Thanksgiving was wonderful. I had an early dinner with my friends and my Mom at Steve and Vic's. The first without my Dad, but it seemed to go off without a hitch. Then The Drummer and I drove down to Indio so he could play a gig that night. Lots of fun at Fantasy Spring Casino where I could smoke inside and drink lots of Jack and Gingers. And apparently The Drummer and I were Eye Fucking each other throughout all three sets, according to the lead singer's girlfriend, Jasmine. It was cute as could be.
After drinking our faces off and a threeway that never came to pass, we had sex and went to bed. Then woke up, had sex again and got our asses on the road. Well, first we had to go to the Fantasy Springs Casino Buffet and gorge ourselves on salads, tri tip, potstickers, samosas, and lots of yummy stuff that's bad for us. I love a buffet. But I have a particular thing about how I eat at buffets. I think I got this from my Dad, but maybe not.
There are the types of people at buffets that are just so happy to be drinking and smoking at 10 AM and wearing elastic wasted pants that they don't care about decorum. So they do a few interesting things:
1) They load up two plates at a time at the buffet. Because they get winded if they get up too much? God, I hope not. I think this is a little ridiculous. It's kind of like double fisting at the bar, but it's so much worse. It's gluttonous and white trashy in the worst way possible. But what makes it worse is...
2) When people decide that they are going to fit all of the buffet on their very crowded plate(s). They probably skip making their own green salad and go straight to the prepared salads. Then they put on some chicken, maybe a piece of steak, ravioli, burrito, pizza, creamed spinach, sweet and sour pork and ribs. A bunch of stuff that doesn't go together at all. Yes, of course, my look of disgust is followed by their response of: "Hey, it's all goin' the same place anyway", which is followed by a loud belch. Then they continue eating and dip their pizza or ribs into a very full side of Ranch dressing.
This is how I do it. It's so much more civilized:
1) Plate One: Salads/Cold Items. I like to start out slow and make a little green salad for myself: romaine lettuce, cucumbers, beets, blue cheese crumbles, maybe some bacon bits if they're real crumbled bacon, olives and garbanzo beans. Then a balsamic dressing. If the build your own salad items are good, then I'll do a full salad first. Or if I'm really hungry I'll do a full salad. Otherwise, I'll add some prepared salads to the side.
2) Plate Two: Meat. I'll choose my main protein, like a try tip or roasted chicken. Maybe salmon if it looks good or another fish. Then I'll choose some sides that go with that: mac and cheese, veggies, creamed spinach. Maybe pasta if there isn't another starch. But I make sure that it looks just like a regular plate I'd order at another restaurant. Sometimes I'll add another protein like ribs...as long as it goes together.
3) Plate Three: Smorgesbord. Okay, I know I said that I don't like to mix everything together. But what I do here is a selection of appetizers. Maybe I'll go revisit the cold prepared salads to add to this. I maybe even take this opportunity to try the soup with some apps on my plate as well. So if I'm doing Asian, then I'll do potstickers, char siu bao, potstickers and maybe even some noodles. If it's Italian, I'll do pizza and pasta, maybe even a little more salad to get some greens on there.
4) Plate Four: Dessert. At this point I'm pretty full and I don't really have a sweet tooth. So it might just be a parfait or chocolate mousse or a piece of cheesecake and a fruit tart. Something light and fun. If there's a chocolate fountain, then maybe some chocolate dipped strawberries. But the key is to make the plate look pretty.
The key is to make the plate look good. You can always go back for more. That's never an issue. But when I see people pile their plates up high like they're storing nuts for the winter, it just drives me crazy. It's not civilized. A buffet is basically a multiple course dinner. So I like it to look that way.
Now that I've kind of recovered (I didn't go with The Drummer to his gig last night), I'm in bed writing and getting work done. I'll probably either make a stuffed portabello mushroom or tacos later for dinner and read some plays I need to read. I need to recover from a debaucherous past few nights. My liver and stomach both need a break.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Day Dating
Since I'm on hiatus right now and I'm single, I have the opportunity to do some day dating, which is kind of fun.
So tomorrow I have a gentleman caller coming over for lunch. Here's the menu, should be fun:
Pan fried New York steaks w/ an herbed compound butter
Romaine salad w/ lemon and olive oil
some sort of grilled veggie or buttery starchy something - not sure yet
I'm putting some effort into this, for sure. This guy is a musician and teacher. Met him at the gym "working out." He seems very funny and super cute. I think he has a hot ass, too. If I remember correctly.
I love that he asked "White or Red". Day dating needs some day drinking as well. I'm a super fan of that, of course.
I'm going to be super casual in terms of attire. Bare feet and some sort of pull over something over other. I'm going to be the skinny male ethnic Ina Garten up in this joint.
And then maybe a little jaunt over to Milk for dessert. I think that's nice and romantic and fun.
I'm sure Date #2 this week with the actor will be less romantic. Both guys have definitely made me laugh, but the actor guy I'm holding back on a bit. I'm skeptical. Actors are weird to me. I love them in rehearsal and I think they're fantastic. But to date...that's a bit rough for me. But the guy is hot and funny...although in a hammy way, which I typically don't respond to. But he's hot. And right now, that's all I basically require.
Although the musician's humorous in a much more laid back way, which I typically respond to better. I don't like a guy who tries too hard. Anymore. I don't like a guy who tries too hard any more.
So tomorrow I have a gentleman caller coming over for lunch. Here's the menu, should be fun:
Pan fried New York steaks w/ an herbed compound butter
Romaine salad w/ lemon and olive oil
some sort of grilled veggie or buttery starchy something - not sure yet
I'm putting some effort into this, for sure. This guy is a musician and teacher. Met him at the gym "working out." He seems very funny and super cute. I think he has a hot ass, too. If I remember correctly.
I love that he asked "White or Red". Day dating needs some day drinking as well. I'm a super fan of that, of course.
I'm going to be super casual in terms of attire. Bare feet and some sort of pull over something over other. I'm going to be the skinny male ethnic Ina Garten up in this joint.
And then maybe a little jaunt over to Milk for dessert. I think that's nice and romantic and fun.
