What. Do. I. Make. Of. THIS?

a+/?

The development of this essay (your ideas) is excellent.
Your reasoning in analytical thesis are of a high order.
It is unusual for someone who has developed a high
level thinking skill to have a problem punctuating sentences.

Here we go again. That was on the front of my essay that I wrote in class yesterday in less than 50 minutes. When I got to class today my teacher said, "I haven't officially graded these papers, but I gave them a check, check minus or check plus. I have put some question marks on the papers for people who I feel may not grasp the issues we will be covering."

As she said this her eyes lingered on me. I knew something was up. The paper was on the topic, "Pick an part of your life that you feel helped develop yourself as an individual." I decided to write about my being held back and how it impeded my social skills and has therefore created what you read before you.

Now this is an English 2 class, but this woman is a smart, I can tell. If it were some boring teacher I wouldn't have been so effected. I never expected a comment like that. This woman is a what I hope to achieve when I'm older. Powder white hair, always wears lose fitting shirts because she doesn't wear a bra. She keeps herself up to date on technology, runs websites and other such things. I google'd her and found out that she won 7.5 million dollars (not for herself) when she brought a law suit to the CUNY system in the 70s dealing with their discrimination and fair treatment for female teachers.

I may not go to a prestigious school like NYU or Columbia where I pay up the nose, but CUNY actually has some pretty awesome teachers.

Meanwhile.

She both gave me a great backhanded compliment, that on cue has shaken me. Granted I never proof read in class essays. (Do I REALLY proof read anything?) So that was ultimately my fault. She continued that she noticed I left early. But, if it is a persistent problem I should meet with her to "eliminate is from your writing." I'm touched and had to laugh out loud the moment I read this comment.

You are an idiot savant.

Oh the ghosts of my past are coming back at me again this evening. Though I am hardly upset anymore. I'd rather have a high level of thinking and horrible punctuation, than be a great (technical) writer with no original thought.

You said it's unusual for someone of a high level of thinking to have problems punctuating sentences?

Hello, how do you do.

As Tom Jones once said, "It's not unusual..." Now you can say it too!

Iguana Has a Passport

Though the photo is ugly and it took 12 weeks. I do indeed have a passport now...Let's take a moment and think about that. I now have access to other countries...like Mexico and Canada!Reading today, who knew that Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy and I had so much in common as far as anxiety goes? Well she was a Kennedy and their family seems to be filled with pain and strife, so I am not REALLY surprised (though she did marry into the family...I guess it was contagious then).

So what am I going to do with my passport you ask? I'm going to China. Yes. I lie to you not. I don't wish to discuss it right now. I will in all due time, trust me.

Moving along though, I have some things to discuss...wait I must put on my glasses first.

Men don't make passes, to girls who wear glasses.

I thought it time that I finally have a entry with no REAL purpose. I do have one tale to tell...

Stupid thing I shouldn't do #345: Go on dates stoned.

The Photographer and I spent last Friday night together. He is a stoner, I suppose that's the proper phrasing? He's a pothead. There's something I find very enduring about a gay man who smokes pot. I don't know what it is. It's so calming to me. I enjoy it. What I don't enjoy is myself stoned with them. I become very paranoid, (unless I feel comfortable with the people I'm with) but on a date of any sort that's not the case.

I took two hits and lost myself instantly. I get quiet and very introverted. He was the one who offered so he knew what he was getting himself into. And didn't seem to mind. I would go on with the night, but it was all a blur.

We went to a bar, what seemed like miles away. Every street corner, the area changed. From safe, to sketchy, to creepy, etc, etc. It was terrifying. I was almost tempted to flee. And for those of you who truly know me, I am know to randomly run away in stoned moments...

Moving along, we got to the bar and I just remember freaking out (inside my head). It was so loud and busy. He seemed okay. But there were times I would say things and his reaction I could not read. It frightened me more. Yet I didn't feel unsafe from him.

I remember he punched me at one street cause he saw a punch buggy. It may have been the highness, but I wanted to burst into tears.

Then when we got to the bar and sat out in the garden. I'd never felt so watched by everyone in my life. They said the garden would close at 11, and it was 10:42. I was perplexed as to why we were sitting outside when had less than 20 minutes. My mind kept racing the entire time.

We ate something. I remember the taste of bacon, but I can't tell you what I ate. I ate three of them. He drank two beers and questioned why we walked all the way to a bar when I wouldn't drink. All I could do was literally mumble. I have never felt so inaudible in my life.

It was a strange date. Yet, I wouldn't have changed it for anything.

It didn't help that I was very tired from the week. So eating and smoking left me very tired. This is my life. I can't help it sometimes.

So You Think You Know Sondheim

After reading the latest Seth Rudetsky Playbill article I sent my friend this quote about Donna Murphy as she prepared for her Tony award winning role:

We talked about her playing Fosca in the Passion workshop and how she worked all the time to create the character. It was great for the audience, but her husband was like "Honey, it's a reading. I don't want to have breakfast with Fosca. She's a downer!"

I followed it up with:

I can just see Donna sitting at the table with a fake mole on her face asking if he could please pass the marmalade and then freaking out when his hand grazed hers.

To which his responses were:

"thank you for passing me the cereal. the taste of corn flakes is a great... mystery to me."

and

to the tune of Loving You:

"Drinking juice is not a choice, it's who I am..."

That ladies and gentlemen is one of my BEST friends. I love it! I never laughed so much in my life.

Iguana's Back to his Senses

(A new picture of Anita Morris and Ellen Greene from the Legendary Rachael Lily Rosenbloom (And Don't You Ever Forget It))
Well, here we are again. I sound like a psychopath. It was early morning and I was headed to school. The weekend was littered with fun and "not fun."

