Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Diane Dies

Today is one, of two days, that I got off from work this week. I decided to sleep in really late then go out with Diane later on. And I did just that.

Diane had come over sooner than expected. So instead of doing my hair, I just threw it back in a hat, and it looked fine. I took my time getting ready... doing my make up and getting dressed, since Diane had told me that she didn't mind how long I took.

When I was done getting ready we left quickly. We were on our way to her house. We were about 1/4 of the way there when Diane said, "I would have waited for you to do your hair, you didn't have to wear that hat that doesn't match."

I replied, "I wasn't in the mood to do it. And who are you to tell me what matches, you think your stupid heather grey cardigan matches everything."

She made a remark about me saying I was going to put some gel in my hair. And I explained, and I don't use gel, I only use hair spray. Diane began to raise her voice, and told me that I did say I use gel.

I got loud back at her and said, "Listen CUNT, you're wrong! I don't use gel, I don't even own fucking gel. You're FUCKING WRONG!" The car came to a screeching halt. She told me go get out. I did, and on the way out I said, "See you next Tuesday, BITCH," and slammed the door as hard as I could.

As I got out I noticed skid marks.

I only had a 30 minute walk home. It was beautiful outside. I enjoyed it more than anything I had done with Diane in the past few months.

No one has heard from Diane, since I saw her. Maybe I should be worried. Not being able to admit your wrong does have a price tag. Death.

Her cold sausage fingers texted me to try and win me over. I just kept sending her "Goodbye" in different languages. She left me a voice mail and claimed that I raised my voice first and I was being immature. She's just thick-headed. She always has to get her way. She should know by now, that in our friendship, I have always gotten my way before she ever has.

This bitch is dead to me.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Mr. Hilton

Mr. Hilton, you must be worth a trillion bucks...

A few days ago, a random guy added me on Facebook. Turns out he goes to a local high school, so I decided to keep him in my friends list, since he was obviously gay, and decent looking. He seemed really typical, nothing special. But let me tell you, I'm guessing his pictures are outdated...

On Wednesday, August 4th, he came into GAP Outlet, to come visit me. He had never been to the mall which my store is located, which was surprising since he didn't live that far away. Mr. Hilton looked much, much, more stylish and attractive than his photographs made him seem. He swiftly came up the side of the dominant column of the second "I wall" (a word used to describe the front display on a wall separating men's and women's), where I was working on separating newly marked down graphic tees from the ones that were still full price.

The night before he had told me he didn't like my hair (my hair). He told me it was too high and wasn't interesting. He told me it was boring, basically. I got over it, or so I thought. For some reason, Mr. Hilton's critique stuck. I haven't had hairspray in my hair in a few days. I've been wearing it forward (my hair).

This kid may seem like a prick, but you ain't seen nothing yet, bitches!

While the operator was clearly peacocking, he up-down-ed me. I thought nothing of it, people do it all the time. If only you knew how good my ass looked in these jeans, or so I thought. Before I could finish soaking up the looks in my mind he spoke, "Your jeans don't fit." I was like, mother fucking bitch say what?! Then he looked down on the 1.5" heel on my tan boots. He wasn't winning any points.

That night he IM-ed me and apologized profusely. He claimed, "I was really nervous." Who the fuck in their right mind insults the hottest piece of ass they've ever laid eyes on?! But whatever... after lots of guilt and conversation, we made plans for him to come over, today, at noon.

Aneta and Madame Dupont decided to go to the beach, leaving me alone with Mr. Hilton. We were talking the whole time except the last 30 minutes of his stay. At one point he said to me, "I"m definitely bigger." I laughed, climbed off of him, made myself visible (as did he), and I said, "Think again." His eyes lit up, and he bit his lip. He climbed on top of me, and kissed me...

Mr. Hilton, I like the way you push and glide.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


Alejandro is a beautiful man, with a wide jaw, and an even wider heart. I could gaze into his green eyes until I go blind. He drives me mad, and there's a terrible delight in my heart when he's around...

Yes, I am aware that disappointment lives around the corner from perfection.

When I first met Alejandro, I expected him to be just another work of art I could be best friends with for a night, but as the days progressed, we just clicked. We share everything, like real best friends do. He thinks I'm beautiful, and I think he is as well, but we both know we aren't compatible, so the lust is enough for the two of us.

Alejandro was dating Xavier, who hardly deserves a name as far as I'm concerned, up until three days ago. Alejandro has just moved into a large city in the South-Eastern United States, and feels like at age 20, he's too perfect and freshly out of the closet to be tied down at this time in his life. That was his reason for leaving Xavier, who thought the sun rose and set on Alejandro, and was then deceived. Xavier wasn't very interesting anyway, in my personal opinion.

Alejandro told me he was going through a hard time, and didn't think he'd get back in the ring soon. In such a context, soon, means less than 48 hours. My stupidity is showing, I know.


So two nights ago, he decided he was going to invite Alejandro's Man 1, over. They drank wine and "watched a movie." In gay language that means, make out and fondle one another. I can tell he's having a real HARD time.

The next night, last night, he invites Alejandro's Man 2, over. He's a hairdresser, who met up with him an hour late, and made him walk up a hill to meet him because he's a mother fucking pansy. Anyways, Alejandro let him stay the night too. Alejandro had to go to work this morning with hickeys up and down his neck. And it showed all day. Wear them like the trashy, rebound badges they are.

What makes me so upset is that someone who came out of the closet only a few months ago knows more gays than me, and has more gays who want to be with him. I guess us gays who can't help but look like gays will never be victorious.

I struggle more, and have it ten times harder than the "straight-looking" gays and yet they always seem to be less proud. And they seem to receive more affection.

Don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch.
Just smoke my cigarette and hush.