I'm sure Date #2 this week with the actor will be less romantic. Both guys have definitely made me laugh, but the actor guy I'm holding back on a bit. I'm skeptical. Actors are weird to me. I love them in rehearsal and I think they're fantastic. But to date...that's a bit rough for me. But the guy is hot and funny...although in a hammy way, which I typically don't respond to. But he's hot. And right now, that's all I basically require.
Although the musician's humorous in a much more laid back way, which I typically respond to better. I don't like a guy who tries too hard. Anymore. I don't like a guy who tries too hard any more.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Waiting for the man
Not that he's MY man or even THE man...I just thought I should preface that. But I am waiting for a man. And that man is coming over to the place I'm dogsitting at.
I've prepared a dinner of pork tamales, black beans and salad. I've lit candles. I have a "Sophisticated Party Mix." I'm prepping to have a man come over to "my" house.
I've kept the dress casual. A Number Lab grey cardigan, Splendid Mills grey and navy striped polo (a Christmas gift from my friends) and a pair of Levis (514s). Not sure why I thought it was important to give you the fashion breakdown, but there it is. I spruced up the hair a bit with some molding clay.
He's supposed to be here at 7ish. It's 7:15. I'm kind of watching the clock. Oh, jesus.
Everything's ready. Tamales in the oven. Black beans resting and thickening. The only thing to do is the salad dressing and adding the avocado to the salad (last minute to it doesn't oxidize and get brown). And maybe a little Feta.
Wine glasses laid out on the coffee table. Actual glasses, which is how I like to drink wine. Not stemmed bulbous WINE GLASSES. But little cylinder wine glasses. Like the Spanish. I've got a wine from the Willamette Valley that my brother and sister in law brought for me from Oregon. A Pinot Noir. You know that Oregon is known for their Pinots. It's now 7:18. Hopefully, he's not reading this from his iPHone in the car and crashing somewhere.
Diana Ross, "Remember Me" from her 1971 album Surrender is playing. I'm using that song in the Medea adaptation I've written. Still waiting to hear back from a few theatres to see if they're going to develop it in the Spring.
The Candles look good. I'm typing at the computer...it's all very adult. Working to the last minute. Productive. Focused. Driven.
Should I have a drink? While I"m waiting? No. Probably not. Don't want him to get here and see me all drunk. Smelling of Jack and Ginger (I already thought about the pre-drink I would have, but never had time).
Now it's Ray Charles, "Look at what they done to my song, Ma." He sang this on the 1973 CBS TV special "Barbra Streisand and Other Musical Instruments." That reminds me, "The Kennedy Center Honors" is on Tuesday. I have to make sure I'm somewhere I can watch it. There's no TV here at the house. And I'm not sure they're going to replay that on the CBS website. It's a bit of a tradition, since I was a kid, to watch the Kennedy Center Honors on TV. I love watching how many random performers they decide to perform musical tributes. And I love the musical tributes to people like Oprah. She's being honored this year and I know they're performing at least one song from "The Color Purple", which she produced (and also she was in the film). But it's weird. Does Sondheim have to write a special number for someone like the Big O, who has no association to music? What would that song be called? "The Changing Face?" "Miss Television?" "Oprah/Harpo?"
It's 7:26. He's not late. We said 7ish. I thought we said 7:30 on the phone, but then he said "see you at 7ish" on the text message he sent.
Kelly Clarkson. "Don't Waste Your Time" from My December, the album that everyone hated. I love this song. I totally think it's pop. He's missing some good selections.
I think he might be getting the hot sauce I asked him to bring if he had it but told him he didn't need to bring. No need to go out of his way, right? But he's the kind of gentleman that would do that. I need to go check the tamales.
They're fine. Warming up in the oven. Just turned it down a bit. Beans look good. I'm getting HUNGRY. Went to the gym this afternoon to get a good workout in since I haven't gone since the 23rd. But I have gone on some runs. But really I went so I would look good in this new polo shirt, which has a flattering way of hugging my body. There's no fronting. I totally worked out so I would look hot for this date.
You should have seen me at the gym. I was doing some of the core exercises I learned from watching "Insanity", from the makers of Beach Body who are the people who do P90X. I am such a walking infomercial. I went to the exercise studio at the gym, listening to my iPod, rocking out to the Glee version of "Telephone" by Gaga and Beyonce. Just doing the stink face, which is supposed to look like I"m into it and kind of "Thug Life." It just looks like a gay guy with a dancer's background doing knee ups. Then I did my Shoulders and Arms workout. The bicep curls, the Chair Dips, the Concentration Curls, all of it. Twelve exercises. Then a break. Then the same 12 exercises all over again. Dirty hot stink face all over the gym. And I tend to act like no one else is around me (aka like I"m dancing in my bedroom by myself). So I'm doing my tricep stretches and mouthing "5...6...7...8." I'm doing shoulder roles to "Come On Over" by Aguliera. I'm curling to "She's a Bitch" by Missy Elliot. I'm doing a street strut to "Empire State of Mind" while I'm in-between exercises to give my muscles a break. I am an hour-long musical comedy live in the LA Fitness in Pasadena. I'm rocking out and I'm sure I'm getting some looks. Whatever, breeders!
Gosh, I really am kind of hungry. It's 7:38. I hope I don't either fall asleep or get wasted after that first sip of red wine. Dogs are barking. He might be here.
Okay. SO he is. Details to follow.
I've prepared a dinner of pork tamales, black beans and salad. I've lit candles. I have a "Sophisticated Party Mix." I'm prepping to have a man come over to "my" house.
I've kept the dress casual. A Number Lab grey cardigan, Splendid Mills grey and navy striped polo (a Christmas gift from my friends) and a pair of Levis (514s). Not sure why I thought it was important to give you the fashion breakdown, but there it is. I spruced up the hair a bit with some molding clay.
He's supposed to be here at 7ish. It's 7:15. I'm kind of watching the clock. Oh, jesus.
Everything's ready. Tamales in the oven. Black beans resting and thickening. The only thing to do is the salad dressing and adding the avocado to the salad (last minute to it doesn't oxidize and get brown). And maybe a little Feta.
