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Seething Cakes of Hatred

Making pancakes, as I learned at AP's birthday bash at the beach this weekend, is an unbelievably tedious chore. I don't know why I...

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Your Bitch

I looked at my stats today on Statcounter. I almost never do that. When I first started blogging I checked them all the time. I wanted to know who was visiting and how long they stayed on the site. I wanted to count how many times people returned, and I couldn't wait for my hits to reach 1,000 or 10,000 or whatever.

As of this moment, I've had 381,166 hits. I have no idea what that means. Probably 80,000 of the hits are from me anyway. What matters to me is that I have found some amazing people through blogging. Amazing cool friends and, unfortunately, a handful of amazingly two-faced jerks.

After I checked my stats, I wrote this. I'm not sure why.

I'm here when you need me. I'm an exhibitionist, and I'm baring it all for your pleasure.

It's a Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon at the office. You're bored and decide to surf on over to Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven and see what's happening in my world of gay softball and CC Slaughters and lovesick puppydog eyes and burning lust over wrestlers and bartenders.

You're up late one night and can't sleep, so you browse through my archives and read about Snapple lids and volunteerism and Charmed.

The weather outside is miserable, so you're parked in front of your computer with a mug of steaming coffee, and you're reading all about me and Thor. Or me and Crunchy. Or me and Pony. Or me and [Insert The One True Love of My Life and Soulmate Here]. You know everything there is to know. And yet, there is so much you don't know. Things I can't (or won't) tell because I still have to protect somebody or someone's feelings or their privacy or whatever - even if they didn't give a shit about my feelings or my sanity or my well-being.

You read, and you decide...

Hot Toddy is:

Maybe you write e-mails to your other blogger friends and say shitty things about me, not realizing that e-mails can be forwarded and just may, someday, wind up in my hands.

Maybe you read and just aren't impressed, so you move along to somebody who floats your boat. Someone more politically savvy or someone with shirtless pics on his profile.

Take what you want from me. Watch me. Judge me. Love me. Hate me. Fantasize about me. Dream of me. Push my face down into the pillow. Pull my hair. Spank me.

I feel dirty, and I like it.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006


Wow. Guess you were all a bit underwhelmed with my last post?

Okay, I got nothing today. Well, except for one tiny little thought.

I was thinking that a bad slogan for ANY company (no matter what the service or product) would be this:

[Insert Company Name Here] - We feed the homeless! Just kidding. We don't.

Friday, May 26, 2006

Cascade Cup

If you'd like to visit Portland, Oregon this summer, maybe you should come for the Cascade Cup softball tournament July 1-2! If you have a softball team, check out the site and consider signing up for the tournament. Spectators of the sport are welcome too, of course! C'mon, take a road trip to Portland! Witness my amazing skills on the softball field.

If you are local and want to volunteer, please contact your whiskey-swiggin', truck-drivin', softball playin' volunteer coordinator, Hot Toddy. Just send me an e-mail, and I'll put you to work selling t-shirts or checking in (checking out??) the softball players. I'll gladly sign you up, whether you're an athlete or an athletic supporter. Gay/Straight/Bi/Trans/Weird/Normal - whatever. We'll take anybody! We need help on Friday, June 30 - Sunday, July 2. You can sign up to help for a couple hours or all three days.

To send me an e-mail, scroll down to "Talk to Hot Toddy" in the left sidebar. My e-mail link is right above the picture of the lady who says, appropriately, that I suck.

There will be a big closing ceremony and party at the Jupiter Hotel on Sunday, July 2, and we'll need volunteers to help out with the grill, security and cleanup detail. One, or possibly two, lucky ball players and/or volunteers may be selected for the after-after party at my house. We'll see....

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Under the Porch

Last night I had a dream that I invented a new kind of fire that wasn't hot. I was really excited about this invention, but nobody could understand what a heatless fire could be used for. I told them all, "You can use it for light!!"

The symbolism of this dream is quite obvious to me. My fire is almost out right now. I feel empty and need to recharge. Jokingly, I told Ms. Karma the other day, "I have too many friends."

That sounds awful. I was joking, but at times I do feel like I can't possibly spend anymore time with another person. I vant to be left alone....

