfriend who takes me out to dinner with his rich and normal friends and he'd fully support my pursuit of my career. Even though he isn't very attractive, I would love him anyway. I have absolutely no interest in this man other than the fact that I like the life he could give me. He's probably not gay. I left the office feeling nice.

Some guy thinks I'm cute so I gave him my number. He's not really my type. I'm open to dating outside of my type, but this guy has facial mannerisms of someone I seriously dislike. But I gave him my number anyway and we had some non-awkward phone conversations, which was sometihng I was worried about. We went out and it was actually really good. I was at times able to forget that he reminded me of someone I don't like. We conversed easily. We even had a nice good night kiss. I know he's super duper into me, but I don't know if I feel the same. I'd definitely go out with him again, but I didn't feel much excitment. I wonder if it will come, and if it doesn't, I have no idea how to tell someone I'm not interested.

I Am Playing Me ([title of show])

When I was a child, all my friends on the playground kept talking about Captain Crunch cereal and how much they loved it. I begged my mother to buy a box. She did. I hated it. It was at that moment that I decided to think for myself.

Serenity (Triumph Of Love)

I've been thinking lately of how much I miss Ottawa. It's fucking bizarre because I hate Ottawa. But I really missed working at my old job with all the awesome friends I made and always being able to do a show with all the friends I've made. But I couldn't get out fast enough and I thought I was crazy for thinking I miss it. Yet getting off the train and being picked up by my father and driving down Kilborn with the orange leaves on the trees and on the ground and the cold weather and then turning right onto Virginia and pulling into the driveway and seeing my house with the kitchen and the big TV with digital cable and the cat and my bedroom, oh God, how I miss my bedroom... I was glad to be home. This is a new feeling for me. Usually I'm ready to leave as soon as I see my parents, but this time, I was at peace. This city is so beautiful in the fall. I miss driving along the canal. I miss my big bed with my firm mattress that I've grown accustomed to, and the TV and VCR/DVD player in my room that I can watch from said bedroom. I miss my friends here. I miss Georgie's Pizza and Shawarma King and Ste-Hubert and ice cream cakes, and always having chocolates in the hallway closet. I miss yelling at my mother for cleaning my room so I can't find anything. I miss avoiding my aunt and uncle who live next door. I miss living in a house in a neighbourhood with houses and children and families and older people who have careers and go to school and have land lines. I miss being able to say "Hey, let's go shopping in Montreal today" and actually doing it. I don't want to go back to that small three bedroom apartment in that condo-filled, impersonal neighbourhood that I share with 4 other people where the carpet is forever stained and I can still feel the vomit on the floor even though it's been cleaned and the kitchen sink in full of dirty dishes every day and the shower curtain is hideous and no matter how much you scrub the bathtub it will still go black and even though you clean the counter there will be shaving cream all over it within three hours and I sleep in someone else's bed that someone else has had sex on and we don't get all the channels I want so I can't watch Project Runway Canada hosted by Iman and the only places to eat in my neighbourhood are Subway and Quiznos and Mr Sub. I think I'm unhappy in Toronto.

It's A Celebration (The Spirit Of Orpheus)

It was DancingAntsInMyPants's birthday yesterday! I called her and left her a message. I hope she got it.

Letting You Go (Jason Robert Brown)

A week later I'm still hurting (I just came up with that, I swear), but I'm letting go of my anger. My show is over and I just started a new job. It is time to begin a new chapter. I'm done with theatre for a couple of weeks. It's time work non-stop and make a couple of hundred bucks so I can get back on my feet. I owe so much money right now, it's almost like I'm back where I started. The difference this time is that I'm focused on the task of paying back the money and I know how to do it. That's a nice feeling, knowing that I can stay afloat. I'm totally digging my new job. Everyone is so nice and they all say thank you and tell me what a great job I'm doing and introducing themselves and asking my name and remembering it and using it and being friendly and helpful. That's just absolutely fantastic considering I quit my last job because everyone was an asshole and mean and inconsiderate and whiney and awful and making each other cry and being indimitating and saying things like "I don't need to learn your name." Maybe some good came out of that. Out of rape. No, wait, that was Sarah Silverman. I'm exciting to not be working on a show for a while. I'm auditioning for some stuff in the next few weeks/months. I'm not even sure if I want to do anything at the moment. I'm also going to have to plunge into the doc I want to make while I can. Me and my business partner (teehee) rented Broadway: The Golden Age as research. I watched the commentary to see if I could pick up some tips and dude did the whole movie on his own with pretty much no help and no budget. I can do this. You can do this Hunter...Hunter...Hunter... Stop forcing ideas. That shit is no fun...no fun...no fun... Oh I lapsed into [titleofshow]. I need to keep Die, Vampire, Die in my head for the next year.

What Is It About Her (Lippa's The Wild Party)

She gets me through the day, that Kelly Clarkson. She really does.

Why Did I Listen To That Man? (Urinetown)

I took a risk and I lost. I hate that I changed my life plan for nothing.

I'm Not That Smart (The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee)

I can't help but feel that some of the decisions I made a couple of short months ago are now biting me in the ass. I'm an idiot.

Other People's Stories (Amour)

I had a flash of genious yesterday. I figured it out. What I'm going to do to get me through the next year. I'd been trying to think of something to write, a series of short plays, or a screenplay, that could get the ball rolling for me and my friends. Thoughts came to mind but nothing good enough. Then it hit me. Use my camera and make it real. I love filming. I love my friends. I love this business. I'm going to combine the three and interview all my friends who are struggling artists and try and make some sort of documentary out of it. I'm still fuzzy on the details but I have help. I've enlisted a friend of mine who's an up and coming young screenwriter/director and she's going to help me work out the kinks and get this bitch done. You will all be my subjects. Even you, Pants, even though you never blog anymore. I've very excited. Very.

Winter's On The Wing (The Secret Garden)

I guess I went through like a month of not blogging because I didn't know what was going on with my life and I didn't know how to blog about that. I was jobless, and still technically am. That wasn't upsetting. It was nice. I don't know how I managed it, but I'm still not out of money. I'm afraid to check my bank account to see how much I'm down to. I sleep in every day and do nothing. That's fabulous. Unfortunately the nothing that I do includes eating. As in not even eating. I'm not healthy and I wish I could say I had an eating disorder because that would be glamorous, but no, I'm just too lazy to eat anything but Subway once a day. I like that Neenia cleans the kitchen and I like that Bedroom Prince tidies up the apartment every day. I've just now started to enjoy doing a show and the people I've been doing it with. I went to an audition last week that left me embarrassed. I'm not a singer. I'm not a dancer. I shouldn't be going to auditions that I know I have no chance of getting. I should be branching out into comedy. I should be writing again. I spent (ok, my father spent) thousands of dollars on film school so I could learn to be a screenwriter and what I have a written since graduation? Nothing. With my new job search I debated whether to start looking for a real job or not. To start a career. I've been craving stability and a maturity I've never had. I'm almost 27. There comes a point when you have just grow up, no? No. I don't want that life. I want to be an actor. I went to a movie the other night and was inspired. Oh yeah. Going out and experiencing stuff inspires me. I just remembered that. Staying in and watching Sex And The City inspires me too, but I have to remember that I have a life to live outside of Carrie Bradshaw's. It's getting cold out and I'm falling in love with the weather. I get upset whenever a sudden heat wave reappears because I want it to be fall. It's so romantic, fall. I love the leaves changing and the sweater weather. I like being chilly but comfortable. I can't wait for the first snowfall. I can't wait for winter coat weather with hat and scarves and gloves and new window displays at Holt Renfrew. I can't wait to have a bedroom I can finally call my own so I can start decorating it to suit my taste. I can't wait to start being happy with me again.

Remind Me (Never Gonna Dance)

What am I doing in musical theatre? I've been asking myself that a lot these days.

Rumours (Anna Karenina)

I remembered something this morning that I hadn't thought about in a very long time and it upset me all over again. It's not really a big deal but I hate when people think things about me that aren't true. I really don't care what people think of me as long as it's true. If you hate me, I should hope that it's because I did something to pissed you off. You all probably have heard this before but I'll reiterate. Someone told a bunch of people that I had sex with my roommate at the time. People believed it which baffles me considering I don't have sex, and young twinky blondes are not my type. It still upsets me that people think that I'm not still a vigrin, because I am. The person who spread the rumour claims to have heard it from the kid I was living with. To this day I don't know if he made it up, or if the kid did. And it pisses me off. I don't mind if people spread rumours about me that are true. Like the rumour that I had a threesome with a closeted friend. That was true. I was fine with people gossiping about it because people could make assumptions about me based on fact. But this sex with roommate business still has me throwing up in my mouth.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (Mary Poppins)

Princesse Alathariel is back! Life is about to get a whole lot funnier.