A small note: The Gentleman Caller has officially become a Gentleman as he has reached 30 today. An age I can't even fathom for myself. So kudos to him for getting that far in life!

Back to my life though.

I saw shows, I laughed and giggled like a girl. I bought my fourth version of Les Mis, the 10th Anniversary version. Why? Because it was 16 dollars are Virgin records.

The Drowsy Chaperone set me into tears practically. It was a wonderful show and The Man in the Chair is the perfect role for me. It was brilliant for Bob Martin to write this show, he stars, but does nothing. Simply amazing. Seeing my life fictionalized though, to a somewhat satirical view was a little shaking to me. I have never felt this way after seeing a show, but that role is my dream role. It's literally the role I was born to play. I felt somewhat saddened that Bob Martin had beat me to it. Now I'm just inspired to match it, that or year from now revive the show (since it's a Valentine) and play that role someday.

Now onto real issues...Summer is over, another year of school has begun. My "senior" year, yet I still have some more years to go. I'm trying to swallow it all with pride. I made the choice to transfer and I knew I'd be behind. So I'm not behind yet. This is my final year. So after this year things will get bumpy.

I went to dinner by myself yesterday, or I attempted to. I have a fear of doing things like that alone. I am becoming more like Edie Beale EVERY day now. But we'll discuss that another day.

I went to this place I have been dying to go to for weeks. I got there and told both the waitresses I was waiting for an open seat for one. They said it would just be a moment. I stood outside cause the restaurant was small and crowded with people. I waited patiently for say five to ten minutes.

As I watched a moderately cute man walk into the restaurant and approach the waitress and with his hand me pointed out one finger. In a moment she waved her arm showing him a table that had become open apparently. I didn't see it happen, as no one left the establishment. I stood there surprised and feeling completely ignored and shocked. Why did I go unnoticed? What did I do wrong?

I suddenly felt very embarrassed and upset. I knew it was a bad idea to want to celebrate the final day of summer by myself. I had got the nerve to do it and this is what happened. I was wholly unnoticed.

I spoke out loud and clear and calmly stated to no one, "Fuck you stupid English bitches...I was waiting for a table...I'll eat here another day..." It was the most repressed anger I'd ever released. I walked up the now darkened streets and began to tear up. I felt so alone and ignored.

Another summer had escaped me...another fall had begun. Where was it going?

Then tonight, as I watched the moon, suddenly I realized why I was acting so wildly and insane in my emotions...

Last Note: Does it seem wildly crazy that I am talking to a person I could possibly get along with wonderfully. We haven't met yet, just chatted through emails. Upon revealing that my tattoo is of Anita Morris. His response was:

brilliant., though Loved the revival of Nine. Jane Krakowski was amazing.

And upon hearing that, I hinted that saying that isn't wise to say. I made a clever comparison by saying, "You don't tell Patti LuPone that you liked Madonna in Evita more..." Thinking he'd get the hint.

I even went as far as to say, "I'm being somewhat of a snob...I have a woman tattooed on my arm who I Idolize (notice the intentionally capitalizing of Idol)." And all his response is...

i mean on that one there's really no competition.  i adore patti and won't
have a word said against 
her.  goodnight

Now I will give him the references to Masterclass and the fact he agrees. But, he is a theater fan like myself. However, the fact he didn't catch on and say anything about Anita Morris filled me with a lot of anger. He wants to meet up and after that small episode I know nothing good can come from him...

Pay credit where credit is due, YOU ASSHOLE! HE ROLLED AROUND UNGRACEFULLY IN A BED SHEET! YOU ONLY LIKE IT BECAUSE WE LIVE IN A WORLD NOWADAYS WHERE CHEAP THRILLS KEEP OUR ATTENTION!! JANE IS A HACK AND ALL I HAVE TO SAY IS ANITA MORRIS NEVER HAD TO SLUM AND DO TERMINIX COMMERCIALS TO PAY THE BILLS! AND I WON'T FORGIVE YOU FOR PASSING ON XANADU TOO!!!

Does that make me an awful person?

STUPID BITCH

Iguana Is Distracted

I've been trying to make an entry for several days now, but I find myself utterly distracted. It's slightly upsetting to me. I start school today, to which I will be heading towards in several minutes.

I'm on the whole completely unexcited about school. I returned back early to update my ID card and pick up some books only to find myself shuddering for this day. I feel the upward climb is never going to end. The science classes I still need to take, though I'm never going to do anything with it. Both Biology and Chemistry. Then these stupid "upper tier" classes. Which I can't take until I take all 10,000,000 lower tier classes. OY.

Deep breath. We're on a carousel.

I feel chained to my life, it controls me. I am filled with so much unhappiness and the things I have done to myself in that unhappiness may already have gone too far.

Well it's time for school. Smile on.

Iguana Is Making this House a Home

HURRAH! I just assembled my first piece of furniture. A cheap 3-Shelf bookcase from Target! It was much more complicated than I anticipated. Then again, I rarely assemble anything. So when it said, "No Tools" necessary. I was all happy. But I realized that without tools I have just my hands.

I built it though, and I moved all my books onto the shelves. I feel so special and warm inside. It's my first piece of furniture (though it will no doubt be replaced as life goes on) that allows me to feel like I am living in a home. I now have all my books on display for the world (and the rare guests I have) to see. There's something so nice about seeing them though. I need to put something on the top, perhaps a plant or something.

One step at a time...one step at a time.

In other news. Work is work, school is starting soon. What else is new? School should be interesting. Starting it in a place that I am stable at. Unlike last year, where a month or so in, I will get kicked out of my apartment...etc. But there's still time for disasters to happen. I don't think anything will happen though, and that makes me happy.


