Monkeys And Playbills ( [title of show] )

Welcome to my 100th BLOG EXTRAVAGANZA!!!!!!!! 100 blog, 100 showtunes! I've managed to write my first one hundred posts without ever once repeating a musical. And believe me, I've been tempted. I'm not sure how much longer I can stick with it, but there are thousands of musicals out there, so I can't give up now. It just sucks when I write something and have an amazing title for it, but I've already used up the musical. Oh well, such is life.

Thank you (all five of you) for sticking with me and reading up on me. I have loved doing the same for you (obsessively). You've been with me through a lot of important events in my life. From my first blog, Why (tick, tick... BOOM!), to my trip to Hong Kong, Getting Out Of Town (42nd Street) through Back To Before (Ragtime). From my missing Toronto and you guys way too much, My Friends (Sweeney Todd), to my forgetting all about you when I met Bernadette Peters and saw her live, Does Anybody Want To Buy A Memory (Brooklyn). The boycott I set against Ottawa's public transit system in It Sucks To Be Me (Avenue Q) is still going strong after six months. I made my first few substantial payments on my credit cards in Getting In The Lifeboat (Titanic), setting myself off to a good start. I got a down and dirty in A Little Mmm (LaChiusa's The Wild Party) and I Can't Make This Movie (Nine) when I got it one with two different guys only days apart - the first knew my father, and the second I attempted to secretly videotape as he blew me on my mother's waching machine. I ended up in a brief romance, my first in like three years beginning with Then You May Take Me To The Fair (Camelot) and ending with What's The Buzz (Jesus Christ Superstar). You've witnessed my blog's face lift in I Imagine You're Upset (Bat Boy), and my obsession with So You Think You Can Dance, (which has rubbed off on most of you) in Fast (Zanna, Don't!). I complained about people being obsessed with the being in love in Cantiamo D'Amore (Kiss Me, Kate) and have since fallen for someone I can't shake out of my system (or out of the closet!) in Rape Ballet (The Fantasticks). I had a paramount heart to heart with my mother in Confession (A Man Of No Importance) and my brother, What The Fuck Was That? (Evil Dead). Most importantly, Neenia and I became internet sensations in We Dance (Once On This Island). Thank you for reading, commenting, and making my life in Ottawa so much more bearable by allowing me to read your tales as well.

And now, Ladies and Gentleman, I present you with my first one hundred blog titles.

Slaughter On Tenth Avenue (On Your Toes)

Me (Beauty And The Beast)

Love, Unrequited, Robs Me of My Rest (Iolanthe)

Chess And Checkers (New Girl In Town)

Rape Ballet (The Fantasticks)

If I Were Anybody Else But Me (Naughty Marietta)

You Don't Want To Play With Me Blues (The Boy Friend)

Mama Gimme Smack On The Asshole (Jerry Springer - The Opera)

For No Good Reason At All (Big Deal)

We Dance (Once On This Island)

Confession (A Man Of No Importance)

What The Fuck Was That? (Evil Dead 1&2: The Musical)

Waiting For This Moment (Tarzan)

What's Wrong With That? (Rags)

Small Talk (The Pajama Game)

I Get A Kick Out Of You, or, You're The Top (Anything Goes)

Cantiamo D'Amore (Kiss Me, Kate)

Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh (The Phantom Of The Opera)

Why God Why? (Miss Saigon)

Private Thoughts (Teddy & Alice)

Awesome (The Wedding Singer)

The Madness Of King Scar (The Lion King)

On The Street Where You Live (My Fair Lady)

Hell No! (The Colour Purple)

Keep It Gay (The Producers)

When Velma Takes The Stand (Chicago)

Safe (Hello Again)

Fast (Zanna, Don't!)

Make Me Happy (Lippa's The Wild Party)

Food, Glorious Food (Oliver!)

The Money Song (Cabaret)

Use What You've Got (The Life)

Good Morning, Baltimore (Hairspray)

I Imagine You're Upset (Bat Boy)

Movies Were Movies (Mack And Mabel)

We're Ok (Rent)

What's The Buzz (Jesus Christ Superstar)

Holding Out For A Hero (Footloose)

The Best Of Times (La Cage Aux Folles)

Summertime (Porgy And Bess)

Poor, Poor Pharoah (Joseph And The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat)

One Special Man (Big)

Children Will Listen (Into The Woods)

Welcome To The World (john & jen)

See I'm Smiling (The Last Five Years)

This Is Not Over Yet (Parade)

I Think I Can Play This Part (The Goodbye Girl)

Workin' It Out (They're Playing Our Song)

Almost A Love Song (Victor/Victoria)

Then You May Take Me To the Fair (Camelot)

Pleased With Myself (Starting Here, Starting Now)

Feed Me [Git It] (Little Shop Of Horrors)

I Feel Pretty (West Side Story)

I Remember That (Saturday Night)

Diva's Lament (Spamalot)

Don't Like You (The Beautiful Game)

I Whistle A Happy Tune (The King And I)

Nothing (A Chorus Line)

I Can't Make This Movie (Nine)

Funny/The Duck Joke (My Favourite Year)

A Little Mmm (LaChiusa's The Wild Party)

Not Enough Magic (The Rink)

Goodnight And Thank You (Evita)

Don't Quit While You're Ahead (The Mystery Of Edwin Drood)

Steppin' To The Bad Side, or, I Am Changing (Dreamgirls)

Pick-A-Little, Talk-A-Little (The Music Man)

Getting In The Lifeboat (Titanic)

We've Won (The Who's Tommy)

Sexual Confusion (Taboo)

It Sucks To Be Me (Avenue Q)

Unexpected Song (Song and Dance)

Does Anybody Wanna Buy A Memory (Brooklyn)

My Friends (Sweeney Todd)

There's Gotta Be Something Better Than This (Sweet Charity)

Fancy Meeting You Here (Lucky Stiff)

Hard Work (Fame)

Why We Like Spelling (The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee)

Too Much Exposition (Urinetown)

Opportunity Knocking (The Thing About Men)

Who's Got The Pain? (Damn Yankees)

Day By Day (Godspell)

A Kiss Is A Terrible Thing To Waste (Whistle Down The Wind)

Where Do I Go? (Hair)

Poor, Unsuccessful And Fat (A New Brain)

The First Man You Remember (Aspects Of Love)

Everybody's Got The Right (Assassins)

No Life (Sunday In The Park With George)

If I Were A Bell (Guys and Dolls)

Back To Before (Ragtime)

Journey To The Past (Anastacia)

Simple Joys (Pippin)

Eternal Youth Is Worth A Little Suffering (Sunset Boulevard)

Getting Out Of Town (42nd Street)

What Is This Feeling? (Wicked)

Don't Tell Me Everything (Brownstone)

I Want It All (Baby)

Oh, Ain't That Sweet (Thou Shalt Not)

Why? (Tick, Tick...BOOM!)

Opening: The New World (Songs For A New World)

Slaughter On Tenth Avenue (On Your Toes)

Much like Dansy Antsy Pantsy, I'm wondering when the hell I'm going to change my life around and get healthy. Unlike her, however, I don't have any plans to make these changes anymore, after years of failed attempts.

This makes me wonder if I'm slowly killing myself. Is eating fast food all the time clogging my arteries? Does the fact that I really only actually get around to eating about once a day (barely) mean that I have an eating disorder? I have been consuming a significantly minimal amount of junk food and soft drinks of late. Not because I'm trying to, but because my sweet tooth is thinning. I love myself and I don't want me to be unhealthy, but I'm so damn lazy, I can't help it. I don't want to get my ass to a gym (tried that many times over, it's not for me), and I don't have time to eat before/at work. This is so gay. Should I be taking vitamins? Are protein shakes the answer?

Me (Beauty And The Beast)

Heard tonight:

"The thing about Skinny Rabbit is he'll blow you away but he'll never blow you." - Andrew, in drag

"Me and Lefou thought we'd just hang back and let Skinny Rabbit steal the spotlight." - Gaston, sarcastically, regarding our Maison Des Lunes trio.

"I've renamed that song The Cold Cut Trio, because it has two turkeys and a ham." - Maureen

"We were wondering, where were you when Gwen Verdon died? Because we think we know where she went." - Debbie (choreographer)

Love, Unrequited, Robs Me of My Rest (Iolanthe)

I also found out last night that he was in the national tour of Peter Pan in France. Cathy Rigby's Peter Pan, but she was not in that company. He was six years old and played Wendy's baby brother and he got to fly. Why is he torturing me?

Chess And Checkers (New Girl In Town)

The Good:

I bought a lot of lovely things this week including a winter jacket (it's brown, I tell ya!) from Holt Renfrew, five musical theatre CDs from Song And Script, a hat and gloves from Banana Republic, and a hoodie and pair of undies (my first pair of briefs since like grade 8!) from American Apparel.

I got to hang out with some of my favourite people.

I saw So You Think You Can Dance and shat myself. No really. I'm still wet. I met Natalie and had her babies and she licked me.

The Bad:

I didn't get a picture of Natalie because my fingers stopped working at that point. It's my biggest regret and is still weighing on me.

I didn't get to say goodbye to Princesse Alathariel. It's my biggest regret and is still weighing on me.

I spent way too much money. More than I can afford.

The In-Between:

My crush, ugh, I can't even look at anymore. I can't stand the sight of that fucking adorable face any longer. It's getting to the point where talking to him kill me because all I want to do is put my lips on his. Whenever he's speaking to me I give him absolutely no reaction because if I react, it'll be by putting my lips on his. So I give him nothing. I hope he knows.