I'd Be Attracted (Wind In The Willows)

There's a couple that I have feelings for. I have no idea who they are, what they do, what their voices sound like, where they live or work. I've only see them. Twice last week. On the street. Looking fabulous. No, but seriously. They are amazing. He wears a red dress shirt with a white tie and black pants, but not a regular red dress shirt, white tie and black pants. His outfit is crisp, as if he had just gone to Holt's, spent $15 000 on three items and wore them out of the store. He's young and attractive and when I first saw him I wanted to be him. Then I saw her and I wanted to be them. She is shorter than him and wears dresses. Not like H&M or Jacob or GAP dresses. Fucking dresses. As if she were going out on the town in 1960s Paris. She'll wear a black dress with a white pajmina and a red belt, or something to compliment his outfit. Her hair is a bowl cut bob. It would look ridiculous on anyone else, but girlfriend works it. The thing that kills me is that both times I've seen them, they were walking down Queen street or up Yonge street, looking like they had just stepped out of Italian Vogue, and both time I saw them around six pm. That means they must have been coming from work. What do they do? Be fabulous all day and get paid for it? I'll pay them to come sit in my apartment and let me look at them. I want to know who they are!!! I'm going to have to hang around the corner of Queen and Yonge tomorrow between the hours of 5 and 6:30 and see if I can't spot them again. I may bring my camera. I may approach them to tell them how much I love what they're doing to my life. I almost did. Both times. I actually had intentions of stopping them on the street to say "I like this," or "I just need you to know how that you're the couple I want to be." Or something like that. But I chickened out. Both times. I just can't believe that two people can look this amazing everyday and act like it's normal. I have to find them.

Look Who's Alone Now (Nick & Nora)

I went to sleep last night knowing today was my day off. Oh, don't be fooled by the date of this blog. It may say it was written on Saturday, but we're less than two hours into Saturday so I'm still calling Friday today. So I figured I would get up early and clean the apartment and then get my haircut at 12:30. So I get up late and rush to get my haircut. Finally. After two weeks of my hairdresser cancelling on me last minute (doesn't that mean I can technically charge her?) I was finally calming down the frock on my head. My hair chick is weird but she gives wicked haircuts. Not today, though. So I was happy to be in the Yonge and St Clair area (where the salon is). So after my haircut (which included discussion of how I'm for some reason going to start teaching her spanish), I went for a walk up to Davisville to check out the ol' hood. I walked up Lowther to the apartment complex I lived in with Miss Pants. The fountain is renovated and operating in the back! I was gorgeous. I walked around to the front to discover that the front fountain was still useless. So I walk up to Eglington and go to the pet store. No cats I'm interested in. I go into the HMV were I bought many a movie in the past. I'm determined to not spend money. I see Police Squad is on DVD. This is fate. I was just two days ago thinking I would love to watch Police Squad again. Too bad it's not on DVD. But it was. So I picked it up. It's two for $30. So I shop around for another DVD to match it with. I end up with The Colour Purple, A Star Is Born, Requiem For A Dream, Running With Scissors, A Streetcar Named Desire, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, and The Way We Were. I spent over a hundred dollars. I don't have a job in a week and I spent over a hundred dollars. It was worth it. Just like ArtsMonkey's chocolate. Then I go to Indigo to purchase Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris. I'd been reading Glamorama by Bret Easton Ellis for the last six years, so I figure I should try a new book. I walk back down towards Davisville and end up at Tabule, the Lebanese restaurant I tried to make me and Princesse A's place. I sit down, have some humus and chicken with rice and veggies with a water and a coke and a good book. I read the first sixty pages, talk to the waitress about the hilarity of Sedaris, love my life. I head home and decide to pick up some cleaning supplies to freshen up the apartment. I get walk through the door to find that Neenia has already been on a cleaning rampage and wet my pants and stick my tip in her vagina. I introduce her to the Swiffer carpet flick and she lies on top of me. I write disgusting things in the present tense. I put out an air freshener that smells like strawberries and put some toilet cleaning thing in the toilet and some baking soda in the fridge. I do three loads of dishes after she did one earlier. I clean the fridge inside out including behind it. She throws out a bunch of disgusting shit that's been sitting in there forever. We cum together. Bedroom Prince also cums, probably. They leave to be fabulous, I stay in to be fabulous. While they're away I rearrange the furniture in the living room. It's what I do. I love to rearrange furniture. When I lived in my bachelor I did it like every two months. When I lived with Miss Pants I did it to my bedroom once or twice. When I lived with Princesse A, I did it to the living room whenever the mood would strike me. When I moved I changed my bedroom for the first time in nine years. It's a passion of mine. It refreshes my mind to refresh my living space. I hope they like it.

I'm watching Robbie Williams Live At The St. Albert and loving my life. I'm going to take a shower.

A Memory Of A Happy Moment (Aspects Of Love)

Back when we lived together, Princesse Alathariel cut me a cheque for forty dollars for cable and internet, or something. I never cashed it. Because on cheque she wrote on the Memo line: "Feelin' Hot Hot Hot!"

That's too fucking fabulous to cash.

The Elephant Song (70, Girls, 70)

I feel like a new blog, but don't feel like writing anything in particular so I'll repost this msn conversation I just had with that dude I dated for like two weeks last year. We haven't spoken in months and months but he's kept in touch with one of my fruit flies. He messaged me out of the blue today. This conversation reminds me of why I liked him.

Him
Dear Skinny-Rabbit,
Please be advised that I have been doing my best to tend to Susan's (heretoforth, "Your Fag Hag") emotional needs in your absence. While I pledge committment and effort, I cannot guarantee that I will meet Your Fag Hag's need to spontaneously break into song with a homosexual male. I wish you continued success in your new(er) endeavours.
Warmest regards,
Not-a-lovah
Me
Not-a-lovah, thank you for letting me know that you are there for what's her face. We finally spoke on the phone today after much phone tag playing. I am happy there is another gay in town to keep her somewhat satisfied.
Him
LOL
Me
how are you doing, by the by?
Him
things could certainly be worse. so i'll refrain from complaining. for now. it's just so tough, because complaining is how i do. it's how i roll.
Me
I'm quitting my job because it's turned me into a complainer. That's not what I want to be when I grow up.
Him
what job [was] that?
Me
back at the hard rock in Toronto.
It was always annoying when I worked here the first time, but things have gotten more complainy during the year and a half I was away.
Him
well, i'm not trying to gossip, but i've heard that the bussers have attitude and the salsa is made with PLUM tomatoes. PLUM. the audacity.
Me
You may have your hard rocks mixed up. We don't hire bussers at the TDot Hard Rock.
But I will confirm the salsa tid-bit.
Him
or you could ruin a poor attempt at humour. whichever you prefer.
Me
I like to keep things as uncomfortable as possible.
Him
HA. yeah. no one wants a cozy ass-groove when they can have a bed of nails.
Me
that's what I keep telling my co-workers, but they just keep on complaining.
Him
which brings the conversation full circle. and quickly. how impressive
Me
it was getting old
my eyes have been wandering
Him
*looks around; hums a britney spears megamix as a gesture of agreement*
Me
I went to a club last night where they mixed Amy Winehouse singing Rehab to the beat of Toxic. It was nice.
Him
and a social commentary.
Me
relevant.
Him
the only thing better than a remix is a remix with right-wing ideology embedded therein
Me
that's all I ask for from a dj. Give me something to dance to that will really make me think.
Him
that's why i like the pussycat dolls' "buttons". pro- or anti-seamstress? a conundrum for the ages.
Me
those felines sure do tackle the hard issues that everyone else is afraid to talk about.
Him
to think, it started with meow mix. try and argue against revolution now.
alright, i'm out. i'm going to heaven (club). because i'm worth it.
Me
I've always said that about you.
Him
awwwwwh
you said something nice. are you ill?
Me
no, no, I meant that I've always said that you're out.
Him
what a relief. i don't have the number for EMS in toronto
have a lovely evening, skinny-rabbit
Me
I wish you the same Mr. Not-a-lovah

Damn It, Janet (The Rocky Horror Show)

Why am I always plagued with life decisions? So far I think I've made all the right moves:

2000: The decision to drop out of university and tell my parents that I'm going to film school or never going to school again.
2001: The move to Vancouver for film school.
2002: The move to Toronto for theatre school.
2005: The decision to move to Ottawa to pay off my debt.
2006: Move back home.
2007: Debt paid off, move back to Toronto.

