Not Primm or Proper…a Prisoner of Vegas

One might imagine that it is crazy fun being trapped in Vegas—especially due to rain and snow on the 15 back to LA. And it would have been if we hadn’t already said our good byes to sin and decadence.

But as I flipped to EMT Rory (Emergency Management Trainee Rory) we quickly doubled back to the strip and began to make a plan of action. Lola’s sister Rocky and her boringboy Eugene were spending the week in Vegas and had just arrived before we checked out of our hotel so we decided to look them up. The point of this way to see if we could crash on their hotel room for the night in case things got crazy with all the trapped people in town.

The rain was pounding as we parked in the rooftop garage of Luxor and we piled out of the car. Lola and I, in our slap-happy mood, skipped in the pouring rain up to the doors as Angel made calls to get work covered for her as well as let her mom know what was up. Lola and I let Angel play the adult for a bit as we laughed our way through the casino in sunglasses and wet t-shirts.

Eventually we realized that Rocky and Eugene were off at the buffet and Lola went to deal with them as Angel and I discussed the various plans for the up coming night. I tried calling Kelly to let her know what was up but had little luck getting hold of her. Angel and I talked about random things we could do to stay in Vegas—friends of friends, older relatives, and maybe strange boys.

Lola eventually returned—looking annoyed—and rounded us up as she explain that Rocky and Eugene were being too couple-y and we needed to find somewhere else. Quick side note on Rocky and Eugene—they are one of THOSE couples that even though the honeymoon phase is over they still hang all over each other and have eyes only for each other. This would be fine if they seemed those type of people but they don’t when single and it’s annoying. What makes it worse is that they are the couple that asks you to go out to dinner since they haven’t seen you in awhile and make you feel like your on “Third Wheel” as they kiss and feed each other in public.

So nonetheless, I was happy we weren’t crashing with them and we made our out into the rain once again. The roads were becoming flooded and so we pulled into the closest cheapest hotel—Excalibur anyone? —and waited in the line for the valet. During this time I decided to try and make the most of our adventure and came up with a song to sum it all up—

(Sung to the melody of R. Kelly’s ‘Bump and Grind’)

I don’t see nothing wrong with another buffet
I don’t see nothing wrong chasing it with tangeray
I don’t seen nothing wrong going home with this guy who might be gay
I don’t see nothing staying in Vegas another day…”
Having made the turn into madcap farce we hit the Excalibur and the girls quickly jumped in line for a hotel room while I hit the bar for a beer. The girls scored a cheap room and we once again settled in for another night of strange beds and endless possibility. We settle into PJs and watched a little “Viva La Bamm” as we half napped and talked about boys, Joy and Trucker. We were little bitches.

Eventually Kelly called and Lola offered the room to her and her 2 stranded friends—Kelly seemed cool about it so we stayed in our room to wait for them to get over to the casino. Of course—three hours later—we received a phone call that they had booked their own rooms elsewhere and were going off to meet boys and go back to the Nine Fine Irishmen. This was annoying since we stayed to meet up with them and so we were in a nasty mood.

We dressed up and hit the casino floor to try and have some last minute Vegas fun. This plan was ruined by meeting up with Rocky and Eugene who wanted to “hang out”. We found them cuddling in the MGM and dragged with us as we scored dinner. Dinner was awkward because it wasn’t that good and didn’t help that Rocky and Eugene weren’t listening and instead fed each other desert. We ditched them as quickly as possible and Lola, Angel and I hit the strip alone.

Because of our grumpy tired moods we just really wanted to find someplace chill to sit and hang out. It didn’t help that I was freezing and had no jacket at all on me, that it was Sunday so weird things were closed and Lola and Angel were both just Vegased out.

But we are nothing if not resourceful and we found a small little piano bar in our hotel and had the best moments of the weekend with bloody marys, dirty martinis and lots of talk about boys and sex and kissing and all the good stuff. This was the true moment when I realized that I really liked both girls—before the trip I knew of them but now I felt I knew them and really liked them.

This also led to the best putdown of the weekend—“You’re such a bitch!” “What? Did I make you wait in the hotel room 3 hours then go off to meet boys at the Nine Fine Irishmen?” Funny stuff and proved that these girls had the wit to hang with me.

Bed that night was fun as we talked and joked and made each other laugh into the early morning. We woke up and packed up and were ready to hit the road and get home. Phone calls were made about work and classes as we made our way to the freeway. Imagine our surprise that 15 was still closed.

We made the obvious choice to go to Primm and shop while we waited out the road reopening. We shopped like the Hilton sisters (2 dress shirts, 2 ties, a baseball cap and a cute cowboy shirt) and dared to eat at the Primm casino. We discovered that Primm is where hookers go to die and that grandpas like Brittney Spears hats. We also decided that we should open our own buffet in Vegas—the Bikini buffet where swimsuits are required and one can get half shirts that say “I went to the Bikini Buffet and all I got was this food baby”. Funny as we even took a picture of dirty mullet and Grandpa Spears—it was good times even though Kelly called to complain about her driver home through the Indian Reservation.


Eventually the road opened—thanks to the salesgirl at American Eagle for giving us the heads up—and we made our way home in record time. It was the type of Vegas trip that will live as one of the best. I got some new Sistahs, some cool clothes and learned a lot more about Primm than I wanted to. Good times ladies, good times.

Go Me....

So I just got the story job I wanted on the Bill Shatner project--I'm moving on up kids.....

Quote of the week.

This week’s winner is Shelly with her unique way of remembering how to spell minimum.

“It’s like a tiny British mom.”

(In my defense it was 3 in the morning but damnif I didn't enjoy)

What Happens in Vegas…

So in about 24 hours I will be getting myself ready for my last journey into bedlam and mayhem with Vegas as the final destination. As such I much as there are other places I need to go and people to visit (you know who you are) I realize that with my vampire lifestyle that Vegas is the place to be. Rocking at 3? No problem…

As a Vegas survivor many times over I find it helps to have a list of things I won’t do so here’s my dirty dozen…

1) Go to the pool without shaving my chest—sure it makes me look like a potbelly pig but it’s all about grooming and up keep people…

2) Attack Tina for voting for Bush when drunk….

3) Discuss Perry’s sex change AT ALL.

4) Be the boyfriend for any of my girls when in trouble—in other words no cockblocking the ugly or the rowdy,

5) Swipe knife to gag on to make myself throw up outside the America restaurant. (Long story.)

6) Not be shocked when Perry uses the men’s room.

7) Be concern about anyone’s behavior beside my own.

8) Grope my bedmate while passed out.

9) Allow anyone to wear stripes and plaids. (Long story)

10) Drunk dial Chance.

11) Take any porn while on the street and instead yell, “I’m gay”.

12) Be the barometer for any of the girls—you know, the girls judge the guy by cool if he talks to their token ugly, fat or, in my case, gay friend

How the Cookie Crumbles

Unless something changes soon—I didn’t get the story job with the Shatner show. I’m actually kind of fine with this development. The show is a nightmare, plagued with issues for Mr. Shatner due to Spike TV so I’m not super concerned about missing out on some great chance.

The new job is okay—night hours do mess with one’s head but nonetheless the show I’m now on is easier and a lot more up my alley. It’s about kids and helping people so I can’t look at it and say that I object to it in anyway.

Outside of that, I’m keeping busy and really trying to solidify my next couple of steps in terms of my writing. I think I’m close to come up with a good novel idea—blog format of course—very “Tales of the City” as well as trying to focus on advice idea. Between dealing with the e-mail switch as well as the return of Neddy—well the plate is close to full.

And now I just have to get up the balls to call the boy. I don’t know—I’ve heard nothing since Halloween weekend, which either means he’s scared of me, read my blog or isn’t interested. And I don’t know which is the best scenario.

But I am going to Vegas for the weekend with the crazy ones so maybe that will give more than a hang over—here’s to hope chance is with me. Pun intended.

The Shat Hit the Fan….

So a week ago Friday was supposed to be my last day of work on the Bill Shatner show—I was excited to get the hell out of dodge mostly because I was some what miserable and eager to be unemployed.

I already had another job lead and so I was sitting pretty with the idea of a week off before the next gig. Unfortunately, due to my co-workers inability to work, we had to extend into this past week. Of course it meant another check so I sucked it up. Things got worse though when I realized that the show was doing reshoots and so that mean that we would be through out the rest of the week.

Add to this the fact that my next job would be all night shifts—thus killing my social life and I was not pleased. But I knew that I needed to take the money, if only to try and either get out of more debt or save up to buy a car/phone/computer. Thus I made a deal to take the night shift starting today.

But imagine my surprise when my boss, Collier, on Shatner came to us and said that they might be looking for a night story assistant. So now I have chance to either make the next step up or continue down the logger road a bit longer. I find out today but still either job makes me a vampire. Though one is more worth it. Wish me luck…

Chances are…

So after the Halloween party I was feeling good. I spent Halloween Day with Lizzie and Valeska over along Indian brunch and mild shopping for cute t-shirts and household goods. We had ice cream and I rehashed the Chance story from the night before. We all swapped boy stories and laughed at our good luck. It was fun.

Then the night rolled around and I had plans with Joy, Grant and Irene (??!!) to hit the Weho Costume Parade. I was excited most because of the fact that Chance’s band Mutator was playing at one of the main stages and figured we could hang and watch the show and just have fun. I knew it was unlikely to see Chance and didn’t want to get myself all psyched up.

Joy and I arrived late and after phone tag with Grant and Irene we tried to make our way through the crowded fun. We were both somewhat cranky and tired but did our best to laugh and enjoy the various costumes and nudity.

