Tuesday, March 30, 2004

An Element of Fun

It's Sunday afternoon in London and I'm sitting at the Starbucks in St. John's Wood recuperating from the festivities of last night (Saturday). Once I've had my booty boost of caffeine, I'm going over to Europa to pick up some Rhubarb yoghurt for me and a few bags of crisps for watercolor boy. In a few hours I'll be back on the silver bird to Toronto working with my fantastic crew.

OB (not the tampon) waited in our hotel lobby for 1 1/2 hrs before our crew bus arrived. The poor thing thought he'd show up early, just in case. NEVER SHOW UP EARLY if you are meeting someone coming in from a flight. Planes just don't arrive early. NEVER. It also did not help that I gave him the wrong flight number. Oops. Every time he checked the status of the flight it said that I was arriving the next day at 10 am. I'm such a fuck.

I checked in and then OB & I went to my room, scarfed back some champagne and then ran to baker street and caught the last tube to Vauxhall. Lord - that train was a sister shuttle to the bar. Full of em'. It was a virtual bullet train of a night club taking us to the bowels of hedonism and ecstasy.

Element was packed and the music was fantastic. The queue for the toilets was as bad as the line for Madonna tickets. At one point the upstairs loo broke and we were all shuffled downstairs into some closed restaurant to take care of our business. All the moving and crowded conditions of the toilets did not stop some boys from sealing a few business deals. Nothing like a few guys wanking each other off at the (as the working class brits would say) "your-anal's".

Wanting to get as sketchy as the toilets and as sticky as the club floor, OB and I decided on Peach schnapps shooters. Sending a warm feeling to my tummy, I was now had the guts to go up and meet this beautiful Auzzie boy MAN. His friend joined us for a bit on the couch as well. OB and I sat for at least and hour on the couch chatting, dancing, watching and meeting people.

Hours of dancing and smoking cigarettes got to us so we departed at 6 am and I took a mini cab back to the hotel. 15 pounds later I was in bed, resting from a VERY hard week at work.

Oh - and the best part of the evening for me (and I KNOW that all you club/music mix queens will cringe when I say this) was the mix of Kellis "Milkshake" to the beats of Robyn "Show me Love" fading to Clivilles & Cole's "Pride (a deeper love)".

Monday, February 23, 2004

Number 54.....Last call for Number 54. 55 Please...

There is an actual queue outside my office of staff trying to get at me today. It's worse then then trying to get into LUBE after 10:30pm.

Little do they know I've moved to the back of the line so I can get a piece of me too.

I lost my assistant in the the paperwork on my desk a few hours ago. He'll scream when he's hungry I guess.

I can't wait to get back in the air. It's much more sane up there. And there's gin.

Saturday, February 21, 2004

Polish Squirrels and Lubed Up Roofies

Last night was really fucked up. Of all nights to have NOT brought my camera, for two reasons. I don't know where to start....this is a long post so take your time....

First of all, I'm tired of my squirrel metaphor. I've over used it. I love it because it is so fitting to my situations and how I feel , but I think I over did it. Just as when I was growing up I used "like" with everything thing I said. "Like, ya!" "Like holy shit!" "So what are you, like, gonna do tonight?"

I was going to stop referring to my squirrels. You know, let them rest a while. Seriously! But last night changed all that.

TorontoBoi, T , D and I went to Lube. 10:30 and there was fucking line up. Some euro trash birthday party going on the place and it was full of buglies. Whatever, we were going to have a good night so we waited in line for 20 minutes. In the rain.

Once inside we were joined by P and later on in the evening S (who tells me he has a sick addiction to my blog - Hi sexy...I know you are reading ;). TorontoBoi (TB) and I were chatty Kathy's' early on in the evening, not a care in the world. We were both drinking Crantini's with Chambourd, often putting them down carefree to talk to various people and smoke cigarettes. TB and I each got picked up and cruised quite a bit which was nice and made for a comical evening, but the fun did not start until he walked in.

Yup. Follow that link above before you read on and you'll know why there was the MOTHER OF ALL SQUIRRELS in the bar last night. Lord...

Matthew was my first kiss, my first everything. (letting out a sigh as I think about the first time I got a rim job....). Who forgets their first (when it was good)? There is a connection there. I was his first as well. Sure he had fooled around a bit before me with the other boys, but I was his first "relationship". It did not end on bad terms or anything, although through the mist of my mind I do recall a bit of drama but hey, I was 19.

He looked...um...good. Not GREAT, not bad or bugly, but just OK I guess. His hair was longer. He has not aged well. Most likely because of his lifestyle. Some people grow into their looks and some people grow out of them. Maybe he is the latter. In any case We talked for quite a bit. He's not doing porn any more, at least for the last 4 years. There is some serious family drama..blah blah blah...yadda..yadda..yadda. He went to hairdresser school, graduated, and is now a hairdresser........


Gawd bless. He just moved back from LA. I knew that we would cross paths again. It's destined. I've said that may times before.

I also know that if he asked me, I would. Take that any way you want. I would think twice, but deep, deep, down inside my gut, I think I would. Whatever that means.

He was watching me all night. I was watching him all night. He was ALWAYS positioned as such that he would have a good view of me. Often averting his eyes when I turned his direction. I would do the same. I'm sure we both did not want each other to think that we are still interested, or care..or are concerned. This was a game we played for about an hour and 1/2. Every time we passed one another we would smile and touch one another, on the waist, the arm..the usual place you touch when you want to tell someone you are interested. I feel like my heart is broken, or perhaps chipped, just a teeny weenie bit by seeing him. Is that strange. No one draws up these deep feelings like he does.