This weekend is a theatre weekend (what weekend isn't nowadays?) On Saturday I am seeing Iphigenia 2.0 at the Signature Theater. I really have no idea what the expect, it's probably going to be rather strange. However, Signature is doing Charles Mee as their resident playwright. What I find fascinating about him is all his plays are open source and can be used by anyone (all his work can be read on his website too). It's really interesting. So I can't wait for that, should be thrilling. It's written in verse, not prose. OOOOOHHHHH!


Then on Sunday I am FINALLY seeing The Drowsy Chaperone. I know I was slow to see it but I had some good reasons. First, it's at the Marriott Marquis theater, and they don't do rush or TDF. You have to buy 25 dollar tickets, which are basically the last row. I was never in a rush to see it, when there were so many other shows to see. I know the cast has been replaced and all that, but it doesn't bother me really. I mean Joanne Worley is in it, and she's a HOOT! And the only person I can remember from A Chorus Line (Mari Davi) has taken over for Sutton Foster and I loved her voice and think she's much better looking. So I won't mind.

The second reason is because of the character called "The Man in the Chair." He is the narrator and I have heard all year long, since it's been out that I AM HIM. He's an old queen, who loves show tunes and loves to just talk about them now stop. I'm slightly terrified that I will be sitting there relating to much to this man. Well, there will be more when the time comes. I know I'm crazy, so it shouldn't surprise me.

Time for work, many another entry later if it's slow (which I doubt!)

Oh and I'm getting to see one of my best friends, who has finally moved down to the city. I'm so proud of her!

Iguana's Strange Habits

Since it's been a while, I will give you a more normal entry for tonight. I suppose it's nice to seem normal every now and then. This weekend, other than the CRAZY date, was mild.

I met with the Gentleman Caller, who is what Cats was to Broadway in the 80s and 90s (now and forever). We saw Transformers, which I thought was the longest piece of crap ever. Hanging with him was very nice though. I told him about The Cyclist and all that happened. I told him how The Cyclist almost became the new GC in my life (yes I told this to him) and that put him into a frenzy. I didn't mean he was getting a new title or his title.

What I intended to tell him is the Cyclist is replacing the role in a way. Tugging on heart strings, if you get my drift. But I must let it be known that The GC always has had a special place in my life and to get rid of him would probably destroy me a little. It is strange, but I haven't had this feeling for anyone in a while. I've become good friends with him, and we get along very well.

Then in the bedroom it always seems to be very comfortable and fun. Yet we can openly talk about other exploitations we've done, I'd say about 80% comfortably. He probably has gotten used to seeing my eyes narrow or hearing the slight grind of my teeth when he will talk about someone he's fooled around with. But, I can take it.

Is this what it's like to be married in New York City?

Last night, we went to the movie, dinner and a bar. I slept over his house. How oddly comfortable is that? Waking up with him is always funny to me, he reverts back to a young child with this voice and actions he makes. Other than that he is very mature at all times..well not always, but his manner is.

Then later today I saw the newest version of Forbidden Broadway...for the first time, off-Broadway! Very funny, their new stuff is very, very funny. Especially the Grey Gardens skit, I died laughing. Their so on top of their shit, it's so admirable. For Spamalot they sang one of the songs exactly as it was, making a point that Spamalot completely copied the idea from Forbidden Broadway.

I ended up taking The Cyclist, which turned out to be okay. I mentioned this to the GC and he said he'd have loved to have come with me. Which shocked me seeing as he never sees shows as far as I know. I need to work on inviting him to something with me. The Cyclist wanted to return home with him afterwards, but I wasn't exactly in that mood again. After the date and such. Craig, I think I'm ready to make love to you...AHHH!!! We hung out for a bit afterwards. It was the usual. Him ending the conversation telling me I was the strangest person he'd ever met.

It was in that moment, I knew I would destroy his life. But, not just yet.

After I left the Cyclist, I promptly walked five or six blocks where I met up with another man. I know you'll laugh. This is the man I mentioned last Sunday who lives near by. We shall call him The Photographer.

He is a sweet man, we went to dinner and had dumplings filled with soup. Some of the best things I have ever eaten. He's quiet and I don't know what attraction is there exactly. I think deep down he's as eccentric as me. He probably just fancies me because he's older and loves the fact that I'm young. It's how it always is.

Side Note: You know when you have friends. There was my one friend who treated me life his boyfriend. You may recall him. He was ideal to date, but I felt no attraction whatsoever.

Excuse me while I have a Judy Garland moment...

He's telling me about the guy he's met. It's one of those moments when you should be happy. Then you see a picture of the guy and he's even hotter than you expected. And you are even happier for them. You tell them congrats and how lucky they are to have found someone in this city, only after living here for two WHOLE months.

Oh what's that I feel...I'm jabbing my hand with my house keys. Dear me.

The vision of him taking care of me when I die has suddenly faded and is replaced with me alone, in a room. While he's on vacation with this guy.

And the nervous breakdown commences:

I guess when you met me it was just one of those things...one of those CRAZY THINGS!

But don't, don't, don't, don't you ever bet me, don't you bet me.

Cause I'm gonna be true, gonna be true!

If you let me, if you let me, let me, let me, let me...
Nervous breakdown finished...

It's okay, I am happy for him. I am happy.

Forget your troubles come on get happy...

Moving along, moving along...

I've lost my thought, I think it's time to end this.

Don't know what happened...it's ALL A CRAZY GAME!!! NO MORE THAT ALL TIME THRILL, FOR YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH THE MILL!! AND NEVER A NEW LOVE WILL BE THE SAME...

28 Is the Oddest Number

God save me when I turn 28 years old. For I am convinced that is the year that insanity will truly hit me. Why do I feel this, because well others have show clear signs of irrational thinking at 28. Please read my previous entry if you don't believe me.