I've only been back here a couple of weeks and already I don't know what to do. I had my six month plan. Toronto for July-September. New York for October-December. But now I'm getting the feeling I should stay until Feburary and move to New York in March. But there are so many reasons why October-December would be a much more convenient time for me to be in NY. And if I stay in Toronto, do I get my own place like I've always wanted, or do I stay with my awesome roommates in this awesome apartment? I fucking hate my life.

Omigod You Guys (Legally Blonde)

I had an interesting night last night. I went to a 70s disco party and was all decked out in my vinatge grab, attracting a lot of attention because, let's face it, I was the best dressed male there and I know how to steal the scene at a party. But I wasn't expected the attention I got from one particular fellow. Let me remind you that I never pick up. Never! But I was looking particularly fabulous on this particular eve. So this dude starts telling me how awesome I look and how cool I am, yada yada yada, all the stuff I tell myself everyday. So then there's this point not too far from the end of the evening when I'm sitting by myself, taking a moment of rest, when he plops himself down on the seat next to mine. He tells me again how great my outfit is and asks me who I'm here with. I pull out my camera and show him pictures I'd taken early and say "Her. Her. Her. Her. Her." They're all hot. He's all, "Ooh, hot girls." I'm all, "I know, I know." Then he's like "You must be getting a lot of attention from the ladies here tonight." I go "Well, yeah, but I've actually had more of a response from the guys." I bring up that I'm not looking for female attention. I'm a homo. He tells me that he respects that, but he's straight. He then says his girlfriends always think he's gay. Then that he just broke up with his girlfriend two weeks ago. Conversation flows, and I know what he's getting to. He bring up points like he can find a man attractive but be sexually attracted to him. He can't see himself loving a man. He would only feel comfortable sleeping with a man if it's in a threesome situation with a girl as the third. He's into fashion. He may be metrosexual. It could be confusion. I tell him that I don't believe in denial and that at 28 he should know by know. Pretty much he was trying to get me to tell him that he's gay or that he should explore with me, maybe. It was a pretty fun conversation for me. He even pulled out his phone and asked for my number. Then the people he was staying with (he's from Kingston) were leaving and he said he'd stay. Then he suggested we dance. We got up and he put an arm around me. I danced with him a bit and then ditched him for my friends. I was there with them after all. He left without saying goodbye. Even when I pick up I don't pick up.

So then I get home and the toothpaste tube is missing. I find some mouthwash and use it. In the morning, still no toothpaste. I mouthwash, go to work and suck mints all day. Where is the toothpaste. I don't understand? Why is there never water in the Brita? I'm not mad. I'm just curious. Maybe I'm in denial.

Here's Where I Stand (Camp)

Ok, so I recently watched Love, Actually. Everyone who has seen it tells me they love it. I love multiprotagonist films and I like british films so I figured I would love it also. Turns out I wasn't impressed. I actually thought it was not a good movie. There were some great moments. I really liked the little boy. He's adorable, a sweet actor, and I like the twist that he was in love and that's why he was so downtrodden, not because his mother died. But what was with that scene at the airport? I'm sorry, but do all little tiny boys know their way through an airpor well enough that they can out-run security and not have to stop to check what gate this girl he was chasing after was departing from? How did he know where to run to? Please tell me. And then when he is taken back to Liam, the little chick comes out to kiss him on the cheek. I'm sorry, did her really say "Ok, black daughter, you can go all the way back to see thi kid. We'll just hold have them hold the plane. Did security say, "Sure, little black girl, go ahead and return from where you came. We won't find this suspicious or have to re-search you when you come back through. And Liam... oh, Liam. You were fine and all, but the Claudia Schiffer thing. It was cute up until the point where he meets her, only she has a different name. She's just the same person with the same voice but not a model.

Keira Nightley, why were you in this movie? You and your two men had no connections to the rest of the cast, except at the end when we find out that you just happen to be friend with Colin Firth. I'm sorry, what?! You had nothing to do with each other throughout the entire movie, he wasn't even at your wedding and all of sudden you, the black dude and the white dude, who are all sooo much younger than him, are his best friends? That's gay. Also gay is what the fuck was up with that storyline? I really liked the character of the dude in love with his best friends's wife, but it was said that he never spoke to her, so how did he end up falling so hard for her exactly? And how did the three of them end up staying friends? And how did he know that she would answer the door and not him?

Back to Colin. He and that maid. It was a cute storyline, but the whole he says something in english and she says practically the same thing in portuguese... that was retarded. So forced. So dumb. Just... dumb. But I really liked her sister. Like, I like-like her.

Laura Linney, you were great and I liked you story. But why did it die out? You didn't even get a moment at the end?

Hugh Grant... fine, I'll accept this one but it's still cliche.

I did love some shit. Like the scene where Laura Linney's in bed with that sexy fucker, but her brother keeps calling her, and the scene that follows it at the hospital. That was good shit. We needed more of that. Emma Thompson's character rocked the shit. I totally dug her story. But exactly what was her connection of Liam Neeson?

The stand-in couple were just darling.

Ugh, and the Colin Firth story had such promise! If only they hadn't fucked up with the cheesy dialogue.

UGH! And what the hell was up with that dude who goes to the States to get laid? What was with te stupid cameos and the absolutely ridiculous dialogue that turned the movie into American Pie 8? That really actually pissed me off.

I didn't who the fuck I was supposed to care about in this film. I didn't have time to invest in anyone. Except Emma. Just when I had bought into Laura, she disappeared. But everyone else... I wasn't sure who was likeable and who wasn't. I wasn't sure why I should like any of these people at all. I think it was a poorly made film. I'm not satisfied. That's just the way I feel. Don't hate.

If this movie taught me anything, it is that there are a lot of black people in London, but none of them are important.

I believe I am done speaking on this subject.

Simple Little Things (110 In The Shade)

I'm thinking of being nice to my parents now that I've left them. They're old and lonely. I'll let you know how that goes.

Take Back Your Mink (Guys and Dolls)

I went to my local strip club tonight. All the men were beefy. Made me feel like I won't do well. However, it was ladies night. I was prepared to see manly men. I'm not a manly man. I appeal to old lonely men, not rowdy women looking for a good time. I'll have to go back when there are no women present and see how different the atmosphere is.

The Burden Of Life (A Man Of No Importance)

It will be 12:30 in twenty minutes. I have to choose between going downstairs to check out the gym, watching The Young And The Restless, or doing my New York City Ballet workout video. I'm going to choose the soap opera. It's been good to me. Working out has not. It has only gotten me into debt.

The Truth (Brooklyn)

The truth is I like my roomies. I also let a man from my past put his mouth around my penis today. I didn't like having his in mine. There's a reason why I haven't hard oral sex since last September or October. I guess I've had my fix now and I'm good to go without for another few months, until I get to New York and can start seeing if there's anything between me and my Scooter. Either way, it was nice to lie naked with someone after we just came and talk about our careers. Plus I've been crazy horny since I got back in the city. I think I'll join ArtsMonkey in season five and send the men away now.

Have It Your Way (Assassins)

Fine, Warrior Princesse, you win. Here is a new blog. Update. I live with two fucking losers whom I hate. They're dirty and ugly and have no sense of humour. They also never talk about sex. Is that what you want to hear? LIES?! Is it?!

Because (The Thing About Men)

So many people have been posting all their pictures from Toronto Pride on Facebook. It looks like fun. I have never been to a Pride event. I've never felt the need to. I don't consider myself a self-loathing gay. I consider myself a regular person. I feel that - and this is not limited to us homos - as long as we continue to celebrate our differences, there will always be minorities. I don't need a week or a parade to be gay. I can be gay all year long and feel great about it. Gay, black, Jewish, what-have-you, we are never going to be one as long as we keep reminding the world that we are not.

