Don't "Hey Girl!" Me

Girls that call their gays "girls," and gays that refer to themselves the same are absolutely out of line.  There's this thing called gender.  Now...contrary to popular belief, although you may like being banged the same way a girl does this doesn't make you a female equivalent.  You have a dick.  Please acknowledge that.  I'm not asking you to butch it up to the extent of doing nothing but pumping iron and crushing beer cans on your forehead, but try not spitting skittles when you talk and shitting Prada when you walk.

Is it just me or has the idea of "gay" gotten completely out of hand?  A long time ago "gay" was this rugged thing, an intellectual state of being.  When anyone thought of gay, the first thing that came to mind was two strong men together.  Where has that vision gone?  I don't want to think of a newly 18-year old twink every time someone mentions homosexuality.  Hell, I'd rather not think about twinks ever.

There's a point when you need to realize that you are more than what you sleep with.  You can be something else before you're gay.  Nobody really cares who or what you sleep with unless they want to sleep with you.  And nobody wants to sleep with you when there's no intrigue as to who you are.

I am an intellectual.  I am an actor.  I am a singer.  I am a dancer.  I am a writer.  I am a chef.  I am a photographer.  I am a lover.  I am a cleaner.  I am a man.  I won't tell you if I'm gay because I don't have to.  That's not part of who I am.  Who or what I sleep with does not define me as a person.

The fact that I'm a loyal friend is what defines me.

The fact that I love the simple things defines me.

The fact that I have no problem looking you in the face and telling you never to call me a girl again...

That defines me.

Don't do "the sexy"...

So you meet someone new.  You talk and all you can think about is how cute he is.  You admire his pecs while he tells you about his audition for So You Think You Can Dance.  You stare at his cute synthetically altered blue eyes that are currently green for the night.

The night goes on, you have some drinks.  Things get a little heated.  Next thing you know, you guys are making out as you sit on your friend's lap.  You guys move to the kitchen, he pins you up against the wall and ravages your lips.

Did...did he just growl in my ear?  Um...ok, let's ignore that.

"Who'd you come here with?"

You're going to ask me that now?  After a good half hour of a make-out session?  Whatever.  "Nobody.  My roommate dropped me off."

"I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."

Ew...do you realize how gross that kind of sounds?  That's not cute...don't say that again.

"Do you have anywhere private we can go?"

...we're at someone else's house.  "No, I don't.  I don't do hookups anyways."

What's wrong with just wanting to make out with someone?  I don't feel like having sex with every guy I meet.  Sometimes just kissing is a fun enough experience for me.

Did he just growl again?  Ugh...ok, I don't know about everyone else, but I'm pretty sure you don't get orgasms from touching someone's arm.  So why the hell is he moaning up a storm?

This is just annoying.  He's totally doing "the sexy."  He's trying to be as sexy as he can.  Don't do that around me!  I can see the fake right through your colored contacts.

You know what I find sexy:  Being yourself.  Not trying to overcompensate with your life by telling me about your latest show on Broadway.  I know for a fact that you've never danced on Broadway so calm the hell down.  Lie's are not sexy.  Being "sexy" is not sexy.

Sexy is being awkward.

Sexy is dropping a frying pan and calling all attention at a party to you and the guy you're with.

Sexy is telling me that I'm cute, not that you will fuck the feces out of me.

Sexy is being interested.

Sexy is laughing.

Sexy is being yourself.

Sexy is letting me tell you that I don't want to have a hookup and you acknowledging that and respecting my decision so as not to put anyone else involved in an awkward position.  

That is sexy.  I want that guy.

And I don't think I'm going to find him in you...

Just a regular day...

Ok, the following exchange occurred inside a grocery store between a stuffed bear and myself.  Enjoy:

ME:  *Notices bear*  Press me?  Ok!  *press*
BEAR:  *teddy bear voice*  I like you!
ME:  *Running*  I'm not ready for a commitment!
FRIEND:  *Falls to floor laughing*

You really can't make this shit up...My life is full of the dumbest, funniest, weirdest things.

-At the Gym-
FRIEND:  So he says he's not sleeping with the new boo just yet.  But he did let me know that handsies and blowsies were still in full effect.
ME:  Well that's good.
FRIEND:  Yea.  You want headsies?
ME:  Um...excuse me?  Did you just offer me oral sex?
FRIEND:  Oh my god!  No.  Haha, I meant headphones.  You can plug them in to the treadmill and listen to the TV...
ME:  Oh...um, sure.  Awkward...
FRIEND:  Loves it.

These moments just come out of no where.  I'm not sure if they're bouts of simple stupidity or if they really are moments of inspiration that God is trying to give me saying something along the lines of:  CARRY A CAMERA!  This shit would make a great sitcom!  God, of course, having the voice of Morgan Freeman because I can't think of him sounding any other way anymore. 

