When It Dries (Two By Two)

Something funny is going on where Languages Boy is concerned.  I've only seen him once in the last two weeks, and it's not because I've been avoiding him.  I was home for Easter for a few days, a couple of weeks back, and then when I got back our timing was always off.  I met with him for lunch on Sunday, and I haven't seen him since.  He spends a lot of time at home now.  He used to always come downtown to see me and sleep over.  He also used to text me every morning and every night, but now I always have to be the one to initiate the text.  How have the tables turned?  Why is he making himself unavailable?  Why is it making me want to see him now?  Do these games really work?  Worst yet - do they work on me?  I never thought they would.  I don't actually think he's playing games.  I don't know what to think.  All I know is I still want to either break things off or just date casually while seeing other people, but I need to see him in person to tell him that and that doesn't seem to be happening!  I have his cardigan.  That's the real issue here.  I need to give it back to him before I can feel comfortable parting ways.

Paris By Night (Victor/Victoria)

I can't stop listening to this song.  It's becoming an obsession.  I know it's about an English boy and an American girl, but the band is clearly French.  I just love it.  I makes me want to go to Paris and have sex with strangers who have romantic accents.  The guy's voice makes me hard.

It's Now Or Never (All Shook Up)

I had the most ridiculously lazy day yesterday.  I was out until 3am, slept at 4:30am, woke up at 3pm, got out of bed at 4:30pm to watch Y&R, and then literally just sat around doing absolutely nothing while piles of clothes sat on the floor, begging to be picked up; receipts and garbage that have been collected on the table since I moved into this joint pleaded to be organized so that I can start my taxes for last year, the year before, 2004 and 2003; my phone sat by my side, waiting to be picked up for me to call my tax guy to finally make an appointment; my teeth cried out for a toothbrush, my stomach screamed out "FEED ME, YOU FUCKING LAZY MANOREXIC!"; and my gym membership committed suicide in my wallet.  I did nothing, not even eat, until 8:30pm, when I managed to walk across the street to grab some Wendy's.  I hate Wendy's.  What the fuck is wrong with me?  I'm listening to Die Vampire Die right now.  I'm going to sleep now.  I will wake up before 11am, I will do laundry, I will go to the gym.  Fuck you, Vampire of Laziness!  I will also eat!  I promise me that!  I'll fucking eat fucking eating Vampire fuck you!

Push Da Button (The Colour Purple)

I like going home to Ottawa.  I've already returned to Ottawa about four times since I left two and a half months ago.  It's good to return and see all my friends and sleep in my bed with my Madonna posters from the early 90s starring down at me, and my framed Michelle Pfeiffer magazine covers hanging on my wall greeting me with open arms.  It's nice to know that I can go back and forth between O Town and the T Dot and be able to just slip back into either lifestyle as though I had never left.

On a completely separate note, every time I mention Languages Boy to anyone, I downplay how I feel about him.  I'm very aware that I'm sabotaging our relationship before it becomes anything.  I'm going to stop doing that.  I'm going to stop thinking about seeing other people and just enjoy the boy sleeping in my bed.  I will not find reasons to doubt what I am doing with him.  I do like him.  I need to just enjoy him and us.  Now to go back to Toronto on Tuesday with this new attitude...

One Plus One Equals Three (Side Show)

Things are going well with Languages Boy.  I really like him.  He really likes me.  I can get over the fact that he's so young.  I can get over the fact that he doesn't have hair on his chest.  I can get over the fact that he talks during movies.  Ok, I can't get over that, but I can not to go to the movies with him ever again in my life.  I just have one issue.  Just one.  I don't think I want to be monogamous.  I know, right?!  Me, not monogamous?  The thing is, I'm being very careful to take this slowly.  I'm not introducing him to my friends.  I'm not spending every day with him.  I just feel that I don't want to commit to someone right now when so many people are attracted to me right now.  You know what I mean?  Like when I'm single, I can never find anyone to pay attention to me.  Then as soon as one person shows interest and I like them back, everyone comes out of the woodwork and wants to make out.  I want to make out back!