It's been 14 years. I'd often bump into him in clubs in Vancouver, Los Angles, Paris, London back in 95 and 96. He was a club kid(ish) and we both have the exact same tastes for places to hang so it's no surprise. He was jetting around as much as me, but for him it was business. I did not ask because that would show that I cared. I knew down inside that he was probably a hooker now or something. I just had no idea he was dong porn all these years. Not that that is a big deal or anything...in fact it's fucking sexy. But strange when you spent so much time with someone and always hopped they'd have lived up to something...dare I say more? He's troubled, and I think always will be. No education, no family, to true friends. Just acquaintances. Kind of the stereotype for this lifestyle.

I'm glad that he moved on out and is not cutting carpets. If it's true ;)

TorontoBoy was getting drunker and drunker by the SECOND. He had not eaten all day and it was his second martini and even though is drunkenness was strange, we just chalked it up to the fact that he had not eaten. 2 more martinis later (4 an a 2 1/2 hr span) and he decided arbitrarily that it was time to go. Whatever I think I could go to bed now, my head was spinning from seeing Matthew anyways. TB walks right out of Lube and into the church street, a cab narrowly misses him.

Very much out of his nature, even when he's pissed.

Now he's hungry, so off to burger king we go. (whatever - I don't want to hear about the carb value in that...) We scaf back a few patties and off to home we go. TB has a massive hiccup attack in the car. It was hilarious. He was not making sense when he spoke and we were laughing at him. He was laughing with us, amused by his easy drunken state. "Shit lady, it only cost $50 to get this way" he says, "normally I will take me $100. FANTASTIC!"

I drop him off at home.

Today I get a call from him. Apparently after he got home he went to bed extremely tired. Very, very, very tired. He was suddenly awoken by his bowel. He had to go. He NEVER goes until he's had his morning coffee and a cigarette. Like the guard change at Buckingham...it's clockwork. Takes a shit and then whomp! 4 huge pukes in a row. Nice.

He cleans up and goes to bed. Sleeps 10 hours straight. Not a stir, no little wake ups.

Today he is all dizzy and he can't remember much of last night.

Except we both recall the face and clothing of the 5'5" European standing behind us when we put our drinks on the counter; and turned out backs. He stared and smiled a both of us. TB and I were having the same drink and were put on the counter at the same time.

He never stopped looking at us and we just racked it up to the fact that he was a cruisie mutha fucker.

We were so wrong.

Through my research today, it seems like TB had "Roofies" put in his drink. Not GHB. Looking back, he shows all the signs and symptoms.

I'm so careful - and I mean CAREFUL when I'm out by myself on a layover partying. It's so afraid of this shit and the state I may be in when by myself. It's dangerous. But, like the invincible teenager that I am at heart, I just never thought it would happen to me, not to one of my friends, in THIS city. Sure I knew it did, but you just read about that, right?

It's scary to think that TB and I were drinking the SAME martini, and put them down side-by-side. It could have been me. Maybe it was meant for me and not TB. Who knows.

You think I have a hard enought time getting permission from my man to go out now...imagine if his wors fear came true - that I was druged. I'm beginning to see his point.

Be careful out there. We did not use common sense and did not watch our drinks and TB is paying for it today.

Thank god it was small dose and that he is ok - no hospital.

Has anyone else had this shit happen to them?

Thursday, February 19, 2004

Fuck Shit

No moisturizer can help me now. The little Spanish lady that did my facial dug so deep to clean the dirty breath of a hundred thousand passengers embedded in my tiny delicate pours that it's caused a bit of soreness. I look fantastic and my face is baby ass smooth right now, but my nose is pealing from the stress of the facial.

I'm with Kurt on this one, I really do hate waiting behind women at the bank machine. I remembered his post as I stood in line today. Why oh lord why do they have to occupy all my time as they dig around in their purses. What do they have in there anyways? Perhaps it was just that her purse was a pillowcase.

Super and I have not chatted about the argument in Cancun. I think it's better that way. I laid my heart our on the beach that night, telling him how I felt about his anger issues. While my tender heart is covered in a bit of rough sand, I do feel that a change may come of it. I do have to give him time. Thanks for your comments the past few days. It helps keep me in line. There are a few of you that I want to chat with and I will try to get in touch with you over the weekend via e-mail.

Bravo and I talked the other day...plans are forming for another Orange alert on NYC next Thrusday....very excited. I'm sure the Department of Homeland Security will be on my tail.

I feel bad for the Redmonky. His backroom website has more hiding spots then Osama. It keeps morphing around the internet because of all the drama.

I have a nice package on it's way thanks to him. Videos of my high flying porn star colleague at the airline. Gawd bless me if my assistant opens it.

Bastersnatch went to Halifax for a series of bootie calls, but is now stuck because of a huge snowdrift in front of the hotel. Big storm. No "room service" for her. I'm going to courier her some snow shoes so he can go find his tricks.

Speaking of Bastersnatch, he looked after the condo while we were gone and he totally spoiled our cat (Zulu). He bought her tons of treats and now the little witch is whining all the time for some pounce shit, which I won't touch because it makes my fingers smell like I've had them up my ass all day.

The wrong side of cute Tim Horton's coffee boy today obviously went out of his way to make sure that he served me. He's crankier then some of my bitter old colleagues at the airline when he serves everyone else, but when it comes to me, he's all smiles. He's actually nice. Perhaps it's because I'm so pleasant nice to him. He's tall with long "lucky legs" (wishbone like) and a cute(ish) baby face. It's hard to tell what his hair is like given that the poor thing has to wear a hair net.

To be gay and wear a hair net. That would make anyone pissy.