Wine glasses laid out on the coffee table. Actual glasses, which is how I like to drink wine. Not stemmed bulbous WINE GLASSES. But little cylinder wine glasses. Like the Spanish. I've got a wine from the Willamette Valley that my brother and sister in law brought for me from Oregon. A Pinot Noir. You know that Oregon is known for their Pinots. It's now 7:18. Hopefully, he's not reading this from his iPHone in the car and crashing somewhere.
Diana Ross, "Remember Me" from her 1971 album Surrender is playing. I'm using that song in the Medea adaptation I've written. Still waiting to hear back from a few theatres to see if they're going to develop it in the Spring.
The Candles look good. I'm typing at the computer...it's all very adult. Working to the last minute. Productive. Focused. Driven.
Should I have a drink? While I"m waiting? No. Probably not. Don't want him to get here and see me all drunk. Smelling of Jack and Ginger (I already thought about the pre-drink I would have, but never had time).
Now it's Ray Charles, "Look at what they done to my song, Ma." He sang this on the 1973 CBS TV special "Barbra Streisand and Other Musical Instruments." That reminds me, "The Kennedy Center Honors" is on Tuesday. I have to make sure I'm somewhere I can watch it. There's no TV here at the house. And I'm not sure they're going to replay that on the CBS website. It's a bit of a tradition, since I was a kid, to watch the Kennedy Center Honors on TV. I love watching how many random performers they decide to perform musical tributes. And I love the musical tributes to people like Oprah. She's being honored this year and I know they're performing at least one song from "The Color Purple", which she produced (and also she was in the film). But it's weird. Does Sondheim have to write a special number for someone like the Big O, who has no association to music? What would that song be called? "The Changing Face?" "Miss Television?" "Oprah/Harpo?"
It's 7:26. He's not late. We said 7ish. I thought we said 7:30 on the phone, but then he said "see you at 7ish" on the text message he sent.
Kelly Clarkson. "Don't Waste Your Time" from My December, the album that everyone hated. I love this song. I totally think it's pop. He's missing some good selections.
I think he might be getting the hot sauce I asked him to bring if he had it but told him he didn't need to bring. No need to go out of his way, right? But he's the kind of gentleman that would do that. I need to go check the tamales.
They're fine. Warming up in the oven. Just turned it down a bit. Beans look good. I'm getting HUNGRY. Went to the gym this afternoon to get a good workout in since I haven't gone since the 23rd. But I have gone on some runs. But really I went so I would look good in this new polo shirt, which has a flattering way of hugging my body. There's no fronting. I totally worked out so I would look hot for this date.
You should have seen me at the gym. I was doing some of the core exercises I learned from watching "Insanity", from the makers of Beach Body who are the people who do P90X. I am such a walking infomercial. I went to the exercise studio at the gym, listening to my iPod, rocking out to the Glee version of "Telephone" by Gaga and Beyonce. Just doing the stink face, which is supposed to look like I"m into it and kind of "Thug Life." It just looks like a gay guy with a dancer's background doing knee ups. Then I did my Shoulders and Arms workout. The bicep curls, the Chair Dips, the Concentration Curls, all of it. Twelve exercises. Then a break. Then the same 12 exercises all over again. Dirty hot stink face all over the gym. And I tend to act like no one else is around me (aka like I"m dancing in my bedroom by myself). So I'm doing my tricep stretches and mouthing "5...6...7...8." I'm doing shoulder roles to "Come On Over" by Aguliera. I'm curling to "She's a Bitch" by Missy Elliot. I'm doing a street strut to "Empire State of Mind" while I'm in-between exercises to give my muscles a break. I am an hour-long musical comedy live in the LA Fitness in Pasadena. I'm rocking out and I'm sure I'm getting some looks. Whatever, breeders!
Gosh, I really am kind of hungry. It's 7:38. I hope I don't either fall asleep or get wasted after that first sip of red wine. Dogs are barking. He might be here.
Okay. SO he is. Details to follow.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Sorry Grateful
This might be my favorite Sondheim song
ROBERT [speaking]:
Harry, you ever sorry you got married?
HARRY:
You're always sorry,
You're always grateful,
You're always wondering
What might have been--
Then she walks in.
And still you're sorry,
And still you're grateful,
And still you wonder
And still you doubt--
And she goes out.
Everything's different, nothing's changed.
Only maybe slightly rearranged.
You're sorry-grateful,
Regretful-happy.
Why look for answers
When none occur?
You always are what you always were,
Which has nothing to do with, all to do with her.
DAVID:
You're always sorry,
You're always grateful,
You hold her, thinking:
"I'm not alone."
You're still alone.
You don't live for her,
You do live with her,
You're scared she's starting
To drift away,
And scared she'll stay.
LARRY:
Good things get better, bad get worse.
Wait, I think I meant that in reverse.
HARRY, DAVID, LARRY:
You're sorry-grateful,
Regretful-happy.
Why look for answers
When none occur?
You'll always be what you always were,
Which has nothing to do with, all to do with her.
HARRY:
Nothing to do with, all to do with her.
ROBERT [speaking]:
Harry, you ever sorry you got married?
HARRY:
You're always sorry,
You're always grateful,
You're always wondering
What might have been--
Then she walks in.
And still you're sorry,
And still you're grateful,
And still you wonder
And still you doubt--
And she goes out.
Everything's different, nothing's changed.
Only maybe slightly rearranged.
You're sorry-grateful,
Regretful-happy.
Why look for answers
When none occur?
You always are what you always were,
Which has nothing to do with, all to do with her.
DAVID:
You're always sorry,
You're always grateful,
You hold her, thinking:
"I'm not alone."
You're still alone.
You don't live for her,
You do live with her,
You're scared she's starting
To drift away,
And scared she'll stay.
LARRY:
Good things get better, bad get worse.
Wait, I think I meant that in reverse.
HARRY, DAVID, LARRY:
You're sorry-grateful,
Regretful-happy.
Why look for answers
When none occur?
You'll always be what you always were,
Which has nothing to do with, all to do with her.
HARRY:
Nothing to do with, all to do with her.
Monday, December 13, 2010
The Little Things We Did Together
My favorite play is WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF.
My favorite musical is COMPANY.
My favorite TV show is SEX AND THE CITY.
My favorite pieces of popular culture are about dysfunctional relationships! What does that say about me?