He's also making me feel inadequate, but not on purpose. I found out today that because of his father's status in the government he doesn't need a passport and can hop on a plane to go anywhere in the world within an hours notice with some sort of international card (I suppose this is like a passport for important people). I found out today that when he was sixteen he went to Kenya and South Africa by himself just because. He's always brings up stuff like this casually because he's kind of insecure that way, which is fine because I do it too, but he still makes me jealous that he's so much younger than me and has seen more Broadway shows than I have. And I've seen quite a few. That's not wrong of me to feel is it? We all feel this way around people like that, right?

He's also pretty catty behind people's backs and is really judgmental. Not that that's a turn off, you just always wonder what he's saying behind your back. Except he usually complements me which makes me think that he wouldn't bad mouth me. But I still want him.

(Oh, and did I mention that he's also an artist. Have I ever told you that I've always wanted to fall in love with someone who can draw and paint, because it's one ability I've always wished I had? It's killing me. Killing me!)

Rape Ballet (The Fantasticks)

Excuse me, but I'm sweet on you and you know it. I mean, I've never told you, but you know. You can tell. Look, I know you're not interested in a relationship and you're too selfish and focused on your career right now. Baby, that's cool. So am I! I just think you're super cute. Your smile totally warms my heart and you have nice eyes. Your eyebrows are a little too close together, but we can fix that. I love that you can sing, have a background in gymnastics and are way more flexible that me. I love that you acknowledge that I'm a better dancer than you. It turns me on that you have such a passion for set design and that you go to New York twice a year to see the original cast of all the new Broadway shows, specifically to scope out the sets, and that while you're there you always take a workshop. I fucking love your ambition and drive. I love that you are in university studying architecture. I love that you have a great sense of style, one where you can pull off outfits from thrift stores to Harry Rosen. I love that you're cynical. Did I mention I dig your smile? I hate that you're not open about who you are and that nothing can ever happen between us. Unless we're all wrong and you're not, in which case I'm sorry for doubting you. But you are and I want you.

If I Were Anybody Else But Me (Naughty Marietta)

I don't remember what time I woke up this afternoon, but I do remember that I layed in bed with the blinds drawn and watched Sex And The City for hours, beginning with commentary from season four, and ending with only two episodes left to go from season five.

The clock is about to strike six and I am still in my pajamas, and I feel a little sick from not having eaten yet. I may have some chips. Then I will shower. Then I will order a pizza.

At approximately nine pm I will be picked up and taken to a lavish party at Foundation, thrown in my honour.

I'm feeling a little fabulous. No. A lot fabulous.

You Don't Want To Play With Me Blues (The Boy Friend)

I received this message from a 16 year old today regarding one of our videos. It reads as follows:

im sorry.. but im a dancer and your video of calling you is just disrespecful. im sure if i knew you it would be funny. but i am a dancer and one of mia michaels (the choreographer) students.. and im not too sure shed appreciate it either. i really don't think it's that funny or amussing. that dance is amazing and you just make fun of it is disrespectful. dont watch the show if all your going to do is make fun.

thanks

My retort:

What an interesting reaction. I'm sorry that you felt we were being disrespectful. That was definitely not our intention at all. We were in no way mocking the choreography or the choreographer. We were mearly goofing around in the living room and having fun. If we were making fun of anything, it was our own inability to do the choreography because it is incredibly challenging. We have nothing but repect for the show and especially for Mia Michaels.

I'm not sure why I'm dignifying your comment with a response, especially when most of your sentences don't make any sense. As a writer, and an English speaking human being, I find it insulting that you have such disrespect for the English language. Stay in school and learn some grammar, and how to use punctuations properly.

Thank you.

Mama Gimme Smack On The Asshole (Jerry Springer - The Opera)

...Because that is what I deserve right now. I just remembered... that's right... just... that I missed someone's birthday on August 28th. Just remembered. About six weeks later. This happens to be the same someone who's side I stood by on her wedding day two months ago as her maid of honour. Why am I such a dinkus? I've called her since, but not to say happy birthday, and I actually never did get through to her. I wonder what she thinks of me right now. I hate me right now. I'm supposed to be her best friend!

On a happier note, I remembered only four days too late that I missed Dancy Antsy Pantsy's birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY WANDA! ALBERT LOVES YOU! (even though his memory seems to be failing him in his old age).

On an even happier note I thought I had also forgotten Bedroom Prince's birthday, but then I realized it was more than a month away, so I'm resting easy on that one. I'll remember it hopefully only 2 days later.

And on the happiest note, Neenia and I are celebrities! Ok, maybe that's a little extreme. Pop culture icons? No? In any case, we have a small but growing fan base on youtube.com with our So You Think You Can Dance videos! Go check out such comments as:

"this was great! you guys are my heros. or is it heroes?" - ryanhr17

"you should do more dances from the show." - donaldo543

"i'm obsessed with the two of you." - ryanhr17

"she kind of looks like alison" - ameg03

"Wow, I was expecting you guys to really suck. I'm impressed!" - Rachella1983

Yes. We are amazing. I feel better now about being the worst friend in the entire world.

For No Good Reason At All (Big Deal)

Mia Michaels Makes Me Hard

We Dance (Once On This Island)

Who's better?

Confession (A Man Of No Importance)

It was a beautiful autumn afternoon. She took me to a park near Dow's Lake. We sat on a bench. The leaves were orange and brown. Across from us was the end of the Rideau Canal, with several ducks in the water and others standing on land, watching their little friends swim. I told her. I wish someone had been taking pictures or something. I looked good. I was wearing my brown leather jacket over my blue-ish/grey hoodie, over a creamy orange shirt and my hair was strategically messy. Marry that to the perfectly cool, not cold, weather and scenery, and it would have been a lovely scene in a movie.

By the way, the he was my brother, and I'm weirded out that he's the first one in the family I told. I always thought it would be my sister.

What The Fuck Was That? (Evil Dead 1&2: The Musical)

Say what?! How did he end up being the first? Not the way I thought it would be at all. But better than I expected.

Waiting For This Moment (Tarzan)

Something huge is about to happen in my life. I'll blog about it when it happens. In the meantime, try and guess. Here's a multiple choice quiz to figure out on your own. Please write your answer in the comment forum.

What life-changing event is Skinny-Rabbit anticipating?

a) The loss of his virginity
b) A major role in a major production that he's been in consideration for but hasn't mentioned because of jinx fears
c) A trip to L.A. with his sister who works in the tv industry and has connections
d) Revealing his true sexual identity to his Lebanese/Mexican Orthodox/Catholic family
e) A nose job! (finally!)
f) His papers for his transfer to the New York Hard Rock are about to go through

What's Wrong With That? (Rags)

Is it bad that I absolutely love off-colour, offensive, even downright racist humour? I don't think it's bad. I think it's funny. I love when my Asian friends tell Asian jokes ("Suplise!"), and I love telling the interracial couple at work that they're breaking the laws of God, and I love telling the black guy at work that "it's because he's black." What I love most about it is that most of the people I've come into contact with lately also think it's funny, regardless of their background. I think the more society dwells on racial issues the more racial issues will be... well, an issue. I don't believe in black history month, and I don't believe in gay pride. But I do believe in black history and I do believe in non-self-loathing gay people. I just tend to think that isolating your group and claiming a month or a week to yourself means that the rest of the year everyone's kind of free to not accept you. If we keep talking about the problem, is the problem ever going to go away? I hate Oprah. Not because she's black, not because she's a woman, and not because she's a black woman, but because I hate that she is so self righteous about everything. I love Sarah Silverman because she's as offensive as can be and says what we're all thinking, even though we weren't actually thinking it. If you want to hear some fucking hilarious quotes of hers, ask Alathariel. I'm not sure if this blog has any structure, but I felt like writing this shit. I guess I'm just trying to say that everytime someone laughs at something offensive, the world becomes a better place.

Small Talk (The Pajama Game)

This video makes me smile. I found it on dlisted.blogspot.com. That guy posted it because it makes him smile too. Goodness me. Is this really how they teach you english in Japan? Click on the screen and it takes you to YouTube, where the title reads English Lessons In Japan Part II. I have got to see Part I! I wish, I wish, I wish, I could be there when Dansy Antsy Pantsy watches this...

I Get A Kick Out Of You, or, You're The Top (Anything Goes)

Ode To Neenia

She spoons me at six in the am.

I introduced her to her very first shawarma at the very best shawarma place in the world (Amir, Montreal).

She says funny things like "Lick me where I pee/bleed." and "Meat Curtain."

She does funny things like pretend to part the lips of a vagina and lick it (and other versions of similiar acts).

She has lived with some of my favourite people.

My Anya.

She's sexy.

I sang Nobody Needs To Know for her.

She's making her way downtown.

She'll trot her hotness.

Allison to my Ivan, we can actually pretty much dance the duet to Why? by Annie Lennox.

She's pretending to sleep behind me.

She has a sexy boyfriend, I think (I've never seen him).

She crushes on eighteen year olds.

Everything in her life relates to Sex And The City, but she's not longer Carrie in Paris getting hit by the Russian.

I love me some Neenia.

Cantiamo D'Amore (Kiss Me, Kate)

Okay, what the hell is with people's desperation to be in a relationship? All of the following events occurred today:

After rehearsal I was waiting for my ride with this annoying girl whom I had decided not to ever talk to because I don't want her to think she can be my friend. But I figured why be an asshole? Might as well make small talk. So she alludes to the fact that she's got the blues. Ugh, fine, I'll bite. What's wrong? Then she makes me promise not to tell anybody. I promise, knowing that I probably won't keep it. Anywho, she starts off her sad story by explain that she has a great life: good parents, funny brother, good grades, loves her singing, yada yada yada. So what could possibly be the one thing wrong? I think to myself, please make it something like she's got an eating disorder or is a cutter. No such luck. She doesn't have a boyfriend and that's her big woe. Get over it girlfriend, I tells her! Bitch is 17. Fuck, she's got her whole life to worry about that shit. I told her that most of us young people in the show are single and we're happy as clams, so chill.