Yesterday I wrote about how nobody should be lonely. But sometimes a person should be alone. I'm craving it so much. Last night as I talked to Apollo about it, my eyes actually filled with tears. I'm so tired of people. For no particular reason, I guess.

Somteimes, when I am like this, I can't even take an elevator if other people are on it. Instead, I will wait for an empty one.

Sometimes, when I am like this, I have an overwhelming urge to check into a hotel for a night and not tell anybody where I went. I want to order room service and pull the drapes shut.

I'm not sad. Really, I'm not. I just feel like hiding somewhere. I feel like crawling under a porch in Mancato and living there like Albert Ingalls, but I don't want to get that dirty.

Maybe I should see if Auburn Aries will let me use her treehouse.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Open Arms

Have you ever welcomed a complete stranger into your circle of friends? Since starting Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven a couple years ago, I've had some great opportunities to meet new friends - friends I would have never met had it not been for blogging.

Last October I received an e-mail from a very intelligent guy who read Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. Intelligent, obviously, because he read HTTO. He expressed empathy for the depression and angst I was going through at the time, and he asked if we could hang out sometime.

"i don't have a circle of friends in the area and i would love to meet more people, and you and yours seem grounded, compassionate, and fun-loving."

Since the time he wrote that e-mail last fall, The Professor has become firmly entrenched in my circle of friends. Tonight we're going to celebrate his birthday at Montage. I remember the day I received his e-mail. I wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to invite him to join us. What if he turned out to be a psycho crazy nutjob? (Then I'd want to date him.)

I'm glad a took a chance on The Professor. He's engaging and articulate and funny and, well, very attractive. And, by the way, not available. If I hadn't welcomed him into my life, I'd be missing out on a lot. I still laugh about one late night drive-thru experience we shared at Taco Bell.

Professor: Hey, they didn't give me my chicken soft taco.

Hot Toddy: (to Taco Bell employee) Ma'am, you guys forgot the chicken soft taco.

Taco Bell Girl: Are you sure? Did you check under the quesadilla?

Hot Toddy: Yes, ma'am. We moved around all the contents of the bag and looked under everything. There is no chicken soft taco.

They gave him his chicken soft taco. Later, as we drove home, The Professor and I cracked up.

Professor: What kind of question was that? 'Did you look under the quesadilla??'

Hot Toddy: Like we're that stupid.

Professor: Oh, you mean there could be something underneath the quesadilla?? Oh, we didn't think to look under the quesadilla!

Hot Toddy: I wonder if they teach them that in orientation. 'Make sure the customer checks under the quesadilla for misplaced food. Sometimes things shift in the bag'

Recently I received an e-mail from Jeff, a local blogger who reads Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. Jeff hasn't had an easy go of it. He's quite open about his struggles on his blog, so I'm not sharing anything he hasn't already talked about publicly. Although I didn't know Jeff at all, something about his honest writing and the way he expressed his desire for friendship left no doubt in my mind that I wanted him to join me and the gang for drinks.

Last night he came to CC Slaughters for drinks and karaoke. He was quiet and a little nervous, but he smiled in a way that seemed to indicate he was genuinely enjoying himself and the company he was in. It made me happy to think he might be feeling less lonely and that he was becoming more at ease with each moment. I watched him chatting with Pony and Chopper and others at the bar.

I have always loved making new friends. But, even more, I think I enjoy watching my new friends build relationships with other people I've introduced them to. It makes me feel like I'm actually having a positive impact on someone's life. I often tease Pony and Auburn Pisces for becoming best friends and leaving me out. But it's all in jest. (The more they hang out with each other, the more time I have for World of Warcraft.) Ever since I introduced them, their friendship has grown stronger and stronger. Now he talks to her more frequently than he talks to me. It doesn't bother me. It makes me happy to have played a part in bringing two people together.

There are way too many of us in the world for anybody to be lonely. There's no excuse for it. Don't be lonely! Don't let someone be lonely!

Jeff, you hang in there. You're going to be just fine. Here's to you and the new friendships I know you'll make.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

I'm Unique

Today at work....

Me: (humming "Part of Your World" and then stopping abruptly) Damn it!

Juju: (stops typing) What?