There are two guys that I recently broke things off with.  One guy was the black guy.  Most boring person I've ever met in my life!  Literally no conversation to be had.  But between the sheets... that was nice.  Then one day in late January he came on my new sheets and I stopped texting him and started screening my phone calls.  It's been two months since I've made any contact with him and he'd spend most of February trying to contact me.  Then two days ago, I accidently logged into MSN, where be immediately started up a conversation.  I apologized for my behaviour and called myself an asshole, and said that I'm seeing someone now and can not go on seeing him.  Dude was totally understanding and called me sweet and cute and said he still wants to be friends!  Say what?!  Boring guy wants to just be friends?  No thanks.  I explained to him that my attraction to him is too great and that it would not be fair to Languages Boy.

Second dude I was dating was Obnoxious Guy who I got a kick out of but not in a sexual way.  I broke it off with him when I started up with Languages Boy, by telling him I just want to be friends.  He understood and we hung out as friends and all was good.  Until this past week when he started getting making advances again.

Add in all the guys I've been meeting and resisting, when I know there is mutual interest, sexual or romantic.  Ugh, I would like to make things work with L.B.  But I also want to get some fooling around out of my system.  I moved back to Toronto expecting to be all slutty.  I want to be slutty!  I worry that I can't ask L.B. to be casual and non-exclusive right now, because he's made it clear that he has no interest in making out with anyone else.  Even though I said it was ok!  The burden of romance.  I'm really not convinced that I'm ready for this.  I'm actually a little worried that I'm going to end up cheating on him.  I don't want to do that.  It's not me.  Bah.

Disneyland (Smile)

Ugh, ok, I really don't want to bring this up here because whenever I mention something like this on my blog it ends up being over before it began.  I've started dating a boy.  A boy I like.  No, but like really this time.  I've been dating a lot lately, but never anyone I've been interested in.  I kept the black guy around, even though he was really boring and had nothing to say, because we were rill good together between the sheets.  But then he came all over said sheets and I stopped returning his calls and texts.  He just had to go and ruin the one good thing we had.  Then I started up with this loud, obnoxious, but very entertaining dude.  We went out a couple of times but had yet to kiss or even hold hands.  We were to have a real date last wednesday.  The Saturday preceding it, I met the boy.  He cornered me in a club, and introduced himself.  He pulled me away from my friends and we talked.  I was not interested in this kid.  How old was he, sixteen?  Not my type at all.  He told me he is twenty three and studies linguistics at U of T.  I asked him how many languages he speaks.  Eight.  That's right, English, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian, Latvian, German (I think) and some Italian, with a little Mandarin and Inuktituk (sp?!) mixed in.  Hot.  We conversed in Spanish.  RILL HOT.  Then we made out a lot and I ditched my pals and left with him and his friends.  Tuesday he came to see my show, Wednesday I broke things off with the other guy, Thursday we made out for two hours in a movie theatre and last night at my place, and this afternoon we had lunch.  He thinks I'm cute.  He thinks I'm sexy.  But like really.  Like he can't believe how cute and sexy I am.  How is this possible?  I'm even finding him cute and sexy.  I don't want to see other people, but I also kind of do want to see other people still.  I need to take this slow, right?  I'm so hot for him and it's so unexpected.  But there are some cons that I'm looking for.  Like he's a pothead who smokes weed every day.  He hangs out with nineteen year olds who act like nineteen year olds.  He has had over one hundred sexual partners.  He thinks, he's lost count.  He also has mannerisms that I'm starting to notice remind me of someone I used to fuck around with.  These are really sexy mannerisms to me, but they also bring up really weird mixed feelings.  The pros are that he does not enjoy anal sex (yay!) and has rarely ever done it.  He's very worldly.  He not only speaks all those languages but he has travelled extensively.  He's quite educated and learned and interesting.  He is super warm for my form.  He turns me on.  I'm excited to see where this goes, but I'm also going to do my best to take things really slowly.  Blog, you best not jinks me this time!

