I Wanna Meet You at a Gay Bar
The day starts with the looming knowledge that I've got auditions at Bellarmine in, like, two hours. And then Bob says, hey, wanna get food? I owe you a burrito. From Los Aztecas. You know, the best burritos this side of my other side.
And he buys me queso and coke and a taco and burritos cuz he owes me. And I devour like a fat kid with cake. Or for a slightly more lame analogy, like Ben with burritos.
And when I hit the audition I smoke it to awesome. Not that it matters because it's Bellarmine and you could get a part if you could read the lines, but I was actually proud of what I'd done and the silly voices that got me there.
Having to "embrace" James, however, is something beyond creepy in a way only Rob Zombie could visualize. Having to TALK to James is an ordeal, but having to "embrace" him is kinda like living through all of The Devil's Rejects.
I get told, "So you can make the callbacks tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Consider yourself called back."
I go home to a sleepy Mara and the lingering promise from Sarah to hang out. So at 9ish I ask her if she's still up for the hangage. And she is. She'll be at Cahoots later. She'll let me know when she gets there.
At 10ish I get a call from Vanessa asking what I'm up to. The answer is playing Spider Solitaire and listening to Tub Ring. She tells me her and Matt are going to the Pink Door, for ThursGAY where they'll have a blast.
I'm not so into techno.
I'm a little less into dudes.
But hey, I could pre-game before Cahoots and dance myself silly and maybe even get a free drink out of it so, yeah, I'll go except she's going to eat first and then call me.
This is at 10.
At 12:30 I'm watching Zodiac with director commentary because I can't remember the lenses Fincher was using or the particular comp shots but mostly I'm bored and alone and no one has called.
Then Ashley calls.
Get to the pink door, she says. It's packed.
Fine. I'm bored.
I don't find Vanessa or Matt or Sarah but I do see a buh-jillion people and Emily the cigarette fairy and Liz (formerly) from work and Patrick (currently) from work and a buncha other kids. So I hang.
It's lame and I'm not talking to anyone my entire first drink and I hate the music.
When I buy the second drink, the bartender gives it to me free and the girl beside me at the bar says, "You just got a free drink!"
I look at her dreadlocks and cute face and say, "Hi. I'm Ben."
We dance ourselves silly and spend the night talking when we're not doing that. She tells me her name is Jak. Spelled like J A K. She's a belly dancer and massage therapist. She speaks Portuguese. She laughs at my jokes.
When she leaves with her friend I hug her and peck her cheek and she does back, saying, "That's how we do it and Brazil."
And because I'm a turd with no tact, I say, "I could do it on your lips."
We kiss with tongues.
I leave with a phone number and the taste of her lips on mine, beaming a little when a dude tries to offer me a blow job and just won't take no for an answer.
To be rid of him, I call work.
Patrick starts driving me home and after I tell him how I just escaped a blow job offer, I tell him about the Jak.
"She's got dreadlocks and she's pretty cute and...there she is."
Her and her friend are walking down Bardstown to their car at the Back Door and seeing as it's a few blocks from where we are, Patrick agrees to take them to their car.
As we pull over they cross the street, away from us. Normally a bad sign. Except then we notice the belligerent ass hole screaming at them. Something about "Get back here and talk to me" in that, "Let me beat you while I rape you and you'd better shut up about it," kind of way.
So when I offer them a ride to their car, they can't jump in fast enough.
Like polite gentlemen we drop them off and then make fart and poop jokes the whole way home.
No actual fart, poop, pee, penis, or vagina jokes were made, but let me have the journal joke for Christ's sake. I kicked ass at an audition, met a girl, saved her from certain peril, and had kickass burritos. I think I earned the joke.
And he buys me queso and coke and a taco and burritos cuz he owes me. And I devour like a fat kid with cake. Or for a slightly more lame analogy, like Ben with burritos.
And when I hit the audition I smoke it to awesome. Not that it matters because it's Bellarmine and you could get a part if you could read the lines, but I was actually proud of what I'd done and the silly voices that got me there.
Having to "embrace" James, however, is something beyond creepy in a way only Rob Zombie could visualize. Having to TALK to James is an ordeal, but having to "embrace" him is kinda like living through all of The Devil's Rejects.
I get told, "So you can make the callbacks tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Consider yourself called back."
I go home to a sleepy Mara and the lingering promise from Sarah to hang out. So at 9ish I ask her if she's still up for the hangage. And she is. She'll be at Cahoots later. She'll let me know when she gets there.
At 10ish I get a call from Vanessa asking what I'm up to. The answer is playing Spider Solitaire and listening to Tub Ring. She tells me her and Matt are going to the Pink Door, for ThursGAY where they'll have a blast.
I'm not so into techno.
I'm a little less into dudes.
But hey, I could pre-game before Cahoots and dance myself silly and maybe even get a free drink out of it so, yeah, I'll go except she's going to eat first and then call me.
This is at 10.
At 12:30 I'm watching Zodiac with director commentary because I can't remember the lenses Fincher was using or the particular comp shots but mostly I'm bored and alone and no one has called.
Then Ashley calls.
Get to the pink door, she says. It's packed.
Fine. I'm bored.
I don't find Vanessa or Matt or Sarah but I do see a buh-jillion people and Emily the cigarette fairy and Liz (formerly) from work and Patrick (currently) from work and a buncha other kids. So I hang.
It's lame and I'm not talking to anyone my entire first drink and I hate the music.
When I buy the second drink, the bartender gives it to me free and the girl beside me at the bar says, "You just got a free drink!"
I look at her dreadlocks and cute face and say, "Hi. I'm Ben."
We dance ourselves silly and spend the night talking when we're not doing that. She tells me her name is Jak. Spelled like J A K. She's a belly dancer and massage therapist. She speaks Portuguese. She laughs at my jokes.
When she leaves with her friend I hug her and peck her cheek and she does back, saying, "That's how we do it and Brazil."
And because I'm a turd with no tact, I say, "I could do it on your lips."
We kiss with tongues.
I leave with a phone number and the taste of her lips on mine, beaming a little when a dude tries to offer me a blow job and just won't take no for an answer.
To be rid of him, I call work.
Patrick starts driving me home and after I tell him how I just escaped a blow job offer, I tell him about the Jak.
"She's got dreadlocks and she's pretty cute and...there she is."
Her and her friend are walking down Bardstown to their car at the Back Door and seeing as it's a few blocks from where we are, Patrick agrees to take them to their car.
As we pull over they cross the street, away from us. Normally a bad sign. Except then we notice the belligerent ass hole screaming at them. Something about "Get back here and talk to me" in that, "Let me beat you while I rape you and you'd better shut up about it," kind of way.
So when I offer them a ride to their car, they can't jump in fast enough.
Like polite gentlemen we drop them off and then make fart and poop jokes the whole way home.
No actual fart, poop, pee, penis, or vagina jokes were made, but let me have the journal joke for Christ's sake. I kicked ass at an audition, met a girl, saved her from certain peril, and had kickass burritos. I think I earned the joke.