Sunday, July 13, 2003

The biggest ass on the face of the planet is not Anna Nicole's

Remember how Jack threw out all my Pride beads? And I was pissed and hurt and betrayed? Well, I was tooling around the apartment this morning, and caught a glimpse of something bright and glittery in the cabinet of my nightstand... and there were my beads. All of them. Right where I put them several months ago, when Jack asked me to get them out of the living room.

I am such an ass.
Howard-Stern-drunk-at-a-strip-club type of ass.
Reality-TV-producer type of ass.
Antonin-Scalia-takes-a-wrong-turn-in-Greenwich-Village type of ass.


On a positive note, the reading at the Community Center went well last night: the audience was smaller than I expected, but attentive and energetic, so that made up for it. My bestest buddy Rassul showed up, too, skipping out on a Houston Slam Team weekend retreat to come hang out with me... well, that, and so that a bunch of gay guys could drool over him. He gets such a kick out of that: it would be hilarious, except for I get blamed for it (i.e. "How dare your attractive, boyish, talented friend be heterosexual when you know he's my type!").

One more week of rehearsals, and then I finally get to go back to Helios. I should write some kind of "Welcome Back Whitaker" piece...

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