Sleep, Baby, Don't Cry (Carib Song)

Another young life was taken way too soon.  An awesome guy that I used to work with passed away last week.  He was younger than me.  This is sad.  Every time a life is taken and I read or hear the words of their loved ones, or see their faces, I can't help but picture my own friends and family at my own funeral.  It's kind of a depressing thought, but for me, it's actually heart warming, because I know that my funeral would be filled with countless people that I have loved and who've loved me.  It feels good to know that I have so many amazing friends and acquaintances that I've gotten to know in my lifetime.  I may have about 700 friends on Facebook, but that's not just for show, in fact, I'm struggling to keep it under 700.  I actually know every one of those people in some capacity or another.  Whenever my Facebook friends list gets to big I start deleting.  My one criteria is, if I die, will I this person need to know about it or want to come to the funeral.  It may sound odd, to me it's a very logical way of thinking.

I've said this in past blogs, but I feel that if I were to die today, I would die a satisfied man.  I have never had a great love, or children, or a thriving, successful career.  But I am extremely proud of the way I have lived my life.  The friends I've made, the places I've travelled, the career I pursued, the chances I took, the character I've built.  I think I'm pretty alright.  The only worry I have about my funeral is that my parents will never have really gotten to know me as well as everyone else in my life.

I've decided that I need to do something.  Now.  Like very, very soon.  I need to write hand written letters to each and every person who has touched me and whom I consider to have been a great friend.  Everyone who has brought some value to my life and who's friendship I have appreciated.  I think it's important to do this.  When I'm dead, I'll know how much you've loved me, but will you know much I've loved you?  I think it would be a great gift.  I won't make up a will because I have nothing except an impressive collection of DVDs and some pictures of Michelle Pfeiffer.  No.  I have to let these people know how much they've meant to me in a letter.  My words.

I'm sorry to have sounded morbid, but if these past few months has taught me anything, it's that it can be anyone, anywhere, anytime.

Morning Person (Shrek The Musical)

I am not a morning person, but I will be soon.  Waking up is hard, especially at 8am with 3 hours of sleep.  Second winds don't last too long.  But tonight I'm in bed earlier than ever, and tomorrow even earlier.  I will make this happen.  I'm doing children's theatre after all.  I get to since Summertime as a grasshopper and dance a Fosse number about the boy who cried wolf.  I get to be a British ant, a New Yorker mouse, a hillbilly rooster, and much more!

2009 is going to be a great year.  It's going to be a responsible year.  Before I left Ottawa I had sat down with a good friend and we told each other the things we think the other needs to work on to improve themself.  So, I'm going to keep my hair short.  Everyone has been telling me how hot I look.  I'm going to start cutting out fast food and buying groceries and eating more healthy.  I've bought Vector cereal, clementines, grapes, bananas, Activia yogurt, nuts and carrots to snack on, and I've started ordering a salad as a side instead of fries.  Baby steps for this guy.

Another one of my things is to date more people that I meet in real life, as opposed to online, and to go on at least three dates with one guy instead of doing my usual one night stand thing.  Totally do able.  I've been feeling so hot and guys have been talking to me.  I feel so good.

Going to the gym?  I went tonight.  Don't ask me about before then, please.

Focus on stand up comedy.  I performed at the Hot Box Cafe last week and I'm submitting myself to the Arab American Comedy Festival in New York as both a comedian and a playwright.  Is that really how you spell playwright?

I've moved into my sublet and holy shit do I love it.  It's amazing.  I couldn't be happier.  I have not lived by myself in three years.  How have I survived?

Oh well, I'm happy now.

They Say He Went To College (Patsy In Politics)

I went to see Milk and now I want to be a politician.  Lord help me.  There must be some pill I can take before going to the movies that will stop me from seeing my future in these protagonists.

My Little World (Thou Shalt Not)

A recent conversation with a friend made me realize how lucky I am because I haven't experienced any discrimination in my life.  It's actually pretty stunning that I managed to live twenty eight years as the gayest gay to ever gay without ever being gay bashed or harassed or put down or rejected.  Or maybe I have and I chose to see a different side to it and turn it into a positive thing.  Who knows.  But I can tell you that in elementary school no one ever called me a homo, (that was reserved for a friend of mine that even I used to call "Running Faggot").  And in high school I was only called gay twice and neither time did it bother me.  Seriously, a lot of people who did not know me back then are surprised to hear that I was not a loser in high school.  On the contrary - I was a social butterfly.  Everyone liked me (as far as I know).  I had friends in every social group and always had a different best friend in every class.  If I had to go back I wouldn't change a thing.  Living in Vancouver?  Forget it.  Coming out in Toronto?  Relatively painless.  Work?  I've always been fortunate enough to work with a bunch of chicks who fancied me their best accessory, and all the straight guys I've worked with have been extremely open, gay-friendly people.