I'm Still Here (Follies)

I'd like to apologize for not keeping up with my blogging, but I'm not really sorry. It hasn't actually been that long, and I'm moving in two weeks, am extremely busy with too many commitments, and don't even have time to say a proper goodbye to all my friends here. You get me soon. Just leave me alone for now, I'll blog again when I'm ready. In the meantime watch this video and enjoy.

She's No Longer A Gypsy (Applause)

Ottawa Citizen Review: Spirit of Orpheus

THEATRE REVIEW
Packing 100 years of music in one show
Orpheus society incorporates songs from 65-plus musicals
BY PATRICK LANGSTON

Not fussy on My Fair Lady? Well, The Music Man is tuning up right around the corner. You could live without the cornball Indian Love Call (from Rose Marie)? The snappy Telephone Hour from the teenage saga Bye Bye Birdie will supplant it before you can warble, “When I’m calling you, oo-oo-oo.”

In fact, with its cornucopia of selections from more than 65 past musicals and a clutch of original numbers and tunes from potential future shows, The Spirit of Orpheus — the jubilant song-and-dance celebration of Orpheus Musical Theatre Society’s first 100 years that opened Friday at Centrepointe Theatre — has something for everyone.

The Spirit of Orpheus was commissioned by the society, which prides itself on being “the oldest, continuous performing, amateur musical theatre group in North America.”

Society mainstays Michael Gareau and John McGovern created the work, Mark Ferguson orchestrated it, artistic director Len Boone keeps the show moving at a lickety-split pace, and conductor Marlene Hudson leads the nimble orchestra through the quick-change demands of accompanying the big, brassy Don’t Rain on My Parade from Funny Girl one minute and the wistful A Wand’ring Minstrel I from Gilbert & Sullivan’s The Mikado the next. Phew. Guiding the audience through this engaging dash are the Spirit (Orpheus veteran Sheila Shields) and Neo (the gifted Kara Prost, a relative newcomer).

Neo, in a storyline that’s more a series of hooks on which to hang the songs and dances than a real narrative, is an aspiring Orpheus member. Like us, she learns about the society’s musical energy and remarkable diversity by watching the show unfold. Eventually, she auditions for Orpheus and — it’s hardly giving away the plot — lands a role.

Over the course of the show, the Spirit recounts to Neo the society’s history from its glee club origins through its stints at the plush and now-vanished downtown Russell Theatre and a couple of high school auditoriums to its current incarnation as a mostly Broadway production society playing Centrepointe since 1995.

The narrative, expository and frequently stilted, is the least of The Spirit of Orpheus’ charms. That’s more than compensated for by vocalists like Eugene Oscapella performing The Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera, Monique Cyr as the gospel belter on How Blest We Are from Big River and the hearty chorus on Brigadoon from the show of the same name.

The choreography by Val Keenleyside, Debbie Kaplan and Debbie Millett is strong, especially the showstopping Steam Heat (Skinny Rabbit shines here). David Magladry’s lighting design, smoothly mood-enhancing, also merits praise.

The Spirit of Orpheus is a toast to the past. Its exuberance says that Orpheus is itching to plunge into the future. The Spirit of Orpheus continues at Centrepointe Theatre until June 9. Tickets and times, 613-580-2700.

Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin' (Oklahoma)

I feel like my last few posts have been dowtrodden, so I'm going to pick things up a little. This is the first morning in over a month that I've had to sleep in. It's awesome. I'm still exhaustsed, but at least I know I was able to sleep in. It was opening night last night. The show went very well for me and the audience effing loved it. I must say I was totally on. Steam Heat got a wild reaction, which we were totally hoping for. I like getting opening night cards. It makes me feel nice when people say nice things to me. Like this one, for example, from someone I've never been in a show with before, but who has been in other shows with the same company: "I've seen you onstage before and you captured my attention. I can see now why everyone loves you - you're so talented: sing, dance and act and you're just a great guy." That's nice.

I'm also feeling very good because I told my bosses at work that I'm leaving them for Toronto. I was very scared to tell them that I'm ditching in the middle of the summer, which is their busiest time of year, but they were fully supportive. They knew it was coming and have been dreading the day. That feels good to know. I also love leaving when people least expect it. Like when I decided to leave Toronto. I definitely left to pay off my debt (only $1000 to go! I can DO this!), but in the back of my mind I was mostly excited to leave because of the shock value. I have the same feeling now, and I tell the friends I have made here "Oh, by the way, I'm moving back to Toronto next month." That's hot.

I Got A Little Time (Hello, Again)

But I don't. I have no time. I get up every morning at 6 to be at work for 7, and work until 4ish. Then I go to the theatre for 6:30 and get home at about 11:30. I sleep very little. However, my big worry is that my father is left all alone at home all day long with nothing to do. He's no longer working, he's no longer on speaking terms with his brother who lives next door (my father thinks everyone's out to get him so he picks fights if things don't go his way), my mother is in the middle of her three week vacation to Mexico that he refused to go on with her for absolutely no good reason, my brother is on a business trip for a week and my brother's fiancee is no longer his fiancee. Add to that the fact that he has a serious doctor's appointment tomorrow at one and I can't be there to go with him because I have to work. I came home tonight at 11:30, my father already asleep. I've been sitting at the computer, and I've been hearing weird noises that were probably coming from the back door with light meowing. I turned on the backyard light but there was nothing there. I later heard it again and check to see if the cat had maybe locked himself in the bathroom. He didn't. I checked the backyard once again and there was poor little George, sitting on the back porch, frightened. He's not an outdoor cat. He doesn't have claws. He's fat and lazy. If Klaus were out there he would have killed him. I don't know if I love my father, but I'm definitely worried about him.

A Certain Girl (The Happy Time)

I didn't know her very well. I definitely didn't like her. She was like that girl at our school who lied all the time and lived with ArtsMonkey. I didn't think she was a good person. I didn't understand her. I didn't want to. I gossiped about her. I made fun of her. Someone once tried to defend her to me saying that if I knew why she was like that I would not talk about her that way. I just don't like people I can't trust. I found out tonight that she commited suicide this morning. I don't know how to feel about that. No one I've actually known, other than my grandparents, has passed away, thank God. I didn't see this coming but I knew she was a troubled girl and I can't say that I'm surprised. It's terrible that she succeeded in her attempt to take her own life. Someone said it was a very selfish thing to do. It is. Her passing leaves so many unanswered questions and so many grief-stricken people. Our show opens next week. I know she's going to be on everyone's minds. That's probably what she wanted. I guess I'm a terrible person for thinking ill of her even when she's gone. I'm just not sure what I should be feeling right now. I barely knew her. It's probably awful that I chose a song from the musical The Happy Time to title this blog. I didn't do it on purpose. This is not a happy time. I had a suicidal phase in grade nine, as I'm sure most people do at some point in their lives. I never made any attempts, I just contemplated it for some time. I was just seeking attention. I never would have had the guts to go through with it. I'm glad I never did. I love my life.

We Can Talk To Each Other (Starting Here, Starting Now)

Conversations with a stripper.

Chanel sits down next to me and puts her hand on my leg. I know what she wants. She has no idea what I want. She's french. Her accent is thick. Me no likey. "Mans tinks about sex every eleven seconds. I'm really smart, eh?" No. "What are you thinking about now?" she asks. I don't remember my answer but I'm sure it was vague. "You're looking at her breasts, aren't you?" "Um, yeah." I lie. She had no idea I was more interested in studying the strippers moves than her curves.

I was doing research to see if stripping was actually something I could do. The first and last time I went to a strip club I had to leave because I could not stop laughing. I kept thinking about the girls falling in those ridiculously high shoes. And the one who wrapped her legs behind her head and bounced her ass in the air became my object of ridicule for quite some time.

Chanel flat out says "You're not going to buy a dance are you?" I say no, she gets up and moves on to the next guy.

I'm there with a friend of mine. It's his birthday. He's always been a socially awkward human being. A nerd if you will. He's in my family and I've known him since I was born. We grew up across the street from each other and my mother is his Godmother. I may be his only friend. We go out to dinner every week. Since I left Ottawa the first time he's been forced to make a life for himself without me. He joined a bible study group and became a regular at the local strip clubs. Fitting. My reasons for taking him there are two fold. The first is to do something he'd like for his birthday, and essentially get a glimpse into his world when I'm not around. The second is for research.

