"Boys Will be Boys"

Yes, I am officially a Midori IT Girl! If you are interested in seeing my first modeling experience (of my adult like that is) please check out My Midori Experience from Pronto! last night. In order to find me (and Mark) you'll want to click on the "Midori It Girl Link" on the front page, then click on the Midori It Girls link. You will want to choose Detroit as the city and then click the link for the 'boys'. Once in there - look for the cute boy in the blue horizontal striped Polo Sport shirt - with the really glossy lips. The picture right after that is Mark. The picture right after that is the homeless man. More to come on that...

With all the craziness going on in my life lately, I decided that it was time to head off to the local watering hole with mark and indulge in some good fun. I also had an ulterior motive to apply for a server position as well to offset some of my financial woes. As you might be able to tell from the picture, I never made it to the server station to ask for the application. Instead I indulged in some green devil juice (free shots from the Midori hosts) and some good ole sassy fun.

I met up with Mark around 8:30pm. We chatted for a bit about life and the attempted pursuit of happiness (amidst all the bullshit roadblocks). After about ten minutes I was offered my first shot of Midori. LET THE GAMES BEGIN! Soon thereafter Mark bought me my first beer.

Being that Wednesday nights are rather slow at Pronto!, Mark and I didn't have much scenery to admire. In fact, I would be willing to bet all the money in my checking account ($.29) that we were the scenery!!! It wasn't soon thereafter that my modeling career officially began.

One of the striking Midori girls asked me if I would be interested in posing for them on the bus. I insisted that Mark pose as well. After all, if I am going to become a Kmart underwear model as well as pose for Playgirl, I need to work on my 'look'. After signing my life away to Midori, I was in the studio bus. This modern piece of machinery included a plethora of advanced technological photo shoot equipment, some really uncomfortable chairs, a lighting design that would make any disco jealous, a make-up artist, a photographer and a lot of free lip gloss samples. Ohh yeah, now it included Mark and I. Two raving fags waiting for their "big break". Our dreams were soon to become true!

After checking out everything I possibly could in the bus - including the photographer, my attention was focused on the crowd outside. I felt famous, if just for an instant. The lights, my own personal trailer, someone to do my make-up, and of course my moral support (Mark), I just imagined how wonderful life would be if I had my own Midori bus. The only thing I would personally change is all the GREEN stuff. Everything was green. The lights were green. The backdrop was green. The fucking chairs were green. I really needed some blue. Thankfully I was wearing enough blue to keep me sane.

After my ever so slight make-up adjustment was made, I applied my lip-gloss and planted my ass firmly in the "magic chair". This was the magic chair that was going to show the world that I am beautiful dammit! After four incredible clicks the camera, my fifteen seconds of fame was over. I guess for the next 15 seconds I would have to live vicariously through Mark's fame - which I did. In fact, I enjoyed Mark's fame sooo much, that he owes his two shot stardom to me. The photographer was so impressed with Mark's second pose that stopped shooting. After all, once you achieve perfection why continue? Mark is like the movie voiceover guy.... his voice is everywhere, he gets paid a TON of money, and all he does is sit down, record a voiceover one time and he is out the door. MUST BE NICE. How do I get that job? GOT VOICE?

When it was time to step off the trailer, I was fully expecting to be bombarded by fans. I struggled through the crowd (since my body guard JRo was not with me), stating "see you in New York kids". Ohh, did I forget to mention the homeless man from the bus? Yeah... he's a boxer. Ohh, and he smells ROTTEN. Please see photo next to Mark's. Stinky is to Boxing as Ben Wallace is to Basketball. I have a feeling that Ben washes that fro though. To all the ladies out there... Stinky is single and looking for a good home. As a matter of fact he even attempted to remove his shirt on the bus... so I've seen his bod. Hot like a locker room of young lads in heat... and just as smelly as their dirty laundry. I have a feeling that Stinky was just in it for the free shots and the lip-gloss samples. After all, homeless people need shiny lips too!

Back in the bar, Mark and I instantly became popular with the natives. I've honestly never had so much attention at Pronto! in my entire life. People I have seen many times in the past actually struck up conversation with me. Such a wonderful concept. I couldn't help but wonder if fame was getting to my head. Then I realized... no. I'm just fucking fabulous. With a hot guy like Mark sitting next to me, people definitely had to wonder what our 'story' is. The joys of being popular.

Several shots and drinks later, I now had a boa wrapped around my neck (Mark did too). I remember complaining to the shot girl that I didn't get my free boa and that Mark and I would really like to have one. Next thing you know, BAM. An itchy, scratchy green (Yes, GREEN) feathery accessory was fluttering every so gently in the breeze of the smoke filled bar. I find it amazing that in today's day and age, we haven't found a way to properly ventilate a bar. OHHH SHIT, we have. I guess Pronto! didn't get the memo.

Speaking of memo's, the guy who tried to snatch my boa away, didn't get the memo that it is rude to remove someone's belongings from them without asking permission first. Apparently he didn't realize that the boa wrapped around my neck was mine and not his. Despite Mark's comments about me being a whore, I was happy about selling my boa for a beer. After all, if I were interested in green, itchy and ever so scratchy things, I'd call my favorite Leprechaun Troll and ask to borrow his costume.

I have a feeling that I was a little intoxicated by the end of the night. I was rather friendly with a lot of people that I barely know, and VERY friendly with a few people that I would like to really get to know better. If I offended or insulted you last night, ooops. It's all in good fun. Ohhh, and to the boys that I ever so 'gently' gave my number too...

YOU BETTER FUCKING CALL ME! After all I could have some very fun times with a bi guy, and if I am ballsy enough to interrupt a date just to give you my number, I deserve a call.

Isn't life just too fun sometimes?




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Ahh the joys of good TV.

Television never ceases to amaze me. For the first time in I can't remember how long, I was able to sit down and watch TV, alone, in my own living room. I've been so busy lately doing 'stuff' to try and keep myself 'busy', that I just haven't had much time for anything.

So here I was sitting on my couch watching 'Without a Trace' - a show JRo got me hooked on. Since I am ALWAYS thinking, I was thinking about me, my life, my apartment - just about everything. I've been really down lately, even though it may not be noticeable to those around me. You all may have noticed only because I haven't been writing much lately. I haven't been chatting much lately either. The sad fact is that the month of June is almost over and I haven't even hit 1,000 used minutes on my phone yet. If you know me folks, you'd know that I would be pushing almost 3,000 minutes by now. If anything I normally use most of my anytime minutes. I haven't even hit three hundred yet. Sometimes I get in these moods where I just have to limit my contact with people - even those I don't know (like you blog readers). Thankfully however this bout of depression isn't impacting my friendships (at least the good ones). I find it really hard to explain, because I really don't have an explanation for it. I've tried before to explain to friends that I lost contact with, why we lost contact, but it never seems to make any sense. I don't intentionally ignore them, it just is a matter of how do explain to someone that you need your space - that is, without offending them or at least being interrogated as to why.

A majority of my woes are financially related. Thankfully I was blessed with a rather good knack for being resourceful ad being responsible. Aside from some slight mistakes in the past (i.e. The Tahoe and charging my entire life my senior year in college on my MasterCard’s), I've been very good with money. My credit suffered a bit when I was fired from my job in early 2002, but I've been on a steady track to improve that in the recent years. My depression and frustration lies mentally with the everlasting question - "What am I doing wrong?"

Maybe I make terrible decisions - maybe I don't. Maybe I am just unlucky, maybe I am not. What really bothers me lately is that I have really even lost the desire to date. I find myself forcing me to want to be around someone else, developing that closeness, living the American dream. I can't even afford groceries; more or less afford to date someone. The worst part of it all is that I have a terrible time saying no. Why? Because I don't really want to say no. So instead of putting myself in a situation where I have to say no... I just avoid the situation completely - or at least try to. This stems beyond dating and in to my friendships as well.

I really HATE the thought of my friends creating memories and doing things without me. It drives me insane. It isn't that I don't have the time to do it; I just don't have the money. The awful part is that we aren't talking about cruises or shopping sprees... we are talking about occasional dinners out and a few drinks here or there at the bar. I know that life could be worse. I could be spending money to have a good time with my buddies instead of paying the bills... or I could not have enough money to even pay the bills. At least at the end of the month every bill is paid in full. The only bill that doesn’t get paid in full is my happiness bill. The one bill I charge myself for and expect payment in full. To bad the minimum payment due is what gets paid.

I make all of this sound like my happiness depends on the amount of money I can spend. That isn't entirely true, but in a way it is true, isn't it? Wouldn't life be grand for everyone if you had the beautiful house in the Hampton's, the Penthouse in the city, the 60' Yacht in the French Riviera? Call me a dreamer (cause that is what I am), but I can't stop myself from thinking about how different my life would be if things were going my way.

If my life were the way I wanted it to be - I would have studied theatre in college instead of advertising. Granted I chose advertising (against my father's advice), but that was only because I thought it would be a big boy job. I was always told that there isn't a living in acting... that you'll be poor with nothing for the rest of your life. Guess what everyone who told me that... I'm poor with nothing and I have a big boy degree. I should have studied acting. At least I would be poor and happy.

