a sleeping beauty

It's funny to me how (and when) the inspiration to pump one of these out comes.  October as a whole was a pretty drab month in terms of me WANTING to write, but in reality it was actually a fantastic month that as usual ended too quickly.  Today is Halloween, and I find myself in a much different mind-set than I was in last year.  365 days ago I was settling in for the long months of winter ahead and day-dreaming about a boy I had just met.  Right now?  I'm half-assed packing (that will turn into feverishly packing in a little bit) for my caribbean cruise I leave for on Friday.  Winter is settling in, sure, but it seems like it is more of a welcome sight this year than in years past.

I'm not sure why that is but hey, I could fill a book with shit I'm not sure about.

I've always teetered on saying Halloween is my favorite holiday, because while I get into it pretty severely, Christmas is always right up there with it.  You can't really go nuts for Easter, and Valentines Day is always a dump unless you're in a relationship.  Thanksgiving is finished in a 24 hour period and St. Patrick's day just runs until you pass out.  But Halloween and Christmas extend beyond the days they inhabit and because of that, they are equals to me.

I tried to do as many "Halloweeny" things as I could this month, mostly to make October look somewhat appealing in my video project.  If it weren't for the cruise in November... then that month would be quite the bust I assure you.  The month started by joining @caitcd in the search for a perfect pumpkin.  We took her pooch Walter to an apple orchard/pumpkin patch in Darboy and spent the afternoon walking around and taking pictures (both dressed for the part of "Autumn Cutie," natch.)

The days rolled onward, eventually reaching a Friday night where a whole group of us took part in one of the many haunted houses that seem to continuously appear every fall.  This of course being the Burial Chamber, though nothing there is actually called "The Burial Chamber" anymore, so go figure that one out.  That night was admittedly a blast.  Haunted houses don't tend to scare me because I am too tall and when that occurs, the people can't really get into your face.  HOWEVER, there were a few scares that had me screaming like a girl.  @caitcd was flying through the place so I resigned to holding onto Mr. R (no twitter handle for him, so sorry) most of the night.  Partly because I couldn't see very well, partly because he let me, lol, and partly because eeeeeeevery now and then I play the damsel (or dudesel, whichever) in distress.  And I was buzzing on mini bottles of Bailey's, so... rockstar, I know.

The highlight of the evening was this gem (seen below) coming up to us and screaming and hoo-hawing because he was supposed to be an army guy.  @caitcd asked if we could get a picture.

Him - "Well SURE!  Choke yourself!"
Me - "Hu-wuh?"
Him - "I said choke yourself!"
::I reach my hands up to choke myself, confused::
Him - "With MY hands, fool!"
::I notice his hands and roll my eyes, obliging::

They aren't allowed to touch you, ya see?  He had girl hands anyway.

Then the focus back home at Parker Manor turned directly to my costume.  I think that in years past I've given a sort of vague outline to my mom as to what I want to look like and sorta... heaved costume bits at her to see the result.  This year we really went to town and I think the result spoke for itself.  But before the real Halloween escapades could fly, I was to attend the Masquerade at Ash&Ember Studios.  I supplied almost all of my Halloween decorations for the event, to assist in whatever way I could, and it was nice to know they were being used.  In a weird way.  While I would have loved to throw the fourth annual "Halloween Extravaganza" this year, it wasn't really in the cards.  I didn't have a location to host the party, I didn't have the funds to buy everything I would need for it (and still afford anything else,) and above all I just didn't have the time.

It sucked on the one hand but it was great on the other because for once I didn't have to put everything together myself and hope people showed up.  This time it would be ME getting to show up, on my own terms, and that was pretty rad.  For the Masquerade I had this great Venetian mask (long nose, etc) that fit great but when I took the little cardboard hang-tag off of it I realized how badly it dug into my forehead.  I'd have to wear it "up" most of the night so naturally, me being me, I took the additional opportunity to wear makeup.

The Masquerade was a great time, both due to the host Ryan and by the company I shared it with.  The silent reminder of my decorations EVERYWHERE made me think in my head "year four still happened," even if no one but me noticed.  I think next Halloween when "Year Five" blows the doors open it will be with a BANG! and a nod to this years costume.  For you see, each year I reference my costume from the year prior, and of course this would be no exception.

The fourth annual party was silent because the host was taking a nap.  And that brings us, my dear readers, to #18 on my list of Golden Things.  Yes, I just sneak-attacked you on this bitch, what-WHAT!