He tells me about Georgia, a stripper he calls his friend. She comes over and sits next to him and gives him a hug. He introduces us. She's sweet. She's more friendly to him than anyone has ever been. He has his arm around her and gives her a kiss on the cheek. I have never seen him like this. She asks him if he wants to go into the VIP lounge and he says maybe later. She leaves.

Tia asks if she can sit with us. She's cute. She's kind of fun to talk to. She seems real. I like that. We reject her dance and she takes it well. Good girl.

I wonder where these chicks get their crazy outfits.

Georgia finally comes back and takes him to the back room. I sit there by myself. Vulnerable. Watching the dancers. Studying their moves. There is less dancing than I would have expected. The strippers we see in movies always defend themselves by calling themselves dancers. I expected this was because they actually did some dancing. The ones I saw just stood there and swayed around and tried to be sexy. I don't know. I wasn't really impressed. When I strip, I intend to put on a show. That's just me.

Maude comes over. I think that's how you spell it. She pronounces it Mode. She's nice enough. She talks about how it's a slow night. (It's Tuesday). I reject her.

Bianca. I like Bianca. She's super bubbly. We get along fine. She says weeknights are generally busier than weekends. The reason for this is because there are many hotels on that street and all the business men in town on conferences usually arrive on Tuesday and have nothing to do so they go to the strip joint. She asks if she can liven up my night for me. I laugh and say no.

A quiet talker, whom my friend had warned me about, comes up to me, doesn't sit down, asks straight out if I want a dance. I say no, she leaves.

I saw August dance when I first came in. She sits next to me and points out that she saw me sitting there and that I had a friend with me. "He's in the back with Georgia." "Oh that's good." We talked about the girl on stage. She likes her boots but couldn't dance on them. She has to wear super tall heals so that she can reach the ceiling so that she has something to hold to otherwise she'd fall. I think back to my fantasy of the falling strippers many years ago. August thinks the girl on stage might be new because she's never seen her there before. August has been working there for three years. Maybe she doesn't recognize the new girl because August is used to working days. She says she still makes her money because the club is right in the heart of the business center where all the government buildings are. She gets the lunch crowd. That's cool. I reject her, but I feel bad about it. Weird how I almost felt like taking her (as well as Bianca and Tia) to the the back just so I could keep talking to her.

My friend comes back and is paying Georgia. He paid sixty dollars for three songs. He and Georgia talked about me. They talked about how she's a single mother who lives with her parents. Like me, she moved back home to get back on her feet.

It was really freaky seeing my awkward friend be so confidant at this joint. He was so sure of himself and dealt with the girls as if he were some stud. He's not like that at all in the real world.

I realized that a big part of these girls' job is to make men comfortable. You can try and be flirty and fake like Chanel but that won't get the men to buy a dance from you. Maybe it works for some guys but not for me. You can be direct like the quiet talker, but that approach is cold. It's the girls like Georgia, August, Bianca and Tia that I'm sure make the most money. My friend goes to Georgia because she talks to him, she listens to him. Something no one else in his life does. Those girls act genuinely interested in their patrons. They're approachable and personable. It was interesting to see all these different tactics and the reactions they got.

I walked out of that club believing that I could do this. If it's possible to weed out the weirdos, it could even be a good time, and I very well could learn something. If anything, it's a great social study. Their role is almost more of therapist than dancer or temptress. It's something I think I might like to explore.

The Word Of Your Body (Spring Awakening)

I've been pretty disappointed with the state of my body these days. I was videotaping myself masturbating this morning (yes, I do that, I'm THAT vain!) and was not too happy with what I saw played back on the screen. I'm so loose. I mean, I'm still a skinny little rabbit, but like, I'm loose. I should have a tight skinny body. Watching myself dance in the mirrors in the rehearsal hall, I see long, gangly arms, round shoulders, a belly and no pecs. I want baby muscles on my arms and baby pecs and a flat stomach. I don't want to look perfect, I just want too look good naked. I desperately want to join a gym, but I seriously am not going to do myself any good without a trainer. Does Princesse Alathariel's gay crush still work at Goodlife? I want him to do to me what he did to himself. Girlfriend's looking good. I want to look good. Naked.

Think Big (jon & jen)

A friend of mine was telling me I should apply to work in some sexy position for Club Monaco in New York, and could get a Visa that way. I looked into it and then looked into other jobs and realized that I lack experience and a degree. Then I started to get depressed and freaked out that I need to go back to school for four years and not be able to be successful until my mid thirties. Then I realized, fuck, I'm an actor. Why do I want a real job? I'm a fucking actor.

Let It Go (The Full Monty)

Would you judge me if I take up stripping when I move to Toronto this summer? I really need the money and think I could have a lot of fun dancing on the stage. As for the private dances, I'm not un-turned on by the idea. I wonder if I'd get myself into any trouble. You're judging me, aren't you?

Bright Lights, Big City (Bright Lights, Big City)

Ok, so I had a fucking blast in New York last week. Here are some highlights.

Day 1 - Back In The City (Bright Lights, Big City)

I arrive and take a cab to DansyAnsyPansy's workplace. We walk up Tribeca to SoHo where we stop at a cute little place to eat and admire all the fucking hot people in this town. Damn. We go see Spring Awakening. I like it. It wasn't the phenomenal show I've heard so much about. The acting was week. The voices were amazing. I enjoyed the staging, but Pants didn't and I understand her points. The fat girl with glasses sitting on stage trying to ignore the performers around her gave us a good laugh. I was disappointed to find out they reduced all the gay sex to one comedic kissing scene. But I found the music neat. It has Randolph written all over it. The "lyrical" choreography was ridiculous and unnecessary. The soundtrack is addictive.

Day 2 - Stay In My Life (Bright Lights, Big City)

Went on a date to see Company. They auctioned off the kazoo that the love of my life, Raul Esparza, played on stage during Side By Side By Side for Equity Fights AIDS. I won the bidding and was brought backstage where I entered an office and found the adorable Raul sitting behind a desk in his little Bobby suit. He shook my hand and I believe the first thing I said was "I'm in love with you." The kazoo was signed and in a ziplock bag, and he signed my program and I made him hug me and pose for a picture. He's so lovely and I'm going to marry him one day. Other things I did that day were go see The View where The Pirate Queen performed and the entire audience got free tickets except for me because I was VIP. Isn't that backwards? I also went on a date with a neurotic and unattractive Jew with a Brooklyn accent who called me hot when I said "Eh." Nothing happened, except that he gave me some NYC condoms.

Day 3 - Wednesday (Bright Lights, Big City)

Curtains was the tightest show I saw. So happy to see Kander and Ebb finally have a hit musical again. Especially since it's their last. It was funny, entertaining from start to finish, strong performances, just good fun. Then I went to see Angela Lansbury and Marian Seldes in Deuce. I was going to see Audra McDonald in 110 In The Shade, but figured two old legends are better than one young one, so I chose that. The play wasn't great, but they totally stuttered through the show as they tried to keep track of their lines. That was fun to watch. I love live theatre. I did not love their costar. He sucked. I believe he is a graduate of the Lindsay Kramer School of Acting. Three seats over from me was a total cutie I made eye contact and smiles with. I wanted to ask him out after the show but I had to poo. It's the biggest regret of my life.

Day 4 - Heart and Soul (Bright Lights, Big City)

Went to see Regis and Kelly and damn that chick is hilarious! Neenia and that other girl arrived and we were fabulous on the west side, recreating Carrie and Berger's first date. Went to see A Chorus Line and were all very disappointed. Neenia wondered aloud why there were no BGs in that production. I wondered the same thing. We then headed to the free Rufus concert that Bedroom Prince has told us about, and I met up with my next date there. Everything was very confusing at the club. And then slightly boring. We left before Rufus arrived. My date took me to his neighbourhood (Chelsea) and to a dinner that he often frequents. He warned me as we entered that he's there so much they know his name. It was super cute. They came over to comment on how his menu was open for the first time in forever. I loved seeing how he had found a little bit of comfort in the big city. We talked about a wide variety of topics and the conversation was never uneasy or awkward. He was super sweet. He told me his coming out story. His father was the first one to approach him about it when he was 23 and told him that he fully supports him no matter what. I couldn't help myself, my eyes started to tear up. The way he told me that, with such love for his family, ugh! I love his family and I don't even know them. Maybe it's because he's a therapist, but I felt like I could tell him anything. He then walked me to the subway and I hugged him goodbye. No moves. He has a weird tooth thing. I like slight flaws in teeth, so I like the big gap between his two front teeth, but there was something funky happening with one tooth in particular, but I couldn't stare long enough to find out.

Day 5 - Are You Still Holding My Hand? (Bright Lights, Big City)

Went to Greenwhich Village and SoHo with Neenia and that other girl, and then saw Spelling Bee, which was good, but not absolutely fabulous, like I was expecting. The I Will Be Loved Tonight girl from I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change girl was playing Rona so that was neat. She was really good.

Day 6 - Perfect Feeling (Bright Lights, Big City)

Went to Central Park with Neenia and that other girl. It was the most beautiful day in the world. In the world. Most beautiful. A dancing french baby who fell on her face made it even more perfect. Then I went to see my girl Fantastia in The Colour Purple (I refuse to type Color), and holy fuck was that an amazing end to my trip. The entire audience was black. Mostly women. It was fucking incredible the way this audience responded to the show. They were hooting and hollering, and in a good way. Not heckling. Just fucking having a fabulous time and not afraid to hide it. Fantasia kicked ass and during her big solo at the end, from the beginning of the number they were verbally supporting her and sitting forward in their seats, just offering the kind of energy most actors dream an audience would give. It was a fantastic feeling. They were giving their homegirl love and she was giving it right back. By the end they were up out of their seats. It was nutty, I tell you. I came home and told everyone in my show that we need to fill our audience with black people and recast with black people and we'll have a great show no matter what.

Albert misses Wanda.

I'm A Brass Band (Sweet Charity)

My situation changed slightly for the better in a matter of a half hour this afternoon. At 2pm, I went to the bank and met with someone about a loan. I met with him last year to ask for ten thousand dollars and was denied. I'm back this year asking for three thousand and was approved. Therefore, my asshole MasterCard is now officially closed bitches! My HBC credit card, back to zero, bitches! My $1000 overdraft reset, bitches! My Visa, empty and ready to use in NYC, bitches! So then I go next door to the tax place, hand the chick my T-4s, and boom, ten minutes later I'm getting back just over $300. Wait? What? That's it? I'm used to getting back at least $800. Oh well, at least I don't owe anything. Nigger feels good. Hopefully I don't spend much money on my trip. Why is it snowing? I'm supposed to be making money on the patio. Fucking global warming.

A Miracle Would Happen (The Last Five Years)

Someone has been sending me Facebook messages asking me to move into her room in Toronto in May. I can't because I'm doing two shows in June. The offer still stands for July and August. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm here, miserable, but almost debt-free and ready to start saving so that I can move to New York for two or three months and then go to Montreal, maybe permanently, which I'm very excited about. However I'm so miserable, so miserable in this house, that I might just fucking do it. I could quit Hard Rock here, go back to Hard Rock there, get a second job at Lucky Brand Jeans which my friend and former Roots manager runs, make a shit load of money, and I get to live with Bedroom Prince and Neenia! That sounds nice. It sounds very very very nice. But is it worth paying rent? Would I then be stuck in Toronto and not end up ever going to New York or Montreal, which I'm very excited about? If I don't go, I run the risk of postponing my move out of Ottawa, which I've already done countless times. I hate life here. Goodness me, I think I should do it. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm going to eat cereal.

Trouble In His Brain (A New Brain)

Not only do I not feel like blogging, but I never know what to say on your blogs anymore.

So what's happening with me. I'm in rehearsals for two shows. Both of which are going to suck balls. One I'm doing as a favour for a very young friend who kind of inspires me, and the other I'm not exactly sure why I'm doing. It's a piece of shit. I'm ashamed and for the first time ever, I don't care if anyone comes to see it, and I'd kind of rather they didn't. I mean, I'm going to rock the shit out of it, but I'm not in enough of it to save the rest of the show.

My parents drive me crazy. What else is knew? I'm slowly dying here and I am counting the days until I get out. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing in the fall. I don't want to move back to Toronto anymore. When I was back there last time, I was telling everyone that I was moving back for sure, but by the time I left I really felt that I was done with that city. The only thing that will take me back is probably if I decide to pursue Second City. Vancouver was the reason I left in the first place but I'm just not feeling it. My plan at the moment is move to New York for a few months, until they kick me out, and if I can't get work by that time, I'm moving to Montreal. If I don't end up going to New York, I'll probably just go to straight to Montreal. I love that city, and I haven't lived there yet, so I think I'll give it a shot.

I want to give up on singing and dancing. I'll never be a dancer. That's old news. I don't have the passion for singing to make myself get better. I don't think I'm going to get anywhere in musical theatre. I'm going to try stand up this summer and see how that goes. If I succeed, then Montreal would be the perfect place to go. Ottawa has, what many comedians actually say is the best comedy club in Canada. There's always a full audience. Who knew Ottawa supported anything?

I'm sick of the people I'm close with. I mean the people I've been spending too much time with. I need a change. I'm not satisfied with the personal relationships I have at this point. It's time for a turnover. I haven't answered my phone today because I don't want to talk to anyone. I should clean my room. I should do my taxes.

I'm still very attracted to myself but I'm none too please with the way my body is looking these days. I definitely need to hit the gym. I don't want to go to the gym. That's a conflict. I get bored of my clothes very quickly. I want to wear items only once and never again, just like they do on TV. Y&R has had me glued to the television set for the past few months. That's nice.

I'm not healthy. I don't eat well. I barely eat. Does that make me anorexic? I don't think I have an eating disorder because I don't not eat out of wanting to be thin, I don't eat out of laziness. I never wake up early enough to have breakfast and then I go to work and run around all day and don't eat until I get home which is dinner time. Then I'll either not eat until the next day, or I'll go get McDonalds or order pizza sometime around midnight. Why am I killing myself this way? This may sound backwards but I'd be eating more if I didn't live at home. I know there's food waiting for me at home so I don't eat at work after my shift. I get home, wait a couple of hours for a meal that I don't like, barely eat it, and then don't have seconds because I hate home cooked meals. I'm disgusting. I disgust myself.

I absolutely cannot wait until April 16th when I go to New York. I can't wait to stay with DansyAntsyPantsy and see seven shows in six days. I can't wait to see Neenia and that other girl on April 19th. I can't wait to get out of Ottawa and these people. I worry that DansyAntsyPantsy is going to grow tired of me and that I'm going to be a nuisance in her home. Six days is a long time.

Look at me, I wrote a new blog.

No More (See What I Wanna See)

Is anyone else getting bored of blogging?

They Say It's Wonderful (Annie Get Your Gun)

I blogged about this a few months ago, just before I decided to start dating myself, but I'll say it again because the feelings are back. I'm lonely. I'm ready to be in a relationship. I see so many great people in great relationships and I can't seem to ever meet anyone that I like who likes me. It's always the other way around. I can have any guy (or fag hag) in town as long as I'm not attracted to them. That's not fair. It's kind of depressing. It may also be my fault since I never really put myself out there. I always tell my lovelorn friends that when they stop looking for love it'll find them. And I'm always right about them. I haven't been looking at all. Why hasn't it found me yet?! I'M NOT LOOKING! FIND ME! LOVE?! I flirted with a hot black guy a couple of weeks ago, so I guess that's progress.

I'm so longing for that perfect companion that it's hard for me to watch good tv shows because I end up falling in love with the characters. I watched two seasons of Entourage and fell in love with Vincent Chase. Watching the show was unbearable because I could not stop imagining him gazing at me with his beautiful green eyes, kissing me with those lovely lips that form a winning smile, and running my hands all over his perfectly average naked body. Then I moved on to Tales Of The City and fell hard for the recast Michael in the second part of the miniseries. With his dark curly hair, piercing blue eyes, honest smile and gorgeous hairy chest... I was checking out the actor's bio and found out he lives in Montreal, but when I read that he's from Ottawa my heart went a-flutter. Is that weird? I just started Grey's Anatomy season one and am trying not to kill myself over McDreamy. And don't get me started on all the Sex And The City guys, especially Steve.

I think I may need to meet real people.

Hard To Be A Prince (Rags)

Not attractive. Older than me but under thirty. Shorter than me. Not anyone I'd take out in public or have meet my friends. Calls me "bro" and "dude" which I hate and point out everytime. Text messages me all the time. MSN Messengers me everytime I unblock him. Always asks me out. Always rejected. Is persistent. Is so into me for some reason. Takes my abuse with a grain of salt. Smiles, laughs it off. I'm not very nice to him and never apologize. Touches me the way I love to be touched. Has chapped lips. Respects my boundaries. Inflates my ego.

