Touching base

Look, I have friends now.

I always hate people who are all "OMG, I'm sorry I haven't updated my blog in sooooo long! I promise I'll do it more" because nobody cares. So I'm not making any apologies for anything, I'm just going to tell a story.

Actually, I don't have any stories to tell, at least none that I remember. Every day, something interesting happens to me and I think "Wow, I should totally blog about that. It would be the best blog entry ever." But then I forget what these things are by the time I get in front of a computer. I bought a little notebook to carry around just for general use, but I don't want to pull it out every time I have an idea because I'm not a writer and I don't want to look like a writer not that there's anything wrong with that.

Also, everyone should go to Drag Queen Puppet Bingo at View every week because it's way cooler than whatever lame thing you were doing last night.

I'm so sorry I never update and I promise promise promise I'll do it more more more I miss you guys sooooooo much.

Was: Not a review

I just got Chinese food all over my copy of Was, which I've been reading for approximately 17 years because I can only read about 2 pages at a time during breaks from work and on subway rides. It's good, wordy, depressing... now also "spicy" and "tasty". And now that my Spicy and Tasty Chicken and Cold Sesame Noodles are in the fridge for tomorrow, I can get back to it.

During dinner, I did what I usually do when I'm two-thirds of the way through a book, and I went to read reviews. The only ones I could find were on amazon.com, which sucks for reviews because everyone except me is stupid. Everyone there decided to compare it to Wicked even though the two books have clearly nothing in common except they both say "Oz" a lot. It's funny how people can read a book that other people are reading (Wicked, The Da Vinci Code, Lord of the Rings) or see a movie or play everyone is seeing that's supposed to be good (Wicked, The Da Vinci Code, Lord of the Rings) and suddenly they're like total experts in literature and theatre, and everything gets compared to the two books they've read and maybe Charlotte's Web from childhood. And reading two things with a similar theme, character, or location? Oooh, hold on to your hats! It's time for Compare and Contrast! (You remember Compare and Contrast... it's from when you had to write those "impossible" 5-paragraph essays in the 4th grade.)

I only know three things about literature:

1) The Da Vinci Code sucks.
2) Emma Watson makes a better Hermione Granger than my imagination does.
3) Comparing Was to Wicked is like comparing Nightmare on Elm Street to Miracle on 34th Steet because they're both about streets.

One reviewer (candycanegirl) heartened me when I read the title of her review: "Not meant to be a comparison to Wicked!" But then in her review, she's all "Wicked will never, come close to the work of honest art contained in Was." Ho ho ho! candycanegirl is from South Bend, Indiana.

P.S. My job is awesome, and I'm so good at it because I figured out how to correct my glaring errors that I keep making without asking, so everybody thinks I did it right the first time!

Don't you wanna wanna?

So I'm standing at a dollar per slice pizza stand somewhere over the rainbow (north of Chelsea) enjoying a greasy slice and an orange Fanta with a friend when this... I dunno, gangsta? hoodlum? not a munchkinlander... whatever, this kid with gigantic clothes and one of those stocking-looking things on his head turns to me and says "Hey, I don't wanna say nothin' rude or nothin', but are y'all gay?"

My friend was on his phone, and I could almost hear the gears shift in his head as he started ignoring his conversation and listening in on mine. Upon careful consideration of my situation and my chances of escape, I noticed the genuine curiosity in his eyes. Shocked that he could be so intuitive as to notice, I did a quick hair and eyeliner check in my reflection on his silver teeth and answered in a flat, wary affirmative. The following conversation ensued:

"Really? For how long? When did you turn gay?"
-"You don't turn gay, I've always been since forever."
(Since forever... real smooth.)
"So you be gay since you come outcho momma?"

At this point I considered explaining that people are neither gay nor straight until horomones and sexual desire kick in and that he was technically not straight until he first looked at a girl as a pre-adolescent and got that good down-low tickle, but I settled instead on:

-"Yeah, I guess basically, I mean y'know... essentially [mutter, awkward, not-a-gangsta uncoolness]..."
"Y'all don't like pussy?"
-"Not as such, no."
"Man, really? You ever had pussy before?"
-"Nope... never."
"Man, I can't believe you don't like pussy."