#18 A Sleeping Beauty; finally go Disney for Halloween.

Before you roll your eyes at me for using something as simple as a costume as one of my Golden Things, I'd like to state a fact for the record: I have thought about doing Disney severalseveralseveral times in the past.  From Ursula to Jessica Rabbit, to Gaston (pfft) and at one point Snow White.  For some reason or another I never went through with it.

Partly because being sweet as humble pie for Halloween doesn't interest me.

And while yes, you can argue that Hocus Pocus (Winifred Sanderson) is a Disney movie, and three Peter Pan costumes as a child were as well, I really mean Disney Princesses.  And what better way to recognize the legacy of cartoon royalty than to, shall we say... twist it?

There is an artist named Jeffrey Thomas who drew a series of portraits of the Disney Princesses as altered, "twisted" versions.  I suggest you google them because some of the pictures are pretty damn fantastic.  Belle sucks though... just saying.  The reason I settled on Princess Aurora, aka Sleeping Beauty, is because I could not shave my chest this year for Halloween.  With the cruise just a few days after I didn't want a) razor burn and b) the loss of my comfort shield (the fur vest, FYI.)

That and I thought she looked like a total badass.

Mom got the costume finished in a very short turnaround and in my opinion, it is the best yet.  Mainly because of that CORSET and how THIN it made me look!  Work it!  I reused the Babydoll wig from last year (sorry girl, RIP) that @markstyleme was then able to reshape into those iconic blonde bangs.  Behold, reader, my interpretation of the one that pricked her damn finger:

This was my ugly year and I stayed true to my word.  I do think it was also pretty magnificent, because that makeup fuckin' rocked any way you look at it.  I wasn't as tattered looking as the picture would have warranted but that was because I can always reuse these pieces and I didn't fancy chopping them up.

The night was a pretty fantastic one, starting at @markstyleme's home with him and @caitcd, detoured quickly back to Parker Manor because I forgot my boobs at home, and then on to Wrightstown for the house party my old neighbors were throwing.  From there we ventured to downtown Appleton, stopping at a few bars along the main strip.  I was nervous as shit because being in drag on the "straight" end of the avenue seemed like a bad idea, even on Halloween.  To my surprise it was mostly decent, with several people commenting and stopping to take pictures of us.

We ended it all at Raven's, just in time for the costume contest to start.  I took a deep breath and strolled on up to the stage, remembering how last year I took a chance on a character (Babydoll) from a movie few people saw (Suckerpunch) and LOST miserably.  Would this year be different?  I wasn't the "normal" version of Aurora; who would get it?

Well no one would get it, lol, and I still lost, HOWEVER I made it back up to the stage as a finalist and that was all I needed to happen.  It didn't matter if I won or not, I still did well enough to hit top five.  And for the record, that fat bitch in the red hood and whoever it was in the wolf mask that stole second place?  Go fuck yourselves; my costume kicked both of your asses and will continue to do so any day of the way, and as I said that night, a Disney Princess ain't got shit to prove.

So now I'm way behind on packing and the night is drawing to a close.  Another Halloween come and gone, this one somehow feeling so much less like Halloween than any before.  I think that has to do with living all the way out here with no trick-or-treaters, or maybe it's because I did SO much Halloween stuff that I am pooped out from it.  I did also work today, which was the first time that happened in a good eight years on this o-holiest of days, so that bit the shit-bullet as well.

I'd like to take a quick peak at what next year will hold, if there is a fantastic party or a first-place award in my hands, if I do an outfit that is so over-the-top that I won't be able to top it again or if I do the unthinkable and actually go as a dude (only if I have my abs by then, natch.)  Who knows?  I know it'll be a little bit more on my own terms than the last two have been, that's for sure.  I do throw a mean party after all (c;

Goodnight for now, gang.  It was a great season all-in-all and now I look forward to that day two months from now where I wrap up the year and get ready to premier my movie for your wondering eyes.  Stay tuned, the story only gets better!  See you in two weeks, but in the mean-time, enjoy watching that dumb bitch @markstyleme get yelled at by me.  Turn the volume up; it's hysterical.

second iteration

Well, well, well, el pollo has come home to roost.  And look where we found ourselves; today is the one year anniversary of my blog!  Hooray!  I love anniversaries, of any sort.  Really and truly, I do.  I will say they were better when I had someone to share them with, but those were a certain kind of anniversary and not the kind to which this entails.  This sort of anniversary, to me, is more along the "milestone" line than anything else.  And everyone loves a good milestone!