As we made our way down the street, we finally stumbled across the Mutator stage. It was crowded and uncomfortable and just miserable but a fun show. And Joy asked if I thought I would see Chance and I said no. The crowd was too thick and in the way.

The truth of the matter was that I was afraid to see Chance. I was worried that the night before was a fluke—a random act of drunken confession and confusion. I didn’t want ton risk seeing him and having a bad reaction or worse—no reaction at all. But as I stood there and watched the cute couples around us, gay and straight, all just together and something in my head flipped.

I spend a lot of time not really going after what I want—what I truly desire because then I can’t be disappointed. And as I realized this, I knew I want to try and see him. Not for the two of us but because I needed to do something. I had to try for what I want even if I failed.

And suddenly the night felt like a John Cusak movie. People moved out of the way as I wrapped Joy’s arms around my neck and barreled toward the stage. I didn’t care about couples or kids or the elderly. I was going to get to the stage regardless. And as we got 2/3 of the way to stage, the band finished.

As the crowd started to move and get thinner Joy and I reached the security fence. We were watching the band clear off stage and we were debating what to do. I briefly debate calling over a member of the band to pass a message but felt that would be pathetic. Joy looked at me and as I was saying I wanted to give up she looked away. And before I realized it, she was calling Chance’s name. Because there he was, standing 15 feet away—blue Mohawk and all.

And as he turned and saw us, a smile came over both our faces. And as he came to the fence, he outstretched his arms and gave the best hug one can over the fence. After a moment of reintroduction for him and Joy, we were backstage and talking. I briefly met his dad (I know—what?!) and Chance left to find us passes for the VIP room. As we stood there, I couldn’t believe it.

We talked with his dad (I know—what?!) and I briefly felt odd. No one wants to have a romantic moment in front of the dad and so I wrote the evening off as just social. And as Chance returned with the passes, I realized he didn’t have one for his dad. So the thereof us went off to the VIP tent and as we entered we spotted Steve from BB—dressed as a jester to boot.

So Joy, Chance and I stood in the VIP room with drinks and made chitchat. After a bit, Steve somehow charmed his way in to the VIP tent and managed to amuse Joy long enough for me and Chance to talk along. I rubbed his Mohawk and he leaned into my neck as we stood there. After a few minutes we stood there and locked eyes. We leaned into each other and I felt that the night before wasn’t a mistake but more of a step forward. And even though we kissed and swayed, I was aware of the whole room. Of Joy being a good friend for waiting, of Steve dancing with the bartenders, of the people milling about. And for the first time in along time I felt special.

I was so overwhelmed by the feelings of the moment that I left to use the restroom. I borrowed Joy’s cell phone to apologize to Irene and Grant for not meeting them and after a few moments of random waiting and steadying myself, back in I went. And as we stood leaning into other I wondered we could go. But chance’s dad showed up and Joy was tired so off we went. And I became a twit.

On the long walk back to the car I was giggly and glowing. Joy admitted that while I was gone she and Chance talked about me and I was excited. Because made this meant he liked me. And now I don’t know what I should do but I feel like it is his move. But it is nice to know that for one night more, I felt special… Where it goes from there…I’m not sure.

From Kelly

Fuck the South. Fuck 'em. We should have let them go when they wanted to leave. But no, we had to kill half a million people so they'd stay part of our special Union. Fighting for the right to keep slaves - yeah, those are states we want to keep.

And now what do we get? We're the fucking Arrogant Northeast Liberal Elite? How about this for arrogant: the South is the Real America? The Authentic America. Really?

Cause we fucking founded this country, assholes. Those Founding Fathers you keep going on and on about? All that bullshit about what you think they meant by the Second Amendment giving you the right to keep your assault weapons in the glove compartment because you didn't bother to read the first half of the fucking sentence? Who do you think those wig-wearing lacy-shirt sporting revolutionaries were? They were fucking blue-staters, dickhead. Boston? Philadelphia? New York? Hello? Think there might be a reason all the fucking monuments are up here in our backyard?

No, No. Get the fuck out. We're not letting you visit the Liberty Bell and fucking Plymouth Rock anymore until you get over your real American selves and start respecting those other nine amendments. Who do you think those fucking stripes on the flag are for? Nine are for fucking blue states. And it would be 10 if those Vermonters had gotten their fucking Subarus together and broken off from New York a little earlier. Get it? We started this shit, so don't get all uppity about how real you are you Johnny-come-lately "Oooooh I've been a state for almost a hundred years" dickheads. Fuck off.

Arrogant? You wanna talk about us Northeasterners being fucking arrogant? What's more American than arrogance? Hmmm? Maybe horsies? I don't think so. Arrogance is the fucking cornerstone of what it means to be American. And I wouldn't be so fucking arrogant if I wasn't paying for your fucking bridges, bitch.

All those Federal taxes you love to hate? It all comes from us and goes to you, so shut up and enjoy your fucking Tennessee Valley Authority electricity and your fancy highways that we paid for. And the next time Florida gets hit by a hurricane you can come crying to us if you want to, but you're the ones who built on a fucking swamp. "Let the Spanish keep it, it’s a shithole," we said, but you had to have your fucking orange juice.

The next dickwad who says, "It’s your money, not the government's money" is gonna get their ass kicked. Nine of the ten states that get the most federal fucking dollars and pay the least... can you guess? Go on, guess. That’s right, motherfucker, they're red states. And eight of the ten states that receive the least and pay the most? It’s too easy, asshole, they’re blue states. It’s not your money, assholes, it’s fucking our money. What was that Real American Value you were spouting a minute ago? Self reliance? Try this for self reliance: buy your own fucking stop signs, assholes.

Let’s talk about those values for a fucking minute. You and your Southern values can bite my ass because the blue states got the values over you fucking Real Americans every day of the goddamn week. Which state do you think has the lowest divorce rate you marriage-hyping dickwads? Well? Can you guess? It’s fucking Massachusetts, the fucking center of the gay marriage universe. Yes, that’s right, the state you love to tie around the neck of anyone to the left of Strom Thurmond has the lowest divorce rate in the fucking nation. Think that’s just some aberration? How about this: 9 of the 10 lowest divorce rates are fucking blue states, asshole, and most are in the Northeast, where our values suck so bad. And where are the highest divorce rates? Care to fucking guess? 10 of the top 10 are fucking red-ass we're-so-fucking-moral states. And while Nevada is the worst, the Bible Belt is doing its fucking part.

But two guys making out is going to fucking ruin marriage for you? Yeah? Seems like you're ruining it pretty well on your own, you little bastards. Oh, but that's ok because you go to church, right? I mean you do, right? Cause we fucking get to hear about it every goddamn year at election time. Yes, we're fascinated by how you get up every Sunday morning and sing, and then you're fucking towers of moral superiority. Yeah, that's a workable formula. Maybe us fucking Northerners don't talk about religion as much as you because we're not so busy sinning, hmmm? Ever think of that, you self-righteous assholes? No, you're too busy erecting giant stone tablets of the Ten Commandments in buildings paid for by the fucking Northeast Liberal Elite. And who has the highest murder rates in the nation? It ain't us up here in the North, assholes.

Well this gravy train is fucking over. Take your liberal-bashing, federal-tax-leaching, confederate-flag-waving, holier-than-thou, hypocritical bullshit and shove it up your ass.

And no, you can't have your fucking convention in New York next time. Fuck off.

Quote of the Week

"God's Bazooka of Procreation." Lucy's response to women's reproduction position under George Bush and the Christian right

Halloween Magic

I have been a bad, bad boy… I’ve been holding back—things have developed with the boy and I haven’t known what to do. It started on Halloween in the most random way possible—costumes and booze and all types of drama. I was dressed an as 80’s after school special—tract marks and expensive vodka, headband and black eye.

I was just hitting my ten-minute stride when I came around and there he was—Chance with blue Mohawk and all. I was so shocked that I did what I do best—I turned and ran away to the first person I could find that was out of his eyesight. I hugged Justin Catalino like he was my lost child. (I think I caused years of therapy.)

After a few moments of hair checking and costume adjusting I took some deep breaths and begin the slow process of building up the courage to talk with the boy. I was mostly bolstered by the discovery that Chance had planned to go to this party in the canyons that I was supposed to originally to go but he found out via Lizzie that I was only going to the Detroit St party and that he came there just to try and see me. Awesome….

So I sucked up everything I had inside of me and went rolling in with everything I had—but was intimidated by the crew from Big Brother that was already there. The most I could do was snag a hug and a bright smile and not much else. And I have never been one for small talk and so I blew out of the group, got another drink and danced on everything but the kitchen table.

And then I got the talk—a good friend came up to me and gave me the talk. The talk about what the hell was I doing, that this boy came to see me at this party, that he was happy to see me and was the only guy I had been interested in for months now. That I needed to get it together and think—what would Kelly do?


After a moment’s thought (and another shot of vodka) I realized what I had to do and I did it. I grabbed pack of a cigarettes, fixed my bangs and went charging in. I smiled and laughed and flirted—I made small talk about work and music and everything I have ever done my whole life. We laughed and I played with his hair and coat collar, I left every so often to flirt and dance but never out of Chance’s eyesight…

And it was working until the drama happened. Not drama involving me but my friends and as always—I get sucked in. I jumped in because I knew I wouldn’t have fun if my friends weren’t having fun. So I left the boy behind to deal with everyone else and I came back to find the boy was gone. Poof, like Cinderella.