Once I was working in the restaurant when a group of about twelve big burly manly men sat in my section.  When I went over to offer drinks, they were still undecided.  Before I could go back, they had all gotten up and left.  A co-worker (a real "how much do you need" type) asked me if I thought they left because they didn't want to be served by me because I'm gay.  She's a fucking idiot.  I explained to her that they didn't seem happy with the menu and they were quite friendly when they told me they weren't ready to order.  This girl has plenty of issues and was clearly only trying to get me to feel bad about myself because she's so insecure herself.  I win.

My brother always used to call me a fag.  But he also was afraid of gremlins and once peed in the corner of our bedroom because he was too scared to walk to the bathroom at night.  He hated me, I hated him.  I took no offense.  I just peed in his shampoo and never told him.

So what is it?  Am I just a super loveable guy that no one would dare try to hurt?  Or do I merely have a super human positive outlook and extremely high self confidence?  Either way, I feel so fortunate to have been able to live my life as a faggot with plenty of ease.  Now if only I could get my parents to accept me...

If I Had Any Sense (Five Guys Named Moe)

Me and my fucking brain, changing its ideas every five fucking minutes.  Here's what's currently in store for me.  Who knows where the hell 2009 will take me.  Hopefully Burger King.

So I'm moving back to Toronto in a couple of weeks!!!  Yay!  I have a wicked one bedroom to sublet for the length of my contract.  That's set.  I have the gig.  That's also set.  I have the part time job at the restaurant.  That's set.  But what happens after May?  Here's what might.

I'll be submitting to the Arab Comedy Festival.  That's hot.  It's in New York City in May.  I want to get in so badly.  Why the fuck wouldn't I get in?  I'm pretty amazing.

I also plan on moving to Argentina.  I'm sorry, what?  Did you say Argentina?  Why, yes, thank you, I did.  Why?  I don't know.  Why do I do anything?  I've just recently realized that out of all the places I've been around the world, I've never been to South America.  Then I got this bizarre desire to focus on Buenos Aires (it's the Paris of South America, after all, and I really want to get off a train singing "What's New Buenos Aires" and then have a bunch of sexy latinos dance me around a dance floor.)  Then I realized I could get a transfer and work at a Hard Rock down there.  That's pretty sweet.  Built in job, fluent in the language, ready to lose my virginity.  It's all adding up.  What the hell, right?  So that's been my focus for the last week.  I also might use a different path to get there and go as an English teacher.  Which brings me to my other random thoughts of late.

I want to be a teacher.  But for reals.  I'm thinking of putting performing on the back burner temporarily and going back to University do complete a double major in English and Spanish.  Then do teacher's college and get a job as a high school English/Spanish/Drama teacher.  Or go abroad and teach English at a rich kid's private school.  Or get a job at an Embassy.  Or as a translator.  Or just travel for the rest of my life while working at Hard Rock Cafes.  The only flaw is that I'll be thirty four when I graduate.  Is that weird?  Then I realized I'm almost thirty.  Then I realized, do I really act or feel twenty eight right now?  Then I realized, no, I don't.  I feel that girl in theatre school who always lied about her age.  I'll just tell people I was born in 1990 and they'll think I'm starting my twenties instead.  Sound good?  Keep my secret, yes?

I also really want to do the Second City conservatory when I go back to Toronto, but you kinda have to do all the classes consecutively which means being in Toronto for a year at a time.  That could either throw a wrench in my Argentina plan or it could mean Argentina will throw a wrench in my stand up comedy plan.

Do I really want to be a teacher or do I want to be a stand up comedian?  Can I do both?  Where the hell did musical theatre go?  I want to get on TV.  Lord, please let me have it all, will ya?  Lord?  Can I be not be a stand up comedian teacher from Argentina living in New York as a slutty nanny?