Then I go out to dinner with my parents, my brother, and his girlfriend. All of a sudden, now that jerkface has a girlfriend, he's some sort of matchmaker. My mother was saying that my sister is looking for a boyfriend, so he said when he goes to Hong Kong to visit her, he'll find her someone. Then he's asking my parents if they have anyone for his single friend. And then, when the conversation turned to the daughter of a family friend, my brother asked me why I don't go out with her. Um, hello?!

And just as I'm writing this, my mother asked my father who he was just talking to on the phone, and he explains that this guy he knows is trying to find his daughter a boyfriend. UGH!

It's really frustrating to me that everyone around doesn't think we're whole unless we have a mate. What the fuck? Maybe I'm in denial, but I'm happy to be single. That's not to say that I don't want a relationship or that I never think about it (I do, oh I do), but on my list of priorities, it falls at around number seven. It's not something I'm actively pursuing and it's not something I need right now. I'd rather attack my career full force and work towards getting the hell out of Ottawa.

I'm probably so sickened by these needy people because I really came into my own as a human being when I discovered that I don't need anybody, and I value my independence. I love my friends, but I don't need to be by them every second of the day, or even talk to them more than once a month. As for family, well I could frankly do without them (eek, did I really just write that?). Yes, I get excited when I meet someone new that I have chemistry with, but I always take it slow because I know it might not last. Some of my friends meet someone and thing of marriage. I just don't get it.

Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh (The Phantom Of The Opera)

Why is it never the people you're attracted to that are attracted to you? Ugh.

On a happier note, I happen to have Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday off next week (that's three days off from work and rehearsal! ... ok, well I have rehearsal on Thursday night but whatever). This is a rare event, so I believe I will be making a sexy trip to Toronto to visit my sexy friends and their sexy new apartments and their sexy old houses.

On another note, I'm also looking into getting a transfer through Hard Rock to work at the one in New York. A dude I work with just got his transfer to the Caribbean, so I want to try New York, but the states is much harder to get into than the rest of the plant, so we'll see what happens.

Why God Why? (Miss Saigon)

You know who I think is funny? Jesus freaks. Now let me first say that I believe in God and I pray sometimes and I want to go to Heaven and all that good stuff. But I just don't understand the Jesus freaks.

The girl who's playing Belle was talking to someone next to me and I could not take my eyes off of her lanyard which had "I LOVE JESUS" written all over it. I was laughing in my head because I kept thinking I want one of those because it's a funny thing to have. I found out that she, Mrs. Potts and Lefou are all churchies who talk about God and Jesus all the time. The funny thing is that Lefou is totally gay but can't come out of the closet or else God will get mad at him. Mrs. Potts looks exactly like Kristen Chenoweth (I'll try to take a picture) and she seems like a really cool chick, so it's kind of disappointing that I might be judged by her in a few weeks when she finds out what a wack job I am. And Belle, oh that Belle. She's a great singer, let me tell you. But I don't know about her. On the very first day of rehearsal, she was catching up with someone who asked "What's new with you?" to which she responded "I have a boyfriend. Wanna see a picture?" And then pulled out a stack of photos of this guy she met three months ago who's in the army or something and is currently away and they are going to get married and have babies when she's 26. Weird? Yeah, kinda. Ah, Jesus freaks.

Private Thoughts (Teddy & Alice)

I keep thinking I should start eating healthy but I never will.

I keep thinking I should start working out but I never will.

I'm very excited that I've been so doing so well at paying off my debt.

I'm a little worried that I won't be making any money at work this fall, but I don't want to leave my job because it's fun.

I'm having a great time doing the show, which I didn't think I would. I'm pleasantly surprised.

I think I'm very talented. It's funny that my biggest strength is my acting, and I haven't had the chance to act in a year.

It's starting to get cold, and when I'm downtown I get flashbacks of being in Ottawa with the Charlie Brown crew.

It's starting to get cold, but it's only the beginning of September. I worry about the effects of global warming.

I want to go to New York to see the revival of A Chorus Line.

I want to go to LA with my sister so that I can meet Salma Hayek, but I'm going to have to wait until her next business trip.

I'm jealous of my sister for her job in the TV industry.

I'm sick of all my clothes, even the new ones. I want to never again wear the same thing twice.

I have a lot of love for myself and I give it to me every chance I get.

I'm happy with my hair.

I'm not happy that I'm almost 26 and I still have acne.

I'm not happy with ProActiv.

I'm hoping that when my career takes off and I tell everyone that I'm 20, that no one from my past will reveal the truth and be able to prove it.

I'm hoping that my career will take off before the world ends from the effects of global warming.

I can't wait to move to Vancouver.

I can't wait to go to Toronto to see So You Think You Can Dance, say goodbye to Alathariel, and meet Bedroom Prince and Neenia's sexy new apartment.

I'm going to have Travis sign my Playbill from The Music Man.

I wish I were sexier.

I look fabulous in pictures.

I wish I had more time and were less lazy.

I wish I had something to cry about.

Awesome (The Wedding Singer)

So I've been running out of shampoo and decided not to buy a new bottle until I can find something really good. I had been using Dove, and when that ran out, I resorted to my mother's Herbal Essences (which I hate). I'm growing my hair out again, so I need something that'll take care of my curls. And because my hair tends to dry out easily, I need something expensive. None of this over the counter shit. That's why my friend took me to Aveda, where I spent over $80 on three bottles: Shampoo, Conditioner, and a little something for the day. Don't ask me for names because I don't know them. I didn't ask, and I didn't look at the prices. I just walked in, asked for the best shampoo for dry, curly hair, then asked if it would make me look black. (I really did, and I'm not sure the girl knew how to react, so I just laughed in her face.) I normally NEVER put product in my hair. I just wash, let it air dry and go. But I got this curly hair stuff that you just work into damp hair and then you never feel it again. It's brilliant. So I bought this stuff, and then I went home to use it.

Now I haven't washed my hair in a week, cause I'm cool like that. The chick had told me never to use more than a dime size of shampoo and conditioner, because it's not needed, and the bottle will last you forever. So I did, and my greasy hair squeeked as the stuff disappeared into my head. It was weird, but I let it go, and my hair was still greasy afterwards. So the next day I used a shit load and my hair was automatically restored and it now perfection. Soft, curly, stunning. I'm very happy.

I wonder how long I'll be happy for. I was really happy with KMS when I tried it a few years back, in a similar situation. But then I tried it again after they changed the packaging and I hated it. I loved Dove when I first used it. Now I'm over it. Maybe I just get bored easily. I'm cool like that. I don't feel like proof reading and editing. Will you please tell me if I have made any grammatical and spelling errors?

The Madness Of King Scar (The Lion King)

I find tattoos and body peircings extremely unappealing. I'm not attracted to people who have them, I'm not impressed by people who have them, and I am never going to do that to myself. I just don't get the fad. It all downright turns me off. Am I alone?

On The Street Where You Live (My Fair Lady)

A while back when I was talking about the day I took a dance class with Faye, I forgot to mention something really cool, that dansyantsypantsy should especially appreciate. She was talking about how she recently moved. Where did she move to? 19 Lascelles Blvd. Dun Dun Dun. You see, one upon a time DancingAntsInMyPants and I lived in that same apartment complex and even once watched porn off of a huge big screen tv in someone's apartment in that very building. Faye says she loves it and that the fountains were back up and running when she moved in. Isn't that awesome? Don't you just feel like that would have made our apartment so much prettier?

Hell No! (The Colour Purple)

Some of my friends received phones calls today regarding the show. One girl got Babette, another is a Silly Girl. It's 2:21am and I still have not received a call. I am upset and angry. This doesn't mean I'm not in the show, because they also make rejection calls, so no news is not necessarily bad news. However, I've heard from an inside source that I have been cast as Monsieur D'Arque and I'm not happy. Not at all. Especially since the only reason I got that role was because they needed me for dance chorus. I am livid. The guy who got Lumiere is fabulous and probably the only person I don't mind losing to. But the dude who got Lefou is no Skinny-Rabbit. Not by a long shot. So because he can't dance, I'm the creepy old guy who makes a cameo in Act II. What the fuck do I do now? Do I accept the role and go and be miserable and wow the fuck out of everyone come Act II? Is it even possible to wow people with such a forgettable role? (Maybe, I did it with Bobby in A Chorus Line, but I basically got to play myself there.)

I don't know if I would mind as much if I knew the choreography was going to be amazing. But I've heard bad things about our choreographer. That she's really simple, and does a lot of box steps. So to respond to your comment, princesse, she's a great choreographer for non-dancers. Plus, the apprentice choreographer is someone with no dance training whatsoever. She's just some guy who thinks she can dance. Ugh. She was teaching us the dance for the dance audition and her arms were so bad, I actually raised my hand and said "I'm confused about the arms here. Do you want them straight or bent?" She said straight, and then proceeded to dance with bent arms.

I think my plan of action is to accept the fucking role, show up for the first few rehearsals, and if I get too pissed off, annoyed or decide to have any diva moments, I will walk. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to find a script online so I can see if I actually have any cause to bitch as much as I do.

(PS - How great is it that I found a song called Hell No! to title this blog!)

Keep It Gay (The Producers)

He drinks but twice a year. The last time he was drunk was Feburary 20th, 2005. He attempted to get drunk at a cast party last October, but only succeeded tipsy. August 27th, 2006, his drunken alter ego made a long overdue appearance. Speculation of his closeted heterosexuality was heightened that night as he grinded and made out with more girls than he ever did at Randolph parties.