Me: Little Mermaid.

Juju: Oh. (Resumes typing)

Me: I bet there aren't that many people at this company who have ever said that before.

Juju: (stops typing) Said what before?

Me: Damn! Little Mermaid.

Juju: (resumes typing) I bet there aren't that many people in the world who have ever said that before.


Saturday night I received the following proposition:

"I would loooooove to go home and pass out next to you...."

Tempting. But, no thanks.

Monday, May 22, 2006

(Almost) Perfect Weekend

The 24 Hour Play was tons of fun. I stayed up till 4:30 a.m. on Saturday writing the play. Then I slept for about an hour. Then I got up and drove downtown to my office so I could print the script. (Gotta buy a printer!)

At 8:00 a.m., I met with the director, Sha Sha, and the actors. What a great experience to listen to them reading the lines I had written only four hours earlier. It was so much fun to listen to my actors laughing at their lines.

I wish I could figure out some way to link to the script. Is there a site that hosts documents for free the way some of those photo sites work?

It's hard to describe the play I wrote. The photographs I drew from the hat were of four actors. Camille had a white coat and binoculars. Darius had dice and gloves. Dee wore a cowboy hat and held a paintbrush in her teeth. Buffie was dressed as a waitress and held a gun. Combining them into a story was a challenge, but I think you would have been proud of my results. I doubt that there has ever been a play with more Oprah and Little House on the Prairie references than the one I wrote: "The Tucumcari Morality Play". (My friend Ben commented that his favorite line was, "Half Pint was a liar..."

After the play, Auburn Pisces (thank you for going with me!) and I went to CC Slaughters for their 25th Birthday party. Someone actually recognized me from Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven and came up to introduce himself - that was fun. (Great to meet you, Rigo!) I've never wanted to stay and close the bar so badly, but The Toddtender was working that night and told me I should go home and rest before our game the next day. My team was playing his team (The Bears), so it would have been in his best interest to make sure I was not at my best. But he cares too much about me - that's why he's the Toddtender.

On Sunday we played 2 games. Lost both games. The Bears beat us 10-9. That damn Gay Men's Chorus trounced us. I don't think you should be allowed to be talented at BOTH singing and sports. Pick a talent, gentlemen.

The Cubs have really come together as a team, and we have a lot of fun together. I'm proud to be on a team with so much heart. I'm making some good friends. I actually look forward to rehearsal practice every week.

After a weekend of writing and theatre and softball and sunshine, I was feeling mighty good last night. Driving home from the game in Sven, my big white truck, I watched a tremendous thunderstorm approach from the west.

As I watched the storm through my rearview mirror and listened to Rufus Wainwright (thank you, Verdi!), I couldn't help but wish for a partner waiting for me at home. He would say, "Your play was so great, baby" and hand me a glass of Port as I sat down next to him. "I'm proud of you, Toddy," he'd tell me. While I took a shower, he'd make a really healthy and hearty dinner. We'd eat and then we'd talk about the softball games, and I'd tell him how sore I felt. He'd pull out the Tiger Balm and massage my aching muscles.

I have candles and music and a bottle of Port at home. Plenty of Tiger Balm too. I can light candles and drink Port and listen to music alone. But I can't reach all the sore spots when my muscles hurt. This is not to say I am not happy being single, for the most part. At last I have learned to accept my life instead of always feeling desperate to have a partner. But I would be lying if I said there weren't moments that might be even greater if I had someone special to share them with.

Friday, May 19, 2006

The 24 Hour Play

Tomorrow night I will go watch a production of my latest play. I can't wait to see the actor's interpretations of my characters. I wonder what the lighting will be like? What music will they use in the play? I wonder how the director will guide the show?

I wonder what the play will be about?

That's right. I have no idea what the play will be about. I can't even start writing it until 10:00 p.m. tonight...

Four writers, four directors, and sixteen actors meet in a room late Friday night. The actors have polaroids taken. Each writer then randomly draws four photos and a director. Driven by inspiration and caffeine, the playwrights stay up all night and create the scripts. The actors and directors return in the morning and then spend the day rehearsing. Saturday evening, the plays are presented to the public.

Last month it was The Writer's Nightmare. Now this!