I try so hard to do what's right - or what feels right. I can't help but ask myself - at what point is this going to get me anywhere? I busted my ass to get through college in three years to attempt to prove that I am dedicated and hard working. Did it get me anywhere... nada. I worked my ass off for two years trying to be the best project manager alive. Did it get me anywhere... nope. It got me fired. I accepted a low paying, whore of a job in a call center just to get me in the door with EDS. Did it get me anywhere? HELL NO. EDS lost the contract and now I have no hope of every advancing. I've interviewed for dozens of jobs in 4 years... has that gotten me anywhere. Yeah right. I got a temp job once and the shit for nothing, pathetic job I have now. Even better... I can't even get a second job just to earn a little extra cash. I've filled out applications and not a single one of them has called me back. Cool, huh?

It all stems back to - What the hell am I doing wrong? Even though I occasionally run in to mishaps at work, I take on tasks just to do them because I am bored. This is all in hope that I might get recognized for some type of achievement. NOPE. I get a thanks from one person and an "ohh by the way, you forgot to use the customer's name three times in the last call - sorry but you are getting a 75% on this quality score", from the other. Have I mentioned that I have been there going on two years and I have to have a performance evaluation or a raise. Not even a cost of living increase. I went to college folks and I don't even make $12.00 an hour. Odd how writing this is making me tear up. Why?

I was talking to JRO the other day and one of my favorite recent songs came on the radio - The Britney suicide video song. Jenny and I got to talking about why we enjoy the song so much. I got to telling her that the songs means something to me because even though I don't ponder suicide (although I can't say that in the past I haven't) it makes me think a lot about it. There are just times that I wonder what my purpose for being here is. Sometimes I am so disappointed and so frustrated with life that I can't help think about what it would be like if I just weren't here anymore. The one thing that runs through my mind every time is what my funeral would be like. I can't ever see who is there, but the one thing that I always see is my dad standing next to my casket crying, weak in the knees, and my sister with a ghostlike white face just staring in to nowhere. That image alone jumpstarts me back to reality and I realize that nothing in this world could be so awful to me that I would ever put my family - or my friends for that matter - through something like that. I love you guys terribly. For the most part you are what keeps me sane. I just feel like "every time I try to fly, I fall".

For some odd reason whenever I get depressed I can't help but think about how my past has affected my present. What drives me nuts is that I am essentially in love with a figment of my imagination. I'm in love with a man I haven't even seen in four years. I can't help but sit back and think about how happy I was with Christian. Sometimes I go out on my break at work and just sit at the picnic table outside, stare at my phone and just wish that it would ring and it would be him. Sometimes the urge to hear his voice is so strong that I call his house hoping he'll answer. Of course he never does and I never have the courage to leave a message. Several time in the last few months while visiting Jenny and Mandy in Brighton I even drive by the house I know he lives in. Of course I can't build up the courage to stop and knock on the door either. I don't even know why I hang on to the memories I have of him. It may be because no one in four years has come in to my life to replace him. It may be because the last thing he told me was that "he loved me more than anything in this world" and that it scared him. In fact it scared him to death and he wasn't ready for that kind of love. He promised me that one day he would be back. That one day he would be ready. The stupid thing is that I am sure he isn't even close to being the same person I remember him as. I know for a fact that I am for the most part a very different person. I've been through a lot in four years and because of that I am a much stronger person. I just wish I was able to forget. I just want to forget, but then I remember that the memories of a faded love are a part of who I am.

Speaking of that faded love... how about faded passion. A slightly disturbing thing happened a few weeks ago. While at Michigan Pride I ran in to Geoff. In the middle of bullshitting and chatting with him and some friends, he reprimanded me for telling people about our former relationship. WHAT? Am I a fucking embarrassment? It isn't like I was announcing it to the world. Everyone that knows about Geoff and I, know about Geoff and I because they are my closest friends. Of course my close friends know about whom I date and sleep with. I don't necessarily give them intimate details of my sex life, but they generally know who it is and when the 'crime' was committed (so to speak). For the record - FUCK YOU GEOFF! I've lost your number and I sincerely hope that Jenny and Mark have too! Jerk. Have fun on gay.com. AND NO, I'm not bitter. I'm pissed because you are such an uptight, feelingless prick. I do have to thank you for putting a powerful definition in my book for the word "super bottom". Webster thanks you too.

Phew... I feel better.

So anyhow, as I sat and watched TV this evening... I realized at the end of the show that I am damn lucky. I have great friends, a wonderful family (as odd as they may be sometimes - they will ALWAYS be mine), I never have watched my mother get raped, my sister is not a drug addict or in prison, my parents have never murdered anyone, and aside from an occasional overpowering bout of depression - I'm just a normal person struggling to make something of himself in a society where only the strong survive.

Cheers to keeping my dreams alive. I'll always remember the how difficult it was being at the bottom - even one day when I am at the top. Folks, you wait and see - one day Donald Trump will be doing my laundry.

Ohhh... PLEASE bear with me. I haven't been on top of this blog for a while... but I don't intend for it to cease existence any time soon.

LOVE ALWAYS,

Jason




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