When Velma Takes The Stand (Chicago)

I had my audition for Beauty And The Beast tonight. I filled out the form and said that I was audition for Lefou or Lumiere and that I would accept another role but not a chorus role. I explained to them that this was not because I don't want to be in the chorus, but because I don't actually have time to do the show, so I want to make sure that if I do this it's for a substantial part. They completely understood and respected that. I sang brilliantly (Where Was I from Minnie's Boys, a term 2 favourite). Someone mentioned to me that we should fuck up the dance on purpose so that they don't throw us in the chorus just because we're good dancers. I did not go along with this because I wanted to show that I'm a triple threat. I read for Lumiere brilliantly. I read for Lefou brilliantly. And then... they asked me to read for Monsier D'Arque. Fine. I don't really mind. However, they asked me if I should be maybe cast as D'Arque would I also do dance chorus then. I said yes. Because at least then I get to dance (which I love), and I get a decent part, which although it isn't big, and he's only in a couple of scenes in Act II, I love that trio he sings in.

Now I'm wishing they had never asked that. I may possibly be the best person to play Lefou. I may possibly be the best person to play Lumiere. But even so, they may possibly give me D'Arque just to ensure that they get me for dance chorus because I'm pretty much the only triple threat guy they have in this city, and definitely one of the best dancers (which isn't saying much for the city). I really don't want that to happen because I really have my heart set on one of the two L roles. Let's all hold hands and pray that I don't get stuck with the role I don't actually want and shouldn't be playing anyway.

Safe (Hello Again)

I'm not sure why but there is someone who affects me in a way that no one else on this earth does.

Fast (Zanna, Don't!)

We found out on Tuesday night that this season's top ten tour of So You Think You Can Dance was going to make a stop in Toronto, and heard that the Buffalo date sold out in an hour and a half. The following night, Nigel announced on the show that the New York performance sold out in eleven minutes. Wild. So we knew we had to have a killer plan. Tickets were going on sale this morning at 10am. We were ready to go at 9:30. At approx. 10:01am, we secured two tickets for row YY at the Hummingbird Centre (row YY?! All the way at the back after barely a minute?). At approx. 10:03am we tried to get more tickets to sell ourselves and it was sold out. Yes that's right. The fucking show sold out in THREE MINUTES!!!!!!!!! How the hell is that possible? She's upset that we didn't get front row. I'm upset that I couldn't get tickets for my friends (if we had tried to get more than two tickets at a time, we might not have gotten any at all). Blows my mind.

Now watch some clips but do it quickly! youtube usually has to remove them due to copyright thingies.

Make Me Happy (Lippa's The Wild Party)

I went to a dance class tonight. I haven't been to class in like two years. But this wasn't just any ordinary dance class. This was a $30 dance class. This was a $30 dance class because it was an intensive master class with the amazing Michael Knight. I'd never heard of him but my friend insisted that he is the male Mia Michaels and that I couldn't not go. Faye's in town, also teaching master classes. I called her. The studio she's at isn't easily accessible to me, but I told her I was taking Michael Knight's class and she said she'd come. She did. So tonight I spent an hour dancing beautiful lyrical choreography in the dark with read and blue spotlights shining on me, next to the beautiful and amazing Faye Rauw. It was a trip. I can't say I was great, or that I retained the choreography very well, but the experience I had was simply specatular. Afterwards I chatted with Faye and gave her a ride back to her hotel, and updated her on us all, and she told me to say hello to every one of you beautiful and amazing bloggers. My body hurts, but my soul is at peace.

Food, Glorious Food (Oliver!)

This is what I live for.

A small plain pizza from Georgie'e Pizza, Ottawa.

The Money Song (Cabaret)

"Shopping is sexy until you have no more money left, and you're hungry."

-Jenna, Hostess at the Hard Rock Cafe, Ottawa.

Use What You've Got (The Life)

One of my friends was on a road trip with two guys from work, and she asked them the same question she asks every guy she meets: "Do you shave your balls?" The answer surprised and disgusted her, and also me. Not only do they both shave their balls... and pubic hair, but they shave their entire body from face to toe. This sparked a lengthy conversation at work between me and the girls over which we prefer: hairy or hairless. Only a couple of us (me and the ones I'm closest with, funnily enough) were all for hairy. Everyone else was on board for the man who shaves his body. I don't understand. Do you want a man or a boy? I'm pretty open about the fact that I don't shave my bush, and I have a hairy bum. I'm never going to shave or even trim. I think that would be weird. Give my penis a haircut? Is there a barber for that? Not only do I not believe in shaving my own body, I'm much more attracted to someone with a full chest of hair and an unruly pubic area. Ok, there are guys out there who are so hairy it looks like they are wearing a sweater, in which case I support a slight trim of the chest hair (but not a complete shave), and definitely back hair is not acceptable. But by the same token I don't really feel like plucking the sporadic hairs that are sprouting on my shoulders. I'm still sexy.

When you shave your penis, stubble grows, just as on the face. Does it not chafe you girls when you have rough stubble rubbing up against your own crotch? I find it painful enough when someone with a 5 o'clock shadow goes down on me, or kisses my chest, I couldn't imagine a stubbly penis penetrating my vagina. Wait, I have a vagina? Who are the men in Hollywood I'm attracted to? Jason Patrick, Hugh Jackman, Antonio Banderas, Jude Law, Chris Blair... Men. With hairy chests.

Debate: Do you prefer hairy or hairless?

Good Morning, Baltimore (Hairspray)

It's almost 4pm on Sunday afternoon. I woke up only an hour ago and stayed in bed watching this season's So You Think You Can Dance on tape. I love Natalie. I love Mia Michaels. I'm going to have breakfast now. Waffles. With lots of butter and loads of syrup. At 4pm on Sunday afternoon.

I Imagine You're Upset (Bat Boy)

Meh, I felt like a change.

Movies Were Movies (Mack And Mabel)

I go through movie spurts. There will be a month where I'll go to the theatres to see like three movies a week, and then I'll never go to the movies again for another six months. It's not planned, it just usually works out that when I go, I go a lot. I'm currently in my dry spell.

I was just watching a documentary on blockbuster successes versus flops, and how there is no formula for a perfect film, it just happens or it doesn't. I realized watching all those clips that there are so many amazing movies I have not seen yet. The Godfather, Out Of Africa, Driving Miss Daisy, Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, The Way We Were, Jaws, Silence Of The Lambs, Shawshank Redemption, to name just a few. And then there are those brilliant movies that I have seen that I need to see again because I don't remember them. Taxi Driver, Harold and Maude, and others I can't think of right now.

I love watching movies. When I was in film school, I had a list of films I needed to see which grew everyday. Luckily, the video store which no longer exists was old school and offered this deal: rent five movies for six dollars for seven days. I bought myself a small tv with a built in vcr and watched a different movie every night. I need to do that again.

We're Ok (Rent)

I might have sounded a little upset about the whole not-a-lovah thing, but I'm really not. I was totally not into not-a-lovah. Well, I was, but then I wasn't. During the week off I fell out of like. It's all good and we will remain friends. I'm actually very optimistic. I was smiling all day today, even when I told some friends about it. I feel so much lighter and happier. Just like I have nothing to think about now so my mind is clear. It's good. Plus I didn't like his friends. Let's talk about this, yes?

So first he met one of my girls, who is the funniest person alive and hot and we are funny and hot together, and he loved her too. Then he met my other girl whom he instantly fell in love with. Those are my two main girls here in Ottawa. Then I met his. She is unattractive and thinks she's hot. I'm not saying that to be mean, I'm saying it because it's true. She keeps saying she's fabulous and that she wants to be Karen from Will and Grace, but she tries way too hard. She's not funny, but she thinks she is. Again, I'm not saying this to be mean, I'm saying it because it's true. Anyway, his girl has an extra ticket to the Shakira concert and my girl (#2) really wanted to go so not-a-lovah had his girl add my girl to msn. So they chatted, his girl loved my girl (as she should) and agreed that they'd go out to dinner and see if they gel in person and then she could have the ticket. Fair enough. Let me add that these are tickets she got for free, and they asked my girl to pay for hers. Whatevs.

So time goes by and then I run into not-my-lovah and not-a-girl-we-like and she went into this rant about how my girl deleted her from msn and she's not working hard enough to get the ticket and that she should be kissing her ass because other people are interested in going. So I tell my girl who thinks this is crazy and didn't delete her from msn and said "Fuck this, I'm not groveling to someone I don't even know." So she went and bought her own ticket in a better section for the same price they were going to make her pay anyway.

My friends are amazing. Not-my-lovah's friends are not. I win.

I still think not-a-lovah is a good egg. We'll still be friends indeed. But a conversation came up once where he said that his friends want him to come to their gathering but he didn't want to go because they just want him to entertain them because they are boring. My respond was that I don't make friends that are less entertaining than me.

I don't spend time with people who are boring. I only like the company of people who are equal to or greater than my entertainment value. My friends are my teammates. Look at my track record. Who did I live with in Toronto? All very entertaining people? Who am I going to live with in Vancouver? A very entertaining person. And all these people are people who complement my entertainingness. Who are you? All entertaining and fabulous people. I love my friends because I chose them. I chose them because I love them.

Isn't it funny when you start to write a blog about one thing and then it becomes something else?

Steve, you're great... no you cut the paper plate.

What's The Buzz (Jesus Christ Superstar)

What the eff? I don't understand what's happening with what-the-hell-is-happening-lovah. Things started out great the first two weeks, which ended with me spending the night and having a great time. Then I got my wisdom teeth out and spent the rest of the week alone, at home, understandably. But then once I recovered there was not much communication. I made a phone call on Friday afternoon from work to see what was going on for the weekend but received the answering machine. Not too long afterwards, lovah? walked into my work with a friend to get something to eat, not even seeming to care if I'd be there or not. But I was there, off shift, and sat with them, and all was ok. It was decided that I'd receive a phone call later that evening if he was available. The phone call never came. All weekend.