And I was mad—mad at him for leaving without saying good-bye, my friends for pulling me into the drama, and myself for not doing enough. After a moment’s hesitation I realized I had to do something—I was tired of losing the boy, of not doing enough and letting the boy go because it’s easier. So I commandeered a cell phone—thanks Naomi—and I took a chance.

He answered the phone on the first ring and I asked him where he was—on his way home obviously—and why he had left without saying good-bye. I told him I was pissed that he left without saying good-bye and that I wanted to set up a time to see him again. And instead of freaking out or being coy—he wanted the same thing. So much so that he agreed to turn around and come back, if only to give me a proper good bye.

And as I stood on the sidewalk outside the party, I grew nervous. Now I had the ball but no idea what the fuck to do with it. How far do I go and what do I say to make something, anything happen? And just as I thought maybe nothing would happen—something did.

Chance came around the corner—and not alone. He was lugging two cases of beer and smiling impishly. I asked what he was doing, I thought he was just coming back to say good-bye and he looked me straight in the eyes and said, ”well you made me change my mind.” And then he handed me a case of beer and told me to work the crowd for a bit—he brought the beer because he noticed the keg was almost empty.

So I went back with a big smile and handed out Corona like a missionary on crack. My friends were surprised that he came back and could tell I went stupid due to the boy. And in a way I had—it’s a novel thing to have a nice guy like me, a good guy, a thoughtful guy. A guy who came back because I asked him to.

It wasn’t till hours later that I took my moment with him. Chance was tired and getting ready to leave but I pulled him into the kitchen. I had to ask if his coming back meant something, if I was reading him right and if not then it was okay—and it would be—and he just looked at me in the eyes and we both waited.

And then he leaned into me in the middle of the Detroit St kitchen, he nuzzled my neck and we wrapped our arms around each other and he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “You are the sweetest boy.” And then we kissed and held each other for a bit and then I walked him out. I stood there for a bit and we made plans to see each other again and then he drove away—which was what I wanted right then. No sex or awkward sleepovers or all night hangouts. I waited time to enjoy what had just happened and who we had both been that night. And I realized I don’t know where it is going yet but that it has already gone somewhere new for me.

The Bewitching Hour

I have been a bad, bad boy… I’ve been holding back—things have developed with the boy and I haven’t known what to do. It started on Halloween in the most random way possible—costumes and booze and all types of drama. I was dressed an as 80’s after school special—tract marks and expensive vodka, headband and black eye.

I was just hitting my ten-minute stride when I came around and there he was—Chance with blue Mohawk and all. I was so shocked that I did what I do best—I turned and ran away to the first person I could find that was out of his eyesight. I hugged Justin Catalino like he was my lost child. (I think I caused years of therapy.)

After a few moments of hair checking and costume adjusting I took some deep breaths and begin the slow process of building up the courage to talk with the boy. I was mostly bolstered by the discovery that Chance had planned to go to this party in the canyons that I was supposed to originally to go but he found out via Lizzie that I was only going to the Detroit St party and that he came there just to try and see me. Awesome….

So I sucked up everything I had inside of me and went rolling in with everything I had—but was intimidated by the crew from Big Brother that was already there. The most I could do was snag a hug and a bright smile and not much else. And I have never been one for small talk and so I blew out of the group, got another drink and danced on everything but the kitchen table.

And then I got the talk—a good friend came up to me and gave me the talk. The talk about what the hell was I doing, that this boy came to see me at this party, that he was happy to see me and was the only guy I had been interested in for months now. That I needed to get it together and think—what would Kelly do?

After a moment’s thought (and another shot of vodka) I realized what I had to do and I did it. I grabbed pack of a cigarettes, fixed my bangs and went charging in. I smiled and laughed and flirted—I made small talk about work and music and everything I have ever done my whole life. We laughed and I played with his hair and coat collar, I left every so often to flirt and dance but never out of Chance’s eyesight…

And it was working until the drama happened. Not drama involving me but my friends and as always—I get sucked in. I jumped in because I knew I wouldn’t have fun if my friends weren’t having fun. So I left the boy behind to deal with everyone else and I came back to find the boy was gone. Poof, like Cinderella.

And I was mad—mad at him for leaving without saying good-bye, my friends for pulling me into the drama, and myself for not doing enough. After a moment’s hesitation I realized I had to do something—I was tired of losing the boy, of not doing enough and letting the boy go because it’s easier. So I commandeered a cell phone—thanks Naomi—and I took a chance.

He answered the phone on the first ring and I asked him where he was—on his way home obviously—and why he had left without saying good-bye. I told him I was pissed that he left without saying good-bye and that I wanted to set up a time to see him again. And instead of freaking out or being coy—he wanted the same thing. So much so that he agreed to turn around and come back, if only to give me a proper good bye.

And as I stood on the sidewalk outside the party, I grew nervous. Now I had the ball but no idea what the fuck to do with it. How far do I go and what do I say to make something, anything happen? And just as I thought maybe nothing would happen—something did.

Chance came around the corner—and not alone. He was lugging two cases of beer and smiling impishly. I asked what he was doing, I thought he was just coming back to say good-bye and he looked me straight in the eyes and said, ”well you made me change my mind.” And then he handed me a case of beer and told me to work the crowd for a bit—he brought the beer because he noticed the keg was almost empty.

So I went back with a big smile and handed out Corona like a missionary on crack. My friends were surprised that he came back and could tell I went stupid due to the boy. And in a way I had—it’s a novel thing to have a nice guy like me, a good guy, a thoughtful guy. A guy who came back because I asked him to.

It wasn’t till hours later that I took my moment with him. Chance was tired and getting ready to leave but I pulled him into the kitchen. I had to ask if his coming back meant something, if I was reading him right and if not then it was okay—and it would be—and he just looked at me in the eyes and we both waited.

And then he leaned into me in the middle of the Detroit St kitchen, he nuzzled my neck and we wrapped our arms around each other and he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “You are the sweetest boy.” And then we kissed and held each other for a bit and then I walked him out. I stood there for a bit and we made plans to see each other again and then he drove away—which was what I wanted right then. No sex or awkward sleepovers or all night hangouts. I waited time to enjoy what had just happened and who we had both been that night. And I realized I don’t know where it is going yet but that it has already gone somewhere new for me.

Guess I'm 2nd class

I am a 2nd Class Citizen... I woke up this morning and turned on the news. At first I was confused--everyone has a different number, a different hope but we all kind of know how it is going to down... And I realized that I am a 2nd class citizen to this man--this leader. And I hate him, I wish him ill will, I hope for death and sadness upon his house, his hopes denied because that is what he wants for me. I want to make a button the size of a fist that says "Guess I'm Not Equal." Then after that I will make one that says "My son is 2nd class". Then I will make one that says "I deny my heart for you" for all my people working in the military and not asking or telling. And then I will make one that says "I deserve to be hit" and that will go to all the people that have been hate crimed and yet still not covered by the federal hate crime bill. And then I will make one "My wife is a fake" and that will be for all my sisters whoose marriage will be ruled illegal by his court. And then I will make one that says "I don't have a family" and that will go to all the kids being raised by same sex couples who he wants to not exist. Then I will make the biggest button yet--"My friends aren't equal". And when people ask what these pins mean they will have a choice. They can take a button for themselves and wear it everyday or not. And if they don't wear then I am done with them because I am already oppressed enough and don't need my friends to do that to...

I'm buying a button machine at lunch today--thus it begins----Beetch!!!!

I just realized that I will never be allowed to marry... Cheery thoughts abound!!!

I am a 2nd Class Citizen...

I woke up this morning and turned on the news. At first I was confused--everyone has a different number, a different hope but we all kind of know how it is going to down...

And I realized that I am a 2nd class citizen to this man--this leader. And I hate him, I wish him ill will, I hope for death and sadness upon his house, his hopes denied because that is what he wants for me.

I want to make a button the size of a fist that says "Guess I'm Not Equal." Then after that I will make one that says "My son is 2nd class". Then I will make one that says "I deny my heart for you" for all my people working in the military and not asking or telling. And then I will make one that says "I deserve to be hit" and that will go to all the people that have been hate crimed and yet still not covered by the federal hate crime bill. And then I will make one "My wife is a fake" and that will be for all my sisters whoose marriage will be ruled illegal by his court. And then I will make one that says "I don't have a family" and that will go to all the kids being raised by same sex couples who he wants to not exist. Then I will make the biggest button yet--"My friends aren't equal".

And when people ask what these pins mean they will have a choice. They can take a button for themselves and wear it everyday or not. And if they don't wear then I am done with them because I am already oppressed enough and don't need my friends to do that to...

I owe--

There is so much to say and so much good stuff to write about that I know I am failing but not posting. I'm wait for the words to string together in my head, to form little paragraphs that are enough to cover all the places I have been...

It doesn't help that work is being a greedy little brat and slowly sucking the life out of me. I don't think I will ever be as glad to get unemployed again.

Just a paragraph to vent--okay maybe two...actually three...

So last night was my first brush with live theatre as a writer and while no one died--I took alot way from it. I was rather disappointed in parts of my piece but not for the reasons people think... I wasn't upset about the monolouge that was cut--I know what I wrote was hard to memorize and possibly direct. I wasn't really upset with how Melanie performed the last monolouge--though it was the one I was most passionate about and I felt doing it scarcastic was a really cheap call given that the others weren't--I knew the director was going to give it their own vision.

What I was upset about was how the 2nd monolouge in the piece was basically rewritten. Half, the important half, was chopped of and the first part written to reflect something that I do not remotely believe. It was very shocking for me to hear that what had been a somewhat balanced attack on Kerry's political style was turned into a Catholic bash. That's not me at all.