Some of my favorite songs have titles like:
"Didn't We Almost Have it All?"
"Neither One of Us (Wants to be the first to say Goodbye)"
"Heartbreaker"
"Fooled by a Feeling"
"A House is Not a Home"
"Don't Waste Your Time"
"Don't Cry Out Loud"
"She's Out of My Life"
"Please Don't Leave Me"
"Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad"
AM I ROMANTICIZING HEARTBREAK? I think I love a complicated relationship. And on some level, I think that relationships are supposed to be difficult. I think they are difficult, but at the same time I am starting to believe that I don't have to work to make them difficult. I'd be nice to be treated well. And I don't think that's just for my romantic relationships. It's for more than a few relationships in my life.
It makes me think about suffering. And why I feel I need to suffer to make a relationship significant. That's all on me. I can't blame any of the exes for that. I like to earn things. Do I think I'm earning my relationship by having it be so difficult. "Look at what I had to OVERCOME!" It's like I was banking on some sort of future lesson or pride where we look at each other, grey haired and reminisce on how difficult the early days of our relationship were. "But thank God we stuck it out."
It's not talk of God and the decade ahead that allows you to get through the worst,
It's "I do" and "You Don't" and "No body said that" and "Who brought the subject up first."
Maybe it's just that I'm a frustrated torch singer. I love a painful, moment of regret.
Ugh. Strike up the band! Enough with the sad sack sentiments.
First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
And now I'm just a gay cliche.
Or maybe I've always been one and never knew it. Because I think that Carrie and Big should be together! She's this wonderful, blossoming flower who's smart and witty. But when she's around him she puts on the tiara, waves her princess wand and expects to be carried away (pun intended, and totally appropriate) by her knight in shining armor. I do love Big. I don't mean to be SO critical. But why do I love him really?
How many times during my relationship did I say that my ex was my Big? Probably too many to admit. And how embarrassing if people knew the amount of times I didn't say it, but thought it.
Oops. Hello, blogosphere.
It's probably because I fancy myself Carrie (who doesn't). I'm a writer. I'm now writing my own column (blog) for a prestigious New York weekly (my own free website where I post whenever I want). I express myself through fashion (a lot of clothes the ex bought me and wanted to see me in). And I've got a group of girlfriends (mix of straight and gay guys and girls who don't know each other but who are in my life and who I've abandoned to be in said relationship with said Big) who support me every step of the way. I love an au courant cocktail (Bud Light or a mix of whatever's left in the house) and a good pair of shoes (my worn out Purple and Neon Green Pumas I purchased MYSELF on Gilt.com).
I am SO Carrie.
Is that the dynamic I'm going for? I guess it could be worse. I could have ended up with my version of:
AIDEN - the sweet ex who did everything I wanted him to. I kind of treated him like shit despite all of the wonderful things he did for me. He caught me making out with someone. Then it was over. Kinda like Carrie.
BERGER - the writer. It was too much for him. He didn't break up with me on a Post It, but he did break up with me via email or a short phone call after what was a great night together.
PETROFSKY - Have I met him yet? Maybe not. But he's just another version of Big, in a way. A guy who puts his needs before my own. A guy who's got a seemingly more important career than mine. A guy who loves me for my individuality, but eventually comes to resent it. So he supresses it. Oh wait...maybe I just sended my Petrofsky season.
So I'm still looking for Big. If that's what I really want. A guy that put me through the ringer, but eventually settles down. A guy who knows what he wants, despite the fact that I'm not always listening. A guy who's strong, debonair, but makes me laugh. A guy I just click with. The guy I've been pursuing.
Still Looking for Big. That's a title. But is it the story I want to tell?
I can't help but wonder...
My favorite musical is COMPANY.
My favorite TV show is SEX AND THE CITY.
My favorite pieces of popular culture are about dysfunctional relationships! What does that say about me?
Some of my favorite songs have titles like:
"Didn't We Almost Have it All?"
"Neither One of Us (Wants to be the first to say Goodbye)"
"Heartbreaker"
"Fooled by a Feeling"
"A House is Not a Home"
"Don't Waste Your Time"
"Don't Cry Out Loud"
"She's Out of My Life"
"Please Don't Leave Me"
"Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad"
AM I ROMANTICIZING HEARTBREAK? I think I love a complicated relationship. And on some level, I think that relationships are supposed to be difficult. I think they are difficult, but at the same time I am starting to believe that I don't have to work to make them difficult. I'd be nice to be treated well. And I don't think that's just for my romantic relationships. It's for more than a few relationships in my life.
It makes me think about suffering. And why I feel I need to suffer to make a relationship significant. That's all on me. I can't blame any of the exes for that. I like to earn things. Do I think I'm earning my relationship by having it be so difficult. "Look at what I had to OVERCOME!" It's like I was banking on some sort of future lesson or pride where we look at each other, grey haired and reminisce on how difficult the early days of our relationship were. "But thank God we stuck it out."
It's not talk of God and the decade ahead that allows you to get through the worst,
It's "I do" and "You Don't" and "No body said that" and "Who brought the subject up first."
Maybe it's just that I'm a frustrated torch singer. I love a painful, moment of regret.
Ugh. Strike up the band! Enough with the sad sack sentiments.
First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
And now I'm just a gay cliche.
Or maybe I've always been one and never knew it. Because I think that Carrie and Big should be together! She's this wonderful, blossoming flower who's smart and witty. But when she's around him she puts on the tiara, waves her princess wand and expects to be carried away (pun intended, and totally appropriate) by her knight in shining armor. I do love Big. I don't mean to be SO critical. But why do I love him really?
How many times during my relationship did I say that my ex was my Big? Probably too many to admit. And how embarrassing if people knew the amount of times I didn't say it, but thought it.
Oops. Hello, blogosphere.
It's probably because I fancy myself Carrie (who doesn't). I'm a writer. I'm now writing my own column (blog) for a prestigious New York weekly (my own free website where I post whenever I want). I express myself through fashion (a lot of clothes the ex bought me and wanted to see me in). And I've got a group of girlfriends (mix of straight and gay guys and girls who don't know each other but who are in my life and who I've abandoned to be in said relationship with said Big) who support me every step of the way. I love an au courant cocktail (Bud Light or a mix of whatever's left in the house) and a good pair of shoes (my worn out Purple and Neon Green Pumas I purchased MYSELF on Gilt.com).
