Tag Archives: randomness

monday morning commentary.

it’s been quite some time since i’ve done a “randomness” blog, so…dammit, here goes:

tonight, on my way home from work, i walked up on a drag queen with his/her skirt up around his/her waist examining and readjusting his “tuck”…on the subway platform. he/she even fell out of character and resorted to the standard man’s nut grab/shift/grimace…while on the subway platform.  judging by his/her face, he/she had a HARD night. either the money wasn’t flowing like it normally does or that nasty bitch Miss Sasha Dereon stole his/her knee pads again. bitch! even in my earlier days of cavorting and associating with dragons, i’ve NEVER seen anything leading up to the final product. seeing a drag queen without wig, makeup, and dick tucked is like spotting mommy without her bra…it’s sinful! and a little bit yuck yuck. you’re just supposed to see the end result. never the “before”. good times, indeed.

you know what i LOVE? vegetarians who decide to take their monkey asses to barbecue restaurants (let’s say…mine, for instance) demand ridonkulous shit like “tofu ribs” and “pulled imitation chicken sandwiches”, claim nausea at the sight or smell of meat, and expect to NOT get the worse service ever, a swift, double-handed throatchop or…at the very least least, attitude major. i love people who complain that their “fries have been fried in the same grease as chicken or some other meat. i cant taste it.” …..and then have the NERVE to ask if we can make vegetarian chilli (which we DO offer), but without the sauce.”the answer is “no. fuck you.” do you also want your maccaroni and cheese without the “and” too? fuckface. THAT is what i love.

i had to have a tear-inducing (not on my part–i’m not no punk ass pussy ass cryin’ ass bitch) conversation with a good friend that was long-overdue. months even. this particular friend has had a string of bad luck due (in whole) to some bad choices and awful prioritizing, partnered with, honestly, a horribly spoiled upbringing. this friend has a habit of fishing for compliments, attention and concern with vague, question-prompting, pity-generating statements like “Ohhhhh, (big sigh) my life….”, “_____ is sad…”, “you won’t believe what happened to me today…”

and alex doesn’t feed into that bullshit. i know this person VERY well. and we’ve grown apart as of late, a little. rather than indulge these UNsubtle ass attempts for pity, I just ignore it all. i refused to be one of the dozen jerks that responded to melancholy ass facebook statuses. i turned the other way whenever i saw a guilt trip coming. i downplayed drama when confronted with shit like, “oh…i…thought that with all of what i told you yesterday, you’d call and check on me.”

me: “oh….nah, you’re okay.”

i just…have an issue with that. if you need help, ask for it. that was the general tone of our conversation: “nobody cares.” i had to convey to him that i am not ALWAYS a dick, but i have my own fucking problems to deal with. okay, you can’t find a job, money’s low, the guy’s you like keep playing you to the left, you’re gaining weight and have an addiction problem. i’m sorry to hear that. but…i’ve got my own issues, jerk. thanks for asking.

it’s just hard to convince someone who’s used to worlds stopping and wallets opening at the smallest sign of distress that, after a while…people get tired of catering to you. i did. shouldn’t have to. and i won’t. so, get it together. life sucks, but overall…nobody cares. my shit stinks too, my friend..and nobody’s helping ME clean it up.

anywho, it felt good to get all of that off my chest with him. he cried. i drove the point home any way i could: i used to have a dance company. danced DOWN 9 days a week. created a handful of amazing pieces of work. acclaim. awards. fans. haters. when i was 18. now? nobody cares. what have i done lately? THAT’s what matters. Him: had a car. a decent job. money was no issue. was young, cute, skinny and “in love.” had lot’s of material shit to “show for his work.” now? not so much…on all accounts. the gotcha-gotcha? nobody cares. get it together bitch.

still love ya, though.

took my first breaking class this week. breakdancing is something i’ve always admired, but never dared to try. i figured i’d look crazy. it turns out, for my first class, i didn’t look totally nuts. the uprock and foot work (everything that happens BEFORE you hit the ground) is fairly easy. the basic, fundamental moves (six step, four-step, CC’s, freezes, etc.) will definitely take work. the homeboy Cory (former Grüvment member, dancing for Hannah Montana currently) is a beast and gave me some pointers…i’ll keep you updated on my progress with that. when i DON’T look crazy, i shall post vids down the road.

i’ve fallen in love with dance again. the necessary spark: the choreographer’s carnival a few weeks back. the choreographer’s carnival is a show by and for dancers and choreographers. dancers and choreographers get a few minutes of total freedom to express themselves on stage without the influence of movie and music video directors, record labels, or difficult artists. a chance to shine in the foreground in front of peers rather than as an afterthought or as an unappreciated part of someones show. this show justifies my HATE for the term “background dancer.” we are not plants, scenery, or props. in many cases, dancers are entirely responsible for a untalented artist’s appeal…without them, they’d have and be nothing (Rihanna, anyone?).