I guess the worst part was just feeling like--you got served! I felt that there were people in the aftermath of the show who saw I was upset and felt it was time for me to take my medicine... That this was a good thing for me. I was a little hurt by that vibe, not because of the actors or how it was directed, but that my words were changed to something I didn't feel or believe and yet my name was attached to it.

I'm just glad that Edie, Chloe, Kelly, Lizzie, Davis, Valeska, Lucy, Willis weren't there to see that.

The Shit list--Things Rory must do in next 48 hours!

1) Be the voice of calm and sanity at the 24 hour show going up this evening.

2) Be brave in the face of the possible brutal slashing of his written work performed on a Los Angeles stage...

3) Clean apartment for the return of roommate tomorrow.

4) Replace said roommate's soda and cheese in refride.

5) Find, buy, destroy bottom for Halloween costume.

6) Coordinate plans for Saturday night bewteen various friends.

7) Buys stamps to send out bills and mail in absentee ballot (why did they stop selling stamp in atm at 711?)

8) Right checks for bills... (see above)

9) Balance checkbook after bills. (see above)

10) Pray that checkcard comes soon becuaes am tired of living off cash because have to take too much out at one time instead of just paying true price of item.

11) Return pillows, curtians and seat cushions to Pier One and get proper curtians before roommate notice lack of---

12) Be gracious to former roommate that I would rather slap as to secure money for last bills and keys.

13) Be pleasent, eager, welcoming and friendly to new roommate moving in as well as introduce the current roommate.

14) Sleep more than 5 hours--ha!

15) get to bank to deposit pay check...

16) Try to see if anyway to get to see Chance on Halloween by inviting him to every single party that I go to in the hopes that he will show up and I will get my trick or treat!

17) Oh and have FUN!!!!!

The New (and maybe best) Quote of the Week...

"I want him to take off his glasses and treat me bad in bed, and then put them back on and be nice to me."

Lucy the Lovely aka the Little One...

I HATE ACTOR/ACTRESS HUNTING IN LA!!!!

the regular rory will be back soon.

ARGHH!!! ACTRESS/ACTOR HUNTING SUCKS!!!strong>

that is all for now....<

Rory wordage

Awe aspiring = To want to be awe-inspire others but always falling short. Sarcastic usage, usually by gay males.

In a sentence "Jen thought the waiter was overwhelmingly beautiful but Rory thought he was just awe aspiring and left the tabe to smoke a ciagrette out of boredom.

Rainy Day Blues...

It is rainy today in LA and I forget how that can be... LA becomes a different place when wet and green and slick. It is like a teenage beauty queen--demanding, attention seeking, center of the room and waiting for acknowledgement... Let I still kind of like her...

Hey everyone! The time has come around again!

Do you remember those debates back on October 8th and October 13th? No? Well let us remember together!

Come to the Fake Gallery on October 28th and November 1st at 8:30 p.m. Tickets are $10 dollars at the door. Fake Gallery is located at 4319 Melrose Avenue (323) 661-0786 between Vermont and Normandie just west of Western Avenue.

Each night features 4-6 original pieces in response to the presidential debates. This week's featured authors are Chastity Dotson, Hope Dotson, Seth Grahame-Smith, Brian Fox, Annette Jacobs, Lise Kearney, Rory Lapointe, Steve Sabellico, Bryan Shukoff and Brent Simmons!

Election Day is fast approaching. Let's build the excitement together.

With any luck the Red Sox will win in four:)

You can certainly email me at this address with any questions you may have.

Thanks so much,

Heather Chesley

Rory Lapointe
818-762-7245

The Achilles Heel...

So I live my life a particular way. I never apologize for it though I do make mistakes, usually in public and with the maxium humilation possible. I try to treat people the way I want to be treated and judge other's actions by the same standard.

And while this works well in my social life--I tend not to judge so that I'm not judged either--in a work environment this tends to get me in trouble.

When comes to work, and my career, I work hard for my alloted hours, am detailed and serious to a degree. I try to have fun with my co-workers yet still get things done as quickly and professional as possible. And while I can be abit anal and overly detiled and questioning I tend to try and be as productive and efficent as possible.

I try to be respectful but am quicker to get annoyed with people in the workplace if they aren't at my standards. This is something I am learning to control about myself and yet it doens't always work. I sometimes get frustrated or upset at others for not being the same type of worker that I am.

Where the trouble starts is when someone does somethng that I find particularly unprofessional--such as verbally attacking a co-worker in front of others. there is a time and place, as well as a way, to discuss issues but not snapping at someone in front the entire team. It is not calling names or using crule terms. And while I have done this once or twice myself, I know that it is not even remotely acceptable.

And something like this happened in the past week and I am still trying to deal with the fact that a co-worker, someone I did respect, would ever approach me or anyone in an office that way. I know that I am not perfect and I am working on it but part of me just wants to scream right now.

That;s the problem with being too friendly with co-workers. Lines can get crossed and things can get said that shouldn't have and then you still have to deal with them 12 hours later.

That's why I don't do those type of things. I'm just saying...

Chloe has left the Lido

Chloe moved up the coast and into her dreams this past Friday and my head has been kind of strange since then. It's not jealous on my part or even that I'm too upset (though I did cry a little on the subway which seems to be a trend in my life) I guess it was just a realiztion of sorts.

Ifelt bad because I realized that I hadn't spent enough time with Chloe, put as much effort in, treated her as well as I should have. I could have come over the hill more, shared more chia teas and nights at Goldfingers, more days of bad Pax tv and homemade meat balls. But I didn't...

And what makes me feel worse is the fact that if I was neglectful with Chloe then I was double with Lucy during her LA journey... I didn't know how to face my fear, not only of public transport but the thought that she was changing into someone I couldn't be and going place I couldn't or shuldn't. So instead of trying to see if our frienship could change with this--I stopped coming around at all...

I feel guilty about this, my lack of trying, my willingness to just let go, hitting the law of my limits within not a friendship but myself.

And as I walked away from the corner of Wilcox and Yucca--one last look at the Playboy Liquor and Goldfingers and all the little bits of their lives that I was allowed to share in--I couldn't help but feel upset at much I missed and lost out on. How much I wasn't there or a good friend. As I say good bye to the Lido Ladies--part wants to say I'm sorry but not being more, doing more. Something I think that a lot of my friends deserve better.

I grew a set of balls today--though small ones...

I finally e-mailed Chance and said "let's get together"... I'm not sure where it will go and if he'll even pick up on the offer but it is the bravest thing I can do at the momment. I guess I just got tired of e-mailing him (wait, you didn't know I was e-mailing him? Did I keep it a secert?) and play the game and waiting for him to act on something. Though he did say I hope to see you really soon and that was the fuse to the confindence bomb... Now let's all hope it doesn't blow up in my face!

Rory Gets His Groove Back.

I spent most of my weekend in borderline seclusion--things had to be wriiten, phone calls to parents made and even some Halloween costume planning. (Yes I know what it is. No I'm not telling!) After a Saturday spent in mounds of political research, I was more than ready to journey over the hill and see my Chloe for one last round up Hollywood style.

The day started interestingly enough. Bewteen weather that wouldn't commit (cold? warm? wet? dry?) and a body that was feeling less than lackluster (t-shirts make me look fat--but not as fat as these polos!!!) I made my way out of the in my most comfortable outift. A cute little t-shirt (with the Tootsie Pop Owl asking how many lick does it take?), messy bed head and a pair of "too dark to look in my eyes sunglasses" and I was off and running.

As I was walking (not working) Hollywood Blvd, this really cute guy was walking towards me (no, he wasn't a dirty pirate ninja) and imagine when he stopped me short, looked at my shirt, in my eyes and back a second time and just said "Nice", gave a squeeze to the shoulder twice and moved on down the road. (Needless to say, I am not that trusting and checked for needle marks and stickers on the shoulder he squeezed. )

I was a little bit startled (But glowly because that does not happen to me in the Valley) and made my way to Chloe's humble house of horrors in a smiley mood. Maybe I wasn't too rolly polly.

After hearing the latest at the Triple L (the Lido Ladies' Loft) Chloe and I took the show to the raod and ended up at our new favorite place--Karma Cafe, the scene of confessions and 24 hour theater. As we came up to the door, I was started by this really hot (and still not a pirate!) guy in a green shirt and little red baseball cap.

And he was looking at me (!?!) and my first thought was "wait, that's not Libby the mad crush from Todd Tv, is it?" and the second was "have I slept with him or something?". After a quick mental rundown of past sexual partners in last 4 months (or about 5 minutes) I realized I have never met nor have any idea who this was. And he was still looking, meeting my eyes and smiling but not in a creepy "lick the lips" sort of way.

After Chloe and I got our drinks (chai ice tea--yum) we went outside and sat the first avaliable table. Right behind him. (this was not planned--Chloe can verify). Chloe and I discussed boys and drugs and leaving LA in hushed tones as I kept getting distarcted by that little sliver of back showing bewteen in his t-shirt and his jeans. (I don't normal do that-by the way)

After a bit he gathered his art supplies (he's an artist! Goddamn I love Hollywood!) and as he gather his backpack, he turned toward our table and smiled at me. Now this could have been random but what is not is him turning back while in the parking lot and yet again locking eyes!!! (WOO HOO!!!)

I guess this is the part where I get up from the table and slide across the parking lot and say something... Insetad this is the momment I kick Chloe under the table or something, make dreamy eyes and wonder what I would do if he came to talk to me... Probably nothing.

But why am I writing this? To brag? (No) To use starngers to build my self-esteem? (Maybe.)Or is it to remind myself that it is never as bad as I think it is? (yes--yes--yes).

