Monthly Archives: May 2006
Remember when I went to Seattle for auditions for a show of mine and ended up thinking that most of the men who auditioned for us were too gay?
Well, we cast a couple of them anyway.
And I have learned, after being in rehearsal for a week and a half, that they’re straight.
Luckily, they’re terrific performers, so everything is okay, except for the fact that I don’t understand anything anymore.
It is my greatest dream in life to throw a drink in somebody’s face.
Actually, that’s not true. Throwing a drink in somebody’s face is only my second-greatest dream in life; my greatest dream in life is to become an arsonist.
Last night I tried out (as a go-go boy) for the guy who runs the parties at Splash on Saturdays. It seemed to be Big ‘n’ Beefy night, so I felt somewhat out of place, but I was still having a good time.
Then somebody walked by me and indicated that he wanted to speak to me. I leaned down and he shouted in my ear (the music was pretty loud), “How’s your dick?”
I heard him fairly clearly but I wanted to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood, so I shouted back, “What?”
He shouted, “How’s your cock?”
I gave the only possible reply, which was, “Fabulous!”
“Is it hard?” I gave him what I hope passed for a lascivious look. “If you get it hard I’ll give you a dollar.”
And I almost spit in his face.
A dollar? Excuse me. I should get a dollar for letting you stand next to me. Men have been sticking dollar bills in my underwear all evening with the understanding that if they want any kind of display they have to pony up.
I said, “Make it ten and I’ll think about it,” but I spoke softly, because though I was insulted I also didn’t want to anger him.
He hadn’t heard me; he looked up quizzically and shouted, “What?”
I gave him a mysterious smile, declined to repeat myself, and started dancing again, ignoring him until he walked away.
Does anybody in the New York area with a T-Mobile, Sprint, or Working Assets mobile phone care to weigh in on the quality of the service s/he gets? I’ve been happy with Verizon’s service but I simply cannot continue to patronize a company that would sell my phone records to the government. I’m switching my home service from AT&T to Vonage, but, for cellular service, before I make a two-year commitment and buy a gajillion-dollar phone I want to make sure I can trust the guy who wanders around the countryside on TV saying, “Can you hear me now?”.
In unrelated news, does anybody who is internet-savvy want a gig that will take a few hours and pay $25/hour? If so, please email me and I’ll give you more details.
In even more unrelated news, I was going to write a post wondering how I could possibly have managed to gain 3.6 pounds yesterday, but then I realized that obviously it’s because God was angry at me for importuning him.
At first I worried that Karl Rove and Verizon had conspired to fill my morning protein bar with sugar and lard, but then I remembered that it tasted just as repulsive as it usually does, so I think it really has to be the God thing.
I know I have generally thought of You as either a malevolent, brutal, and selfish malfeasant or a myth perpetuated by other malevolent, brutal, and selfish malfeasants.
However, if You let it be true that Karl Rove is really being indicted, I promise to go an entire day without taking Your name in vain, even while being sodomized.
If You let George W. Bush be impeached, I’ll up it to a week.
This is the story of the worst thing I have ever done.
At the tender age of ten, I participated, along with the rest of my class, in a readathon to benefit an organization that assisted blind children. Since this happened
23 eleven years ago, I have forgotten both the name of the organization and the specific way in which it assisted blind children, but I remember thinking that it was a particularly noble cause to which I was contributing my reading services.
The readathon worked like this: I asked people (mostly my parents’ friends) to sponsor me to read for a month. My marks pledged either a fixed dollar amount or a dollar amount per book I read. I was a voracious reader, so when the month was over and I collected my pledges, I found that I had the inconceivably huge sum of $276.00 to give to the blind children.
Then I spent it all at the mall.
At the movies and Spencer’s Gifts.
Please understand; it’s not as if I made a decision one day to steal money from blind kids. My friend Frankie and I simply wanted to go see Trading Places again, and I was a dollar short, so I borrowed a dollar from the blind kids’ money, fully intending to replace it the next time I got my allowance.
But the next time I got my allowance, there was some sort of Rubik’s cube or octagon or icosahedron that I really wanted, and I could get it if I borrowed ten dollars from the blind kids. And I borrowed another five just in case I needed snacks at the mall, which, as it happened, I did.
And so on and so forth.
And by the time I was through, I had no idea where to get $276.00 to pay the blind children back. (I was not yet advanced enough to realize that I could make that sum in two nights in certain areas of town.) So I just tried to forget about the whole thing.
It is a wonder to me that God let me live six days after this, much less
23 eleven years. So yesterday I decided to pay back the blind children. As I mentioned, I don’t remember the name of the foundation, but I figure as long as I send money to some organization that helps blind kids then I’ll be okay.
I just went to the How Much Is That? web site and learned that $276.00 when I was ten would be worth $541.29 today. The problem, of course, is that I am totally broke, but once I’m in the black again, the first thing I’ll do will be to find some blind children and write a check to them.
Well, okay, the first thing I’ll do will be to go to Mrs. Fields and get some cookies. Then I’ll send a check to the blind children, as long as I have enough money left over.
Okay, can I just say that if I woke up in the morning to discover that overnight and unbeknownst to me someone had deposited a cryptic letter from Tyra Banks on a table in my apartment, I would be so fucking terrified that I would dye my hair, change my name, and leave the country?
Behold my first attempt at lace:
I am delighted to report that its recipient is pleased.
In the second of these posts, I revealed the porn name that I had chosen. I did not use the standard Name of First Pet/Name of Street Where You Grew Up algorithm (though, to be honest, doing so would have resulted in the terrific porn name Stan Savage); it was simply the inspiration of the moment. However, I have just gone back and removed it from the post, because yesterday inspiration struck much more powerfully and I have now come up with a porn name for myself that is quite possibly the most brilliant thing I will ever do and I should just kill myself now because it’ll all be downhill from here.
And the name is:
“Toby” is the bottomest name I can think of. And “Defarge” of course is the name of the woman in A Tale of Two Cities who works her enemies’ names into her knitting, thereby dooming them to the guillotine.
Bottoming, knitting, and revenge. If only there were a way to add chocolate to the mix, I really would have distilled my very essence into a name, at which point I would probably never be able to reveal it to anybody for fear that, by using it, s/he would gain power over my very soul.
Of course, this is all moot anyway, unless I can persuade E.S. to appear in a porn movie with me.
Okay, I know what I’m asking for for my birthday next year.