I am SO Carrie.
Is that the dynamic I'm going for? I guess it could be worse. I could have ended up with my version of:
AIDEN - the sweet ex who did everything I wanted him to. I kind of treated him like shit despite all of the wonderful things he did for me. He caught me making out with someone. Then it was over. Kinda like Carrie.
BERGER - the writer. It was too much for him. He didn't break up with me on a Post It, but he did break up with me via email or a short phone call after what was a great night together.
PETROFSKY - Have I met him yet? Maybe not. But he's just another version of Big, in a way. A guy who puts his needs before my own. A guy who's got a seemingly more important career than mine. A guy who loves me for my individuality, but eventually comes to resent it. So he supresses it. Oh wait...maybe I just sended my Petrofsky season.
So I'm still looking for Big. If that's what I really want. A guy that put me through the ringer, but eventually settles down. A guy who knows what he wants, despite the fact that I'm not always listening. A guy who's strong, debonair, but makes me laugh. A guy I just click with. The guy I've been pursuing.
Still Looking for Big. That's a title. But is it the story I want to tell?
I can't help but wonder...
Friday, December 10, 2010
Friday: In
It's 8:07 on a Friday night. Most boys are home from the office, eating steamed chicken and broccoli and doing their Friday Night Enema, ready for whatever might come their way.
Manscaping. There's probably a lot of manscaping. Fresh balls attract fresh meat. Isn't that the saying?
It's A saying. That's for sure.
Me? What am I doing tonight? I am sitting up in the bedroom of the house I'm staying in (my friends are gone for the weekend) and I'm trying to decide what to do. Maybe I should go and get an enema from Ralphs. But right now I'm in my Andrew Christian underwear that my friend Marc got me years ago. They were packed away in my trunk. I found them when I had to clear my trunk to put my portable plastic bins in. This is what happens when you don't have a permanent residence. You have things in compartments in your trunk. Well organized. Ready to pack and unpack at a moment's notice.
So I'm in my undies, which - Thank You Marc - make my ass look amazing. I will be keeping these on tonight. Well...I'll be keeping them on so that I can maybe take them off later. Ha. Ha.
I just had three separate frozen meals for dinner. Just being lazy. It's hard when I don't have a kitchen. I really want to cook something, but my friends' have a full refrigerator and I don't want to infringe on them. They're being really great for letting me stay here. It's not my house. I don't have my own olive oil. Trust me, to a cook, these things matter. Not my own pans...it's difficult.
I can hear the sounds off the street. It sounds like Friday night is roaring. People are getting ready to start their evenings.
It's now 8:16. Still no decisions have been made.
I had a Stouffer's Spaghetti w/ Meat Sauce. The noodles were one big lump. Overcooked. The Schechuan noodles weren't any better. Although, at least those were cooked well. And I had some left over roast chicken from the other night that I bought already cooked at Ralphs. It's like that scene in the SEX AND THE CITY movie.
New Years Eve. A Cup o'Noodles.
I feel like that right now. Especially as I type on my laptop and recount all of this. The difference is that I don't feel like I'm answering any of life's or singlehood's big questions. I'm just exhausted from a long week of wrapping up one job and waiting to start another. It's frustrating to be completely in transition. But I haven't really looked for a place yet. So that's my own fault. Although I did say a few posts ago that I really was enjoying the transition. I probably was.
8:19. How fast am I typing? Better question: How fast are the thoughts coming out?
8:20. Not that fast.
Something that is making this evening a bit better is listening to Robyn on iTunes. I can't believe how good she is. It's dance pop electronic music with real feeling. Anyone remember Robyn from her first incarnation? "Show Me Love?" "Do You Know (What It Takes)?" Classics both.
And then we have new Robyn. "Dancing on My Own." I'm in the corner watching you kiss her. Oh oh oh./I'm right over here. Why can't you see me? Oh oh oh. I'm giving it my all. but I'm not the girl you're taking home./I keep dancing on my own.
Unrequited pop goodness! That's how I knew I'd feel if I didn't go up to my ex last Friday at Fubar. I'd create this whole drama in my head. Billy Francesca would put this song on, I would get up on the dance floor. Turn my head in his direction. Then look away. Then turn. Then away. Then stare straight at him, with my arms in the air. Lost in the ecstasy of the moment. Giving him what for. Look how good I am now!
I'm still dancing on my own.
But I didn't do that, if you recall. I just confronted and went about my business. That might be why I'm staying in tonight. Or thinking about it. I don't want to run into him. There's another club that I might go to where I know I won't run into him. It's totally not his scene. But I love Dance Bitch at Fubar on Friday nights. And tonight it's Gaga vs. Christina. And as much as I like to think I'm grown past all of that. I just love to dance.
I'll even go out by myself. I don't care. As long as I have the music, it doesn't really matter all that much.
I keep dancing on my own.
What am I going to do? Stay tuned. Either it'll be more posts. Or more posts tomorrow. 8:29.
Manscaping. There's probably a lot of manscaping. Fresh balls attract fresh meat. Isn't that the saying?
It's A saying. That's for sure.
Me? What am I doing tonight? I am sitting up in the bedroom of the house I'm staying in (my friends are gone for the weekend) and I'm trying to decide what to do. Maybe I should go and get an enema from Ralphs. But right now I'm in my Andrew Christian underwear that my friend Marc got me years ago. They were packed away in my trunk. I found them when I had to clear my trunk to put my portable plastic bins in. This is what happens when you don't have a permanent residence. You have things in compartments in your trunk. Well organized. Ready to pack and unpack at a moment's notice.
So I'm in my undies, which - Thank You Marc - make my ass look amazing. I will be keeping these on tonight. Well...I'll be keeping them on so that I can maybe take them off later. Ha. Ha.
I just had three separate frozen meals for dinner. Just being lazy. It's hard when I don't have a kitchen. I really want to cook something, but my friends' have a full refrigerator and I don't want to infringe on them. They're being really great for letting me stay here. It's not my house. I don't have my own olive oil. Trust me, to a cook, these things matter. Not my own pans...it's difficult.
