Man, Woman or Small, Furry Animal... It Doesn't Matter

What do alpine skiing, crack whores and my life have in common?

They all start off really really high... then they all plummet downward...

I�m on the fucking roller coaster through hell, kids... and it�s not the fun one... not like a happy adrenaline pumping one at Six Flags... it�s like I got on the ride while I was in purgatory and I�m now doing loops around the 7th and 8th levels.

My emotions are running so high right now, it�s just ridiculous. I really wish I could blame it all on PMS... but... right... if I can�t get pregnant, I�m guessing that PMS isn�t really a viable scapegoat, either...

So... I figure I should explain the emotional roller coaster... and my mind is too flustered to go chronologically... so... let the randomness begin!

And just as a heads up... this one's a little long... a little intense... and a little more manic than others... *shrug* so either stop reading... or just get over it. :)

Robert, Cori, Clay and Bryan. We were the three and a half mouseketers in Tapestry... (and the debate as to whether Cori or Clay counts as the half is *still* unresolved) We were all buds... one evening, we all went over to Clay�s and he cooked us dinner... we watched Bryan�s drag video... we stumbled across a version of �Tapestry of Queens� and laughed our asses off...

But it got ugly.

Clay wanted Bryan. Bryan didn�t so much feel the same way. He liked Clay as a friend... and time and time again... *I* got stuck in the middle... Clay would tell me about how much he liked Bryan and how he wanted a relationship with him... and Bryan would tell me about how much he didn�t want a relationship with Clay... and how he just didn�t like him, wasn�t really attracted to him... and how much he only wanted Clay as a friend, period, amen, hallelujah, end of story. Bryan would come to Cori and me to complain about Clay and how he didn�t like that Clay was coming on too strong and asking for advice on how to get the message through to Clay...

It got *really* ugly. After a while, both Cori and I refused to hang out with them... we just couldn't handle the bickering between the two... and I just couldn't play moderator and he said/he said, anymore... it was just too much to handle...

And then, I left Florida. I�m convinced that Florida, Disney and all of my friends are going to Hell in a fucking handbasket because I left...

Anyhow... I check my phone for messages as I leave the Starwood Company presentation, tonight (more on that in a minute...)... and I hear a *frantic* message from Cori...

�Robert. You need to call me. I don�t care what time it is. Call me... IMMEDIATELY.�

I call and find out why she�s freaking out.

Clay and Bryan are engaged.

WHAT IN THE GAY HELL IS GOING ON?!?!?!

I�m at a loss. I just don�t fucking understand. They didn�t start dating until *just* after my departure... the voice of reason is gone... Without slandering anyone... I�ll just say that this is a match... a match made in hell.

I mean... they�ve only been dating for, like, *just* over a month... and now... they�re going to Vermont to make it legal?!?!?!

Am I missing something?!?! Bryan used to go on and on about why he would never date Clay... and would go out with random guys... Three months ago, Clay broke down when Bryan told him about the new guy he was seeing...

Sooooooo confused...

But... I guess, as a friend, I am supposed to take the stance that... "as long as he's happy," right? But... when they're both your friends... what happens when they hurt the fuck out of each other??? Who's ass do I kick? It is fesible that I stay neutral... but... let's be honest... it's also highly unlikely in this situation...

Ok. Maybe I'm a cynic... but... it's going to break my heart when one of them gets his heart ripped out, stepped on and run over with a steam roller...

I don�t know. Maybe a lot changed in the month...

Or maybe they�re all on mind-altering drugs... but they got the cheap stuff and are now suffering the consequences of snorting Ajax and glass shards.

My money is on the Ajax.

Starwood.

Fuck.

So... I admit, I have limited myself. On the application, I told them I would only consider working for them if I could get placed at the Walt Disney World Swan & Dolphin Resorts... so... they grant me an interview... and I assume that they would never have granted me an interview, unless they had a position for me.

Too bad I was mistaken.

Evidently, they get a list of hotels that want summer interns... and then they interview and place people accordingly. Yeah. Too bad the Swan and Dolphin don�t want any interns.

Great. Get my hopes up and then crash them.

I have the interview in the morning... but... really... what�s the point? I�m not going to work at some shitty little Four Points in Bumblefuck.

*sigh*

But... I suppose it�s nice to have a practice interview with no pressure...

Repeat until believed.