Blog again.

Everyone Has AIDS (Lease)

For my Christmas present to myself, I went to get my very first STD test.  Before going in I tried to figure out who all my sexual partners were and I realized I've had many more than I realized.  Twenty sexual partners, seventeen of them went down on me, nine of whom I reciprocated, and I engaged in anal penetration with none of the above.  I'm currently awaiting the results.  I'm quite eager, even though I was told in the pre-test interview that my situation is low risk.  I was giggling in my head the whole time thinking of Sarah Silverman.  How long do these things usually take?

The Oldest Profession (The Life)

So we all know I'm horny and feeling adventurous.  I was recently browsing through Craigslist's adult gigs section and clicked on a post looking for nude waiters.  I then went to a man's house where I took all my clothes off, poured him some champagne, conversed on a wide variety of topics, and let him touch my balls.  And hour and half later I was one hundred dollars richer.  These are tough times, people, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Give My Regards To Broadway (George M!)

I feel like giving up show business.  Now before you freak out, hear me out.  Ok, I may not have many valid points, and I'm the king of flip flopping, but here's where my mind has been the last day or two.  I don't have the energy or motivation to keep going.  I'm tired of moving every year and working in a restaurant industry to support my theatre habit.  Even the restaurant isn't a reliable source of income anymore, what with the economy the way it is.  I just want a stable job right now.  I want to know that I'm making money and I want to spend it on clothes and travel.  I want to be able to strip or do internet porn and not have to worry that it'll come back to haunt me when I'm famous.  I don't think I'll ever give up performing completely.  I'd love to work with children, like ArtsMonkey did.  I'd love to teach them.  I'd actually LOVE to be a teacher at this point in my life, but I refuse to spend a million dollars going back to school to get a proper education.  I want to teach Mad Hot Ballroom.  I want to be a nanny, maybe, like PA and Neenia.  My sister has a friend in New York, married disgustingly rich, has a child.  Said they're looking a trust worthy nanny.  I'm thinking of joining their family as a caregiver.  I really really really don't want to give up on my goal of living in New York.  I can still pursue my comedy on the side.  And boys.  There are loads of boys in NYC that I'd love to have sex with.  Oh, on a side note, I'm also seriously ready to give up my virginity to someone.  Boy or girl.  Anyone.  I'm just in the mood to really fuck, you know what I'm saying?  Talk to me in a couple of days and I'll be singing a different tune, I bet.  But for now I want to be a slutty bi-sexual New York City nanny.  Is that too much to ask?

Ain't Got No (Hair)

Fucking recession!  I hate you!  I hate you because I'm moving back to Toronto with not a penny in my bank account.  I'm behind on all my bill payments and I owe more money than I did when I came.  What the fuck?  I hate you because nobody goes to restaurants anymore and I keep getting called off work because there is no business.  How the gay am I supposed to make any cash so I can get a mother fucking apartment and furnish it, you asshole?  Quit recessing and put your dollars back in my pocket.  It doesn't really help that I blew my weekend's worth of tips on three sale items at Club Monaco, does it?  At least I'll look good while I'm poor.  I'm redefining the pauper!  Pay attention!

Big Black Man (The Full Monty)

I really want to get fucked by a black guy.  I can't explain the urge, but it's definitely there.  Yes, I'm still a butt virgin (both in giving and receiving), and yes, bum sex still disgusts me.  But I've just been so curious about getting it on with a black dude and it's a feeling I won't be able to shake until I've done it.  The thing is, I think there would be no point if he wasn't going to fuck me and show me what the fuss is really all about.  I feel as though to not get fucked by a black guy would be a waste of his talents.  Is that racist?  I hope so.

How Beautiful The Days (The Most Happy Fella)

Some highlights from having the musical that I choreographed hit the stage last week.

-Receiving a director's chair as my cast's opening night gift to me.

- Gilbert's Girl making a special trip to Ottawa to be my opening night date.

- The review in The Ottawa Citizen the next morning that said "Skinny Rabbit's tightly executed choreography shows imagination and hours of rehearsal."

- A former choreographer of mine gushing all night long about how I have raised the bar and set it high.