I don't have SO much to write tonight, but maybe a sorta off-the-wall reflection as to where I am this year compared to last would suffice.  I'm writing this with Modern Family blaring in the background so I'm sure I'll be attacking this thing like an ADD afflicted five year old.

Let's see here, one year ago... what was I doing?  Well by all accounts, at this moment I was watching the series premiere of American Horror Story on FX.  I have this great service I subscribe to called "Timehop," and it sends you your Facebook status updates from a year ago every morning in an e-mail.  And if you update with the sweaty, feverish intensity of a fat girl writing her first love letter like I do, it's a nifty service to have.  Unless it reminds you about something shitty, in which case it isn't fun but a mocking point of view from "Timehope Abe" and his cruel words of reminder.  Son of a bitch.

I mused that October 10th, 2011, about what this blog would entail.  My thoughts and ramblings, neither positive every step of the way nor negative to counteract it.  Just me being me, and as has happened in the past, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.  That's always a pleasing result (c:  Sometimes I do look back on old blogs and wish they could always be funny; those tend to be the more enjoyable ones.  Then again, miserable ones may be just as good and you all simply enjoy reveling in my oh-so-deep emotions.  The blog-views don't lie on that logic, haha.

I'm pleased that I kept up with this thing.  I've started blogs in the past on other social sites and they haven't really amounted to much.  I think a big part of what keeps me going is that I can see people are reading these.  Some of you talk to me about them, and some of you talk to each other about them.  That part is super cool, to be honest.  I've always wanted to be in the vernacular of the masses, never thought I would have to do it on my own terms and through my words.  But what else would a self-proclaimed author do?  This is my 39th blog in 365 days... maybe next October I'll have hit 100.  That would mean this next year would have to be pretty fuckin' rad; anybody up for the challenge?

A lot has changed in a year though, that part is for certain.  I'm not pining for the same guy anymore, the one that I would end up writing a blog about in roughly a week that dealt with admiring someone from afar.  I'm not working at the same job and whining about my pay or things being unfair.  No more busted car, no more feelings of resentment toward the dreaded-ex for what happened.  I guess you could say I'm a happier person all around, and that's rarely a bad thing.  I don't know WHEN it would be a bad thing... but that's just something people say, right?

Tonight I have been researching the final bits I need for my Halloween costume; I bought the contacts for it and they should be here in about a week and a half.  I've got almost three weeks to the day until I depart for my cruise, but before that I have another laser treatment on ye old back.  Bleh.  Aside from that all there are a few big events coming in the next few months, some possibly bigger than others, and of course there is the end of the year and the premier of my video project as well.  All of these THINGS you guys have to look forward to!

So what does the second iteration of the blog look like?  I don't know if you're asking that, but if you are, I'll tell you.  It looks a lot like this... but it also is going to look a little different.  Expect to see a lot more dedication to my book, because by the time the third iteration rolls around, I'd like to be  a published author.  And wouldn't THAT just be a fantastic prophecy to become self-fulfilling?  Yeah, I thought so too.

So excited I could just spit.

For now I'll sit back and pet my cats that are fighting on the bed behind me, and then I'll take a shower and go to bed so as to be at work by seven am tomorrow.  Not the most thrilling blog in the world today but hey, if it was, I wouldn't have been true to my words from a year ago.  Happy anniversary to me!

Enjoy some Muse before you skadootch, because I still can't get this song OR the video out of my head after a month (c:

the reality of dating

I think if you gathered every gay man on the planet up and asked him what his ideal dude would be, he'd have roughly the same answer.  Now, that isn't a thought that is 100% certain, nor is it a fact that you could sit down and write a thesis on; just an opinion.  It is my own, it is that of my friends, and it is what seems to fit the mold.  What kind of guy do I like?  A man.  A man's man.

That's about as pure and simple as it gets.

Now I don't want to alienate anyone with this blog, but as I begin what will presumably be a long and arduous process of dating, I begin to also understand the complexities that comes from it.  I.E., how fucking picky I really am and how big of a nightmare this is going to probably become.  I know you can't expect to find "love" while you're dreading the mere prospect of it, but what else am I supposed to do?  I've been on my share of bad dates.  I've had my fair share of crummy circumstances.  And as I sit and reminisce on them, I thought it'd be fun to take you along on a couple of my historically bad dates.  Three to be precise.