Oh god...then there's this one:

ME:  This tastes really bad...can you check the expiration date?
FRIEND:  Sure...Oh my god?
ME:  Let me guess, they expired in 2006.
FRIEND:  ...how could you tell?
ME:  BECAUSE THEY TASTE 3 YEARS OLD!  UGH!  I'm pretty sure they have fermented and now have alcoholic properties...

On the phone:

ME:  Hey.
FRIEND:  Hi, what's going on?
ME:  ...are you eating Peanut Butter and Jelly?
FRIEND:  How did you know that?
ME:  I can hear it in your voice.

Moments like this remind me how wonderful life is.  Thank you world for giving me such great friends!

I Sing!

I didn't blog yesterday, so I'm going to blog twice today.  Don't judge me.  I may even set one of these blogs to publish under yesterday's date because I'm obsessive compulsive.  Who knows?  I'm just spontaneous like that! Anyways, here we go.

I sing.  Very basic statement, but it's true:  I sing.  And so should you.  I was walking through Providence today listening to my iPod (Thanks little Brother!) and as my ears are being filled with the sounds of Jay Brannan, Rascal Flatts, Adele, VV Brown, and the cast of Next To Normal, I was submerged in the desire to burst out and sing.  Then I thought..."you know what?  Why not?  Do it!"  So I'm walking and I start singing...extremely quietly...I stop.

That sucks!  Why is it that we are somehow stopped from doing the things we want to do simply because they are not commonly accepted by other people?  If I want to burst out in song, I should be able to do it.  If I want to do a tap number at the bus station, dammit I should!  If more people sang while walking, the world would be such a more beautiful place.  Even if they don't sing well!  Who cares?!  I don't expect you to belt and riff Defying Gravity while walking down Atwell's Avenue, but what is the worst that could come of trying it out?  So what if you don't sound great, people will definitely join in with you if they know the song.  Who knows, you might even come up with some really hot harmonies.

We sing when we are filled with so much energy that speaking alone just won't cut it.  And we dance when even that doesn't work.  So embrace the energies within your body, harness them.  You could become the next star if you just gave it a whirl, what could it hurt?  There is art in each and every one of us, that's a gift we get for being human.  We have the ability to create art...  Isn't that something worth exploring?

So I say, Do it!  I'll quote Nike:  Just do it!  Get it?  DO IT!

Things you should know.

I have not been dancing since I was 6 years old so my extension isn't that great.
I can put my leg over my shoulder though, so that should make up for it.
 I love eating junk food and I can't stand the taste of most healthy foods.
 I don't know how to play the guitar and I would never claim to, although I have an acoustic and an electric waiting to be learned on.
 My kitten is probably cuter than yours.
 I'm smarter than you think.
 I do have a heart, somewhere.
 I love the color green, I would have no problem wearing a green jumpsuit.
 I don't like eating steak because it is so good that I never want to stop chewing it.
 Eating exhausts me.
 I'm very sensitive to certain smells because they bring up a lot of memories.
 I'm never satisfied.
 I'm a great shoulder to lean on because I won't be afraid to push you off when you need it.
 I am slightly vain, my lips are just so pretty.
 I get addicted to video games quicker than anyone I know.
 I'm one of the most honest people you will ever meet, and some people have given me a hard time because of it.
 I wish I were a tenor.
 I have random Obsessive-Compulsive traits.
 I had nothing better to be blogging about right now.
 I have solved a Rubik's Cube on accident and never figured out how to do it again.
 I love listening to Jay Brannan and harmonizing with him.
 I would never claim to be perfect.
 I have wonderful friends that help me stay on my feet.
 I have a beautiful family that made me who I am today.
 I never give up, which can be tough at times.
 I have loved.
 I have lost.
 I have learned.
 I have experienced life to the best of my abilities and I regret nothing.
 I love Disney movies.
 I have a very warm body.
 I will welcome you into my life with open arms.
 I have nothing better to say right now but I wanted to blog so there you go.
 What have you done lately?

Planes, Trains, or Automobiles?

After a wonderful roller coaster of a visit with my family for two weeks, I am finally on my way back home to good old Rhode Island (sarcasm noted).  Considering that I love traveling by train, I figure I might as well do something to pass the time.  How about blogging?  Of course!

I was talking to my mom the other day about plane travel vs. train travel and figured, “You know what, why not?  Blog it.”

So you have planes.  They fly quickly and get you to your destination on time.  They also have nice (sometimes) stewards and stewardesses to offer you food and beverage.  How sweet?  Ok…aside from that is there any benefit?