I sure like to torture myself.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Hello Again, Venus

Hey bitch,

It has been a couple years since I've written. The last letter I wrote you was pretty harsh, I know. It seems terribly inappropriate to write a hate letter to the Goddess of Love. So, I can only imagine your surprise at getting two hate letters from me. Believe it or not, I have more to say, so sit your hourglass figure down, you Rubenesque wenchbag, and brace yourself for another rant.

Venus, as you know, traditionally May is the month you make me do stupid things with stupid boys. I get crushes and get asked on first dates and fall head over heels for the wrong people in the month of May. May is when I start noticing the days getting longer and the shirt sleeves and pant legs getting shorter. I think you are taking unfair advantage of the unfortunate simultaneous appearance of both spring fever and muscle shirts. That's a dangerous combination, and you know it.

Recently I received a really sweet card from my ex, CT, and he mentioned that he thinks of me often. (Of course you know that - you probably made him write it.) I assumed I would probably see him again sometime soon. After all, I have no choice but to see him if I ever want to see my poor little ancient dog, Bonkers.

Venus, I have no doubt that you are the one who planted the idea in my heart today to go sit in the park with Ms. Karma during an afternoon break. We never ever go to that park, but today I felt absolutely compelled to cross the street and sit by the fountain. I now realize this was all part of your evil plan. You just wanted me to run into my ex and his partner while I was wearing a FAT shirt! I wore this big baggy shirt today because it's hot outside and I needed something nice and loose. It is not a "Today I shall run into my ex" t-shirt, you whore! It is a "Sit on the couch and cram Reese's Peanut Buter Cups down my piehole while I watch my stories" shirt.

Just yesterday I wore a very smart short-sleeve black shirt that fits me well and contrasts nicely with my complexion and blond hair. You could have orchestrated this little "chance" meeting yesterday when I looked like Hot Toddy. But, no, you thought it would be more fun to see me introduced to my ex's partner when I was dressed like Mama Cass in her psychedelic tent dress.

Also, was it part of your scheme to make sure I forgot to bring hair product to the gym this morning so that I would have Homeless Hunchback Hair today when I saw CT? Nice move, you trollop. I hope some lady cuts her leg open while shaving her legs with one of your razors and then sues your voluptuous ass.

In a few hours, I'll be changing into shorts and a t-shirt. You and I both know I look adorable in my jock clothes. So why, oh why couldn't CT and his new "VH-1 veejay circa 1986" boyfriend have run into me then?!?

How cool is it that I didn't get much sleep last night and woke up earlier than I wanted to this morning? I'll bet the bags under my eyes look so sexy. God, Venus, do you have nothing better to do than torture me? Can't you go fuck with Brad and Angelina and Jen some more? Go make trouble for Tom and Katie. I just want to be left alone!

Today was so embarrassing. I can't even hold my head up, Venus. As I sit here staring down at my chest, I notice there are tons of frayed threads on this tablecloth shirt I wore today.

I hate you so much, Venus.

Monday, May 15, 2006


I'm thankful for the way your heart shows up in me. Because of you, I can cry without embarrassment (It's God's way of helping us clean our eyes out), and I love without fear. You taught me to believe in the good in everyone. You taught me the best way to treat others. (Be good to each other!)

You always encouraged me to embrace art and beauty. I learned how to sing harmony by sitting next to you in church and listening to your sweet alto voice. I learned how to play piano and baritone horn because you toted me all over town to lessons and band practice. You encouraged me to write like your father did, and you always said I inherited his ability to tell a great story.

You're beautiful, Mom. You have impossibly youthful skin, and it seems you just get more fabulous every day. By the way - thanks for the genes. I still get carded, and nobody believes I'm almost 40. Also, I never have to buy skincare products, so I can afford to drink Maker's Mark. (I'm sure you're thrilled about that!)

Mom, you added words to my vocabulary. Thanks for "uff da" and "rigmarole" and "gallivanting" and "clutter noise". I try not to use these words around my friends too much, but in secret I say them all the time.

You would think that, with all this evidence, I'd have no reason to question my lineage. But, Mom, you love cantaloupe. You really love it. And I have also seen you eat cottage cheese without gagging.