Tonight we're currently in a chat where this conversation has been occurring:

Me: so am I ever going to see you again? you know, not by accident?
Not me: you just killed my Sister Act soundtrack buzz
Me: that was my intention all along
Me: i was waiting for the right moment
Not me: anyway, probably
Me: just probably? not let's get together this week?
Not me: we could try to grab a coffee or go out on thursday?
Me: thursday night is do-able
Not me: gravy, on my mashed potatoes, gimme, gravy ...

Frustrating. Then this:

Not me: so, i seem to be sensing that you're actively unimpressed with me
Me: actively? not at all
Me: what do you talk?
Not me: my lack of availability
Me: i just have no idea if it's lack of availability or lack of wanting to see me
Me: there hasn't been much communication between us in the last couple of weeks
Not me: well, it's not specifically either a lack of availability or a lack of wanting to see you
Not me: i just have to see you in a friend capacity
Me: does that mean we won't be dating

It's been five minutes and there has been no reply to the question (maybe because I forgot the question mark). "I just have to see you in a friend capacity?" What the eff does that mean? Oh! A reply. Tell me what's a-happening.

Here we go:

Not me: i don't think things should move further in that direction. i really enjoy your company, but we're a bit too different to pull dating off successfully
Me: ok, that's fine. I just wanted to know

This is annoying because I had decided during my first week off that it was odd that I was not thinking about not-my-lovah all the time. Usually when I like someone they're all I think about and when I'm not around them it hurts. It didn't hurt. Still doesn't. I just wish I had called things off first, but my friends all told me he was too good to give up (but I don't like the way he dresses!).

The good news is that other people have expressed interest in me including a sexy silver fox, a recovering coke addict, and someone with a pool, so now I can play the field.

Holding Out For A Hero (Footloose)

I did a good deed today. Yes, my main reason for going to Montreal was to shop for a suit (and a sexy one I bought!), but I also went to play hero to Neenia. I found her in a hotel crying after the Russian beat her. (Editor's note, no Russian actually ever beat Neenia. Please do not send letters.) I bought her her very first shawarma. I can't believe she had never even heard of a shawarma. Luckily for her, we happened upon Amir, the greatest shawarma restaurant in the world. I promised her orgasms and boy did I deliver! So that was my good deed. Introducing a shawarma virgin to a shawarma.

No good deed goes unpunished. The stitch which has been loose in my mouth for a week now is knotted. What do I do? I WANT IT OUT!

The Best Of Times (La Cage Aux Folles)

Yesterday, I threw a wedding shower (I am the maid of honour). It was a grand success. The theme was The Amazing Race. We held it at another friend's house. We had clues hidden all over her huge house and tasks such as making a wedding dress out of toilet paper, finding a picture of a celebrity groom (Matthew Broderick, Michael Douglas, Elvis Costello...) and later, match him with his bride (Sarah Jessica Parker, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Diana Krall...). I knew how large the house is and I knew the rear of the house opened onto a lake and they had a canoe (which we took advantage of), but I had never actually gone outside and explored just what a magnificent property she lives on! The house is a maze in itself, beautiful home, but you go down this pathway, past all these trees that make you feel like you're in the jungle, and end up at a dock and you feel like you're at a cottage. It's amazing that this is all right smack in the middle of the city. I never imagined it would be so fabulous. I'm thinking of moving in. How do you post pictures on this thing?















Oh, that's how.

Summertime (Porgy And Bess)

...and the living is easy. I know I had some serious reservations about living in Ottawa. Yes, it has been extremely hard living under my parent's roof again, and not having easy access to independent and foreign films, stores that specialize in the sale of musical theatre cds, musical theatre karaoke, and good looking people with a sense of style and a sense of humour. But I have to say that this has actually turned out to be one of the best summers in recent history. I actually love going to work every day, because even though the money sucks, the people I work with are a lot of fun. I managed to get another musical under my belt, where I got a solo in which I got to sing jazz, and do my signature kicks, splits, and body rolls, and earned myself a whole new fan base. I'm in rehearsals for a short film in which I dance. And I've been going out more than ever. This city may have a shitty night life, but I've put that to the back of my mind have been enjoying the crappy drag shows and bad dancers. Oh, let's not forget the summer romance that's been blooming, however, after spending some time apart, I'm not too sure I want this to go anywhere. Plus, I've been kicking ass at paying my off my debt. As much as I just want to get to Vancouver already, I might have to postpone (once again) and wait until New Years. I'm confidant that I can be completely debt free if I wait until then. I think that's the smart thing to do. Actually, writing this all out just makes me miss Toronto. What the eff?

Poor, Poor Pharoah (Joseph And The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat)

I had my wisdom teeth removed on Tuesday morning. All went well. I was sitting in the chair, telling them that I had been sick the night before, as they placed the gas mask over my nose and injected something into my hand. I don't remember falling asleep. All I remember is waking up an hour later lying on a bed in the office. I'm very happy about that. I'm not swollen. I'm not bleeding. I'm not in any pain. The only problem is that I haven't eaten in three days and that's making me feel sooooo sick. I'm nauseous. I'm having intense cravings for pizza, shawarmas and Burger King. When do I get to eat something other than jello? WHEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One Special Man (Big)

I spent my first night with my soon-to-be-lovah last night. We watched Sex And The City, picking up where we left off, with Season 3, Episodes 4, 5 and 6. Carrie meets Aidan and in the next episode wonders why he hasn't tried to sleep with her yet. He's taking it slow. What a lovely parallel to my current situation. We went to bed and made out all night. Soon-to-be-lovah gives the best neck kisses. Actually drives me wild. The hands never go below the waist. Being the big tease that I am, I threaten to go beneath the waistband, but never do. Soon-to-be-lovah says "Are you going to rape me already? Because I've been waiting all night." My reaction: "Oh. I was kind of hoping we wouldn't have to go there yet." So we didn't. Soon-to-be-lovah is extremely respectful and accepts my wanting to take it slow. I'm just not sure how much longer I can hold out.

At least a week, that's how long! I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow!!!!!!! I'm worried because I'm feeling sick right now and didn't get sufficient food today, and recently threw up my last meal. Oye. Tomorrow is not going to be nearly as nice as last night.

Children Will Listen (Into The Woods)

I had just decided that I was going to go up to my room, put on some music and clean, clean, clean. Just as I was about to go upstairs, my mother said "Why don't you clean your room?" I stayed downstairs. I will not clean my room tonight.

My parents don't understand that the reason I haven't gone to get my license yet is because they keep telling me to go get my license.

This is why Klaus keeps telling Princesse Alathariel what to do as she's doing it. Because I need to deflect this personal terror on someone else (even though I know she experiences the same thing from her own family). I've even started doing it at work. I'll ask someone to brew a new pot of coffee as they're brewing it, and I'll ask them to run drinks as they are putting them on a tray.

Welcome To The World (john & jen)

Artsmonkey, Bedroomprince, Dancingantsinmypants, Neenia, Princessealathariel, I'd like you to meet the latest addition to our blogging circle, representing the east coast!

holycrap-gilbertsgirl.blogspot.com

See I'm Smiling (The Last Five Years)

Good night last night. Had one of my best friends here meet my new potentially future lovah at a diner. I was given the stamp of approval, the go ahead, if you will, as my friend fell in love and had nothing but positive things to say. Great. Remember when I said I felt no chemistry when we took that walk on the canal? After seeing my new potentially future lovah in lighting other than moonlight and interacting with a friend of mine, I was absolutely smitten. When we drove potentially future lovah home I asked if I could come up, and was met with a yes. Friend went home, I went up, making it clear that I was not coming over for sex, which was all good. We watched the first two episodes of Sex And The City Season 3 (where I left off on the DVD watching of the show), and debated the hotness of the politician (I adore the politician). Held hands. Accepted my neurotic worrying about my chronically sweaty palms and even took the time to accommodate my fidgeting hands, which needed stretching every now and then. Asked if I was a Charlotte. I pleaded my Miranda case, but after much discussion about how I feel about relationships, realized I definitely have a big part of Charlotte in me. Potentially future lovah happens to be more of a Samantha. But it turns out we have the same attitude towards sex. We both find it hard for other lovahs to get us off during sex. We'd both much rather just kiss and cuddle. Which is what we did until roughly 4:30am. I got in a cab, the sun started to come up. It was a great night and I look forward to future lovah becoming lovah.

This Is Not Over Yet (Parade)

Skinny-Rabbit vs. Mother Nature: Round 2

I woke up this morning to pouring rain and thunder. The time was just past 10:30, and I had a patio shift at 12. I called work to see what the status of the patio was and they told me that at this point there was no need for me to come to work as the patio would not be open. Just after 11, the rain cleared. I consulted The Weather Network to see if this would be a temporary break, and sure enough, the forecast called for thunder showers all afternoon, so I did not bother calling back. It is now just past 2pm and the sky is clear, and the birds are chirping. It's breezy, but still, no sign of rain.

You may have won this round, you bitch, but mark my words... THIS IS NOT OVER YET!

I Think I Can Play This Part (The Goodbye Girl)

The cookies were good. I ate them with milk as I watched Sex And The City. I then danced to the theme song that played over the end credits, and I was wearing the pants and, let me tell you, I was a fabulous latin ballroom dancer, rivaling Artem from last season's So You Think You Can Dance.

When someone moved to Montreal, I decided to be Miranda to their Carrie, to tell them to come home when the Russian might eventually beat them. More recently, when someone went to Europe, I tried to play Miranda again, but was told that in my current situation, I am Carrie. I like being Miranda. She's funny, cynical, doesn't know she's looking for love, has a red headed baby... Sounds a lot like me, no?

