i want the world

I want the whole world
I want to lock it all up in my pocket
It's my bar of chocolate
Give it to me
Now!

I want today
I want tomorrow
I want to wear 'em like braids in my hair
And I don't want to share 'em

I want a party with room fulls of laughter
Ten thousand tons of ice cream
And if I don't get the things I am after
I'm going to scream!


I want the works
I want the whole works
Presents and prizes
and sweets
and surprises
Of all shapes and sizes
And now
Don't care how
I want it now
Don't care how
I want it now

all the pot in the world

couldn't make me want to eat this. if i see the add for this fucking bowl-of-white-trash-pig-slop one more time, i'm going to fucking wretch.

perfect

i'm in dallas where it's 1,000 degrees, i've got a cold, my hotel room is next to the ice machine which makes sounds akin to a helicopter landing on my forehead every 10 minutes and my rental car just started wildly smoking for no apparent reason. tomorrow is my birthday, my 25th birthday, which means i'm officially old. at least i don't have cancer yet.

**UPDATE** the customer service rep at the car rental agency was like, "can you drive it back to the airport?" and i was like, "um, no, i don't think it's a good idea to drive a smoking car down the freeway". he's like, "well, we'll cover the towing but if we can't find anything wrong with it, you'll have to pay for it". then the bitter queen came out, "well, i'm pretty sure the clouds of smoke and the drivers next to me honking and pointing at the impending explosion will vouch that there's something wrong with the car, so why don't you get on the horn and call a tow truck". *two snaps up*

brokeback makes me want to dance!

i went out pretty hard with my friends amy & travis last saturday night when essie was out of town (when the cat's away...). we ended up at the eagle a.k.a. "the dirty bird". surprisingly, they always play pretty good music there even though most of the men are hideous.

i don't know how many tequila shots into the night i was but i faintly recognized the song the dj was playing. "is this the theme to brokeback mountain?...remixed?" "uh...yeah", says travis. i couldn't freaking believe it. leave it to our vapid, roid-raged, circuit party queens to remix the fucking brokeback mountain themesong. way to convert a blood-stained cowboy shirt into a fucking pink bikini.

highway renegayd

i think the city of dallas has about 30,000 tolls. also, i think i drove through every one of them today. since i've been working all over the southwest, i've probably passed through dozens of tolls without paying. it's not that i just don't want to pay, it's just sometimes i'm not expecting them, i'm on the phone with a client, i'm rocking out to ani difranco, i don't have any change, or i simply don't feel like paying. if there's no change machine or tollbooth attendant, i'm obviously going to drive right through. so far i've done this in oklahoma city, tulsa, houston, dallas, and denver. surprisingly, i haven't gotten a ticket. i have 2 theories on the issue:

1. the municipalities of these states don't really care if you don't pay their tolls--it's strictly based on the honor system.

2. i'm in a new car, with new plates, from a rental agency every week. in boston, the first time you blow through the tolls, they send you a slap-on-the-wrist warning. if it happens again, you're toast. since it probably costs the toll company more money to research my plates, contact the rental car agency, and then forward the bill on to boston, i think they just let me slide.

another possibility is that one day i'm going to get slapped with an $80,000 fine for years of flipping off the tollbooth cameras. at this point, i'm willing to take that risk. fuck the tolls, i'm living on the edge.

le petit loser

remember what it was like to be the biggest freak in school? in my case, i was 10 feet taller than everyone else and gayer than mario cantone on the rag. tonight, i think i had what they call in french: le post-traumatic episode.

i guess i haven't been out at a club by myself for a few years now and being on the road from monday to whateverday has changed all of that. i've got many nights to myself, so i generally try to get out and see the sights. currently, i'm at a conference in quebec city, which is beautiful and pretty gay. after my obligations with the 50 year-old borings, i ventured out to the bars. i saw a great drag show and sort of made friends with some french canadians. ...or so i thought.

we were all on the dance floor and all of a sudden i felt like they were making fun of me. i felt like they thought i was chasing them, begging them to be my friends. i'm pretty sure, in reality, i didn't come off that way. i couldn't have. i'm so cool in boston. i can hold my own in LA or NY or even Barcelona, for that matter. it was probably all in my head. maybe it's the self-consciousness of not completely knowing the language and being in a new town, but have you ever just felt like you were the big, fat, fucking zit-faced 16 year old girl in a room full of well-groomed, french speaking hotties? ...i felt it tonight. ...like they thought i was totally lame. i wanted to just go off on my own but at the same time didn't want to let them know i was afraid of them thinking that i was afraid of them. does that make sense? madonna blaring in the background, i'm pretty sure they were all saying, "loook at ze silly ah-mahr-eeeh-KAHN". *takes drag of cigarette*

fuck you canada.

when did i start caring about fitting in? i'm usually the motherfucking bomb of the party. tonight karma totally knocked me town like 50 pegs. i didn't fit in with the 50 year-old stock brokers, i didn't fit in with the 21 year-old gays, i felt alienated and rightly so.

so now i'm cleaning out my minibar and living it up in my amazing suite in which people can only make fun of me in english and to my face.

at the risk of sounding cheesey and drunk-blogging: here's a toast to all the fags who don't fit in with other fags. to fags who also don't fit in with their paycheck signing breeders whose asses they're supposed to kiss. to fags who make their own party wherever they go. to fags who idenitfy with a sigularity, who don't succumb to a bitchy elite. to fags who follow a path lead by their *generally* non-judgemental, english-speaking hearts.



...i also just realized that i stepped in dog shit on my way home.

tranniccino

i was just served an iced coffee by a black transsexual. important note: i'm in downtown little rock, arkansas this week. what a breath of fresh air. i wanted to high five her or give her "two snaps up" but i was with a client and thought it would be inappropriate.

jesus help me

i just spent an hour and a half between appointments, sitting in a parking lot deciding whether or not to cut my hair. i want to grow it out and wear it shaggy but it's probably not going to look very professional and will give away my age. i still haven't decided.

i think i have better hair days in texas

i think it's the humidity, colorado is so dry...not that i'm complaining, denver is waaaay better than the lonestar state. i saw real, live lesbians today on the street. i can't remember the last time i've seen a real lesbian during my monday-thursday excursions to the southwest. i walked around boulder tonight just for the funk of it and the boys here are rediculous. i could sit on a street corner and cat call them for days.

i've been watching too much oprah since i got this job. my last daytime appointment usually gets out around 3:30, so i make it back to the hotel with just enough time to see her recommendations on which new khakis minimize her ginormous ass. today she had terry hatcher on. i realize she just came out as a childhood abuse victim, but that bitch is so TIRED. i could stand watching her all teary eyed for an hour. vomit.