I can hear the sounds off the street. It sounds like Friday night is roaring. People are getting ready to start their evenings.
It's now 8:16. Still no decisions have been made.
I had a Stouffer's Spaghetti w/ Meat Sauce. The noodles were one big lump. Overcooked. The Schechuan noodles weren't any better. Although, at least those were cooked well. And I had some left over roast chicken from the other night that I bought already cooked at Ralphs. It's like that scene in the SEX AND THE CITY movie.
New Years Eve. A Cup o'Noodles.
I feel like that right now. Especially as I type on my laptop and recount all of this. The difference is that I don't feel like I'm answering any of life's or singlehood's big questions. I'm just exhausted from a long week of wrapping up one job and waiting to start another. It's frustrating to be completely in transition. But I haven't really looked for a place yet. So that's my own fault. Although I did say a few posts ago that I really was enjoying the transition. I probably was.
8:19. How fast am I typing? Better question: How fast are the thoughts coming out?
8:20. Not that fast.
Something that is making this evening a bit better is listening to Robyn on iTunes. I can't believe how good she is. It's dance pop electronic music with real feeling. Anyone remember Robyn from her first incarnation? "Show Me Love?" "Do You Know (What It Takes)?" Classics both.
And then we have new Robyn. "Dancing on My Own." I'm in the corner watching you kiss her. Oh oh oh./I'm right over here. Why can't you see me? Oh oh oh. I'm giving it my all. but I'm not the girl you're taking home./I keep dancing on my own.
Unrequited pop goodness! That's how I knew I'd feel if I didn't go up to my ex last Friday at Fubar. I'd create this whole drama in my head. Billy Francesca would put this song on, I would get up on the dance floor. Turn my head in his direction. Then look away. Then turn. Then away. Then stare straight at him, with my arms in the air. Lost in the ecstasy of the moment. Giving him what for. Look how good I am now!
I'm still dancing on my own.
But I didn't do that, if you recall. I just confronted and went about my business. That might be why I'm staying in tonight. Or thinking about it. I don't want to run into him. There's another club that I might go to where I know I won't run into him. It's totally not his scene. But I love Dance Bitch at Fubar on Friday nights. And tonight it's Gaga vs. Christina. And as much as I like to think I'm grown past all of that. I just love to dance.
I'll even go out by myself. I don't care. As long as I have the music, it doesn't really matter all that much.
I keep dancing on my own.
What am I going to do? Stay tuned. Either it'll be more posts. Or more posts tomorrow. 8:29.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Virtual Vision Board: The Apartment
It's in Hancock Park.
It's got three stories. It's in an old Hollywood building. It's old.
It has a big kitchen where a bunch of people are gathered. They all have different accents and even might be speaking in different languages.
Some of just gotten back from "The Clinton Wedding." Some have children. Some are trying the new Kalbi Burger joint in Koreatown.
But there's cheese. And wine. And great R&B or Soul music playing in the background. Mary J. Blige. Al Green maybe. Maybe even some Bobby Matos - latin jazz. When there are guests.
When there aren't guests, my iPod is blasting from the kitchen as I'm chopping vegetables. One of the NY Times Talks or Spilled Milk, a great food podcast. And definitely KCRW.
There's an amazing outdoor dinner table. Like a farm table with ten big red, high backed chairs. And three or four candle drawers.
Is there a man? Maybe. Or men. Having great conversations. Making brunch.
Book club meetings. Next up: "Finishing the Hat" by Sondheim.
There's dancing. Loudly.
And REALLY LOUD conversations.
Friends drop by. Announced. Unannounced. Either way.
Favorite outfit: t-shirt, cardigan, underwear. thick socks. when there are guests. when i'm alone. whatever.
Cigarettes outside.
Sunday night dinner parties. Soup nights. Eclectic characters around the table. The dinner parties are cast well. Mom and Dad drop by. Sela (my niece) comes over and has her own room. She lets her parents stay there with her. But it's her room.
It's three stories. Did I say that already? It feels like New York. But the weather is better. And maybe there's one in New York too.
My home office is as messy as I fucking want it to be. I need some place that is the outward physical representation of my brain.
A big bed. And a sofa in the bedroom. Next to the kitchen, which has some good seating area, it's the place where most people are gathered. And not just for sex. But for heart-to-hearts.
And there's an extra room for a friend who's going through a hard time. With soft sheets. An adjacent bathroom and lots of bath products.
And how do I know about this place? I was there last night. I went to a marvelous party.
And while I'm thinking about it, this is what would be playing in the background as well.
"I Went to a Marvelous Party" by Noel Coward
Verse 1
Quite for no reason
I'm here for the Season
And high as a kite,
Living in error
With Maud at Cap Ferrat
Which couldn't be right.
Everyone's here and frightfully gay,
Nobody cares what people say,
Though the Riviera
Seems really much queerer
Than Rome at it's height,
Yesterday night-
Refrain 1
I went to a marvelous party
With Nounou and Nada and Nell,
It was in the fresh air
And we went as we were
And we stayed as we were
Which was Hell.
Poor Grace started singing at midnight
And didn't stop singing till four;
We knew the excitement was bound to begin
When Laura got blind on Dubonnet and gin
And scratched her veneer with a Cartier pin,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Refrain 2
I went to a marvelous party,
I must say the fun was intense,
We all had to do
What the people we knew
Would be doing a hundred years hence.
Dear Cecil arrived wearing armour,
Some shells and a black feather boa,
Poor Millicent wore a surrealist comb
Made of bits of mosaic from St. Peter's in Rome,
But the weight was so great that she had to go home,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Verse 2
People's behaviour
Away from Belgravia
Would make you aghast,
So much variety
Watching society
Scampering past,
If you have any mind at all
Gibbon's divine Decline and Fall
Seems pretty flimsy,
No more than a whimsy,
By way of contrast
On Saturday last-
Refrain 3
I went to a marvelous party,
We didn't start dinner till ten
And young Bobbie Carr
Did a stunt at the bar
With a lot of extraordinary men;
Dear Baba arrived with a turtle
Which shattered us all to the core,
The Grand Duke was dancing a foxtrot with me
When suddenly Cyril screamed Fiddledidee
And ripped off his trousers and jumped in the sea,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Refrain 4
I went to a marvelous party,
Elise made an entrance with May
You'd never have guessed
From her fisherman's vest
That her bust had been whittled away.