But I remembered today what it is about Carrie that I love, and I don't know if it's something I possess, but I admire it anyhow. It's her gusto, and the way she reacts when she's angry. Examples include, when she threw the McDonald's across the room when Big casually gave her news she didn't like, when she threw a tantrum at the coffee shop after he told her he's moving to Paris, and when she went to Charlotte asking why she didn't offer her the money to save her apartment. That is something I could NEVER confront a friend about. It would just eat away at me and I would talk to the others about her behind her back. I want Carrie's gusto (and her apartment. Oh God, how I miss my last apartment!) But I'd still rather be Miranda because she's bonkers. I liked when Steve wanted to cuddle on a Saturday and she was like "Ok, how long are we talking here? Twenty minutes? An hour?" That was cute, and very me. Not always, but sometimes. Me. I like being me. I wish Miranda was more like me.

You know how you watch these TV shows and you wish you were them? Like the gang from Friends and the Sexy City girls? I like to think that strangers read our blogs and wish they were us. Because we are pretty fucking fabulous, are we not? I love our lives. And allow me to be the latest blogger to say that I love my blogger friends.

I must note that I know it's bad form to start a sentence with the words "but" and "and". I know this. But I talk like that anyway. I would never write that way professionally. But here I write like I talk. Are we cool? Stop judging me.

I can't wait to join the rest of you in lovahville. It's lovahville, yes? Not lovahland? But make no mistake, I'm not getting my hopes up yet. I just feel left out because I haven't been able to talk about a lovah yet.

Focus.

Workin' It Out (They're Playing Our Song)

I got these fantastic sweatpants from American Apparel and they make me feel super sexy. Like I have super powers I'm so sexy. I've always been opposed to people wearing sweatpants in public, but I wore these to Future Shop and, girlfriend, I felt gooooood! They're also magical dancing pants, as they make me dance all the time and feel like a superstar dance machine. My legs look great, and even though I don't know what I'm doing, when I look down at the flare I see that I have the hottest legs in the world. And ass. I also have a hot ass, but only in these pants. I would like to thank that chick at American Apparel for convincing me to buy the small, instead of the medium. Brava. Give that girl a raise. I'm going to eat cookies now. My poo was green today and I think it's because all I had to eat yesterday was three bowls of Lucky Charms.

Almost A Love Song (Victor/Victoria)

My intention was to go for a walk in the rain, but by the time I got there (at approximately 1:10am), the rain had long stopped. We went for a walk anyway. Along the canal. As much as I hate Ottawa, I think the canal is magnificent. We took a stroll in the dark and had good conversation. It constantly flowing, never awkward. My date is incredibly funny, fantastically intelligent, completely interesting (and kind of/sort of resembles in a not so obvious way that Charlie Brown director.) I wish I had felt more chemistry. It felt like two friends taking a stroll, which was nice, but I wish I had felt more chemistry. The walk came to an end and we went back home, and I didn't lean in for - or expect a - goodnight kiss. An invitation up to the apartment was thrown out there, but neither us knew if it should have been accepted or not, so I just left it at that and went home.

We reconnected online (still chatting right now) and here is some snippet of that:

Me: "so that was nice. i kind of wish i had worn a hat."
Not me: "you're adorable"
Not me: "i wanted to wrap you up and steal you"
Me: "you lie"
Not me: "not even a little"

Not me: "i cried a bit on the inside when you said you're going right back to vancouver"

Not me: "i should have kissed you, but i didn't want you to feel uncomfortable"

Not me: "did i mention to you my addiction to pancakes?"

Not me: "you should probably mention if i was attractive in person"
Me: "you are attractive in person"

So I'm definitely going to give this another shot. Did I mention one of us is a Libra and the other is an Aquarius, and those happen to be two very compatible signs. And, AND! Neuroses alert! Not me can't deal with fog on windows AND has a thing about things that hop (frogs, bunnies, grasshoppers!) How perfect is that!

What's not perfect is the fact it has JUST started raining again. So basically that bitch Mother Nature really didn't want me to live out my dream of taking a romantic walk in the rain. I KNOW I would have been kissed had rain been involved.

Then You May Take Me To the Fair (Camelot)

I just had a very stimulating conversation with a total cutie whom I met online tonight. I'm not going to make anything of this yet, but it was a GREAT conversation. Here's a sample or two:

Not me: "so, what is it that you have 3 days off from"
Me: "work"
Me: "well, it's 2 days now"
Not me: "i see you pride yourself on the precision of your responses."

Not me: "your pics seem to indicate a general degree of cuteness. at least from msn's prescriptive pic-size."
Me: "yes, there is quite a bit of adorable to me"

Not me: "what is a Victor?"
Me: "Long story (ish). I just wrapped a show called Victor/Victoria, and they gave out funny little awards at the banquet. The prize was the Victor (like the Oscar), which was an Olsen Twins doll dressed in a tux (because the show is about a woman who pretends she's a man pretending to be a woman)"
Not me: "sounds whimsically witty"
Not me: "discuss: "wrapped a show""
Me: "I was in a show. It closed. The run ended. We all stopped going to the theatre to do the show."
Not me: "A-"

Me: "but in all seriousness, yes, I've graduated from theatre school in Toronto about 2 years ago, and I also completed a screenwriting program at film school. And I only have one leg."
Not me: "see, that was incredible. now i have no clue whether you only have one leg or not. i'm upping the A- to an A"

Not me: "my computer and i have strained relations"

Not me: "you'll always have my respect though -- following the arts, is to follow a dream. and takes courage"

Me: "but I will answer that with: Move to Vancouver"
Not me: "oooh, fun. i have a friend there. and i was considering UBC for some post-grad work. a marvellous lil' place. indeed. indeeeeed."
Me: "definitely. go. if only because I will be there."
Not me: "can we make sweet love amongst the discarded needles on hastings?"
Me: "that's the idea"
Not me: "yay for increasingly risky behaviour!"

Me: "do you dance?"
Not me: "almost all the time"
Me: "are you good at it?"
Not me: "yes"
Me: "your own opinion, or so you're told"
Not me: "told. and opinion -- i'm not a palm tree swaying in the breeze on the dancefloor. you know the type"

Me: "Before you go I should thank you for a stimulating conversation. One in which both parties typed in complete sentences with no abbreviations. And one in which the topic only turned to sex when dirty needles were involved."
Not me: "LOL you are very welcome. i thoroughly enjoyed chatting with you. i hope to find you as interesting in person"
Me: "I'm not."

Cute? Pics are cute too. I know I was disappointed with the last interesting online conversation I had, but this one was even more stimulating and there was a sense of humour there that is a rare find when chatting with a new person. Just in case, though, I ain't not gonna get any hopes up.

Pleased With Myself (Starting Here, Starting Now)

I think we're all in agreement that I can be quite neurotic. I never share my food; I alphabetize my cds, books, and dvds; I can be a neat freak (when I'm not lazy); I almost always wear two t-shirts and pants, even when it's hot outside, because I refuse to give in to summer; when I walk I have to step on the cracks with my heals; I'm OCD about the way I do most things; and much much more!

But I like me. I like me for it.

Last night I was talking to a friend who was mentioning someone she might like to set me up with, but decided it was a bad idea since we are too similar - both way too neurotic. She figured if the other person wasn't perfect I wouldn't be able to accept them. I told her the opposite was true. I love imperfection. People who are "perfect" are hiding something.

A few months ago, back when I was with some of my favourite people in Toronto, we were playing a round of Psychologist. Someone asked the person next to me to name their biggest flaw. Answering for me, that person said that they had no flaws because they are perfect. When I exclaimed "psychologist" there was a big reaction. Everyone assumes that because of what I put out there (I fucking love myself) that I can't see my own flaws. Let me make this clear. I AM PERFECT.

To me, perfection is having flaws. To say that I am perfect, therefore have no flaws is untrue. I am perfect because I do have flaws. Perfect? Perfect.

I love that I can't skate, and that I freak out if other people do my dishes, and that I when I put something away, it has to be put away "just so." And I dig that about you too. I think it's fantastic that you don't like having your wrists touched, and that you'd rather stay in and read than go out, and that you're desiring to be desired, and that you're serving coffee instead of being famous, and that you got a bad haircut.

So while I talk about my vanity and loving myself, and about how I don't like ugly people or boring people, just remember that I am aware of my issues, and that I love ugly people's issues too... just as long as they're not ugly and boring.

Feed Me [Git It] (Little Shop Of Horrors)

I'm hungry. I just ordered a pizza from Georgies. Mmm. I love Georgies. I order from there every time I come to Ottawa. They know me. We used to order every Saturday or Sunday night. They used to give us a %15 discount. In 2001 I moved to Vancouver for 5 months. When I moved back, I called to order a pizza and the conversation went something like this:

Them: "Georgie's."
Me: "Hi, I'd like to order a small plain pizza."
Them: "Where have you been?"

They'll miss me again soon.

So will Orpheus. Go to my contact card thingy off MSN Messenger to see some of the sexiest pics I've ever taken - EVER! I look sooooo sexy. I'm sexy.

(Does this feed your hunger for a new post, DansyAntsyPantsyNancyAnneCianci? Can I call you DansyAntsyPantsyNancyAnneCianci?)

I Feel Pretty (West Side Story)

On closing night a couple of chicks told me that they think I'm hot and when they first saw me they were praying I would be straight. As vain as I am and as much as I love mirrors and cameras, I still find it hard to believe that other people think I'm as sexy as I do. Realistically I know I have a weird body with terrible posture, lanky arms, and I'm skinny with a paunch. My nose is funny, my teeth are yellow, and I almost have a double chin. Yet when I look in the mirror all I see is beautiful, and I can't stop looking at myself in pictures and on video. So why should I find it so hard to believe that other people find me attractive and bypass my flaws? To be fair I do have lovely eyes, and very kissable lips, with a winning smile.