I'll start with the most tame, and also the most recent.  It was a couple weeks ago and one that I only told a few people about.  I suppose it wasn't technically a date as it was more of a "hey, let's hang out" type of thing.  And in hindsight this story isn't as particularly funny as I thought it was but I already started writing it and now I can't stop.  We'll call him Ted.  Ted and I started talking about a year ago through a chatting service on our phones, and at first I thought he was a nice guy and fairly good looking.  Then he said he didn't want to keep texting, he wanted to talk to me on the phone.  When I asked why, it was because he wanted to make sure I didn't have, and I quote "a gay-ass pussy voice."

Wow!  Charm the pants right off of me!

So he got a quick block because I didn't feel I needed to keep talking to someone like that, even if all I had to do was prove my voice wasn't gay-ass or pussy-esque.

It's NOT like that.

I mean come on... it's not like that... right?

Flash forward a year and I am talking to Ted again but not realizing it's him.  THIS time, thanks in large part to one of my "multiples" pictures from earlier this summer where I look exceptionally brawny, he says we should hang out to get to know each other.  Not a date though.  I aquiesce to his request and go to dinner with him.  All I can say is that first impressions really are correct, because he was every bit as much of an asshole as I remembered.  Rude, condescending, crass, racist, sexist, homophobic (yeah, really.)  I'm sure I'm not the shining example of a perfect guy but this one... wow.  I told @markstyleme that if that is what a man's man is, then count me out.  Anyway, that was that one.  Moving along.

When I was still in high school and hiding my "secret identity" from my parents, I went on a date with a guy that lived in Milwaukee.  His name was Ryan.  We met on hotornot.com (hahaha... true story) and decided to meet for coffee on some random week night.  The date was ok, nothing great.  There was also no kiss because I was too scared to do anything like that by ANY means.  So a few days later Ryan decides to come back and go on ANOTHER date, this one having him tag along to the spring musical at my high school on a Saturday. We went, had a decent enough time, but I started noticing something about his breath.

Namely how bad it was.

I had to drive him back to the mall after the show because that was where he had parked his car, and then he pulled the moves.  Lots of kissing.  Kissing that gave way to just how awful his breath was.  After a little while he pulled away and asked when we could go out again and I said point blank that we couldn't.  He had this sort of hurt look on his face and asked if we could make out a little more.  I remember looking at the clock in the Jeep and thinking "I have to get to Sara's house for dinner" because that was the plan, but I let him kiss me anyway.  He spent a lot of time on my neck.  A few minutes later he slid something behind my ear and got out of the car in the rain and ran to his.  I reached behind my ear and pulled out a rolled up $10 bill.

What the FUCK?!

I remember being a little angry, and then laughing about it.  I told everyone at Sara's about it and then we used the $10 to buy supplies for spaghetti.  It was at the grocery store that everyone pointed out to me the HUGE hickey he left on my neck; the worst part was that I was taking a senior trip two days later to New York City with a bunch of classmates.  His new nickname was created that night; Poo-Poo Breath Ryan.  Oddly enough he would wind up being a close friend of another friend of mine.  That's also the inside-scoop on the "$10" story that sometimes still circulates with select individuals and myself.

Now we come to the worst date.  Or weirdest.  Or both, I don't know.

I think his name was Kyle.  It may have been Zach, but we'll go with Kyle.  This was in the summer fo 2006.  Randomly on Myspace (you heard me right) one day, I got a message from this guy named Kyle.  A faint memory placed him at a club called The West I had gone to when I was 18 (the West was the only place I could get into because they had a dry section for 18+.)  So he and I got to talking and I remembered him more and more, namely that there had always been an attraction.  Dim lights, thumping music, you know how it goes.

So we agree to go on a date.  It was August and I told him that I just didn't want to do anything outside because it was muggier than shit and (honestly) I was growing my hair out and it looked frightening when not in an air-controlled environment.  And I of course wanted to look my best for the date.  He thought it was a good idea and agreed he wouldn't plan for anything that involved the outdoors.

Our meeting place was at Barnes&Noble and immediately I thought to myself when I saw him "well... pictures did too much justice."  There was just something off about him... the way you would see the runt of a litter and know it hadn't been the award winning sperm but maybe the 8th runner up.  We said our hellos and he told me he wanted to take me to Stuc's for dinner, which is a pizza place in Appleton.  I had never been there before so I said sure and offered to drive since he had come down from Green Bay.  As we are walking to the car, I smell something funny but I'm not sure what it is.  We get to the Jeep and climb in and immediately I realize "oh shit, this guy isn't wearing deodorant."  If he was, he should have put on an extra swipe of Ladies Speed-Stick because he still stunk to high heaven.