Poor Lulu got fried on Chianti
And talked about esprit de corps.
Maurice made a couple of passes at Gus
And Freddie, who hates any kind of a fuss,
Did half the Big Apple and twisted his truss,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Refrain 5
I went to a marvellous party.
We played the most wonderful game,
Maureen disappeared
And came back in a beard
And we all had to guess at her name!
We talked about growing old gracefully
And Elsie who's seventy-four
Said, A, it's a question of being sincere,
And B, if you're supple you've noting to fear.
Then she swung upside down from a glass chandelier,
I couldn't have liked it more.
It's got three stories. It's in an old Hollywood building. It's old.
It has a big kitchen where a bunch of people are gathered. They all have different accents and even might be speaking in different languages.
Some of just gotten back from "The Clinton Wedding." Some have children. Some are trying the new Kalbi Burger joint in Koreatown.
But there's cheese. And wine. And great R&B or Soul music playing in the background. Mary J. Blige. Al Green maybe. Maybe even some Bobby Matos - latin jazz. When there are guests.
When there aren't guests, my iPod is blasting from the kitchen as I'm chopping vegetables. One of the NY Times Talks or Spilled Milk, a great food podcast. And definitely KCRW.
There's an amazing outdoor dinner table. Like a farm table with ten big red, high backed chairs. And three or four candle drawers.
Is there a man? Maybe. Or men. Having great conversations. Making brunch.
Book club meetings. Next up: "Finishing the Hat" by Sondheim.
There's dancing. Loudly.
And REALLY LOUD conversations.
Friends drop by. Announced. Unannounced. Either way.
Favorite outfit: t-shirt, cardigan, underwear. thick socks. when there are guests. when i'm alone. whatever.
Cigarettes outside.
Sunday night dinner parties. Soup nights. Eclectic characters around the table. The dinner parties are cast well. Mom and Dad drop by. Sela (my niece) comes over and has her own room. She lets her parents stay there with her. But it's her room.
It's three stories. Did I say that already? It feels like New York. But the weather is better. And maybe there's one in New York too.
My home office is as messy as I fucking want it to be. I need some place that is the outward physical representation of my brain.
A big bed. And a sofa in the bedroom. Next to the kitchen, which has some good seating area, it's the place where most people are gathered. And not just for sex. But for heart-to-hearts.
And there's an extra room for a friend who's going through a hard time. With soft sheets. An adjacent bathroom and lots of bath products.
And how do I know about this place? I was there last night. I went to a marvelous party.
And while I'm thinking about it, this is what would be playing in the background as well.
"I Went to a Marvelous Party" by Noel Coward
Verse 1
Quite for no reason
I'm here for the Season
And high as a kite,
Living in error
With Maud at Cap Ferrat
Which couldn't be right.
Everyone's here and frightfully gay,
Nobody cares what people say,
Though the Riviera
Seems really much queerer
Than Rome at it's height,
Yesterday night-
Refrain 1
I went to a marvelous party
With Nounou and Nada and Nell,
It was in the fresh air
And we went as we were
And we stayed as we were
Which was Hell.
Poor Grace started singing at midnight
And didn't stop singing till four;
We knew the excitement was bound to begin
When Laura got blind on Dubonnet and gin
And scratched her veneer with a Cartier pin,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Refrain 2
I went to a marvelous party,
I must say the fun was intense,
We all had to do
What the people we knew
Would be doing a hundred years hence.
Dear Cecil arrived wearing armour,
Some shells and a black feather boa,
Poor Millicent wore a surrealist comb
Made of bits of mosaic from St. Peter's in Rome,
But the weight was so great that she had to go home,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Verse 2
People's behaviour
Away from Belgravia
Would make you aghast,
So much variety
Watching society
Scampering past,
If you have any mind at all
Gibbon's divine Decline and Fall
Seems pretty flimsy,
No more than a whimsy,
By way of contrast
On Saturday last-
Refrain 3
I went to a marvelous party,
We didn't start dinner till ten
And young Bobbie Carr
Did a stunt at the bar
With a lot of extraordinary men;
Dear Baba arrived with a turtle
Which shattered us all to the core,
The Grand Duke was dancing a foxtrot with me
When suddenly Cyril screamed Fiddledidee
And ripped off his trousers and jumped in the sea,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Refrain 4
I went to a marvelous party,
Elise made an entrance with May
You'd never have guessed
From her fisherman's vest
That her bust had been whittled away.
Poor Lulu got fried on Chianti
And talked about esprit de corps.
Maurice made a couple of passes at Gus
And Freddie, who hates any kind of a fuss,
Did half the Big Apple and twisted his truss,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Refrain 5
I went to a marvellous party.
We played the most wonderful game,
Maureen disappeared
And came back in a beard
And we all had to guess at her name!
We talked about growing old gracefully
And Elsie who's seventy-four
Said, A, it's a question of being sincere,
And B, if you're supple you've noting to fear.
Then she swung upside down from a glass chandelier,
I couldn't have liked it more.
Uno Mas: Alanis
This one is from me.
Precious Illusions
you'll rescue me right? in the exact same way they never did..
I'll be happy right? when your healing powers kick in
you'll complete me right? then my life can finally begin
I'll be worthy right? only when you realize the gem I am?
but this won't work now the way it once did
and I won't keep it up even though I would love to
once I know who I'm not then I'll know who I am
but I know I won't keep on playing the victim
these precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was defenseless
and parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends
this ring will me yet as will you knight in shining armor
this pill will help me yet as will these boys gone through like water
but this won't work as well as the way it once did
cuz I want to decide between survival and bliss
and though I know who I'm not I still don't know who I am
but I know I won't keep on playing the victim
these precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was a kid
and parting with them is like parting with a childhood best friend
I've spent so long firmly looking outside me
I've spent so much time living in survival mode
Precious Illusions
you'll rescue me right? in the exact same way they never did..