The Cell Phone Song (Brownstone)

Hey Skinny

For some off reason, I thought of u today, wanted to say hello

Hi.

What's up bro

Nothing.

Typical : )

We should

We should what?

Lol, we should chill, u know u want to:))

Even if I did, I already have plans for tonight.

Oh, well, my loss skinny

Sowwy.

Lol

Its all good

Ill bother ya soon

I don't doubt it.
U actually made me laugh

Dude, honestly, if I'm bothering ya, let me know:)

Meh.

(10 minutes later...)

Keep texting me, I'm bored right now.

Haha

All I can say is that I'd like to see ya and hopefully we can

I'm a good guy, as u know

Everytime you tell me you're a good guy I trust you a little less.

I'm a good guy:)

Minus one point.

Ahh, come on

Ok, I'm a fuckn douche bag:)

Sweet.

And you're one as well:)))

You're such a charmer.

U met me, u have you're impressions;)

Kinda.

Well, that settles it:) Hey, let me know when your not bored

You're not consistent with you (your) and (you're)

Hey

Ill sing a song for you if we meet

A song you wrote?

Yes, of course

Did you write it for me?

Yes and no:)

I am talented u know

Do you play guitar?

I play piano and key board

Really? I'm impressed. Do you own a keyboard?

I used to, I'm in process of buying one, a korg

Lovely.

Ya man, I hope u are impressed

I am. Musicianship is sexy.

Dude I'd love to play for ya

You mean piano right?

Hahaha, yes, lol, I honestly would, I am impress with you and think you're decent

You don't really know me.

Oh ya, true, does that mean that my default position should be negative?????:))))

Who am I do say?

Oh well, I choose to be positive about you, so there!!!

I don't know how to feel about you.

Well, makes sense, and I respect your you're doubt, lol
Just don't dismiss me;)

I'm waiting to hear piano.

Dude, u would make my month if I could meet you at the Chateau Laurier for drinks and then play u some tunes on the grand piano

Are you buying?

Ya man, I'd like that, for real

You're allowed to play their piano?

Ya, they have a couple in the long hallways

I can't tonight.

Yes, I know, lol, I'm not askn for this eve skinny

I actually don't think I can say no to that.

I'd like that dude, if you're really interested I'd take ya to dinner as well at the chateau:))

How would you dress?

Casual, zoes is a nice place but one can dress down for sure, I've done it

You don't like to dress up?

I do everyday, lol, and u???

I like to look my best.

U didn't the first nite I met ya, hahah

Well, if we go to chateau, I'd follow you're lead, I don't mind lookn my best skinny

Different situation.

Actually, u looked awesome

I know I did.

I agree

Got any pictures of you dressed up?

I don't, but I look good

How can I believe you?

hahah, why wouldn't u, its me

That's exactly why. Haha.

Haha, dude, you're too funny, and cute

I am.

Oh I know, very cute dude

Would it bother you if I told you that the main thing that attracts me to you is that you're attracted to me?

Dude, I am attracted to you, when I met you, I liked u, u were cool and fun bro, and of course I'm not offended, what u said made me feel good man

You fascinate me.

U sarcastic bastard

It's true! You always spin a negative into a positive.

Thanks man

I'm An Ordinary Man (My Fair Lady)

I've noticed that every attractive gay man I meet in this city is coupled with another very attractive gay man. I asked my gal pal why this is. She replied that because there are so few good looking gay men in Ottawa they get snatched up really quickly. This makes sense. Does that make me ugly?

Laundry Quintet (Caroline, or Change)

It's been one week and three days since I've done a load of laundry and I still have enough socks, underpants, and clothes that I actually still like to last me the rest of the week. I somehow feel accomplished. But I'm thinking about doing laundry anyway.

The First Time (Zorba)

I just realized that this will be the first year ever in my life that I will not be doing my taxes as a student or a working actor. Does this mean that I'm a real person? Am I going to owe money instead of getting back the large sums I'm used to declaring? Help! I need to speak to an adult.

I Can't Be Bothered Now (Crazy For You)

I haven't had any action since September or October (can't remember which). I haven't even kissed anyone since December. And I'm okay with that. I turned down to offers from gentlemen callers this weekend. And I'm okay with that. I think I'm saving myself for something more. I'm not actively searching for that something more. But when it arrives, I'll loosen up again. Until then, I think I'm going to focus on writing my stand-up routine, conceiving a new one man show I recently decided to mount this summer, and getting started on that damn screenplay I've been thinking about for the last five years. You know, whichever comes first.

The Sun Has Got His Hat On (Me And My Girl)

Whatcha Got? (Zanna, Don't!)

I'd like to preface this by saying that this is the last time I am allowed to blog from the original blogger. My next entry will be as a Google Blogger. I'm not looking forward to that and resent lots of people for this. I did not like Neenia's reaction to having to switch over and have been afraid to blog ever since. But what I have to say needs to be said. Okay, so they're not actually my words, but you need to hear them.

We're all artists and we all have our own personal struggles with our craft. There's a fantastic song from my new favourite musical called [title of show] that has been affecting me. I was at a pub with a friend of mine who is a writer/producer/director and had her listen to the song. She's not much of a musical theatre affectionado, but I did take her to see Rent and she bought the movie soundtrack thereafter (a small step, but a step none-the-less). She may even know Les Miz, I'm not too sure, and I don't really care. The point is after I played her that song she went out and purchased the CD. It's that fabulous. I also played it for Neenia but I had to leave the room because ever since Princesse Alathariel told me that she hates when someone plays her a song because they just sit and watch your reaction and you're forced to react on the spot to show them you like it, I've never been able to recommend music the same. She loved it too. It makes me think of ya'll. I can see Neenia writing a blog like it. I can imagine Bedroom Prince discussing it. I can picture Arts Monkey performing it. I can feel Princesse Alathariel taking it all in. I can hope Dansy Antsy Pantsy gets to inspired by it she goes out on an audition the next day. I can even bet that Gilbert's Girl is ready this and saying "YES!" And here it is. I hope it changes your life.

Die Vampire, Die (music and lyrics by Jeff Bowen, performed by Susan Blackwell and company)

There are some people in the world who say that writing stories or composing music or dancing sparkly dances is easy for them; nothing interferes with their ability to create. While I celebrate their creative freedom, a little part of me wants to punch those motherfuckers in the teeth. This song, I sing this song for you guys, and for all the rest of us. Help me out, ya'll.

We'll sing backup.

You have a story to tell
A novel you keep in a drawer.

Old sock drawer.

You have a painting to paint,
But you're lazy like an old french whore.

Je suis whore!

You have a movie to make,
Shrinky dunks you can bake,
But you best grad a stake 'cause
In sweep the vampires,
In creep the vampires,
Knee deep in vampires,
Filling you with
Doubt, insecurity
'Bout what your art should be,
In sweep the vampires,
Die vampire!

You sketched that turtle you saw
In an ad on late night cable TV.

Tippy Turtle!

But your 4th grade teacher said "You can't draw!"
Oh, those vampires won't let you be.

Fuck you Miss Johnson! Word.

And when they come run like hell
See those bats in your bel-
fry. Then call on Van Helsing,

In swoosh the vampires,
in whoosh the vampires,
Baba ganoush. All the vampires,
Filling you with thoughts of self-consciousness,
Feelings of worthlessness,
They'll make you second-guess,
Die vampire!

There are so many vampires
Inside, outside and nationwide.
It helps to recognize them
With this vampire hunting guide!

Listen closely, a vampire is any person or thought or feeling that stands between you and your creative self expression, but they can assume many seductive forms. Here's a few of them.

Tell us, Susan!

First up is your Pigmy Vampire. They'll swarm around your head like gnats, and say things like: "Your teeth need whitening." "You went to state school?" "You sound weird." "Shakespeare... Sondheim... and Sedaris... did it before you and better than you." Or they might say that you cannot sing good enough to be in a musical. Or they might say... "Your song's derivative." To keep that song from you, but you tell them... Die Vampire, Die!