See, I live a life right now where those momments are rare and far bewteen. I hang with my staright friends and go to straight bars and never remember how to flirt or behave when I get the attention. But the worst is I forget that I can get that attention because I am never in the places my people go... I'm always at party at a friends' house, or some low-end bar in Burbank or just in the Valley hanging out.

And then I doubt myself because I don't get attention but now I realize--wait, maybe I am kind of cute because when I'm around my boys I do seem to get some reaction. Which then--what do I do with information?

But that is too much for a rainy Tuesday morning so instead I'll just think about artsy boys in red baseball caps who seem to like me... Pretty blue eyes...

Norma Jean Barrett-Lapointe --1990-2004

I had so many witty things to write about today--my visit with Chloe, my feelings on JK and even more-- Instead though, I am at my desk on the verge of tears and unabashed sentimentality...

My little Norma Jean was put down this morning. I guess I don't know how to feel about this, my littlest dog--the one I accidentally named, the little girl that rode in the front of the bike in a basket and hid little presents of dead animals in my bed... She was put down this morning and I just am surprised at how sad this makes me.

I guess I should have more to say right now but I really need to go to the bathroom before I lose my shit... Norma Jean was a very good girl... I'll miss her very much...

Quote of the Week...

"I'm a virtual sausage casing"

Chloe regarding her interpersonal relationships with Men.

I'm giving my pieces up and going home...

Okay--JC is married to a hot guy of 4 years--my arch enemy and largest annoyance of my sophmore year of college is not only married, to a hot guy, of fours...Awkward,unatrractuve and just boring and flaming and a million other words that I can't say... Good damn, I'm giving up and going home.

I think I'm done--I'm not sure what that means...

Salad and Sex Change?

So this week has been odd on many levels--the least of which was a very female empowerment night. Kelly, Lizzie, Valeska, and I had a night of 70's style salad with a little bit of wine and laughter. It felt like one of those momments from a Toni Morrison movie as we bitched about men and sex and work and just wanting everything and getting nothing. All it needed was some Arthea and would have been the full montage.

The funnest thing about this is just how true and weird we are all becoming--that as we get older we either cling and marry the ones we are with or we get so used to being single that when someone offers us the option of more that we just freak out... Like what the hell? Why are you changing the rules? We've gotten comfortable with easy pickins and no strings sex...

What scares me most of all is something that Kirby once told me--that after a certain age you can't get in a serious relationship. That you are so set in being single that you can't adapt to someone's life. That after that point--lonliness is a given.

And I think it is starting now--I know that I am not ready for a real relationship and that sex and dinner is all I want for now. Don't call me back, don't stop by my house and if I want you then I will make the effort... And at first I thought it was just a male thing but after Salad Night I know that it's not--unless...

We're all becoming straight frat boys?

So I am Taking Suggestions...

It's that time of year--the time of year where I struggle to look less stupid than normal, more fearful of mirrors and just really concerned and self aware of what I am wearing and why I am wearing it...

That's right. Halloween. And this year I would like to not scare people as much as I did last year with the animal dominatrix--don't ask--so I am opening the floor to suggestions... And Joe Mama has already been said several times...

I am also trying to come up with a way to make an advice blog and would love to get any possible feedback on this idea--I was thinking of calling it "Good Rory/Bad Rory: Advice from Both Sides." What do you think? One answer is usually sarcastic and over the top and the other is boring, sweet and genuine... Let me know...

Okay people, practice for Nov 2 and vote on a costume!!!

Someone Tell Me Where the Real Men Are?!

Okay... Here's the question at hand. What is wrong with guys right now? I mean, I'm normal recently there has been a lot of sensatiguys--you know, the guys who break up with their boyfriend just to be with you when it was just sex. The guy who you randomly pick up from a bar who confuses you for a girlfriend and calls to ask you to dinner 12 hours after you dropped him back at his car that morning. The guy who cries during sex because he doesn't know "where this is going" and can't handle a one night stand.

What happen to the guys who just like to fuck around, get it going and get gone... Why do we have to kick out the cuddlers, dodge the phone calls, deal with the guilt of someone's emotional baggage when all we did was pick them up?

I mean, is it bad to want a guy to do his business, pull on his jeans and go? Has there been some secert meeting where the majority of guys decdied to change the rules just to fuck with straight women and gay men? Honestly...what is up?

Is it wrong?

I have figured out how to not work while looking like I am working. As my co-workers watch me do my job I am really writting this to you, in the logging programing and pasting it into blog. I guess I should feel guilty about this but I don't. I mean, I do alot of work and the guy who sets next to me just does baseball stats all day while I am doing transcription for 10 hours. The job is normally a combination of logging and transcription but the last couple of days have been all transcription due to personal request by boss. There is one tape left and I think that evil co-worker should have to do it. Is that wrong? Just wondering...

Mr. DeMille, I hate my Close Up...

So I did a favor--got tricked into it, blind sided and just guilted. I acted in a shot for Kirby. Not crowd scene, not extra, lead chcracter. And I didn't want to do it.

Of course, it was something that I had written and something that had a gay character thus I was cast... I guess I shoudln't be surprised by this type of thing but I was. I felt like it was either me or nothing would get made and I would be the bad person in the situtation.

Which leads to me feeling awkward and fat and on tape. I wonder if I would care as much if I looked better... I just feel fat and though I try I just can't seems to make any forward movemnet and so then I just get very into myself. And doing something that is all about look at me is not the perfect ideal.

But the actual filming was fine. There was wine galore to drink, Ruby was great to be partnered with and Lise was just very direct and strong and supportive. And it was fun time, especially playing the stricken victim of a run away newspaper. Good times.

But I will never see it. People may say I was good or tell me that they like it but I will never know. The ideal of watching myself makes me want to curl into a ball and die. (okay--a little overdone but...) Of course, given current trends--they may force me to watch it anyhow.

Guilty....

So this past Saturday was the much awaited Lizzie and Kelly housewarming party... It was big and loud with an off-beat mix of people--BB, BBC, Emerson and California natives...

The booze was flowing, the apartment pretty and things kept going till about 5 in the morning. And weirdly enough, I was out of sorts the whole time. Some might blame it on Chance not showing but it was quite a bit more than that...

It wasn't really dramatic by any means, but odd event on odd event. Things like Kelly's long lost ex, TY, showing up for the party out of the blue. And while I was happy to see him, iy is hard because there is always a feeling of uncomfortblity due how they broke up and where he has been in his own head. The boy is trying to work through issues and yet it seems to be all he can talk about--and it is hard to deal with when you want to have fun...

Outside of that, everyone played their normal parts and yet, I was disturbed. Kelly finally was alone with one of the Mario Brothers and she also ended up alone with another guy--in Lizzie's room! Lizzie, in an effort to get over Dax--I assume, managed to make out on the stairwell with Coby the backburn love interest. And Joy ended up going home with the most dreaded of Kelly's co-workers and VAleska threw herself at my roommate's brother, Veder...

And I watched all this with usual amount of dettachment. I spun around the party like a little ball, playing with all the people from the various areas of my life. Some time with Willis, and Dominic and Davis--made Lenore and Andrea laugh their little heads off--dodged Smythe and even managed to have some fun with Steven the cockblock...

But the thing that struck me most about the party came the next day. I knew that I was in an odd modd when i left but I wasn't quite sure why. I wasn't really upset about the lack of Chance--there were a handful on my team there to flirt with when things got dull--but rather I realized something.

Even though the party was no different than any other, for the first time I saw desperation in my friends... I don't have a problem with hooking up, going home with someone or just getting through the night but it just all felt kind of forced. And I wondered what they would all think the next day... Would Joy be happy about going home with Jason the Evil (who made sevral cracks about Kelly), Kelly having 2 different men at the same party, Lizzie deciding to get over Dax but just going to town in the most public of arenas...

I guess for some reason, it just felt fake and foreced... And I know that I am assuming alot... Joy could have been providing a ride, Kelly and Jimmy could have been hanging art in Lizzie's closed off room and she could have spooned with Mario Bro. alll night... Lizzie really could be over Dax and not just playing with Coby to try and get over it. But it didn't feel that way.

LA When It Works...

It is a rare thing but every so often this city seems to work for me. Not in a great, happy, "ohmigod-I-want-to-live-here-forever" sort of way but in a "sometimes I forget that this can be artistic more profit.

Take for example tonight... The first of the four 24 hour shows have started and it was great. People were eager and open and just willing to take a chance on the project and the subject matter. I was proud to be a part of a project that makes people think, question and explore their own views about politics and voting and the VERY IMPORTANT UPCOMING ELECTION.

But besides that, it showed me that Ruby and Kirby and I could come up and execute something from PADWAD. This was a thought that Ruby brought to the table and thought it took some time to heat up--it was amazing and powerful with strong writers and projects and a real showing of the type of talent that does exist in this city.

I sometimes think that people to often blame the city when, honestly, the city can become what you need it to be. Now, it is a different thing if you need something from a particular place, like the history of a Boston, the pace of a New York or even the poetry of San Francisco. But just don't forget that LA can be soemthing too...

And that is what the shows reminded me. That this city is full of talents yet to be discovered and explored. But that coming to together and doing it for yourself--that's a real artist. And doing something you believe in. That's a passionate artist.

Looking for Roomies...

Ammie is out and now the hunt begins... I was thinking of ad like this...

"236 is looking for a roommate--it is just like "227" except we kicked Mary out and Jackee is gay..."

Sound good?

Okay now...

So I know what the show is--I'm not pleased though I do know a number of people would love to work on this project... It is just one of these jobs where no one seems to know what they are doing and so then I am almost ready to put a thumb up my ass just to stay awake... Really now...

