Don't Know Where I Leave Off (Sweet Smell Of Success)

I'm not a self-loathing gay. I love myself. I think I'm pretty amazing the way I am. I just happen to be gay. I didn't choose to be gay. My mother's vagina made me that way. So is it so wrong that I don't exactly support gay marriage? Is there a problem with the fact that I don't believe in Pride Week? Is it okay that I think anal sex is disgusting and wrong? Am I awful for using the expression "that's gay" in a negative context on regular occasions? A friend of mine recently asked me what I thought of Daniel's new blond look on The Young And The Restless and I told her that it looks gay and they should make his character a homo. She replied that one of the things she loves about me is how anti-gay I can be. I told another friend that I think bum sex is wrong and she asked me half-jokingly if I'm homophobic. People constantly ask me how I know I'm gay if I've never tried bum sex. And they don't understand why I don't enjoy oral sex. Why does sex define our sexuality? I may not have sex with men, but I don't have sex with women, either. I'm attracted to men. I'm not attracted to women. I fantasize about men. I don't fantasize about women. It's as simple as that. Isn't it? People always make comments that I can't have sex with a girl because I'm a homo, but I beg to differ. As long as I'm naked, I'm pretty much hard. I can stick it in an Octopussoire. That's not a problem. The problem is the vag is weird to me. I don't want to look at one. However, I do wonder what it would be like and I hope to try it some day. (I know, I know, I'm contradicting myself. Live with it.) When I picture myself settling down and having kids, I'm with a woman, not another man. I also wouldn't mind dating a girl for an undisclosed periode of time. I'm very close with my friends who are girls and believe I could have a loving relationship with any one of them. And I've always gotten along better with chicks than dudes. I actually think I'd be much happier living my life with a gal that I along with swimmingly, than with a guy. I guess you could call me straight-curious. Do I need therapy? I'm happy to think I'm very well-adjusted and everyone else out there is the weirdo.

Come To Your Senses (Tick, Tick... BOOM!)

I had this epiphany the other day. I was wondering why I'm 27 and have been out of theatre school for three years and all these kids who are just as talented as I am are out there and getting auditions for shows like The Sound Of Music and getting work in shows like Dirty Dancing and going on tour after tour and booking show and after and posting their headshots on facebook and being members of Equity. And then it dawned on me: They submit themselves for stuff. I guess sitting on my ass, booking one paying show, and resting on it isn't the way to go. The other kids in my show are still auditioning and doing other things. I'm just doing the show. And the burlesque show. But still. The only professional show I've bothered to submit myself for in the part year, I booked. So then why do I let auditions for Dirty Dancing, We Will Rock You, Stratford, Sound Of Music, and other such theatre gigs pass me by? Why don't I just get new headshots already? Why don't I update my resume and send it to some people? Why don't I crash auditions? Why don't I network? Why am I such a lazy bastard? I wonder where I'll be in three years. When I'm 30!!!!!

Happily Ever After, After All (A Change In The Heir)

I think I can learn to be a happy person again. I bought a day planner the other day. It's undated. Every week goes Monday to Sunday plus Someday and you fill in the dates. That's genius. In the Someday slot, I plan to chronicle how the ol' debt's doing. Actually it's not the ol' debt cause I done paid that fucker off. It's a new debt. A new debt to symbolize the shit time I've been having since deciding to stay in this joint a few months ago. Fuck it. I'm going to pay it off and start anew. I'm going to get the hell out of here in May, or even mid-April and start anew. I'm going to quit work when renovations start in April, and start anew. I'm going to start working on my documentary and get a grant. I'm going to plan a cabaret. I'm going to go back home, to the city I miss hating. I'm going to going to travel to Vancouver, Montreal, Mexico, New York (in that order), all by July. I'm going to choreograph Fame in the fall and not know what the hell I'm doing. I'm going to move to New York in 2009. I'm going to save up lots of money. I'm going to take classes. I'm going to be fabulous. Not just in New York, but starting now. I'm going to make time for friends. Even if I have to pencil them in. They will be seen. I'm going to be civil with my roommate, not because I forgive him, but because it takes too much energy, negative energy, to hate so much. I'm going to sleep early so I can be well rested for those early morning shows. I'm going to work less at the restaurant. I'm not going to stress about money. I'm going to live my life. I'm going to enjoy it. I'm going to be happy. I will. I'm going to put my laundry in the dryer now.

Dancin' On The Sidewalk (Fame)

I've taken to walking down the street, listening to my music phone, and pretending I'm in a music video. An afternoon stroll is so much more pleasant when I'm Kelly Clarkson, walking the streets of Toronto in my jacket and hat and scarf, watching my breath in the cold air, smiling or giving attitude, walking in time, strutting, lip-synching. No shame. I don't care who's watching. They're getting a show. The camera loves me. This video's going to #1.

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.