What are the chances of meeting two absolutely nuts 28 year olds in less than four days? Slim right? What are the chances that these two encounters would be so bizarre that they are so different that it clearly proves that when you turn 28 you turn into a a psycho? Never!

Last night I met a guy who I'd been communicating with for a few weeks about meeting up for a date. A serious date too. Some may think I mix up the meaning of date, and should use other phrases like, "Fuck fest," but if I do then let me call it what I chose to. But, I was lead into this thinking it would be a date.

The guy had come off with the simplest of intentions. He wanted to meet, talk for hours, cuddle and make me breakfast in the morning. It seemed sincere through our conversations that he may have had nice intentions.

A side note: Maybe I am just easy. Maybe I give it up to quickly. I wish I didn't sometimes, but it's what I do. I'm not always happy with myself, but when the guy has good intentions in the beginning and suddenly his motivation switches and you catch on you're sort of lost in what to do. But I do think I often handle myself pretty well.

We met up and he was as he was. We got supplies for breakfast and had a quick bite to eat. We returned to my place and started to chat. This is where it got odd. He kissed me, whatever that's fine and we started to make out, it's still fine. Then he progressively got a touch more pushy. It's a first date. A REAL first date. I'm sorry, but if you wish to persure an actual relationship with me I would like it if you followed through with your story.

He wanted to have sex and honestly I wasn't ready for this kind of treatment again in the same week. I actually took him up on his offer to pass up sex and we went to sleep.

Yes, I let him spent the night. He had a long trip and I figured whatever.

Side Note: Someone once told me that to have someone sleep in your bed is such a relaxing thing. Even if you just are sharing a bed. To have someone to cuddle up to melts away all the bullshit the day brought on. I don't necessarily agree with them.

It was around 5 am I guess that he I awoke half asleep with him feeling me up. I resisted the urge to punch him in the face. I need to work on my no bullshit skills. I was sleepy and knew he was just coping a feel. I allowed it, then turned over so my crotch was out of reach.

At 7 am he reached a new low. I woke up and he was kissing my neck and lying on top of me. I had sudden flashbacks of my childhood, but that's another story. I was really tired and actually was asleep for most of it. In my mind I knew that he's not coming back to my place ever. But what really disturbed me was when he woke me up by saying...

"I think I'm ready to make love to you now."

...
...
...
...
...

"No." I responded.

Sir, I feel that you do not have the best intentions for my daughter.

First...make love? Really? Are we serious here? UGH. This guys game was also so transparent. Except he really tried to milk it.

Second...You're waking me up at 7 am. I know morning sex can be hot, but only when you're in my confidence. Honestly.

I slept in longer and I don't know what he did, he took a shower and invited me. I politely said I'm still tired. He made me breakfast, which can't redeem the stunts he pulled.

Finally I got him out of my apartment. Said goodbye and let out a scream and started to claw at my face out of spite.

I went to the gym and cried in the sauna until some man found me and treated me like the prince I wished to be...

That is a joke, truthfully. I am not that bad yet, honestly.

Iguana's Coming to Jesus Moment

So the Cyclist rode me like a bicycle...for two hours straight. Without a single break...Seriously.

That concludes the entire story of the Cyclist and I. That's all. It's not surprising really. I knew it would end in sex. It had to. It had been building up to it. I am still however analyzing how we both kept going for two hours straight.

I am putting my money on that it was some sort of act of God. That tension and anticipation had two ways of going. Into something horribly awful or something incredibly amazing. Unfortunately, I am sure I will someday forget it.

Yesterday, after it all happened. I was a little manic. I was going to write this whole entry about it as I often do. But then I thought, "He's really not worth it anymore." Awful right? He's a character, this Cyclist is. He kept me entertained for a couple of weeks with his banter. When it came time for the sex he actually "gave me a choice" to say no. I almost did. Then I thought:

This story needs an ending.

And thus it ended in the way it was meant to end. Like a prophecy...a pathetic one. And though it was two hours long of non-stop debauchery, which is impressive I do admit. And I could gloat, and I shall in just a moment, this whole act couldn't have been more scripted to me.

He knew we would have sex, I knew we would have sex. A couple of weeks ago, I was riding on the train with two close personal friends. In this city my friends and I have slept with a great deal of people. And when I was looking at the Cyclist's Myspace friends, I noticed one of my friends was on his list. It came out that they had had sex earlier that week. We joked about his personality and my friend goes, "Oh I can't wait for you to sleep with him so you can understand..."

In that moment the story was written.

The Cyclist felt it was his doing. He had succeeded in his seduction attempt. He can now add me to this list of people he has slept with (he really keeps one). And though he did accomplish his goal, it really was my choice. Why let it go unknown how it would've been...

My big mistake, reeling you in...

I made one small error though, I gave it my all. I put 110% into this one. I had to, I had something to prove. The entire night I was nervous, we smoked pot and that intensified the nervousness. He uses his ego and intelligence to intimidate, then wonders why people like me are nervous around him. I was very outward with my nervousness...it lowers people's defenses. It doesn't always mean I'm truly terrified of the situation. It means I have my guard up higher, so you let yours down more.

I want to be evil.

The pot complicated it slightly, it makes things more confusing, so I really came across as a wreck to him, probably. That was until the sex happened. Apparently, and now I shall gloat, I was in his words phenomenal, amazing and incredible.

I can say, yes I probably was good, but I can't say I necessarily believe his bullshit.

Boys and girls, here's what you learn when you do your homework.

My friend told me he is a big talker during sex. Now not dirty talk, but his reassuring talk. His sweet nothings. His BULLSHIT. Learning and knowing that just negated everything. It made the "memorable" experience all the more forgettable. And if you're going to do something like that, don't do it all the time. We all have things we do during sex, of course we do, but something like that just seems so artificial.

I'm sorry, I have sex with people who mean it, not people who have a routine. I sort of hope my friend remembers what he said, so we can compare notes.

Iguana's Real Thoughts

We're nearing the final week of summer and then it's back to school. Lord let it be known that I am in my senior year of college and yet still a junior. Hopefully this year will not be as awful as anything I'd ever experienced before. I feel it won't be, because this year I am going to school in a nice and stable environment. I will not be kicked out of my apartment in October, I will not be sleeping on the floor and I will not be completely and utterly unhappy.

In a way I should be excited and happy. And I sort of am. At the end of the day it's still school and really who is happy about school? I am excited to be back on working on the plays I will be involved with. Who knows this year. It's a whole new start.

My goal for college this year and to get a better idea of what I would like to do in theatre. I am getting tired of shrugging when people ask me what I'd like to do in the theatrical world. I can't honestly say because getting a BA in Theatre is just a broad overview of each aspect of the theatre world. Costumes, Scenes, Stage Management, etc, etc. How can I focus on something when I'm not allowed to dwell on some subject for more than a class?

I can't say what I want to do in theater, but I can say that I know deep down inside that I BELONG into it. Who knows how, but it will become clear someday.

The new theater season draws closer and closer. It's getting excited. So many plays (even more than musicals so far) that I want to see. Musicals become more and more disappointing, it's upsetting. Maybe there will be some clever surprises that pop up this year.

Other than that. Nothing else is new. Oh wait I forgot one little thing...

I have a "date" with the cyclist tonight after I get out of work...expect more on that later. I am trying to be kind and considerate to him. We truly got off on the wrong foot, so I am trying to see him in a different eye. Tonight that theory will be tested.

Iguana's New Love

So she is a female impersonating Carol Channing, named Carol Channeling. She channels the Broadway stars of today and yesterday! And she's coming to NYC later this year!! It's totally something that's up my alley.



Also there are these:


Her doing Judy Garland!! And she's really good!

Her doing Bernadette Peters!

I need to see this!!

Iguana's Second Post of the Day

You dear attractive dewy-eyed idealist...

Since I started my previous entry yesterday, that counts not as an entry for today. So I figured since it's slow at work right now, I might as well take advantage of that and write a touch.

Today you have to learn to be a realist...

I return home and I am greeted by the Cyclist asking me when our next meeting shall be. Unfortunately for him and most of the men that can be in my life, I have returned to the 2-10 pm shift. Meaning that I become lazy, unless plans are made beforehand, and head home to bed after work.

Right now I am listening Ms. Mary Martin in The Sound of Music and as usual she is blowing me away. I've said it once and I'll say it again: Julie Andrews had NOTHING on Mary Martin.

Moving along, the Cyclist is still pursuing me. Blah, blah, blah. He told me his goal now is to see me in the daylight (since we first met during the night in a bar setting).

Now, I ask you, what would be the point in telling me this? Is he alluding to the fact that he feels that I may be ugly in the light? That he doesn't trust as much as he actually saw of me? I was cleverly hiding something from him in the dark? I know his thought process, to which I simply responded with,

"How will you see me in the light, when I work from 2 to 10? The morning is my time to do things before work. Unless you're playing on the fact that you you plan on waking up in my bed next to me or something?"

I know what side my bread is buttered on, do you sir? He makes me laugh and it's a fun little game of cat and mouse we're having here. I ultimately feel that though, when we do meet and if clothes aren't involved.

That only one of us WILL come out alive. And I'm not saying anything specifically but, I do have tickets to see The Drowsy Chaperone at the end of this month and I DO NOT intend on missing it.

Oh god! Tommy the Musical is on! Which leads me to a slight side note again. At Musical Mondays last week they played a clip of Tommy and surprise, surprise no one in that Wicked loving group respected it for how wonderful it was!

Alice Ripley, Norm Lewis, Michael Cervaris, Marcia Mitzmin, Sherie Rene Scott...OH MY!!

So, last night. I met up with a local neighbor for some dinner and chat. He was a sweet guy. In his early 30s and just came out two years ago. I knew that he was straight acting. He has that "new gay" feel. Like he knows about life, but issues of the homosexual aren't fully realized with him yet. Unlike us 15 year old who make that bold step and have years to think about life before anything REALLY happens.

Yes, the night was spent at his place. It was nice to know that I was only a 20 minute walk away. It had this refreshing feel to it. He had an interesting idea about sexual relations that I found really intriguing and took pressure off of many things.

I'm not taking it as anything serious. He's a little nutty like myself, so we may end up going on a Kalifornia killing spree before anything serious happens. Just nice to have a local flavor to hang out with.

Oh and lastly, I spent my first night home at Boys Room. OY. One of my best girlfriends and the surrogate mother of my child, wanted to hang out. And after so many days around pre-teen girls I wanted to be around gay men...wait isn't that the same thing. I felt like an utter, utter Starfucker that night. My friend's roommate is BFFs with Amanda Lepore and we got into the club for free, as well as several free drinks. Because she always gets a free bottle wherever she goes. It was awkward to be with that crowd. So cocaine-sheik. They all loved my girlfriend because she is the "bee's knees" in looking amazing in anything she wears.

So they all spoke to her, but what was grand was knowing that she loved me the most.

Iguana's Trip to the Beach

I (homosexuals), my mom (women with children), my cousins (short insomniacs) and everyone else (and a teeny tiny band) all went to Wildwood, New Jersey. It was supposed to be a calm four days. Calm.