Though it is not as bad as I thought it would be in terms of hours, which is only funny given the walk here took a little longer than I though. But whatever I guess... Though after living through a day like this--I am willing to marry anyone for any amount of money just to not have to do this stuff... Sigh...

But whatever right? Morals doesn't equal money and so I should just shut up and follow on this entire path I have newly chosen... I guess...

When will Sat be here so I can see Chance...:(:(:(

(the managment apologize for the childness of this post. The real Rory will be back tomorrow.... Thank you for your support.)

This is scary...given the birth name...

Your Penis Name is: Curious George

Get your own Penis Name

The End Of the Boy?

So the wrap party came and rocked my world. Drinking, dancing, smoking, being slutty. Just trying to have as much fun as I can… Kelly, Lizzie, Dax, Darryl, Victoria and Bess all came to the lot and rocked out with the crew and houseguests of Big Brother 5.

I was surprised by how much I cut loose. Dancing with producers, slamming drinks with Nakomis, running rampant with David and Michelle as we taunted the few hgs that needed it. And waiting to take a chance on Chance….

It wasn’t until the after party that I had any time to talk with the boy. I made my move outside, on the porch swing, in my usual passive aggressive way. I talked to him about all the rumors going around about us and owned up to a slight crush. He said nothing to help me out but cuddled on the swing. I felt like I was digging a ditch and just not getting any feedback.

But as he leaned into me I realized how much I wanted this and how scared I am of that exact thing. He got me my beers, smelled my arm and let me pet his Mohawk. We just danced around issues and flirted and talked—till Steven arrived.

Steven was on the show with us—older, browner than George Hamilton and skinny than a cigarette—buys clothing from “International Male” type gay. He is perky and funny and slow on the scene. He asked if I was gay—which is shocking given who I am and he worked with me for three months. So Steven is not the brightest guy in the world.

And this is the guy who just inserted himself into me and Chance for the rest of the night. I mean, in everyway possible. He stood there and just talked, and smoked, and followed us in for drinks. And I was losing it inside.

But I thought I could get around it because I would stay as long as I needed to. Imagine when I realized that Steven had come to the after party with Chance. Not in a romantic way but in a—I need a ride, too drunk to talk—way. So the rest of the night was very “Elmidate”, “Third Wheel” as I tried to not get pissed.

I still managed to have fun the rest of the night just hanging with the boy…and Steven. As the sun came up—that type of party—Chance made to leave and I walked with him and Steve out to the car. As we stood there waiting—Steven finally realized to get in the car—Chance and I hugged and he mumbled something in my shoulder.

Took me a couple of hours to figure what he said… And I keep that in my mind when I think of him. And now I have to figure out what to do about Chance—though he is coming to Lizzie and Kelly’s house warming party… We’re not done yet but I have to decide how much of my heart is on the table.

Try this to support equality...

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
> Contact: Dale Duncan (757) 257-6215
> dsd@boycottforequality.org
>
> Gays to Withdraw Cash from Banks October 8 -
Could Total Billions
>
> Atlanta, GA, September 22, 2004 - Organizers
of the Boycott For Equality
> are expanding their nationwide walkout to
include a coordinated cash
> withdrawal from the economy on October 8.
>
> To demonstrate the need for equality in
marriage and the workplace,
> Straight and Gay supporters will each take out
$80 from their local ATM.
>
> Boycott For Equality expects the action will
exhaust the cash in many
> ATMs, leaving a reminder of gay economic
power to all who try to use them
> throughout the long bank weekend.
>
> To further drive home the lessons taught during
the Boycott, participants
> should refer to the Boycott when communicating
with their elected
> representatives, particularly when candidates
ask for money to fund their
> campaigns.
>
> "Let them know you participated in the Boycott"
explained Duncan. "Just
> take your ATM receipt, cross out your account
number, circle your balance,
> write GAY MONEY on it and mail it to campaign
headquarters in the postage
> paid envelope they provide. They'll get the
message that nobody in America
> can be taken for granted."
>
> The amount represents the amount the average
member of the Lesbian, Gay,
> Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) community
contributes to the US economy
> each day, and could grow beyond the $1.4
billion that LGBT workers
> contribute each day - more than $500 billion
each year according to
> computations by Washington D.C.-based public
relations firm Witeck-Combs
> Communications.


For more information, visit
www.boycottforequality.org

It is staring at me...

There is a boxof blue hair color just staring at me. It is sitting on the edge of the table, the elephant in the room, waiting for me to sack up and just do it. I know I want to--always have ever since Ryan Phillepe in "Playing By Heart". But for some reason...I hesitate.

I'm not sure why that is--why out of all the weird funny crazy things I have done that this should be the line dare not crossed. It feels more like a statement then anything I have done and I am not sure what the statement means...

But I do know how it will be read. As a gay thing... Whenever Ido something different or odd it is thought to be a gay thing. The nose ring, the snarky t-shirts, the badtv movie lines, the kissing boys (well, okay, the last does count...) But it seems everything I do something outside the box that it comes back to that.

I would like to believe that I would always be the same person regardless of whom I bed... ButI don't think many people allow me that lattuide in life and I am not sure how I am supposed to feel about that. Really now...

SO instead I match glances with a box, not a even a living thing and debate what is going to say about me... Sigh... How pathetic is that?

Say It Ain't So...

You might not announce it to the world, but your lack of interest underscores a waning concern for how things turn out. Career matters are not as exciting as they were a few years ago. As your social life has improved, professional aspirations seem boring and unchallenging

Guess What I wished I did this weekend?


Pop singer Britney Spears married her fiance, dancer Kevin Federline, in a surprise ceremony, her record label said Sunday.

"She did marry him yesterday," Jive Records spokeswoman Sonia Muckle said. She declined to provide further details.

The wedding was held Saturday evening at a private home in the Studio City area with 20 to 30 people attending, "Entertainment Tonight" said on its Web site.

Just Bring it

I am ready for a new challenge... as BB rolls to its end I am just ready for the next thing... Show, boy, chances...whatever... Maybe it is time to write a book or get out there where the bright and shiny boys are or maybe run off to somewhere new... I guess I am just longing for some type excitement...

I don't know--maybe I always feel this way and I just ignore it for streches of time... I am ready for my close up and will get it any way possible... Options suggestions ideas? I'm up for anything.....

Rocking Out,,,,


Rocvking out at work tonight... A litle "Sister Christian" to get me through the night shift here at BB... Just realizing that everything is all a matter of how you look at... A good friend and major force in my life taught that "the universe never says no--only we do..." That is getting me through things because it is vcery easy at times to look at all you don't have, all you want, all you imagine you need...

I think that is where the trouble starts... here is mouch that we want for, that we 5think that we need and that we should have... Money, a boyfriend, a successful career by a certain point, a certain lifetsyle or a certain way of being or looking... I am starting to realize that it is finding the happiness in what we have as we go that make sit better...

Sometims it is a easy a cute t-shirt from target, or the hills lit up at night.... That the simpleness of that pretty stuff can get us past the all the bills, the fiughts, the drama, the thoughts that make us feel so small... That wanting is not the end goal but realizung what you have is the only thing that is real...

We can want to be a million things or in a million places... And that is fine as long as it is not a judgement against what I already have....

I Don’t Hate LA But…

I have never hated LA. In a way LA has always made sense to me—you have to work really hard to make it really pretty. It’s just that simple. The problem is I don’t know what I am working for.

I look at my life in LA and just see so much lacking. No romantic prospects to see, a career track that isn’t really what I want, the inabilty to write anything meaningful and just a lack of hope of anything changing soon.

And this is not a rant against the city—I am aware of the choices that I have made and will continue to make if I stay here. Part of my life in this city is so easy. A large group of people to spend time with, jobs being offered without (looking in some cases) and even a cheap apartment to boot. And it is hard to walk away from that for the unknown.

But part of me is starting to wonder what I’m gaining by living this way, doing the same things and not making any real change. Maybe it would be better to jump feet first into the unknown, to try and see what I can make if I have no other choices. I know I am a strong person and have survived lot to get here—wherever that is.

And yet part of me is tired of having to try so hard. I don’t want to struggle anymore, to keep pushing, to keep fighting. Part of me just wants something simple. And yet even when I have it—this way—it is not enough. And I worry that it might never be enough ever. That’s what holds me back the most.

I am signing over my power of attorney...any takers?

I am just tired of trying to figure out how to run my own life. Last night Chance and I talked for about 20 minutes and this on top of him leaving his guests to come hang out at my computer... And yet I have no idea what is going on and I am just too bewildered to figure it out... I just want to throw him againt the wall and kiss and say something clever like... I don't even know--I would just channel my inner Heather Locklear. This on top of my lack of writing and trime to even try and do it... I just feel so creatively empty to a degree and am waiting for inspiration to strike... I don't know. And after the vanishing script well--I am just burnt out. And with the new job choices well--one is screwing someone and yet I know that it is not screwing anyone because no one else is going to take care of me. So then I think that I am going to follow through on what I need and not feel guilty. I should apply that to all areas of my life but it is not going to happen... So if you want it--the power is yours. (this is not be confused with selling my soul. I don't believe in that.)

I am signing over my power of attorney...any taakers?

I am just tired of trying to figure out how to run my own life. Last night Chance and I talked for about 20 minutes and this on top of him leaving his guests to come hang out at my computer... And yet I have no idea what is going on and I am just too bewilderedd to figure it out... I just want to throw him againt the wall and kiss and say something clever like... I don't even know--I would just channel my inner Heather Locklear.