I talked with my father on the phone yesterday. And if memory serves... it was the first time since before Thanksgiving.

Yeah... we�re wicked close.

It was kind of amusing, actually... I mean... I talk to my father just as I talk to my stockbroker. We talk money, then we get off the phone. Ten minutes, tops.

Although, yesterday, he threw in a little curve...

�It�s nice to hear your voice. You know, you can call every once in a while.�

Immediate response... �Yeah. A phone works two ways, dad. You can hit the send button, just as well as I can.�

No bitter or resentment, of course...

But... really... am I right?

I mean... don�t fucking leave me at home alone during my high school years to fend for myself... and don�t show up plastered off your ass to my school functions and make an ass out of yourself and embarrass the fuck out of me... and don�t attempt to pick me up from school after drinking half a bottle of rum and get angry when I refuse to get in the car... and don�t tell me it�s too expensive to fly me out to your wedding... and don�t show absolutely no interest in my life and then fucking expect me to call you to banter about my life. You don�t know me.. and don�t expect me to make an effort, since you stopped making one so many years ago.

I need to move on. There�s too much... and it�s all too painful to go through. It�s a lost cause. Isn�t that sad? The fact that I can sit here and be completely serious, in saying that the relationship with my own father... the man responsible for my creation and attempted at raising me?

I�ve come a long way... and when I look back at all of the shit I�ve been through... and all of the chances I had to stray down a dark path... I�m very proud of where I am and what I have become... and I�m also very hopeful for where I am going and who I am evolving into.

It just makes me sad that my father knows none of this. He has no idea. After my father wandered into a band concert my freshman year of high school, drunk of his ass yelling... I decided that I would never badger him into coming to another school function, again. Even before this point, the only way he would attend my school functions, was when I begged and pleaded and prodded him to come. Then, freshman year, I would harass him to come... but all attempts would fail because he was too drunk to drive to the function... Finally, I broke down before my spring band concert because I felt like he didn�t care... because, once again, he was too smashed to go... and when I saw him from the stage, stumbling down the isle, while yelling... that was it.

He has failed me in so many ways... and for a long time... I was extremely depressed that he wasn�t a part of my life... I mean... he still doesn�t know I�m gay. Am I fearful that he�ll stop loving me? Hell no... besides a last name and some of my genes, I have no connection to him. Maybe, if I were to have any sort of relationship with him, other than financial, I might be compelled to tell him... maybe if I felt like he had any interest in my life... or in anything else besides himself and the new Russian wife... I would tell him.

But there�s no point. People that I went to school with in Chicago-land tell me they�re sad when I say that Orlando is my home... but... the reality of the situation is... I don�t have a home in Chicago, anymore. I know I have friends... but... I no longer have material possessions there. I don�t really have family there. I have no purpose there.

I claim Orlando as my home, now... but in reality... my home is where ever my car happens to be. And while I have no blood relatives in O-town... it�s the strongest sense of community and family I�ve ever seen. Even though most of my friends there couldn�t support me... I know that if something horrid happened, I could be taken care of. I know I can always find a place to crash... and I know that I will find a friendly face, no matter where I am...

So really... fuck you, dad. I�m over it.

And FYI, dad... the button to make a call is the one with the letters �SND� on it.

So... back to Florida going to hell in a hand basket...

I attended an audition for parades recasting the week that I left for Cornell...

And... I called Chad the scheduler the other day... and I got myself scheduled to do Tapestry for spring break (March 17th-22nd... so... all you little Florida kids better get excited!)... and he tells me that the results came back from the auditions... and they wanted to put me in the Share A Dream Come True Parade at Magic Kingdom.

Fuck.

All I can say is... fuck.

TCAB... aka Satan�s Kitchen can go directly to hell... do not pass go, do not collect $200. If I have to figure out how many more bundles of parsley is in an ounce... or how many diced large onions makes one cup plus one-quarter pound... I�m going to scream... and not like a third grade girl... more like a �sweet mother of pearl... I think my eardrums just burst... the blood gushing out of my ears is a good indicator� scream.

And if anyone can find the ADACO number, price and units for a Number 1 tall can of vegetable stock... I will totally go down on you. man, woman, or small, furry animal... it doesn�t matter... just find it and you shall be rewarded...

*sigh*

I give up on today.

Sleep.

Sleep is good.

later, kids...

~robert