Blast from the Past: Part 1

So I was organizing my computer files, and I came across blogs I used to write in the hay-day of my college years.  I thought it'd be fun to create a series (Blast from the Past) sharing my older writings.  Be warned, I had just begun watching Sex and the City, so my entries reflected that...

THE FIRST ENTRY

The life of the theatre - opening nights, glistening spotlights, dozens of flowers strewn across the stage as the audience gives the performers a standing ovation. Seems perfect - enchanting even. However, the life of the theatre MAJOR is a much different experience. Let's recap, shall we? Opening night cast parties consisting of vomiting (not that talented) actors, over dramatic situations which require professional help, and more 'technical difficulties' I care to encounter. In college, within the realms of the Theatre Arts, I can't help but wonder.....how much drama is too much drama?

Forget the show....that's irrelevant. It's the cast parties that contain the REAL performances. In fact, the show doesn't really start till the curtain closes. Then it's all about the drama freaks...and do I mean freaks. It's like a sexual 'Where's Waldo'....can you spot the straights or the gays? It's doubtful, because once you enter the doors of this over-dramatic party, it's all men for themselves. Suddenly the straights become bi, the gays become straight, and there are those elicit few that have no sex-pinion (a man who I'd like to call Mr. Asexual).

How much drama can somebody take? Isn't it possible to check the drama at the door aside your new suede jacket? Or, rather, does this come with the major? It's too late for most of them - they've been lost to the dark side (or in gay lingo - Magenta side). However, I believe there are those select few that can save themselves. Those who don't need the word 'cast' in 'cast party' - and just want to party and have fun. Seriously people, let's stick together. Then, as a resolution to this overbearing drama, we can pay the cash to see the show and not expect anymore performances later in the night.

What a GAY Weekend

What. A. Weekend. Let me tell you, I've went from underground hermit to "social" butterfly in a matter of minutes. Not exactly by choice, but I finally have shaken-up my increasingly mundane life, traveled beyond my remote control and into the light of day (Or night...)

Friday night, I opted to enter the epicenter of the L-gAy hot spot. The place where homos flock towards to meet (meat?) other eyeliner wearing, Madonna-listening men for a random night hook up. More commonly known as the Los Angeles gay bar.

Upon entering, I was initially blind sighted by the array of exceedingly attractive guys at the bar. The bodies were flawless. The bleach teeth were blinding. Naturally, I decided that the more alcohol I consumed, the better I'd feel about myself.

How wrong was I! Instead, my insecurities became intensified and I regrettably started seeing double. Now instead of, say, 5 gorgeous Abercrombie & Fitch models. I saw 10...

Unfortunately, any hint of class dissipated and my motor skills became obsolete. In fact, I think I left half my Vodka cranberry on a guy's pressed Diesel jeans. I was mortified. Was I a hot mess? Yes. Bitchy gay? No. That specific role was filled by 95% of the patrons. Prior to my spillage, I noticed that EGO was the primary source of energy in the room, and if you didn't fit into the preconceived "hot guy" notion then they'd definitely let you know.

I know, I shouldn't let my first gay bar excursion hinder any future outings, but I think I need to take it slow... like a virgin (There. A Madonna reference. Does that get me any closer to Queenville?) Or simply, I just need to ease my way into this new crowd, so I don't feel completely out of place. A gaylien in this narcissistic (queer) universe.

In the meantime, I'm not sure how soon I'll jump back on the saddle. I'm like Puxatony Phil. I went out. I saw my shadow. I'll see you next Winter.

Mending A Broken Heart

I know, I know. I've been MIA for nearly two weeks! My worried family members have sent out search parties. Police dogs have scoured my neighborhood. My horrendous license photo has been plastered on every (soy)milk carton in the San Fernando Valley!

No need to worry. I've finally pressured myself to come out of hiding. I wish I could say I've been off traveling the world with Anne Hathaway's hot brother, Michael. But it's just not true. I've basically just been really busy with life stuff (ugh, life. Who needs it?).

A new roommate has moved in (bringing her cute - and obese - cat named Cosmopolitan), I've made great strides with my first feature screenplay (box office bomb?), and I've been putting out wildfires all over the place.

One of my dearest/gayest friend has been going through a gayxestential crisis (I like to throw the word 'gay' anywhere possible and call it witty writing. So?). Anyways, he just separated from his short-lived love-fest of '08 and is going through the oh-so-attractive self-loathing phase. We've all been there. Incidentally, when he and a love interest split ways, he just pretends they die. Therefore, the self-loathing phase is actually a 'mourning' phase.... may he rest.

I've compiled the top 5 necessities needed to get anyone through a broken heart:

5: Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough Ice Cream. May I suggest a pint and not a gallon? Just because a man has emotionally back-slapped you, does not mean your thighs should pay the consequences.

4: The Devil Wears Prada. The only way not to be a bitch to your ex-lover, is to watch a bunch of bitches being bitches to each other. (Could I have used the word 'bitch' more?)

3: Barricade Yourself. Nobody going through a break-up wants to run into happy, peppy people roaming the streets (unless you're running into them with your car). Stay inside. Shut the shades. Disappear.

2: Buy LOTS of cats. That's right, I said it. LOTS OF THEM! You'll need the company (see number 3). Plus, you can name them all hot boy names so when anyone calls, you can say "Oh, I can't go out tonight, Brad needs me."

1: FRIENDS! Lord knows you can't live without them. They're always there for you and will never disappoint. Not to mention, it's almost guaranteed Chandler will make you laugh.

Now don't fret. You have the guide to recognizing your depression. In no time, you'll be better than new and out of that dreaded mourning phase.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I must attend my friend's ex-boyfriend's wake...