This on top of my lack of writing and trime to even try and do it... I just feel so creatively empty to a degree and am waiting for inspiration to strike... I don't know. And after the vanishing script well--I am just burnt out.

And with the new job choices well--one is screwing someone and yet I know that it is not screwing anyone because no one else is going to take care of me. So then I think that I am going to follow through on what I need and not feel guilty. I should apply that to all areas of my life but it is not going to happen...

So if you want it--the power is yours. (this is not be confused with selling my soul. I don't believe in that.)

How it feels

Sign
Originally uploaded by Social Dischord.

I think this is how it feels when it works... Childish and by the most available means possible.

Have to rave...


Guys...into music? justin catalino Album rocks.... Listen to it at justincatalino.com Seriously the best album in a while....

Ten years...

I almost forgot--it took head injury to remind what this time is... I was looking for an old short story when my freshmen year journal fell out of the back of my closet and grazed my head. I had forgotton I kept it...

I sat on the floor cross legged and flipped through the yellowed pages and looked through the first couple months of my life with you all. And it got me to thinking about how weirdly amazing and fun the past ten years have been...

All the parties and sacvenger hunts, baseball games and parties, the student films and random parties... The break-ups we had, the classes we slept through, the all nighters and the days skipping classes... The nights of the guitar and singing, the nights sneaking back into Charlesgate and hours wasted in the dining hall.

All the nights we drank (or smoked as the case may be), the trips in New York and the fun in Los Angeles, the nights at the movies and the long walks along the Common. And all the places we have been and all the memories we have... And I know that I am being foolish and snetinemnt but I just wanted to say thank you....

I don't think that I ever saw it going this long and still can't realize how much further we have to go...

Any Advice...

Looking for any good advice on how to find out if this boy likes me... I don't trust myself to just ask him and I am not sure why. I guess it is the risk factor and rejection possbilties and just all of that seems to add up to a place I can't go from. And my usual trend of making him want me and, by default, I am in control of the situtation and then not being at risk. And I know that it is manipulative and all that fun stuff but what can you do?

I guess I could try and be more brave and just bite the bullet and think that I am cool enough to do it myself but I don't know if I believe that. And I can't read where he is coming from and I don't want to make a fool of myself or fuck things up in a work siutation though I can be cooler than cool and won't let that happen but still I always brace for worse case senario... Sigh...

I just want to be loved for who I am--not what I do or don't do, look or don't look, believe or don't believe.... And I guess that just seems greedy.

Job drama..

Not to sound ungrateful but I have joib drama. I kind of committed to one job after BB but now there is a problem. I got a phone call today for a vastly better job--longer show by a couple of months and though the money might be less it is a longer job than the first offer. And while I never signed contract for either show i feel guilty about turning down the first job since I have doen everything except say yes to it.

But the 2nd job is all about longer time and is better for the long run than me. I just don't want to risk burning bridges and getting in big trouble with possible bosses down the road. I don't know. I guess I have to say yes to the longer job and it is better for me and I should not care about anything but that.

But is hard to be selfish at times but I am learning more to say yes to thr ight for me and not the right ting for everyone lese around me. It is just hard.

I love when my friends quote me...


I love when my friends quote me...

"I have a deal with God. He stays out my way and I don't take over his kingdom." -Rory, 9/4/04

The Return of Chance...

So the boy is back today and I am borderline all a twitter about it. But who knows, I am on the line of just doing nothing at all and just riding it out.... I know that it is stupid but it is me--sigh. By the way--random story--I got this in a fortune cookie....

If you take chances you will get Lucky...

This is distrubing because it is the boy (lucky) real name....

I love when my friends quote me...


I have a deal with God. He stays out my
way and I don't take over his kingdom."
-Rory, 9/4/04

Thanks Joy

Hmm...


Looking for suggestion oon how to kill time at work... I need good internet sites for fun that can be work friendly.... This is all i have been up to.... Work. And know i have another job lined up less then a week after this ends so--I might go nuts. Part of me knows that I shgould be happy about it but 10 hours of this and 12 hours at the next job... It gets hard to recharge after work and relax. Because it is hard but not stressfull and that drives me nuts.., No brain power needed but time gone. So give suggestions.

Wanna know gay?

This is funny.... This is a list of rules explaining what is gay and what is straight male on holiday... Cracks me up...
Enjoy .1 - It's Not Gay If You Pull Out MYTH. This is patently false, proven by the fact that gay porn has money shots. Just like pulling out to unload on some tits doesn't make you gay, pulling out of the manhole to paint Hawaii on some dude's back doesn't keep you straight. .
2 - It's Not Gay If You're In Prison TRUTH. Just like rape is less an act of sex than it is of power, so gay prison sex is more about status and dominance than actual homosexuality. And hey, should you find yourself having a good time, this doesn't make you any less straight - it's only if you start robbing the 7-11 next to the police station just to get some guilt-free cock that you need to start questioning your identity.
3 - It's Not Gay If You're Just Getting a BJ From a Guy AMBIGUOUS. Here we have a case with subtle distinctions - this can still be 100% straight if A) he's paying you and B) you need the money for hard drugs. If you can afford the crack without the john's patronage, then you should admit that you are at least a little bit gay; it's ok.
4 - It's Not Gay If It's Gay Pride Month MYTH. Sure, any guy can get excited about the Super Bowl, even if he's not really a football fan. But if you're going to be hanging out the window of a red, white and blue Fiero trailing a ten-foot Puerto Rican flag on Puerto Rican Pride Day, you should probably be Puerto Rican. The same goes for gayness.
5 - It's Not Gay If It's With a Spaniard MYTH. This rumor has persisted around Providence, RI for some time, and no one is sure why, as it is completely untrue. It may be more exotic, it may be more fun, there may be a greater likelihood that your partner has not bathed his ass in weeks, but it is by no means less gay.
6 - It's Not Gay If Your Partner Is Under Age 12 TRUTH. The question to ask yourself is, are you a man of the cloth? If not, simply complete divinity school as quickly as possible, and you can do whatever the hell you want with the offspring of anyone who is still foolish enough to raise their children Catholic.
7 - It's Not Gay If You're Too Drunk to Drive TRUTH. Most everyone has woken up next to someone whose level of attractiveness barely qualifies as human, and yet we still consider ourselves attractive people; a similar standard is at work when it comes to gayness. The yardstick here is your level of drunkenness - if you are, in the vernacular, a "twelve-beer queer," consider yourself 100% straight. If, however, you are a "two-beer queer," you may as well drop the "two-beer" pretense.
8 - It's Not Gay If It's Your Uncle MYTH. This one has a gray area. While being touched inappropriately (or completely railed) by an uncle is not necessarily gay, neither is it likely to be very enjoyable. Therefore, for the purpose of our study, the point is moot. If it is you who are fucking your uncle, you should know that this is essentially the gayest thing you can possibly do.
9 - It's Not Gay If It's With an Animal TRUTH. This, strangely enough, is true. It's really no gayer to fuck a bull in the ass than it is to fuck a cow in the vagina, so feel free to go to town in this case. However, it should be noted that if you suck the bull's cock, it then becomes gay.
10 - It's Not Gay If There's a Girl Involved TRUTH AND MYTH. This is true, as long as you're on her opposite ends, or at least in different holes. A little congratulatory ass-slapping, even feeling the other guy's wang through the ass/vagina walls is within the acceptable margin, but if he's doing her while you're doing him, your hetero status drops by a few percentage points.
11 - It's Not Gay If You're Only Doing It to Impress a Girl TRUTH. While admittedly counterintuitive, this is true. Just like you love to watch two girls make out, so do many girls love to watch guys engaged in gay sex (nothing turns a straight girl on like watching two guys do it). Hey brah, anything for some pussy, right? As long as you're in there, you might as well throw your ankles over your head, grab some hairy ass and enjoy yourself.
12 - It's Not Gay If You're at the Proctologist's TRUTH. Number one, there's a legally binding confidentiality between doctor and patient, so your reputation will stay unsullied. Plus, consider this - the man has his hand up your ass, massaging your prostate - no one's going to blame you for blowing your wad onto the exam table.
13 - It's Not Gay If You're In the Army TRUTH. This is the ultimate free pass for gay sex. Don't ask, don't tell, sure, but can you show me where they say "don't do?" You can't, because THEY DON'T. You can be as gay as you want, and as long as you're in the Army, it never happened. Go on, Be As Gay As You Can Be! Semper Fi, boys.

This is FUNNY!!!




You just don't wake up one morning and say to yourself, "Hey, I'm going to put Scott Baio and Jon Voight in a film together!" That kind of evil takes years and years of planning.

It's all about the Benjermans....

So I am on fish cam--you read that right. I sit and just think about the money and not trhe boredom though I have devised a way to knock myself at my desk. Creatively 101.

The weekend has been okay--party last night at Kelly's with drama optional. It is amazing what some people will do just toi have excitement. All i ask of people is to realize what choices you are making before you make them. If lie then don't be shocked when you are not trusted. If you sleep with someone in the group then it will get out. If you need to leave then just go and don't give any chance for others to tell you what to think. And if you hide in a bedroom with a door closed then don't be shocked when people want to know what is being talked about. Just some thing to think about.

That and don't make people choose between friends and expcected not to have fall out. Honestly now people...

I need a break

Not from work but rest of my life; I am tired and achy and cranky and just to sleep and ignore it all except to go and visit my lost girls out there and just be calm and do what I need to instead of trying to do everythig else...

I guess I should Stop Masturbating...