Tell me the truth. Am I adopted?

Friday, May 12, 2006

The Jigsaw Cowboy

Although the reply form I sent to the courthouse was soaked in vodka, I was not excused from jury duty, so I spent the entire day doing my civic duty yesterday. Early in the day, thirty people were chosen to participate in jury selection or, as I like to think of it, "the reward challenge" - the reward being the chance to get the hell out of that room. (Please do NOT tell me what happened last night on Survivor - I haven't watched the tape yet!!)

Anyway, I was not chosen in the random drawing, (because I never win drawings) so I just sat in the jury room listening to podcasts. Every 20 minutes or so I would get up and wander over to the window and look out on the street. Pressing my face against the glass and watching people on the street, I felt like Anne Frank yearning for fresh air and freedom. I began to hate the confines of that room, and I almost wished a secret informer would just tip of the SS and end our ordeal. I mean, at least Miep Gies brought cheese or sugar or turnips to the Franks now and then, but I had no such savior. In fact, the vending machines didn't make change, so I was left there with no sustenance for at least three hours. I nearly got scurvy. The experience was oppressive, and at one point I started thinking about what might happen if I were forced to spend the rest of my life trapped in that room.

Immediately, the most urgent hypothetical problems leapt to mind. At some point if we were imprisoned in the jury room for life, we'd all get horny and would need to pair up. So early in the day I began working on my plan for which of the other potential jurors I'd have sex with. There was only one candidate (I'm so monogamous - even in my fantasies) in the room who met my criteria. My criteria, by the way, is difficult to pinpoint. Sometimes my criteria has to do with the way a man's jeans bulge or the way his arms bulge or the way his ego bulges. Always bulging is involved. In that jury room only one man met my criteria - the Jigsaw Cowboy. My man was dressed in a tight blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He was rather plain, but I am certain that Anne Frank thought Peter Van Daan was plain at first. Nevertheless, romance bloomed in that attic, and I saw no reason why romance couldn't bloom between us too.

My cowboy was so sweet. He sat down with a couple older ladies (complete strangers to him) and helped them work their jigsaw puzzle as we all waited to see if we'd be called to serve on a jury. How sweet is that? I mean, here he was in a room with Hot Toddy. He could have easily put aside the needs of others and given in to his primal urges to ravage me in the jury room. But my cowboy was altruistic and good. I seriously contemplated going over to the table, taking the empty seat, and offering my assistance with the puzzle, which was a picture of matryoshka (nesting dolls). But I can't stand jigsaw puzzles. Seriously, I hate jigsaw puzzles so much. If I were Anne Frank in hiding and Miep brought me a jigsaw puzzle, I would have told her to get out and never come back. Then I'd have changed the locks on my secret annex. Jigsaw puzzles are the cottage cheese of entertainment. So I just did a lot of back stretches from my chair because he was sitting almost directly behind me and it was the only way to stare at him.

At 3:00, everyone in the room was dismissed, and the unfinished jigsaw puzzle was dumped back into its box. I watched my cowboy swagger out of the courthouse taking a little piece of me with him. And I never even knew his name.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Reasons I Don't Update and Chicago

1. I can't think of anything to say (yeah, it happens - even to me)

2. I don't have any crushes that I can discuss. Not that I don't have them. I just don't want to reveal any of these crushes.

3. I haven't been on any bad dates this year. No blog fodder.

4. Linking stuff is tedious. I have wanted to write about my trip to Chicago and just not

Okay I will write about my trip to Chicago. (Did you get whiplash from that sudden change of direction in today's blog? That is what it's like to live in my brain)

I purchased my airline tickets today - so I am officially heading to Chicago in July for the Gay Games. (If you want the link, Google can help) I also purchased two tickets to see Margaret Cho. I'm holding off on deciding who will accompany me to that event. See how brave I am now? I was going to purchase just my ticket and go alone, but I'm trying to think positive.

I love the part of Chicago known as Boys Town - I had some really great talks with the guys at the bars when I was there a few years ago. Really, all we did was talk. I was partnered at the time and am one of those freaks of nature who doesn't cheat on his boyfriend, so nothing more happened.