God, I wish he would stop saying that word. Anyway, instead of saying "I can't believe you don't like dick, man, maybe you just haven't tried it" and getting my ass kicked, I just said "I'm really ok with it." The conversation took a turn from there:

"So, you're a fudgepacker."
-Indignantly: "Excuse me?"
"Oh, that's rude, wasn't it..."
-"Yeah, that's rude. That's really rude, thanks."
"Sorry man."

I had no time to be satisfied with his apology because at that point his friend swiped the money he had left on the counter to pay, and my escape route was opened. I turned to my friend (still on the phone) and said "We're going. Now." I pulled my friend across the street leaving the remains of my Fanta shivering and alone on the ledge of the stand.

I couldn't believe my friend didn't save me for that conversation, but I realized he was probably getting back at me for earlier in the day when the Crazy Stinky Man at Starbucks cornered him and told him how they should donate all their travel mugs to the Salvation Army, and I just stood there laughing at him.

Needing a touch of gay to re-establish the balance, we then went to Chelsea for cupcakes where I fell in love with the boy at the bakery.

Last night I dreamt of Fanta and silver teeth.

Where have I been???

The following is excerpted from my livejournal because I have no patience to write anything more. References to Bloomington are to be ignored if you don't live there. Deal with it:

Hi, I'm back! And I'm in sunny New York City! The move-in was great, my apartment is cute and little. I'll have pictures soon enough. There's not too much to say about it.

Mostly, I want to talk about last night because it was super-fun. So I hung out with this kid I'd been talking to for a while. (I'm a loser, so I have to make friends online in advance in order to feel secure about a move.) We went to some gay bar to have drinks. It was called Therapy, and it was kinda like E's only clean, hip, big, full of hot new people, and had amazing music. Really the only reason it was like E's was because I didn't get charged for half the drinks I ordered because my companion for the evening knew the bartender. So I basically chatted with my first new friend, and had a grand old time.

Then I felt like dancing, but he said there was nowhere immediately close to do that, but we went to another bar for a change of scenery. Posh. It was littler, but there was a picture on the wall that I swore up and down to everyone who would listen was Anne Hathaway. And there was a guy there that looked exactly like the guy in a porn I saw once except with nerd glasses. My new friend wanted me to go talk to him, but I was scared and then some hot, buff guy got there first. Sad destiny.

But I still wanted to dance. But there was no dance floor. But I was standing in a kinda open area and I was drunk, so I decided to just start dancing all by myself. So I kinda spaced out and just danced and looked at fake Anne Hathaway and was in my own head when this guy in a cute A|X long-sleeved shirt I wanted to steal came up to me and was like "Everyone's dancing because of you!" I said "What?" and then I looked around and sure enough there were about 20 people dancing all around me! But I was like "Are you serious, I did that?" And he was like "Yeah! You have such power over New Yorkers!"

It was pretty much the best compliment I could have received at that moment. I was so thrilled. And the best part was that a little bit later, I decided I didn't want to dance anymore, so I stopped and in about 2 minutes, nobody was dancing anymore. It was so awesome, I felt like Moses.

Then we went across the street to the Renaissance Diner for that ridiculous greasy meal you need to have when you're drunk and it's 3 a.m. It was similar to a Waffle House experience except instead of Kenya Brown, there was a hot girl waitress, and instead of greasy yucky chicken fingers, I had delicious gourmet chicken fingers with actual romaine lettuce garnish and everything!

Then I discovered that if it's 4 a.m. and you're in Hell's Kitchen and drunk and you need to get to the Upper East Side, your life is about to suck. Apparently the subways don't come except every a million hours, and I needed to take two. So I didn't get back until 5. Luckily, my new friend waited with me and was nice.

So that was my night everyone come visit now because it's so cool ok bye.