- Hearing other kind things like "That was the best choreography I've ever seen in an Orpheus show, " and "That was the best dancing I've ever seen at Orpheus, and I've seen every show since I was 18," and "Your choreography was the star of the show," and "You've out-done yourself," and "Wow."

- Sitting next to the little old ladies on that Sunday matinee, who kept saying things like "It's great to be young, isn't it?" and "He just called her a bitch."  My favourite, though, was at the top of Act II when the curtain opens to reveal a painted scrim of the High School Of The Performing Arts exterior, just as it did in Act I, "Oh, now I know what the show's about - the school of performing arts!"  There is not one scene in Act I that takes place outside of the school.

- The little old broad on that Wednesday night show who pinched my ass as I scooted past her to get to my seat.

- Doing a 10 to 1 shake down with the cast before every show and imparting to them the wisdom instilled in me from Mark Cassius: "I'm excited.  It's exciting.  They're excited."

- Having one of my chorus dancers mentioned in every single review.

- Being bored and falling asleep after watching the show 10 times in a row, but always getting up and dancing for the incredibly crowd pleasing finale.

- Having an accompanist in the orchestra pit who kept trying to save the show from a train wreck musical director, by not following his direction.

- Being told from various sources that they could see me in every move.

- Reading a facebook message from my friend, mother of two in Milton, Ontario, on the night before the closing matinee, saying that she felt like a bad friend for not seeing the show so she packed up the girls and drove 5 and a half hours just to see all my hard work.

- Being asked to choreograph again.  Saying no.

Schadenfreude (Avenue Q)

Ugh.  Schadenfreude means taking pleasure at the expense of other's misfortunes.  I'm feeling the opposite.  I'm loved by all my friends and family.  I've taken two trips to New York this summer that have left me on a high I'm still feeling.  I'm getting the hang of choreographing and it's turning out pretty well.  I have a job lined up doing children's theatre again in Toronto in February.  There's a boy I like.  I should feel off the charts awesome.  But when I look at what's going down around me, I get not so happy.

Several people in my life are cheating, being cheated on, getting their mistresses pregnant, breaking up, getting divorced, having bad attitudes in rehearsal, dying and committing suicide, being lonely, loosing touch with best friends, being stuck in ruts, fighting, making stupid decisions, closing amazing broadway shows.  It's bringing me down, man.  I wake up every morning and try to be happy and it lasts most of the day.  Then I'll get some bad news or someone in rehearsal will act like a fucktard or my director will be a total idiot and I'll go to bed with worry.  I wake up feeling better every morning, but my sleeps ain't so nice.  I want everyone to be happy.  Then I can be happy.  Can everyone just get their lives together so that I can live my life in peace, please?

We Do Not Belong Together (Sunday In The Park With George)

Okay, our working relationship is not that bad, but I'm sick of having to constantly fix her mistakes.  Why is the director of my show so stupid?  Ugh.  I hate that she's can't acknowledge that she's an amateur.  Why would she block all the classroom scene with all the students facing upstage?  The ones with lines, even!  Why would she want someone who can't play violin but can play piano to be playing violin while standing next to a piano?  I've managed to get my point across on many occasions and I've fought and won many battles.  But between me and the musical director we're definitely started to step on her toes and I can tell she's going to snap any moment.  But we're not doing it to make her feel shitty, we're doing it to fix her shitty work and save the show.  Everyone will sound great and the dance numbers will be fucking amazing.  The rest of the show will be caca.  I feel like I need to be there for every blocking rehearsal to give the actor tips when the director gives them no direction.  This is getting exhausting for me.  I barely have time to come up with choreography, so I can't be spending extra time working on her shit.  This is gay.  I always remind myself and the people around me that I'm new at this and I need help.  I have an assistant and I allow comments and input from my cast.  Why can't she be so open?  It works for me.  We're both nice people.  I guess I'm just smarter.  I can't wait until this is over and I never have to do this again.

Rocking The Boat (Marlowe)

There's always at least one person in ever show that rubs every person in the cast the wrong way.  Why must this be?  Why we just have perfect casts at all times?  In fact, why can't everything be perfect?  I wonder if the [title of show] gang as anyone backstage that they dislike.