I grew up in the Midwestern US, and I relate strongly to other Midwesterners. Although Chicago is a big city, it is definitely a city in the Midwest. Corn is my friend. (Do you even get that? If not, you're not from the Midwest.)

Another thing I love about Chicago is the Art Institute. Visiting the museum has been on my itinerary each time I've been to Chicago. I used to go almost every summer when I was a kid. See, the church I attended growing up has its headquarters there. So every summer we would drive up from Kansas City to attend a huge conference. I remember running around that city with my teenage friends and absolutely no adult supervision. What a feeling of freedom!

Experiencing Buckingham Fountain and the museums and Lake Michigan were eye-opening experiences for this Missouri boy and his friends from Topeka and Wichita, Kansas. Now that I am a grown man (and single!) I look forward to some eye-opening experiences this summer too!

In honor of my Chicago post, here are some Chicago Bloggers you should visit. They are listed in order of who I've slept with the most times.

Just kidding:

Evil Gay Lawyer

If I missed (sleeping with) you, let me know!

Funny how I complained about hating to link and ended up linking four or five times in this post.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Good Things

Here are a few good things that happened to me this weekend:

1. My ex sent me a picture of our dog along with a card that said, "I think of you often" - It was really sweet. It has been a long time since CT contacted me.

2. World of Warcraft was especially fun this weekend as I continued to level up two of my characters. For those not familiar with "leveling up" - it means that I gained new skills, additional spells and increased the overall strength of my characters. In gay terms, it's like losing 10 pounds and getting three or four phone numbers at the bar in one night. The experience is not comparable to actually sleeping with someone. I will not experience that thrill until I reach level 40 and am able to buy a mount. How appropriate.

3. We raised about 1000 bucks at our party on Friday night. My team can party, I tell you. I love them so much - they've got heart! Anyway, Jell-O shots sold out in about an hour. We sold tons of raffle tickets, measured lots of inseams, and I became a stripper pole for a super hot teammate on the dance floor. (Better than leveling up - not as good as a mount)

4. Unlike the last time we played against them, this time we beat the Gay Men's Chorus 10-2. Suck on THAT. (My buddy on the team actually said that he felt beating them was almost better than sex - so I guess it was sort of like he acquired a mount)

5. It was really cold at the games. The day was rainy and windy, so the Toddtender snuggled with me for a couple minutes as we tried to keep each other warm. (Yeah, that was probably almost as good as a mount)

Friday, May 05, 2006

Grab Your Balls

Tonight is the big season kick-off party at CC Slaughters. You should have seen me clutch my chest and gasp for air when I saw the original flyer that said we would be selling "raffel tickets". Thankfully, somebody corrected it before I had to be taken to the emergency room.

Pony complains about the use of color on the flyer, but I can't make fun of his graphic design snobbery. After all, he is the master designer of Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. Without Pony, I would be just another pumpkin orange Blogger template. Thank you Pony!

At CC Slaughters the other night, someone asked Pony, "Excuse me, where is your bathroom?" That was such a funny moment to me. I love when my friends are mistaken for the help. Actually, at CC Slaughters, many of my friends are the help. I'm sorry - perhaps referring to them as "the help" is condescending, so I will rephrase that. I love when my friends are mistaken for servants.

The party tonight will be great, and I am looking forward to my first party as a jock. It is so wonderfully incongruous to be downing Jell-o shots in a softball uniform. Something about it seems so wrong and so right.

I sort of took on the task of organizing volunteers for the event, and I was pretty efficient until this week. While waiting to start our fundraising meeting Tuesday night, I drank several whiskeys. By the time the rest of the guys showed up for the meeting, I was too drunk to take minutes.

I'm a class act, I tell ya.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Parenthetically Speaking

If I were going to create a title for this post, it would be something stupid like "Reflections" or "Pondering" or "Musings" or some such nonsense.

It has been too long since I just sat down and let my fingers fly across the keyboard without editing, without withholding, without second-guessing. I need to do some spring cleaning now. My thoughts are cluttering my mind, and I need to get some air circulating or something. (Many people think there is already way too much air circulating in my head, but that's a different matter entirely.)