Lets take a moment and examine this word: calm. One would think this would involve rest, a lack of worry. But yet we use the word calm in sentence like, "The calm before the storm." How is one calm before a storm. Oh but that takes me to my original point...

I wake up on Wednesday at 5:30 am to hear massive winds and loud thunder blowing out my window. It being early in the morning I jump out of bed and say to myself, "Thank God! The humidity will now be broken!! But I should turn off my computer, if the power goes out it could get fried." I do so and return back to sleep.

Funnel clouds were seen in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. That's like a 20 min trip from me. I was on the edge of a tornado. A sign, some would say...yet I chose to ignore it and go on my way.

The humidity never broke.

I'm talking mountains in space, hey I love you, set those sails!

Getting to Tarrytown to meet my parents went smoothly. It was moments before they picked me up. We drove, I talked, they talked. I finally finished Harry Potter 5. One would believe that I was finishing Gone With The Wind in the time it took me to finish that book. I listened to my musicals, as I often do. We got caught in traffic. We had yet to arrive at our destination and my mother was already worrying about that we should go home on Saturday, instead of the planned Sunday trip home.

My mother worries a lot, almost too much. She will end up in not a good way I feel. But we shall get to that sooner, rather than later.

Getting to Wildwood, is always thrilling. As is reaching your destination in any trip. It was humid as hell, at 10 at night. But it was nice to arrive.

I'm 22. An adult. Yet the moment I told me mother, "I'm going to walk on the boardwalk alone." My mother responds with, "No you're not! It's almost 11 at night." This set the tone for the entire vacation.

This trip was mild. There was no crazy stories. I didn't sneak out at night, meet some guy under the boardwalk and make memories. I spent it with my family. 22 and yet I hung out with a 13, 12 and 9 year old. They were my posse. We went on rides, we laughed. It was fun.

I didn't wear a shirt and tried to get a tan. I succeeded in somewhat getting color on my skin, despite the large amounts of sunscreen I applied.

I had a bonding experience with my sister (the 13 year old), as we were strapped into a giant sling shot ride and rocketed into the air at full speed. We bought a DVD of it. It's me laughing hysterically, while she screams at the top of her lungs.

The Yin to my Yang.

I watched my sister, in her awkward year (though coming out of it with a nice figure and only mild skin problems) We do need to work on the hair, but she's getting there. I watched her look at guys and remember when I saw 13 and I was watching the shirtless men of the beach. I realized my parents had unknowingly raised a teenage daughter almost 10 years before they had to go through this with my sister.

We interrupt this entry. The Eccentric Iguana took the time to hang out with a man who he spent the night with, so this entry we will restart now, but at 12:21 pm the next day...

The trip ended on a somewhat sour note, actually there were many sour notes on the trip. Like waiting two hours to sit at a restaurant, and finally getting a table (after I fought the hostess to get one) and my dad saying that we are leaving now. After we ate all the bread, mind you.

Or waking up super early to go deep sea fishing on a choppy water day. So everyone got sea sick, save for myself, my aunt and my mother. My aunt and I spent time laughing hysterically at the others getting sick. My aunt and I are born of the same evil tree. I won a pool that my family made who could catch the first fish. I only won because they all got sick at the start of fishing. Just kidding, I have amazing fishing skills.

The final worst part was the very end of the trip. My mother stresses out too much. People wonder why I am crazy, they need but to meet both my parents to figure it out why. My father's loud mouth that easily offends mixed with my mothers nerves and inability to make up her mind has created something that defies both of them.

My mother stressed out the entire trip (starting on the drive down) about whether to leave on Saturday evening or Sunday morning. We all knew it would be the former. But I told her, just dropping me off at Tarrytown at 9 pm at night will not mean I am home. It's not fair to end my vacation a day early and then leave me to make an extra long trip home. So through some suggestions they decided to drop me off at my apartment, by way of Staten Island.

My mother can't read maps, so she had to drive. We got lost, she freaked out more. Every "wrong turn" she got worse. Basically by the time we got to my apartment. The getting lost which only REALLY delayed us probably 20 mins.

She broke down in tears. It was not a happy moment.

Why do housewives cry? Is it truly because the cake came out burnt?

I calmed her the best I could and she left me. I sat there for five minutes, but only five minutes. After they had left. And watched in my mind as it became more clear of why I am the way I am.

Be Back in a While

I was going to write a REAL entry. But the recent horrible thunder storm in Brooklyn has left me ill prepared for my journey out of the city. I need to go to Tarrytown by the Metro North so I can join my parents for a Holiday by the New Jersey Seaside.

Some people go to Europe, some go the the Islands. Not this Iguana. I go to New Jersey...

I shall return...Sunday!

The house began to twitch...

Iguana's Continuation...and analyzing

Due to having to get to work, I had to cut my previous entry short. I realized it may come off that I HATE the Cyclist.

And I don't.

After meeting him last night, I did find him to be a person who is somewhat enjoyable. He is friendly and polite for all intensive purposes. However, he does seem to lack some of the social graces that I find acceptable in someone I would like to make a regular friend. He takes me as a person who needs to be the center of attention. I watched him float from person who person in the club, chattering away.

Having this need to be liked by everyone. However, his brash personality seemed to come up to the surface every now and then. As I said before, when we first spoke all I needed to say was something along the lines of RENT isn't my favorite show, and he jumped on this quest to find out WHY it's not. While keeping with this tone that I was wrong in saying that.

Yet, he felt no guilt or subtleties in attacking my love for Xanadu, because he thinks it's stupid. As I defended it, he continued on. Things like that just irk me. If you want to be every ones friend, perhaps you shouldn't make them feel as though they are committing a sin.

I purposely held my tongue when I saw him and his friends turn on their admiration for Idina in her powerful rendition of Defying Gravity. I didn't say to him,

"Wicked is the worst show ever and to like it means you have no taste any issue concerning theater."

Granted I know that is slightly true already, so to say it only pisses people off.

I knew it would probably offend, so if he likes it (and I'll admit Idina is good in that one song, but that's as FAR as it goes for that show).

Sometimes as I am falling asleep, I lie awake wondering, "Is Stephen Schwartz lying awake too thinking about why he lost the Tony to Wicked?" Really, is he?

Then there is the fact that he obviously wants to sleep with me. As he obviously wanted to sleep with other people there. People who are constant flirts annoy me. No and it's not cause they are not flirting with just me. It just shows desperation in my mind. Perhaps I'm frigid. I'm secure. Or that I'm not old enough yet to feel that, "I must be the life of the party because, if I'm not no one will notice me because, I am old."

When your priorities make me feel like you're adding me to a list, a waiting list that means that the next time we are together I will end up in bed with you. These false pretenses of, "Come over so we can watch was Sci-Fi movies..." It makes me yawn, it makes me feel less than I am worth.

Those little games played were fun once. When I was up for the excitement of it. I knew that if I was to watch a movie, it would end up with sex. If I were to show the Cyclist Xanadu a year ago, I wouldn't care.

If I knew he were generally interested in having sex with ME and not just to have sex.

That is the feeling I get.

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Regardless, I find myself infatuated by him.

Isn't that funny(Girl)? Absurd(Person Singular)?

Or is it typical to feel this way? He's caused me to heat up without really doing anything. Isn't that what you're drawn to?

Why did I do it?

You are attracted to the ones who keep you on your toes. It makes the game more fun to play. But does that mean I'll have sex with him...Stop yourself and think about this for a moment?

What did it get me?

He may have a list, but you have an Encyclopedia of people. It has been gathering dust though. It would be nice to add another name to the lexicon, right? This is an open and shut case really. The Cyclist is a go-getter, tis true. All you will need to do is show up, be prepared and it will follow it's own course.

Give 'Em Love and what does it get ya?

What that's where it will go horribly wrong. You know what happens to you after that. I mean meaningless sex is what you've done before, but aren't you trying to end that? Yet, wouldn't it be SO nice to put an end this this chapter. To let both you and the Cyclist end this marathon.

What does it get ya?

Well shall see, right?

Iguana Is Charmed...

Okay, I can take RENT being someones favorite musical.

But, when you say that Wicked deserved to beat out Avenue Q for best musical. Or technically put, "Ave Q was no Wicked." And then ask me if I agree. Well, I will be slightly taken aghast.

Meeting the Cyclist was inevitable. I knew he'd be at musical Mondays. Well he let me know, I thank GOD though I had other friends around. He's sweet and sort of funny. It's just difficult to have interest in someone who's motives are as transparent as cellophane.

Oh and then he went on to tell me that Xanadu (the movie mind you) is a stinking pile of shit...

The Cyclist...must pay.

Now, it's not so much that he thinks that Xanadu is bad. I agree, it's a bad movie. A bad but beautiful campy movie. It's that even though I said, I LOVE this movie he proceeded to talk about what a piece of shit it was...

YET, the moment I told him I'm not a fan of RENT, he proceeded to attack me. There is something wrong with this easily defensive person.

I am sorry that your "easily seduced, must like what's popular at the moment" mind can't grasp the idea of loving something for it's pure camp value. That perhaps the reason I love Xanadu is because it stands alone. That it was able to be so awful that it's lasted almost 30 years as a notorious movie nonetheless.

Yet, every time I sit down and watch it I have a more exciting time than when I even try to REMEMBER a moment from Wicked.

He wants to hang out soon, so he can show me Battle Star Galatica and I can show him Xanadu. I am ALSO assuming he wants to fuck me. Hmmmmmmmmm....

I can be cruel, I don't know why...

It's awfully true...

ALSO this news bit made my day:

Liza Minnelli is a familiar sight shopping in the East 60s, but someone at the neighborhood Gap could use a refresher course in recognizing local legends.

A Gatecrasher pal reports this recent sighting of her at the E. 66th and Third Ave. store, where she was being helped by a sales assistant.

"The employee asked her, 'Has anyone ever told you you look like Judy Garland?'" says the snitch.

"She coldly answered, 'No!'"

You'd leave it alone after that, right? "The confused employee went on to say, 'Oh my God! You're her! You are Judy Garland!'"

Oh. No. She. Didn't.

"Ms. Minnelli looked up with fire in her eyes and snapped back, 'Judy Garland is dead!'"

She then grabbed the pants she had been trying on "and stated to no one in particular, 'I've gotta get out of here!' She made a mad dash to the registers and then out the door."

Personally, I always thought she looked more like her dad.

Slaughter on Tenth Avenue

First off, it shocked me to fully realize that I go back to school on August 27th. That's not September at all. How is that possible? We got out later than everyone else. And we go back earlier. If that's how you wish to play the game that's fine, I can play it that way. I ask you though, did the summer happen? Did it?

Moving along, we have a few things to cover tonight. Now, I'll let people guess what I listen to while at the gym today. Nothing has made me work out harder than June Anderson singing Glitter and Be Gay while Leonard Bernstein conducts...LEGENDARY I tell you. Candide is coming back to the NYOpera again this season and though I don't want to see it. I knew deep down inside I must. So I shall. Candide shaped part of my life, so I pay credit where credit is due. Above I present the same number thrice. All from Candide, but all presented in such amazing ways.

Now it's time for a story...
So this boy found me online, we shall call him the Cyclist, because he is very involved with that activity. So he found me and he's tall and cute and funny. We chatted online and seemed to get along well, though his motives were immediately clear from the get go. Online he seemed mildly amusing, goofy but a touch stand offish. I could deal though...that was until the fateful phone call.

It's Friday night and what else would this lonely spinster be doing on a Friday night, but sitting in at home and working on proper etiquette. When I get a phone call from the Cyclist. Now I am slightly surprised we exchanged numbers, but people don't just call. We chat and it's fine. I'm so sleepy from the overtime work that I probably made a fool of myself. He was in my neighborhood but yet was going to a bar to meet his friend...It's my animal magnetism DEAD?!

And here's where the fun begins folks...I present to you...A Dead Man's Cell Phone by Sarah Ruhl...Or as I call it, how to piss the hell out of me...

Now, I'd say I'm a passive personality and I let many things slide by in my life. But sometimes I do not understand people at all. So the Cyclist calls me again and we chat. I'm a wreck on the phone with people I don't know. I mutter that I'm insane several times and he laughs. First, I would like to address his aggressive personality. VERY A type if you get my drift. Easily offended and VERY sure of himself. This doesn't tend to mix with my cynicism and insanity...follow along...

So we're chatting along innocently...pay attention because here's where it gets confusing. I mention that I am crazy and says, "You know what Maya Angelou says about crazy people...She says if someone says they are crazy...they mean it and you should stay away."
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Something I'll never say to him #1: Are you asking me to marry you?

All I could muster was, "Oh, Maya! Why does the cage bird sing?"

Then he does it...and I hear it and I listen while my lazy eye spins back into my head...

To huevos rancheros and Maya Angelou. Emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion Creation, vacation

My reflexes set in and my immediate response is, "Oh please don't sing that." Now even if I wanted to I couldn't control it. It's like tapping a knee, honestly.

Well the Cyclist isn't pleased with this and says, "RENT CHANGED MY LIFE!"
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Something I'll never say to him #2: Why yes I'd love to move in with you.

I am taken aghast, he is offended and I just respond with, "I like RENT, but I'm not into RENT." And that does sit well either as he talks back, "It won the Pulitzer." He then continues to attack me, not letting a word in about how I could possibly not like RENT. I am trying to hold my tongue but this is what is going on through my head:

Okay, listen you douche. It's enough that I don't know you and that you're sort of arrogant. But don;t embarrassed BOTH OF US by singing RENT over the phone. I'll tell you why. First, RENT is a good show. But, in high school I had to deal with a bunch of no talent Drama nerds always belting out lyrics of songs and thus ruining my image of the show. Thank you for bringing that back into my life.

Second, RENT changed your life? That's original. You're 28 honey, RENT is of your generation. You grew up with it. That's wonderful for you. But, if I remember correctly RENT has a message in it. So when you IM'd me telling me you just got out of a 2 year long relationship and are looking to make up for lost time. I imagine by having sex with countless strangers. Is that what RENT taught you? Because I'd re listen to the CD (hell! Rent the movie for all I care!) because I feel that Jonathon Larson would have something to object to by your behavior in this one. Maybe, I'm wrong.

And lastly! Oh it won the Pulitzer did it? You're informing me that RENT won the Pulitzer? YOU ARE TELLING ME A FACT ABOUT A MUSICAL?! And to try an validate that I must love this show? Is that what you're telling me? Oh that's FUNNY! F-U-N-N-Y. Well let me impart a little fact on you. South Pacific was the first musical to win a Pulitzer. I love that show too, but I don't go singing Cock-Eyed Optimist whenever someone calls me Nellie!

Needless to say the conversation got awkward from then on. He changed the topic and we moved along, the entire time I am fuming. You can call me crazy, you can make fun of me. But when you bring up musicals in a non-intellectual way and dare to accuse ME have the wrong opinion (notice I never said RENT was bad to like, I just don't like when people belt it...you have a voice up in your nose...it's just gross to hear.)

So let's cut to the second part of this tale...Sunday...

After winning my "Hot Body Contest" and I left him a message. You see later that day he blew me off twice. First he told me to call him later if I wanted to meet up. I took a nap and called him and he told me he made plans to go to dinner. That's fine. He told me to give him a call cause he wouldn't be out late...

Cut to 10:30 pm as I go to the club. He leaves me a weird voicemail that I could barely hear. What I heard sounded like he was blowing me off. At the end he started to laugh with his friend and mumble. Which I found incredibly rude to do because not only couldn't I hear, it sounded like some joke was being made I knew nothing about.

So I left this message emailed to him. "So you blew me off twice last night. What's up with that :-p?" Honestly, I didn't mean it in a, "What the FUCK MAN!" So he calls and I pick up and here's what I hear...

"So, I like to talk in person who people who are rude to me."
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Something I'll Never Say To Him #3: He shall be called Jonathon and we will raise him as best we can!

He begins to berate me. To talk down to me. To tell me I'm sort of awful for telling him I blew him off. I told him it's okay and I apologize and then I discover that apparently the voicemail was nothing that I heard. It was apparently telling me to call him later. Which I don't believe in the slightest cause I didn't hear any of that. All I heard was him laughing and talking inaudibly.

That's when I snapped...

Something I WILL Say To Him: Okay, so here's the deal. I apologized but that's not enough. And you know what, I didn't call you to get disciplined. I told you there was a miscommunication and you can't accept that. I don't know why I thought you would be laughing at me over the phone, maybe you're one of those people. People do it all the time. So here's what I am going to do. I'm going to hang up on you and go on with my day because I DO NOT like to be talked down to. Especially from someone I barely know. So have a good day and I will *I let out a laugh* talk to you...again?
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Later that day he called me. To ask me to dinner and bury the hatchet. He's playing a game, but so am I. A dangerous game if you will.