NEW YORK (Reuters Health) - The more a man ejaculates each week, the lower his sperm levels fall, new research shows. However, this ejaculatory frequency only partly explains why a man's sperm count varies widely each time it's checked. Yahoo! Health Have questions about your health? Find answers here. The findings, which appear in the medical journal Fertility and Sterility, are based on a study of 27 healthy men who provided monthly semen samples and responded to questionnaires regarding ejaculatory frequency, duration of abstinence, and episodes of fever. The subjects were followed for 16 months. No seasonal variations in sperm levels, movement, or shape were seen, lead author Dr. Elisabeth Carlsen and colleagues, from Rigshospitalet in Copenhagen, note. However, ejaculation frequency was higher in spring months than in the winter months. As noted, sperm levels fell as weekly ejaculatory frequency increased. Compared with one ejaculation, sperm level fell 29 percent with two ejaculations and by 41 percent with three ejaculations. In contrast, ejaculatory frequency seemed to have no effect on sperm movement or shape. The sperm characteristics noted in one sample often differed greatly from those observed in a subsequent sample from the same subject. This wide variation dropped markedly when three semen samples were used instead of two. Ejaculation frequency, duration of abstinence, and the presence of a fever episode were small contributors to this variation. "The majority of the (this) variation remained unexplained," the authors note. The findings also suggest that "at least three semen samples should be recommended to estimate an individual's semen profile," they add.

This is funny....

This is a list of rules explaining what is gay and what is straight male on holiday... Cracks me up...Enjoy



#1 - It's Not Gay If You Pull Out MYTH. This is patently false, proven by the fact that gay porn has money shots. Just like pulling out to unload on some tits doesn't make you gay, pulling out of the manhole to paint Hawaii on some dude's back doesn't keep you straight.

#2 - It's Not Gay If You're In Prison TRUTH. Just like rape is less an act of sex than it is of power, so gay prison sex is more about status and dominance than actual homosexuality. And hey, should you find yourself having a good time, this doesn't make you any less straight - it's only if you start robbing the 7-11 next to the police station just to get some guilt-free cock that you need to start questioning your identity.

#3 - It's Not Gay If You're Just Getting a BJ From a Guy AMBIGUOUS. Here we have a case with subtle distinctions - this can still be 100% straight if A) he's paying you and B) you need the money for hard drugs. If you can afford the crack without the john's patronage, then you should admit that you are at least a little bit gay; it's ok.

#4 - It's Not Gay If It's Gay Pride Month MYTH. Sure, any guy can get excited about the Super Bowl, even if he's not really a football fan. But if you're going to be hanging out the window of a red, white and blue Fiero trailing a ten-foot Puerto Rican flag on Puerto Rican Pride Day, you should probably be Puerto Rican. The same goes for gayness.

#5 - It's Not Gay If It's With a Spaniard MYTH. This rumor has persisted around Providence, RI for some time, and no one is sure why, as it is completely untrue. It may be more exotic, it may be more fun, there may be a greater likelihood that your partner has not bathed his ass in weeks, but it is by no means less gay.

#6 - It's Not Gay If Your Partner Is Under Age 12 TRUTH. The question to ask yourself is, are you a man of the cloth? If not, simply complete divinity school as quickly as possible, and you can do whatever the hell you want with the offspring of anyone who is still foolish enough to raise their children Catholic.


#7 - It's Not Gay If You're Too Drunk to Drive TRUTH. Most everyone has woken up next to someone whose level of attractiveness barely qualifies as human, and yet we still consider ourselves attractive people; a similar standard is at work when it comes to gayness. The yardstick here is your level of drunkenness - if you are, in the vernacular, a "twelve-beer queer," consider yourself 100% straight. If, however, you are a "two-beer queer," you may as well drop the "two-beer" pretense.

#8 - It's Not Gay If It's Your Uncle MYTH. This one has a gray area. While being touched inappropriately (or completely railed) by an uncle is not necessarily gay, neither is it likely to be very enjoyable. Therefore, for the purpose of our study, the point is moot. If it is you who are fucking your uncle, you should know that this is essentially the gayest thing you can possibly do.


#9 - It's Not Gay If It's With an Animal TRUTH. This, strangely enough, is true. It's really no gayer to fuck a bull in the ass than it is to fuck a cow in the vagina, so feel free to go to town in this case. However, it should be noted that if you suck the bull's cock, it then becomes gay.

#10 - It's Not Gay If There's a Girl Involved TRUTH AND MYTH. This is true, as long as you're on her opposite ends, or at least in different holes. A little congratulatory ass-slapping, even feeling the other guy's wang through the ass/vagina walls is within the acceptable margin, but if he's doing her while you're doing him, your hetero status drops by a few percentage points.

#11 - It's Not Gay If You're Only Doing It to Impress a Girl TRUTH. While admittedly counterintuitive, this is true. Just like you love to watch two girls make out, so do many girls love to watch guys engaged in gay sex (nothing turns a straight girl on like watching two guys do it). Hey brah, anything for some pussy, right? As long as you're in there, you might as well throw your ankles over your head, grab some hairy ass and enjoy yourself.

#12 - It's Not Gay If You're at the Proctologist's TRUTH. Number one, there's a legally binding confidentiality between doctor and patient, so your reputation will stay unsullied. Plus, consider this - the man has his hand up your ass, massaging your prostate - no one's going to blame you for blowing your wad onto the exam table.

#13 - It's Not Gay If You're In the Army TRUTH. This is the ultimate free pass for gay sex. Don't ask, don't tell, sure, but can you show me where they say "don't do?" You can't, because THEY DON'T. You can be as gay as you want, and as long as you're in the Army, it never happened. Go on, Be As Gay As You Can Be! Semper Fi, boys.

I need a break....

Not from work but rest of my life; I am tired and achy and cranky and just to sleep and ignore it all except to go and visit my lost girls out there and just be calm and do what I need to instead of trying to do everythig else...

I guess I should Stop Masturbating...

NEW YORK (Reuters Health) - The more a man ejaculates each week, the lower his sperm levels fall, new research shows. However, this ejaculatory frequency only partly explains why a man's sperm count varies widely each time it's checked.

Yahoo! Health
Have questions about your health?
Find answers here.






The findings, which appear in the medical journal Fertility and Sterility, are based on a study of 27 healthy men who provided monthly semen samples and responded to questionnaires regarding ejaculatory frequency, duration of abstinence, and episodes of fever. The subjects were followed for 16 months.


No seasonal variations in sperm levels, movement, or shape were seen, lead author Dr. Elisabeth Carlsen and colleagues, from Rigshospitalet in Copenhagen, note. However, ejaculation frequency was higher in spring months than in the winter months.


As noted, sperm levels fell as weekly ejaculatory frequency increased. Compared with one ejaculation, sperm level fell 29 percent with two ejaculations and by 41 percent with three ejaculations. In contrast, ejaculatory frequency seemed to have no effect on sperm movement or shape.


The sperm characteristics noted in one sample often differed greatly from those observed in a subsequent sample from the same subject. This wide variation dropped markedly when three semen samples were used instead of two. Ejaculation frequency, duration of abstinence, and the presence of a fever episode were small contributors to this variation.


"The majority of the (this) variation remained unexplained," the authors note.


The findings also suggest that "at least three semen samples should be recommended to estimate an individual's semen profile," they add.

Drama Unveiled...

So there is nothing worse than than having others speak for you... I mean, just in passing on information that is not theirs to say or theirs to use. That is where all things things drama come from--at least in my life.

So I talked with Kelly about the thngs that Lizzy has been saying on my behalf. I told Kelly that I was not pissed at her about my birthday siutation and never was angry with her per say but about the combination of things that happened that day. She expected the apology and just moved on.

In terms of the Chance situtation, everyone and their big brother seems to know, talk, and be all about it. This is hard to fathom because it just seems so junior high. I mean, come on people... This iswork and we're all adults and there should just be a point at which all this should stop. Instead it has taken on the characteristics of a Lindsey Lohan film...

And now he is out of town and we didn't talked for three days before he left and so I know he knows and now it is all awkaward and it has entered the realm of the "talk". And I should not have to do that and I feel just so angry and unwilling and part of me says screw the talk and just try and put it out there for Chance but that is pyscho talk and even more drama then even i need. So what do I do?

I become a crazy bitch and change my blog... Enjoy...

Drama Unveiled...


So there is nothing worse than than having others speak for you... I mean, just in passing on information that is not theirs to say or theirs to use. That is where all things things drama come from--at least in my life. So I talked with Kelly about the thngs that Lizzy has been saying on my behalf. I told Kelly that I was not pissed at her about my birthday siutation and never was angry with her per say but about the combination of things that happened that day. She expected the apology and just moved on. In terms of the Chance situtation, everyone and their big brother seems to know, talk, and be all about it. This is hard to fathom because it just seems so junior high. I mean, come on people... This iswork and we're all adults and there should just be a point at which all this should stop. Instead it has taken on the characteristics of a Lindsey Lohan film... And now he is out of town and we didn't talked for three days before he left and so I know he knows and now it is all awkaward and it has entered the realm of the "talk". And I should not have to do that and I feel just so angry and unwilling and part of me says screw the talk and just try and put it out there for Chance but that is pyscho talk and even more drama then even i need. So what do I do? I become a crazy bitch and change my blog... Enjoy...

So Drama grows in Brooklyn...

I have found out two things in the last day.... One is that my thoughts involving Chance are public domian and have bveen discuss at work, in the breakroom. Not Pleased.

Additional I now know that Kelly knows that i was upset about my birthday and she is upset and would not talk about it with me... I don't know what i say to anyone or anything at the moment. More to come.