I say NO!  Let’s say you travel from, I don’t know, Rhode Island to Virginia.  A roundtrip ticket for that would run at least 200 bucks.  If bought last minute due to emergencies, we’re talking 400 here.  So you’ve just paid between 200 and 400 dollars to be crammed inside a pickle jar of smelly people that are way too close to you and who won’t stop breathing on you as they sleep.  Your ears are popping like crazy and you can’t even hear your own thoughts.  The air is remarkably dry and, let’s face it, you’re going to try holding your bowel movement as long as possible because you don’t want to be the guy who set off a bomb in the cabin.  On TOP of that, you have the ridiculous stress people go through for airport security!  “Yes, I know my dildo looks like a gun on the X-ray screen.  I’m sorry, but so would your erect penis as long as you have these idiots watching the screen.”  “Remove my…what?  Shoes?  Wait…why?  If there’s any metal in them, wouldn’t they go off while I’m walking through the metal detector?  And if your metal detectors don’t pick up the steel used in crafting my body piercings, then what makes you think the chimpanzee watching the screen can figure out what that speck is in my shoe?  It’s iron by the way.  I soldered the tip of my shoe, just to piss you off.” 

AND THEN there’s the hassle of checking bags!  Ok, let me wait in line for approximately forever to let you tell me that my bag is one pound overweight and that I have to pay an extra “Heavy” fee.  Um…if we could apply that concept to real life, your ass would be racking up quite a debt in “heavy” fees if you know what I mean.  After all is said and done at the Check-In, passengers are now just running the risk of…hmm…maybe or maybe not actually getting their bags flown to the same location as where they’re going.  If I wanted to play Russian Roulette, I would have packed a gun, just saying. 

Now on the other hand, the right hand of course (right as in correct, I have nothing against left-handed passengers.  All are welcome.), you have trains.

Awww, trains.  Good, old-fashioned, simple method of travel.  No bother with taxiing on a runway for hours because someone spilled Juicy Juice on the track.  Nothing of the sort.  Just, “All Aboard!” and we’re off.  It may take you a little bit longer to get to your destination, but it’s also much cheaper than that god-awful plane ride you just experienced.  A one-way ticket from Providence, RI to Newport News, VA costs as little as 60 bucks if bought in advance.  Because the ticket prices of the train don’t really change like they do on planes, you can get a roundtrip ticket for only 120 smackers.  If bought the day of the trip, the one way ticket is only 150 dollars.  If you buy both of those tickets on the day of your trip, they’ll cost you 300 bucks max.  Already 100 dollars cheaper than that emergency plane ride.  I think we get the point that trains are cheaper than planes so I’ll move on to the next point:

YOU CAN USE YOUR CELL PHONE!  You can sit on a train for the entire length of the trip and never not be talking to someone you know!  How awesome is that?  You can text your heart out, you can tell your mother you love her and thanks for reminding you to put the pecans in your bag (don’t ask).  You can browse the web if you so happen to have mobile web access (Which most Verizon Wireless customers can get unlimited for a very reasonable price.  J  Gratuitous product placement, BINK!)!  “Now what do I do when my battery dies?”  Well I’m glad you asked, because most Amtrak trains are equipped with two 120 volt outlets next to every pair of seats for you to plug whatever your heart desires into, providing you with hours of energy! 

Now, although the train doesn’t have a cute steward (that you pray will help you get into the mile-high club), it does have a snack car.  You can order whatever you want and maybe even hit up the sexy bartender while you’re there.  On top of that, you never run the risk of having to sit “bitch” between two fat strangers while flying at top speeds.  Nor do you have to stay buckled into a restraint that was built for a skeleton.  “But seatbelts save lives,” you say.  Um…what are you going to hit while on the train that is going to send you careening from your seat into a deadly frenzy of flailing limbs?  The train is on a one way track that nobody else can travel…I’m pretty sure you’re all set.

And Oh, Em, Gee…you can pack whatever the hell you want because you don’t have to check baggage!  You keep it with you the entire time, nobody touches it but you, and inside you can practically line the bag with goodies that a plane would not permit.  And I’m not even talking illegal shit here.  I mean you can bring water bottles, booze, a full roll of toothpaste that doesn’t have to sit inside a plastic bag!

Even if smuggling illegal junk is your fancy, how fortunate for you that there still exists a mode of reliable transportation that will cater to your needs.  I had a few friends who were going on vacation to DC and they were pretty disappointed because they had just bought some Paka Lolo (google it), but couldn’t bring it on the plane.  If only I had written this blog sooner, those two would have been having the best drug-induced time of their lives.  All thanks to…trains!

So:  Planes, trains, or automobiles? 

You decide.

I have.  ;-)

Keep it happy keep it snappy. :-)

And since i can't leave you with a ballad, Here's something to lighten the mood. Enjoy. :-) i made them!

Unfortunately unemployed...

Since i'm trying to write at least once a day, here we go. The thing boggling my mind today is my own personal inability to be able to get a job in rhode island. I have been unemployed since july and it is simply uncalled for. I'm not even talking about the stressful life of finding a theatre job as an actor...i'm talking simple parttime burger flipper. I've been applying for jobs for six months now and i haven't had so much as a nibble. It's astounding to me that someone with certification in all microsoft products, a typing speed of 90 words per minute, barista, cashier, customer service, and bookstore experience can be passed up for a simple job. It's simply unfair that those that blow their money on recreational drug use are better off than someone like me who can barely buy food. Your thoughts are appreciated.