I'll be happy right? when your healing powers kick in
you'll complete me right? then my life can finally begin
I'll be worthy right? only when you realize the gem I am?
but this won't work now the way it once did
and I won't keep it up even though I would love to
once I know who I'm not then I'll know who I am
but I know I won't keep on playing the victim
these precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was defenseless
and parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends
this ring will me yet as will you knight in shining armor
this pill will help me yet as will these boys gone through like water
but this won't work as well as the way it once did
cuz I want to decide between survival and bliss
and though I know who I'm not I still don't know who I am
but I know I won't keep on playing the victim
these precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was a kid
and parting with them is like parting with a childhood best friend
I've spent so long firmly looking outside me
I've spent so much time living in survival mode
More Alanis: Torch
This was in response to the Gym post earlier.
I so identify.
"Torch"
I miss your smell and your style
And your pure abiding way
Miss your approach to life
And your body in my bed
Miss your take on anything
And the music you would play
Miss cracking up and wrestling
Our debriefs at end of day
These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
And I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this
I miss your neck and your gait
And your sharing what you write
Miss you walking through the front door
Documentaries in your hand
Miss traveling our traveling
And your fun and charming friends
Miss our Big Sur getaways
And you watch you love my dogs
These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
And I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this
One step one prayer
I soldier on
Stimulating moving on
I miss your warmth and the thought
Of us bringing up our kids
And the part of you that was with your stick-tied handkerchief
These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
And I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this
I so identify.
"Torch"
I miss your smell and your style
And your pure abiding way
Miss your approach to life
And your body in my bed
Miss your take on anything
And the music you would play
Miss cracking up and wrestling
Our debriefs at end of day
These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
And I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this
I miss your neck and your gait
And your sharing what you write
Miss you walking through the front door
Documentaries in your hand
Miss traveling our traveling
And your fun and charming friends
Miss our Big Sur getaways
And you watch you love my dogs
These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
And I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this
One step one prayer
I soldier on
Stimulating moving on
I miss your warmth and the thought
Of us bringing up our kids
And the part of you that was with your stick-tied handkerchief
These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
And I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this
Not As We
A friend just shared these lyrics with me.
It's from the Alanis Morrisette album, "Flowers of Entanglement" about her breakup with Ryan Reynolds.
Thought I'd share the lyrics here. If you want to find me, I'll be curled up in a corner with a bottle of wine listening to this over the holidays and presumably crying my eyes out.
Catharsis!
"Not As We"
Reborn and shivering
Spat out on new terrain
Unsure unconvincing
This faint and shaky hour
Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
I'm barely making sense for now
I'm faking it 'til I'm pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as i
And not as we
Gun shy and quivering
Timid without a hand
Feign brave with steel intent
little and hardly here
Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
with not much making sense just yet
I'm faking it til I'm pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as i
And not as we
Eyes wet toward
Wide open frayed
If God's taking bets
I pray He wants to lose
Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
I'm barely making sense just yet
I'm faking it til I'm pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as I
And not as we
It's from the Alanis Morrisette album, "Flowers of Entanglement" about her breakup with Ryan Reynolds.
Thought I'd share the lyrics here. If you want to find me, I'll be curled up in a corner with a bottle of wine listening to this over the holidays and presumably crying my eyes out.
Catharsis!
"Not As We"
Reborn and shivering
Spat out on new terrain
Unsure unconvincing
This faint and shaky hour
Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
I'm barely making sense for now
I'm faking it 'til I'm pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as i
And not as we
Gun shy and quivering
Timid without a hand
Feign brave with steel intent
little and hardly here
Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
with not much making sense just yet
I'm faking it til I'm pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as i
And not as we
Eyes wet toward
Wide open frayed
If God's taking bets
I pray He wants to lose
Day one day one start over again
Step one step one
I'm barely making sense just yet
I'm faking it til I'm pseudo making it
From scratch begin again but this time I as I
And not as we
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Songs to Dance To: Vanessa Williams
Cause I don't wanna miss out...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNl7BeEsVKw
I was standing at 7:15 waiting for my baby's car
Just then out stepped the driver of a limousine
And asked if I was going far
I said I've got my mind made up
I don't wanna leave him baby cause it's clear to me
That it's just to tough to find another lover like mine
With the right stuff
The right stuff baby
I don't wanna miss out on the right stuff
Ooh no with Mr. Right
Just Friday 'bout a week ago
This fellow called me on the phone
And said "I live in Paris, don't you want to go
I know you must be all alone"
Well, it'll take more than a fancy trip
Or a chauffeured limousine
Cause I ain't never seen no one
Who could give me love like this
The other fellows don't compare
To the right stuff
The right stuff baby
I don't wanna miss out on the right stuff
Ooh no with Mr. Right
Sing
He's the only to give me that lovin'
Cause next to him there is no other one
He's very sexy and oh so sweet
And he knocks me off my feet
Say it
I need the right stuff
I got to have the right stuff
I don't wanna miss out on the right stuff
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNl7BeEsVKw
I was standing at 7:15 waiting for my baby's car
Just then out stepped the driver of a limousine
And asked if I was going far
I said I've got my mind made up
I don't wanna leave him baby cause it's clear to me
That it's just to tough to find another lover like mine
With the right stuff
The right stuff baby
I don't wanna miss out on the right stuff
Ooh no with Mr. Right
Just Friday 'bout a week ago
This fellow called me on the phone
And said "I live in Paris, don't you want to go
I know you must be all alone"
Well, it'll take more than a fancy trip
Or a chauffeured limousine
Cause I ain't never seen no one
Who could give me love like this
The other fellows don't compare
To the right stuff
The right stuff baby
I don't wanna miss out on the right stuff
Ooh no with Mr. Right
Sing
He's the only to give me that lovin'
Cause next to him there is no other one
He's very sexy and oh so sweet
And he knocks me off my feet
Say it
I need the right stuff
I got to have the right stuff
I don't wanna miss out on the right stuff
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Songs to Dance To: Glee
Any song from Glee this season.
But especially LE JAZZ HOT, SWEET TRANSVESTITE, TEENAGE DREAM AND FORGET YOU.
http://www.gleethemusic.com/us/episode/substitute
But especially LE JAZZ HOT, SWEET TRANSVESTITE, TEENAGE DREAM AND FORGET YOU.
http://www.gleethemusic.com/us/episode/substitute
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