On a more believable note, I briefly attended a work party where I was approached by lots of people telling me that they love me. And most of those people weren't drunk. It's great validation to know that the clicky people at your new job think highly of you. And why shouldn't they? I'm amazing. But... do any of them think I'm hot?

I Remember That (Saturday Night)

I'm feeling nostalgic. Do you remember...

...when we went to see Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind and sat in silence in the theatre for like 20 minutes when it was over?

...when we played Dona Sol and Hernani dressed as Piglet and Frank N Furter, respectively?

...when we found that mystery poo on bathroom floor and laughed so hard you almost fell into the bathtub?

...how I used to hold your face when I'd kiss you and you didn't like that?

...when I came into your room in the middle of night to meet our baby who was sleeping under the covers with you?

I remember that.

Diva's Lament (Spamalot)

Ok, I should start off by admitting that I am a diva. Yes I am. However, I am a diva in the good sense. In the sense that I am fabulous and amazing and everybody wants to be like me.

I'm really unhappy doing my show right now. Usually when we get to the theatre, all my misgivings go away, but this time, I just find myself hating the experience and these people more and more. One in particular. The lead. She's playing Victor/Victoria, the role created by Julie Andrews, and she's trying to channel her performance ability.

I don't feel like writing out the situation but basically right after a scene she made a comment to me and another guy. She then gave me the note once again after the show, and when I tried to argue my point she refused to listen. Then at the afterparty, which she did not attend, the stage manager gave me the note AGAIN on her behalf. Then she gave the other guy the note the next day before the show. I hate her. Especially since it's not even a note for us, it's a not for the crew, because what they did influences what we did. She's also made ridiculous demands and yelled at helpless people about things like the tape they use for her wireless mic, and the light in her quick change space that "doesn't work" (which does). I hate divas.

A quote of hers: "I gave up professional theatre in England to become a mother. What a mistake that was."

Nice lady.

I'm so blah about this cast now, but there's one guy who can always brighten up my day. He hates the show and the cast too, and he also happens to be really funny, so I never leave his side. One day I was in a particularly bad mood and he walked in I told him to say something funny and without missing a beat and with total seriousness he looked me in the eye and said "I open mouthed kissed a horse once." I died laughing, they had to revive me. When everyone, including him, were talking about how not funny that was, I was still laughing my ass off.

Don't Like You (The Beautiful Game)

Is it bad etiquette to write someone an opening night card which tells them that I don't like them and why?

I Whistle A Happy Tune (The King And I)

One of my most favourite things about being in a show is doing mic checks. To make things interesting, and in order to avoid boring everyone by singing the same songs from the show over and over, our stage manager has set a different theme for every night - each theme related to Victor/Victoria. Prizes are awarded per category and points are given for creativity. The songs don't have to be from a musical, but I choose to only sing showtunes, so these are the songs I have lined up for each theme. Tell me if you think I can do better.

Have Another Drink - The Ladies Who Lunch (Company)

King Me/Queen Me - Either I'll Cover You (Rent) "You'll be my King and I'll be your castle/No, you'll be my Queen and I'll be your moat." or something from Chess

Oui, Oui/Yes, Yes - Either I Speak Six Languages (Spelling Bee) or Now You're Speaking French (Lucky Stiff)

Cast Names - Jimmy (Thoroughly Modern Millie) because there are three Jims in the cast

Piano Man - Schroeder (You're A Good Man Charlie Brown)

I've Got A Secret - Nobody Needs To Know (Last Five Years)

Jazz - Jazz Man (The Simpsons)

Moving It Here, Moving It There - The Books (Brownstone)

Surprise Theme - we find out that night what the theme is

Sex! - A Call From The Vactican (Nine)

Nothing (A Chorus Line)

I really have nothing to say. Just felt like writing something.

Hi.

I Can't Make This Movie (Nine)

I just had someone over and we had "sex" on the washing machine. Well, the dryer. It was super sexy but the dryer was very hot and not as vibratey as I would have hoped for. We should have used the washer instead, but I didn't have any clothes to wash at that point.

I set up a secret video camera to tape the excursion without consent. Camera was well hidden, had a great angle set up, but the battery had died right before the pants came off. All I got was a bunch of making out and the removal of shirts. Oh well. Serves me right.

Why am I such a horn dog all of a sudden? I'm going out tonight, I hope I tone it down and just have some good wholesome fun. Then again, I do have the potential to pull a 2 in 24, a la What About Brian. Sex with a Leb, Sex on a Dryer (not to mention sex in my parent's house), and now maybe 2 in 24? What the hell has Ottawa done to me?

Funny/The Duck Joke (My Favourite Year)

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine called me up, super excited, and said "I know what you should do! Stand up comedy!" I had thought about trying it years before, when we had to do it in OAC Drama class. I caught the bug, then it died. Now the idea of turning the blogs into a one man show has been thrown out there. Interesting idea.

I had already looked into the amateur nights at this city's comedy clubs. It's definitely an avenue I'd like to drive down. I'm lucky that I have many talents, however I can't say I'm amazing at all of them. I truly believe that I'm a gifted actor, and I don't think I'm being arrogant when I say that. However, I'm not a good enough singer to make money as a singer, and I'm not a good enough dancer to get strictly dancing roles. Screenwriting, I guess I'm good at, but my writing style borders on melodramatic because of my soap opera addiction. However, I do write one mean mother fucking soap opera. But that's not the road I want to go down at this point in life. So looking toward stand up seems like a good option. I could get noticed, get bit parts, then get my own sitcom followed by a talk show, and a bad movie career. That sounds nice.

But will I be funny enough in person when I'm recounting my stories that I've rehearsed and are no longer truthful? Are my stories even actually funny? If the audience didn't laugh, I'd die. Maybe Ottawa isn't the place to try this, cause these people are such losers they don't know good comedy when they see it.

A Little Mmm (LaChiusa's The Wild Party)

Upon returning home I found myself disappointed because it was still quite early, and I had the night off, plus tomorrow morning and afternoon off (which NEVER happens), and I didn't want to waste an opportunity. Especially not when I was looking so good. Since none of the people I like were available to go out, and I don't have the courage to hit the clubs on my own, I decided to go online again. Not looking for love. Looking to get it on and get off.

Things I like:

Finding someone cute who is Lebanese like me
Finding a 32 year old lover in my neighbourhood
Finding a Leb with the largest organ I've ever seen in person
Telling people that I don't have sex, while we're naked
Watching The Golden Girls naked afterwards

Things I don't like:

People practically begging me to go all the way
Rough kissers who don't match my kissing style
Bikini briefs
Taking a vow of celibacy and then breaking it less than two weeks later (the abstinence starts tomorrow!)
Finding out the person I just came on is friends with my father

Not Enough Magic (The Rink)

I've grown some balls and I asked out my new "gorgeous, grammar-conscious, and not looking for sex" friend. We went out to dinner at a nice little restaurant on Bank Street. My date was less attractive than the pictures I've seen (a lot less attractive). Not only looks wise, but style wise. The conversation bored me to the point where I just stopped talking all together. Also, I don't like quiet talkers since I don't have superb hearing, and I don't like to have to say "What?" every minute, so I just pretend to understand what was being said and responded with smiles, nods, awkward laughter, and "yeah"s. It was like when Jerry was humouring Kramer's quiet talking girlfriend and ended up in a pirate shirt on The Today Show. By the end of the date, I decided to spare myself the pain and forgo the movie I had suggested earlier, claiming I was tired. As we were leaving the restaurant I remembered I was horny and was looking really good, so I opened an invitation to come back to my place, which was thankfully declined.

I also don't like lisps.

Goodnight And Thank You (Evita)

Every now and then I go into a chat room to see if there is anyone eligible and attractive in Ottawa. Everyone online is horny and wants sex right now. That's fine, it's just not what I'm looking for. So a good chat for me is when the conversation doesn't immediately or ever turn to sex. That's when I know someone is worth my time. The picture is the clincher. Usually they are ugly. Last night I was chatting with someone who was very attractive. Beautiful face, beautiful body, and the conversation never turned to sex. But the most exciting thing is that this person wrote something like "your funny" and followed up by correcting the "your" with "you're." I nearly came in my pants. I realized that not only was a minor and very common spelling mistake corrected (most people wouldn't even have known they made a mistake), but I scrolled back up and we were both speaking in complete sentences with no abbreviations! Gorgeous, grammar conscious, and not looking for sex? To quote Annie "I think I'm gonna like it here!"

Don't Quit While You're Ahead (The Mystery Of Edwin Drood)

I don't like home cooked meals. I don't cook. Therefore I eat out a lot. I love fast food and I love restaurants. Why do my favourite places to eat insist on changing a good thing? I just don't understand it. First Subway decided to stop cutting the top off the sandwich and now cut it at the side. Because it is very rare to find a good sandwich artist, it's almost a guarantee that tomatoes, lettuce and other such toppings will be falling out of the sandwich and not make it to your mouth. They also changed the bread to, in my opinion, an inferior bun.

So I stopped going there when I discovered Quiznos. Expensive, but delicious. Then Quiznos changed their bread on me too, and even stopped serving their amazing meatball subs on their amazing bread. I've asked for the bread since they still had it sitting there, but they refused. I never went back.

As upsetting as this all is, I could always count on East Side Marios. Until this weekend, when I was shocked and appalled to find their delicious bread that I normally can't get enough of was hard. I mentioned this to the delicious server, who informed me that they changed the bread and they're all hard now. What the fuck? They also changed the sauce on their spaghetti. I had no sauce on my spaghetti. Another one bites the dust.

Why is the restaurant industry fucking with me? I hate it, and I've boycotted things before (Yeah, I'm talking to you OC Transpo!), so don't think I'll never go back. Stop changing your bread!