Anywho…back on track here, I promised myself that, even if I don’t submit a piece of my own, I WILL at least dance at the next Carnival in the spring. I’ve been around this scene long enough. shit NEEDS to happen. I’m not getting younger and all the waaaaaaack people from last year are all now dope as fuck (most of them). Alex needs to catch up. i have my eye on a few choreographers i’d LOVE to dance with. i need not say who…i’ll just make sure they notice my ass. dammit.

okay. it’s 2:21. this blog took ENTIRELY too long to write. more later.

off to bed. tata.

 

 ~chris.alexander

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randomness

the picture serves NO purpose. i just love it. and fuck you too.

now…

let me start by saying that it’s monday afternoon and i’m already tired from the thought of the week that lies ahead. the guy sissified tweetybird that i’m renting from is returning from college a few months earlier than previously agreed. thus, i must leave. not solely because fuckface wants his room back….but….based on the three (3) times that we’ve interacted face-to-face, alex shall not be able to cohabitate with this being. dude is terribly inconsiderate. por ejemplo: i returned to the apartment after spending the night @ a friend’s to find three random people i’ve never seen before lounging (half-nude) on the floor in my room. an open makeup kit sat on my futon and two boys scurried to get dressed and giggled at the “what the fuck!?!” expression on my face.

my first thought: “i’ve just interrupted a porno shoot.”

my second thought: “i’m about to be arrested for attempted murder.”

the girl, an undeservingly overconfident broad “frum texus” extended her sweaty and to me. i declined. “i’m ashley.”

me: “of course….”

then fuckface runs out the room and explains that these are his friends visiting with him from philly (where he goes to “school.”) they clubbed and came back to crash. “we tried to call you to ask if it was cool if they crashed here.”

i’m thinking: “liar. my phone is surgically attached to my penis. it never leaves my body. please die now.”

…i’m getting off track. this isn’t about how much of an inconsiderate, rude, xtube-video-posting, fucktard this ghastly skinny boy is. this is about me having to move. me thinks i’m going to call up one of those “man with a van” ads i see EVERYWHERE and pray to Rupaul that some big burly brooklyn dude (with a van) comes to my aid. prolly not.

so…between today and tomorrow, i must pack, finalize this apt thing, put shit in storage and move. by tomorrow night, i’ll have a new address. for a few weeks, anyway. in the meantime, i’ll be hunting for my OWN place. this roommate shit gives me the blues and I hope i never NEED a roommate. ever.

this whole ordeal has been far more dramatic than required, thanks mostly to my horrible, wretched procrastinating ways. i was WELL aware of this impending move, and worked 9 days a week frederick douglas style to save up some scrilla to move with. my ass then decides to wait until 3-4 days BEFORE moving to solidify these plans. didn’t i tell you that I ARE GENIUS!??! boy, i amaze myself sometimes. but…as is always the case, i shall be fine. watch.

que más?

ah yes. so…yeah. today i walk into Capital One on Broadway down in Soho to cash a paycheck. some western European broad who obviously grew up drinking polluted well water tried to lure me with her CzechosloRussian charm into opening an account. Girl, please. i collected my coins and headed to the elevator. i glanced at the other business on the floor and see a sign for Music Gremlin. and I fagged out for like 2.2 seconds. you see, when i moved to new york on June 6, 2006 i unloaded my car at granny’s house (that cottage cheese-eating nutcase. ugh!) and hit it into manhattan for my very first new york job interview…at music gremlin. they are a music company who produces a product/service similar to the zune. a clear ripoff, but whatever. anywho they didn’t see it in the stars for me to work there. and that’s totally fine. maybe i should have slobbed some knob while there…? anywho it was just interesting to happen upon this place randomly.

then the moment was over.

and…here i sit in starbucks on some hijacked ass internet connection listening to my mother (Anita Baker) shooting lust-filled glances at fellow caffeine junkies, looking up storage companies. yay.

madonna’s hard candy is pop perfection. and it makes my dick drip.

and she looks AMAZING to be going on 695 years old.

and….

i haven’t had sex in 34 days.

have a nice day.