By the way, if a sentence in parenthesis can stand alone, you put the period inside the parenthesis. If the parenthetical statement is contained within a sentence but ends that sentence, the period goes on the outside (like this).

I learned that a couple days ago (it was cool).

My friend who works at the bar got fired, and I hate that it happened. From my perspective, he was one of the most entertaining, good-looking and highly-intelligent people ever employed at that bar. I loved coming to see him every day. If he gets a job at a different bar, I'm pretty sure I will follow him as a patron, because I would miss seeing him after work.

So many things are changing right now. Friends are moving away to New York City and Chicago. Other friends are getting engaged and buying houses, and I'm not even close to buying a home. And lord knows I am nowhere near ready to try another relationship when I'm still reeling from the last one. (I will say this much - unless my future boyfriend already reads my blog, I'm not letting him know how to find it.) I just came up with the title of this post after writing that last sentence.

Auburn Pisces has her new job - another change! She leaves the house earlier and gets home later, and I know the hours are rough, but she has been working out at 4:30 a.m. - her discipline has been inspirational!

(Sometimes when I write I feel like you are reading my words and using this blog as a way to get updated on the lives of those you know here in Portland - but it makes me mad at you, because you have never once bothered to update me or anybody else since you broke up with me. You still make me cry, and I bet you like it. I had no idea that inflicting pain was more than just a sexual turn-on for you - it is more like a way of life).

Focus. Be relevant, Toddy.

We used to do this writing exercise in my creative writing class where we had to write for 10 minutes without stopping. If we couldn't think of anything to say, we had to write, "I can't think of anything to say" and just keep the pen moving. That's sort of what I'm trying to do right now. Keep the thoughts flowing - stop editing. I know that people say I have no filters and that I don't seem to know how to edit - but you'd be surprised at how often I edit myself. I keep a lot inside for the sake of keeping the peace. I am not like Auburn Pisces - she is not afraid to say what she thinks.

What is relevant right now? Is playing Softball relevant? It feels that way. (Don't edit - you capitalized the word for a reason - Softball - leave it).

Is World of Warcraft relevant? Definitely. Such a wonderful escape, and it doesn't rot your teeth or give you lung cancer.

Is blogging still relevant? It doesn't always feel that way. Once I invested so much of myself into my relationships with other bloggers. But I keep thinking about the awful things some of those bloggers said about me a couple years ago. They don't realize I know what they said and wrote. They think I'm clueless, but they're wrong. I would never call them on it. Let them think I'm dumb. Playing dumb works well for me sometimes. (They certainly tarnished the world of blogging for me in quite a significant way. They made me hesitant to get overly involved in the lives of most of the people I "meet" on the Internet - though, thankfully, I have made some exceptions and haven't regretted any of the friendships I've formed via the Internet).

I am glad I have friends who help me stay on the path. Living with all this noise in my head isn't easy.

I just agreed to do the 24 Hour Play - in which I must write a play on a Friday night and deliver the script on Saturday morning at 8 a.m. - then the actors memorize and rehearse it and perform it Saturday night. It is quite a popular practice in Portland to put ridiculous amounts of pressure on budding playwrights.

(I miss you so bad. SO bad.) Why do I miss him so much? It's been almost a year since our first date. May 14 is gonna suck so bad. I'm not gonna make it. (Yes I am).

I wonder what is next for me? Or for you? Don't you sometimes wish we could know? (Be honest.) Just a little info about what's coming up could be helpful. I don't need to know everything, but if I could just see what is up ahead around the next bend, that would be great.

I should have named this post Schizophrenic Musings or Reflections of a Crazed Obsessive Personality or Pondering the Bend.

Still with me? Thanks. You deserve a reward!

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

I Believe

In college, my friends Kathleen and Renee went to see Sting in concert. At breakfast the next morning, I asked them for details, and they said Sting saw them in the audience and kept making eye contact with them.

I was impressed.

Then they said that Sting sent his manager out to the audience after the show and invited Kathleen and Renee backstage.

I was stunned.

Then they told me Sting partied with them all night.

I was astonished.

Then they told me Sting took them to White Castle for "sliders" at the end of the evening.

I was aghast.

Then they told me there should be a picture of me in the dictionary next to the word "gullible".

I was embarrassed.