Steppin' To The Bad Side, or, I Am Changing (Dreamgirls)

Lately, and more and more, I've been thinking of letting go of my inhibitions and exploring the big bad world of sex, drugs and alcohol. Maybe I need to start drinking. Maybe I should find out what drugs are all about. Maybe I should be intoxicated and/or high in order to have good sex. And maybe I should actually bite the bullet and experience real sex. I don't like the taste of alcohol, I think drugs are evil, and I'm afraid of real sex. But I am 25, and as I start to actually feel my age, I think I might be mature enough to go ahead and try these things out. But I don't want to. But I do. I'm so conflicted. I just don't want to do anything I'll regret. But how I can I judge something I've never experienced for myself? Any wise words of advice? Like drink, try sex, but don't do drugs? Or, go for it, you only live once? I also can't decide if it's more mature to do these things or to not do them.

To quote my new friend Bernadette Peters "I have never felt like this. It's not like me at all..."

Pick-A-Little, Talk-A-Little (The Music Man)

I was sexy in Montreal this weekend. I was sexy in Montreal this weekend with my sexy friend. I was sexy in Montreal this weekend with my sexy friend who lives on a sexy street called Park Avenue. I was sexy in Montreal this weekend with my sexy friend who lives on a sexy street called Park Avenue and who kept pointing out all the sexy Orthodox Jews with their sexy beards and sexy curls with sexy clear plastic rain guards over their sexy hats, and their sexy Jewish children running around.

Everyone thinks I'm Jewish. Everywhere I've worked, gone to school, done a show, people have assumed I'm Jewish. When I was in New York 4 years ago, I was approached by two Orthodox Jews, in two very different parts of town on two different days and both of them asked me the same question. "Excuse me, sir, are you Jewish." I would say no and they would say "Thank you. Have a nice day" and be on their merry way. Ah, life.

The server at East Side's was cute and had nice lips and even went to my high school, and I just was hoping that we would make out.

Cheap-Cheap-Cheap, Talk-A-Lot, Pick-A-Little-More.

Getting In The Lifeboat (Titanic)

Ok, so my plan was to save the sixteen hundred some dollars I got from my tax return for when I move to Vancouver. Unfortunately though, I needed to shut up those asshole credit card people who call me EVERY MORNING and leave messages with my father. (I told him they're my friends.) Seriously, why do the losers at Mastercard call and leave messages saying "Bonjour, this is a message for Skinny Rabbit (pronounced wrong). This is Madame DesJardins calling from Sears Mastercard. It is very important that you call us back today." Type thing. I have issues with them calling me and leaving their name. Especially since when I call back it's not like I ask for that specific person, since I get directed to the next available operator anyway. I think I'll bring that up to them the next time I call. I should actually probably demand to speak to the very person who called me.

Here's another uninteresting story. I called Rogers Wireless today to report a payment. When you first talk to them, they ask you for some information like your name, address, phone number and date of birth, to ensure that they are speaking the account holder. Fine. So we're past that point and it turns out they had the wrong home phone number for me. So I ask them which phone number they had. She says she's not allowed to give out information. I'm sorry? You can't give information to me about me? So she just asks for my new phone number in order to update. Then she says she assumes my work number is wrong as well, so I ask her what number she has listed for me. She again refuses and asks for the new number. Why do they have to be such assholes? I don't have the authority to know what information of mine they had listed, but I do have the authority to have them change it? Isn't that a little bit twisted? Moving on.

So I somehow manage to make everyone of those bastards I owe money to happy today by paying $150 to HBC, $300 on Mastercard, $300 on Visa, and $550 on Rogers. And I still have a little bit left over to live. Now hopefully they won't be harassing me for at least another few days, those jerkfaces, cause I'm starting to get REALLY pissed. One of the managers at work told me yesterday that someone called and asked for me and she was rude and hung up on him cause she was busy. I said good, because it was a credit card company. She pulled me aside later to ask if I was in trouble and I told her about my debt and I think she likes me.

I'm going to Montreal tomorrow. I just happen to have the day off and my brother just happens to also be going as well, so I have a free ride. I get to spend the day in my favourite Canadian city, where I'll be driving around town the back seat, while my driver drives around. Eventually I'll stop in a hotel and find Neenia at the reception desk collecting her necklace droppings. She'll look up and see me and start crying. I'll console her and then run up to the sixth floor to kick some Russian ass. She'll then trip me and we'll laugh and most likely have some sex. I'll also hopefully help her find that stupid question mark.

We've Won (The Who's Tommy)

I went to see a justice of the peace today regarding the retarded $150 ticket I got on the bus. I lied and told him that I paid the fare and just didn't grab a transfer because I didn't need to change buses and since I just moved from Toronto I didn't know I needed one as proof of payment. He reduced the fine to $30. I rule. Thank you, Lady Luck, for finally finding your way back to me.

Sexual Confusion (Taboo)

I'm trying something. I'm taking a vow of celibacy. It's been two months since my last sexual encounter and if I have it my way it'll be quite a while until my next one. Shouldn't be too hard. I usually only experience some loving every four to six months or so anyhow. I'm abstaining for a few reasons. The first is that everyone in Ottawa is unattractive, and not having sex with anyone will prevent me from having sex with ugly people just for the sake of having sex. The next reason is that I recently counted all the lovers I've had and I'm almost in the double digits. That's kinda freaky. I want to stay out of the double digits for as long as possible. The last reason is that I just plain don't like sex. To be fair, I should admit that I've never actually had sex. Not technically. I have never experienced the act of penetration in an orifice other than the mouth. And even then I'm kinda iffy. I don't really like oral sex. Giving or receiving. I always get bored and wonder when it's going to be over and when I'm going to climax, if I'm going to climax, I pretty much never climax. Weird, considering I'm 'round-the-clock horny.

I love foreplay. A lot of kissing and a lot of teasing goes a very long way. But once the clothes come off I'm all "meh". I think that due to my lack of experience I can be too self conscious. Also, no one can touch me the way I can. I love masturbating and I do it every chance I get. I'm so good at it and so in love with myself that I hate it when someone else is doing it to me. No one has gotten it right so far. In fact the hottest nights I can recall were the ones that did not involve the removal of any clothes. Those night when I made the decision not to go below the waistband and would just spend the night making out and exploring with our hands but only teasing certain areas. That's the shit.

So I'm staying away from sex now because I know it has to build. I can't just meet someone and get it on. That doesn't turn me on. I think the only way I'm actually going to be able to ever enjoy sex is to not have it unless I know I'm going to love that person. Just because I think someone's hot, doesn't mean we have hot sex. If I'm emotionally connected, however, all bets are off. So far I've only had one emotional connection and we didn't have sex, and those are the nights I remember the most fondly. The people I went further with mean nothing to me (well, except for one) and I did not have a good time with most of them. I also kinda want to experience loving from that other sexe. I wonder what that's like. Maybe I'll try it when I go to Vancouver and meet some attractive people.

Oh, another thought. I've also been wondering if I maybe get really fucked up on drugs, if then I'll have really great sex. But I've never done a drug in my life and I don't want to start. Oh well. I guess I'm going to have to go on living my deprived lifestyle until I become a celebrity and get totally caught up in the Hollywood lifestyle that I become a tabloid staple, appearing on the cover of Star, right next to Naomi Campbell and Lindsay Lohan.

It Sucks To Be Me (Avenue Q)

It's not enough that I have to live with my parents with no car in the most boring city in the world and be doing theatre that I don't get paid for. No. This city has to be a big fat asshole and continuously attempt to make my life as miserable as possible. I get cut from work and no one can come pick me up because my mom has the car and doesn't know how to answer her cell phone. Fabulous. I decide to take the bus, which I loathe doing but a cab would have been $20 and I barely made that much in tips today because the weather was shitty. Fantastic. I get on the bus, but don't pick up a transfer, which apparently is needed as a proof of purchase (POP Transfer they call it. How fucking gay is that?). Because I've lost my luck somewhere in Toronto, the fare inspectors get on the bus two stops before where I'm supposed to get off. Yes, that's right. This gay city has gay fare inspectors get on the gay bus to make sure gay people have paid for the gay ride. Splendid. Of course I don't have one (because I snuck in the back door, but they don't have to know that) but I insist that I've paid the ridiculous $3 fare but simply didn't take a transfer because I don't need to transfer buses. So me and three other poor souls are pulled off the bus in the middle of nowhere. Wonderful. They ask for my I.D. What am I gonna do? Run? They write me a ticket. Fine, I think. What the hell could the fine be? $30? I can manage that. Zing. Oh, no. I'm handed a ticket for ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS! Outrageous. It's not enough that the fare is way too high for shitty, shitty service, but a fucking fine for not having a fucking transfer is one hundred and fifty fucking dollars? I'm disgusted. I want to throw up all over Ottawa, I hate it so much. Any thoughts about postponing my leaving here are dead. The sooner, the better. So the "inspector" kindly points out that I can go to some court in the west end and contest it in court in front of a judge. He even tells me how which bus to take there. How sweet. What a lovely man. I'm throwing up in my mouth, not a little, but a lot. I have steam coming out of my ears. This is how Hud must feel about the TTC. Public transit is an asshole and I'm now boycotting the OC Transpo forever. It may be more expensive and set me back a lot, but it's all about cabs from here on in. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.

Did I mention that Mastercard called me at work and told me that if I don't give them $190 this week I'm being turned over to a collection agency? HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.

Meanwhile I've been making NO MONEY at work because that bitch Mother Nature keeps raining out the patio so I'm walking away with a mere $20 - $40 in tips a day. I finally got my first paycheck today and it's for a measly $130, which doesn't cover either bill. HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE.

The theme of this blog is hate. And throwing up.

Unexpected Song (Song and Dance)

This video is the most accurate representation of the evening I experienced that I could find to share with you. She wore a similiar gown, had pretty much the exact same intro to the song, and did the wild swinging of her body when she starts to belt the shit.