I rolled the windows down a crack and sped to the restaurant, where we quickly got a seat and I was able to lean away from him as much as I could.  It takes a lot to get to me but it was the most offensive smell I've ever encountered in such close proximity.  We get our sodas and keep talking and admittedly, the conversation is good.  He gestures a lot with his hands and I'm watching them because I notice there is something else somehow askew.  Finally he pauses to breathe and looks out the window, resting his hands on the table top.   And I see it.

Three of his fingers don't have nails.  They don't have nails AT ALL.  Not like "Oooh, ouch, you bit your nails down too far."  THEY DIDN'T EXIST!  His thumb had a sliver of a nail on it, like it was the far edge of a nail, and that was it.  I was absolutely horrified, lol, and I remember kind of panicking and looking around the room to see if everyone else was seeing this.  Of course no one was there to witness the deformity so I kept my mouth shut and finished the meal when it came.

Eventually dinner was over and we continued the date, which coincidentally involved playing mini-golf... outside... in the sweltering humidity like I said I wanted to avoid.  But by that point he had no points in my book and didn't look to be attaining any either.  After that he wanted to watch a movie at my house and I was too nice to say "not a shot in hell ya mutant!" so we went back to my parents and watched Spider-Man 2 in my bedroom.  After the movie was over I drove him all the way back across town to Barnes&Noble and would only agree to a farewell hug.  As the days after went on, we kept talking and I thought that maybe I had been too harsh in my judgement.

Wait, I mean... did I say judgmental?  Like anyone would EVER think that of me.

About a week later I got out of work one sunny afternoon and got in the Jeep and smelled something absolutely and revoltingly rank.  I looked in the backseat, seeing nothing.  So I drove home with the windows down, not sure what it was.  When I got home I looked again and almost threw up in my mouth; his left-over pizza from the restaurant was still in the car, and there were maggots on it.  I immediately threw it away and washed my hands several times, recoiling in heebie-jeebies from the sight.  Eventually I checked my computer to see that he had sent me a survey on MySpace that he had already filled out so helpfully.  Only one thing in that entire survey caught my eye:

Tell me one thing most people don't know about you: I was born with eleven fingers and twelve toes.

I said FUCK IT and never talked to him again; and that's the vain nature of me being me!  At 20 years old it was, at least.

So in the end I like that every bad date led to a great memory.  Maybe at the time it was nothing more than a case of me rolling my eyes and mostly acting like a bitch, but they were stories that I told over and over to people because they always got a good laugh.  I'm sure there have been several other bad dates.  I know there have been, actually, but right now they aren't really coming to me like I thought they would.  I suppose bad dates should stay in the past, yes?  Expect for 'ol fingernails there.  That one I'll NEVER forget.

But with the bad comes sweet, and like Jason Lee said in Vanilla Sky, "the sweet, can never be as sweet, without the sour."  I'm still not all about "love" yet.  As much as I'd like to find that perfect man and get swept off my feet, I'm too focused on myself right now to have room for anyone else.  I realize as I say that how conceited it makes me sound but I don't mean it that way at all.  With the end of the year looming, along with the reality of how far I have to go to finish not only the 26 Things but also the movie that accompanies them, where do I have the time for a budding relationship?  I figured if I could make it through a solid year without dating anyone I'd be ready when the year was up.

One of the 26 Things was not "#(insert-number-here) Re-entering the Stratosphere; fall in love again."  I would never be so bold as to think I could PLAN on falling in love, let alone have it on my list.  After all, I've been in love so it wouldn't really count as something I had never done before.  Still, I'll entertain the thought and keep my eyes set on the goal of New Years Day and this year being completed like a long-in-gestation homework assignment.  Only it's one that I gave myself... and really, is there any better kind?

Until then I'm happy and single and enjoying the memory of shitty dates and somewhat looking forward to the new memories of more shitty ones.  Like that prick Ted.  I'm sure "the one" is out there, but for now he's happy in his own world and I in mine.  Which makes it sound like he'd be unhappy in mine, lol, but we can't win all the time!  Look for another post on the 10th; it's a retrospective for my one year anniversary of the blog (c: