On teh suck

I was initially going to talk about work, but then I realized that talking about work is arguably as interesting as an in-depth discussion about the mechanism of paint drying, so to preserve you all I'm going to skip everything. Well, skip everything except the portion where I get to go to Europe for 12 days. On a cruise. That's right, bitches, I'm going on a 12-day cruise to Venice, Sicily, Florence, Rome (well, Citavecchia, really, and yes, I enjoy tossing out random obscure Italian cities knowing that exactly 12% of the general populace and 0.2% of my readership knows what I'm talking about), St. Tropez, and Monte Carlo. I will be doing so on the Crystal Serenity, which is one of the few cruise ships that managed to obtain a Berlitz five-star rating this year. I know this because Cruise Travel magazine's annual publication says so (nyah nyah!)

The caveat? I will be group director for this cruise, which basically means that I will be the go-to bitch for roughly eighty crotchety, angry octogenarians. Is having to smile 12 hours a day worth a free trip to Venice? Obviously my answer was yes, but having gotten off the phone today with one of my irritating, demanding wards, I'm starting to have juuuuuust a few second thoughts. Ah well, worst comes to worst I can go with a ready supply of booze and a few caps of arsenic.

On a different note, I spent the evening playing beer pong with Darien and Brandon, knowing that Darien will be moving out of New York and going to LA come Thursday. Wait for it...wait for it...oh yeah, there it is. That sort of choppy sensation where you realize that a big chunk of your soul just went flying out into the uncaring void. I'm going to miss her a lot.

Mind you, I've gone months before without seeing Darien - most recently where she went to Italy for about three months. It's the sort of thing you get used to when you have a lot of friends in the theatre business. But...knowing that she won't be back in just a month or two, that I'm not going to be able to look forward to an evening of good Thai food and totally random discussions, and her ever solid advice about the pease porridge soup of my love life...that just sucks. If the expression "sucks" might be related to how much it actually sucks by a ratio approximated by the relationship of a Hoover to, oh, an F5 tornado.

Still, she's going to a better place, as it were. LA holds a lot more opportunity for her, and for what she wants to do, than New York does, and...well...as she's stated, it's really just time to move on.

Hrm. I'm usually a bit more eloquent when I'm mildly drunk, but I'm stacking a pretty spectacular hangover on top of that, so the best thing at this point is possibly to just head over to bed.

On review

So this would be my second post of the evening (technically morning), and I've just spent a little bit of time consolidating my blog posts from the past several years. Was this necessary? Arguably not, but frankly I'd forgotten that I'd written half of these posts, forgotten where I'd written them when I finally remembered that I'd written them, and then I'd forgotten the password for the damn blogging site where I'd written them once I remembered where they were written.

So there, after a really minor effort, I'm finally and fully consolidated. I choose you, Blogger! You will be my online journal of choice from now on, and I will simply include a link to you, beautiful you, wherever I may feel a need to post my blog in the future. We will sing happy songs and weave sad tales together, and I will hold you and love you and never let you go. Wait, where are you going, Blogger? Don't go! I love you! I love you forever! You were going to meet my parents! I have baby clothes picked out and everything! Oh God, why? WHY?!

Oooooookay. Now that's starting to creep out even me.

On a semi-random note, I was reading over what I'd written about Chris (Ah Chris. Dear sweet, funny, straightforward Chris.) back in May, and I actually find it rather funny now. In much the same way that I find the fact that I wet the bed when I was a toddler funny. Obviously, things didn't work out with Chris, and while I would like to say that I'm considerably wiser now and would do things vastly differently, I would also find such a statement highly, highly dubious.

So taking a leaf from Chris's book, actually, I'm going to stop posting about my romantic endeavors for a while. Maybe once I'm fully, solidly, steadily in a relationship, I'll toss in a mention here and there. Until then, the gossip will have to come from somewhere else.

On stinky, unwanted children

Hello blog. I return. Has it really been only three months since I've written? I find that curiously unfathomable. It seems like entire lifetimes have passed since I last wrote here. Certainly my love life has died and resurrected a couple of times since we last spoke.

Wow, I'm not even sure where to begin. So I'm not going to! No recap for you! Ahahaha! My cruelty knows no bounds, and you will not know all the things that have occurred over the course of the last several months. The ordeals that have changed me from that poor, innocent boy looking for love and happiness to this cynical, surly soul who would mug a beggar for the change in his cup and then kick a puppy on his way home. A blind, three-legged puppy who wags his tail whenever someone walks by, despite months of cold neglect, for the simple joy of a pat on his head. Yeah, that puppy. I ate him. It was delicious.

Yeah, okay, so I dated a few guys, broke up with a few guys (is it breaking up if you haven't even been dating a month?), and now sort of feel like that prototypical gay who seems to flounce aimlessly from one relationship to another. They (whoever "they" are) were right about online dating, by the way - just because it seems like you're compatible on the numbers...doesn't mean there's going to be the slightest bit of chemistry. Dear Jesus have I got stories...if I hadn't scoured them out of my brain. With bleach. I'm sorry, were we talking about something...?

Things now are...interesting and not at all straightforward. I don't particularly feel like elaborating on that, except possibly to say that whenever things SEEM to be straightforward, fortune seems to enjoy dropping a seriously obese kid off into my neighborhood pool.