Brothers and sisters, next up is the Air Freshener Vampire. She might look like your mama or your old fat-ass, fat Aunt Fanny. If she smells something unpleasant in what you're creating, she'll urge you to psssst it with some pine-fresh smell-em-ups. The Air Freshener Vampire doesn't want you to write about bad language, blood, or blow jobs. She wants you to clean it up and clean it out, which will leave your work toothless, gutless and crotchless. But you'll be left with two tight paragraphs on kittens that your grandma would be so proud of. You look at that Air Freshener Vampire in her fat-ass, fat old fucking face and you say "Morte, Vampir. Morte."

The last vampire is the mother of all vampires and that is the Vampire of Despair. It'll wake you up at 4am to say things like "Who do you think you're kidding?" "You look like a fool." "No matter how hard you try you'll never be good enough." Why is it, if some dude walked up to me on the subway and said these things, I would think he was a mentally ill asshole, but if the vampire inside my head says it, it's the voice of reason?

You have a story to tell,
Pull your novel out of that sock drawer!
You have a painting to paint,
You best paint it and then paint some more!
Oh baby you must escape
Then grab it by the nape
Of its neck, by the trachea,
Fuckin' break it,
Go on drive the stake in,
Yeah there's not mistakin',
Now you're shakin' bakin'!

Die vampire, I said die vampire
I said now die vampire, die!

In fly the vampires.
Oh my, the vampires,
Then die the vampires,
Filling you with
Life, creativity,
All that your arts should be
Out go the vampires
Die Vampire, Die Vampire,
Die Vampire, DIE!

Simple (Nine)

I went to an audition for Wonderland yesterday and was cut. I didn't want it anyway, and I didn't mind being cut, but I think I was the only one who got cut and that's weird. It also meant I had to wait hours in the middle of nowhere for my friend who had to stay for the dance call. That was annoying. I hated the day. Then I met up with a friend at Yonge and St Clair pub where I ate fajitas. It was pretty dead and karaoke night. There was a small group who kept singing all the songs because, well, there was no one else there. This creepy dude who works there kept coming up to our table to ask us to sing but we weren't interested. Finally we decided to go over and I did my old karaoke standard All By Myself. They loved me and one girl asked me to sing Phantom Of The Opera with her. They dug that too.

It's funny how your day can just turn around like that. Those people were not the people I was trying to impress that day, but in the end their accolades mattered.

Sometimes I think I'd be better off just staying in Ottawa, getting a government job, and doing amateur theatre for the rest of my life. I honestly think I would be happy doing that. I'd have lots of money and I'd get to do all the shows I want. But then I remember that I'm not good at anything else and I need to be paid to perform. Also that there I cannot meet anyone in Ottawa that is not ugly, so the chances of me settling down there are unlikely. Also that I hate Ottawa and need to leave it now.

Disappear (The Secret Garden)

Being a closeted homo only to his father, and up until recently, entire family, I have become an expert in how to do all the dirty little things you want to do online (porn, blogging, what have you) without getting caught. All you have to do is delete your browsing history. Just go to tools, click option and delete history. Plain, simple, easy. It deletes any record of the addresses you've visited online from that skinny long rectangle where you type in addresses (what's it called?) Anyway, I do it everytime I use to computer. I don't need no one getting all up in my bid-niz. Have you blog address saved in your favourites? If you don't want someone to accidentally read it, get rid of it.

Choose To Be Happy (Grey Gardens)

I am SO not jumping on this "I'm depressed" bandwagon. Especially if we're blaming it on the weather. Fuck that. Snow is a miracle. I love it when it's cold outside. We get to bundle up, get red cheeks and noses, look fabulous in lovely sweaters, and then come home, put on our sweats and curl up in a warm blanket and watch TV. I'll take this weather over sweating for no reason in the hot summer days.

Stop being depressed! You live in New York/Switzerland/Toronto! You have a boyfriend! You're having sex! You're in a play! You're directing a play! You're hot! You have good friends! You have me!

*I wrote the title of this blog and then wrote the blog and edited it. When I looked back up at the title just before publishing it, I saw that it read "Choose To Be Busy." Is that my brain telling me to stop being lazy?

When A Wooer Goes A-Wooing (The Yeomen Of The Guard)

Alright, alright, quit badgering me. I'll tell, I'll tell. But only in short form. I also have no idea what the title means. It's late. I'm a-tired.

He comes into the restaurant. Flirts with his server. Flirts with me. Massages his server. Massages me. Ends up massaging partons at surrounding tables. Other servers. Asks his server to ask me what I'm doing later. Wants to know when I'll be off work. Tells me he'll be at the club. I tell him I'll be there. I'm not that interested, but it was a good massage and I hate being massaged. I go to the club after work. See him. He's too far and hard to get to. I wait for the stupid drag queens to stop, for the dancing to begin. The drag act ends. The dancing begins. He's gone.

Later (A Little Night Music)

I'm too tired to blog right now. I'll tell you my story later. It's not that interesting.

I hope DansyAntsyPantsy's move to New York went well. Or is going well. Or is going to go well.

I can't effing wait to see you guys next weekish.

I may have used this title before, but my body's too tired to care and double check right now.

I Really Like Him (Man Of La Mancha)

I hate my father.

You're Getting To Be A Habit With Me (42nd Street)

Tonight I performed in the 2nd Annual Showtune Showdown. Teams of four from three local theatre companies came out to perform four numbers each and answer showtune trivia questions. We won two of the three showdown rounds. There was an audience round in which the winning audience member got to give their points to the group of their choice and they chose the eventual winners. That's pretty much what did us in. But otherwise we performed really well. I opened with the show with All The Wasted Time. My duet partner and I set the bar with our amazing performance. Not gonna lie. It was hot. We received 9 of 10 from each of the judges. I ended the evening with my amazing rendition of I Can't Do It Alone. I can't say my singing was spot on, but my dancing was effing sexual. I totally gave the audience a show, and got two 10s and a 9. Needless to say I ended the number in the splits. The best splits I've ever done in my life, no word of a lie. The black judge (got bless her, she was fabulous) just shook her head at me as if to say "Oh no you di-in't!" She said "Don't sing. Don't dance. Just do the splits."

Other news: I'm playing the love interest in the 100th anniversary musical we're doing. It's pretty much a cabaret. I'm in Steam Heat, I Hope I Get It (in which the lead notices me because I'm the best dancer - ha!), Summer Nights, which we sing together as Danny and Sandy, and my big number is Showstopper. I'm also dancing in like 10 other numbers. I can't wait. The lead used to sing with the girl who played Sophie in The Grace Of Mary Traverse. Weird, eh?

Also weird. Our Cabaret and MTP teacher is in town. We plan on getting together sometime next week to catch up. Apparently he's cleaned himself up. Hopefully.

First Letter/Second Letter/Third Letter (Passion)

Dear Movie Goer At The Theatre Last Night,

When you enter a ninety seat theatre and there are but nine other people waiting for the movie to start, please don't sit in the seat directly in front of mine. I have no problem with you sitting in the row directly in front of mine, but plopping your ass down one seat over would have made all the difference in the world. The movie has subtitles, and while I speak Spanish, the dialect from Spain is different than that from Mexico and Penelope Cruz's breasts are distracting, and your big head would have perfectly blocked them from my vision (the subtitles, not the breasts).

Sincerely,

Skinny-Rabbit

PS: The fact that you didn't even notice that I stood up and moved down the aisle proves to me that you are oblivious and shouldn't be allowed in public.


Dear Movie Goer At The Theatre Last Night Who Arrived After I Had Already Moved Down The Aisle,

There are eighty other seats to choose from in the room. So why did you think it would be a good idea to sit the aisle seat in the very row I was sitting in, henceforth blocking me in, setting up for an unfortunately awkward and uncomfortable situation in the event I need to get up and go to the washroom during the screening of the motion picture. Luckily for you I never get up during a movie, fatso.

Thank you for your time,

Skinny-Rabbit


Dear Movie Goer At The Theatre A Couple Of Weeks Ago,

You're there by yourself and I dig that. I do it too. I get that you're lonely and probably a big nerd. I'm not judging you based on the fact that you have no one to go to a movie with, because as I just said, I like to go to movies by myself as well. I judge you because you're loud and obnoxious and displayed a behaviour I have never seen before. If something makes you laugh, then by all means, laugh. Don't, however, being making commentary to yourself and go announcing out loud (very loudly) exactly why you found the humourous moments to be, well, humourous. You make me sick.

Love,

Skinny-Rabbit.