Teddy Bear/Hound Dog

So, the topic of my sexuality, and dating in general, hasn't really been brought up on the blog yet, so let's rectify that. I've had some interesting events occur in the last year or so regarding who is my current boyfriend, and of course, my mind has found a way to tie it to musical theater. But we'll get to that later.

Basically, I'm dating someone for the second time. Gasp, what, I don't even, how could you. I know. About a year and a half ago, when we were in school together, we dated. He was just coming to terms with the fact that he liked men (And I had been out since freshman year) so there was a bit of an issue there, but we kind of tried to work around it. But, in the beginning, there was like a three day period where I was ridiculously happy with the fact that there was actually someone around my age who was gay and attracted to me, and I was blissfully seated in that "talking" stage that shouldn't exist but totally does anyway. Then the drama surprised me from behind, like a loogie spat by a llama you just fed.

This drama-llama came in the form of Facebook, which, as you know, is basically the end-all when it comes to relationships. I, drunk on my excitement, requested that I be able to put that I was 'in a relationship' on Facebook, even if he wasn't tagged on it, as he still had a foot in the closet. He agreed, reluctantly, so I did so. And then my neck got a huge wad of snot all over it.

And then he broke up with me the next day.

Sort of.

He had a minor freak-out, and I got angry, then he got angry, and then we were both really angry and then we didn't speak to each other for a year.

Suddenly, I start getting text messages every morning. Before I get up, I have a good morning text. Even if I completely ignored it, before I went to bed, I had a goodnight text. I was still angry and resentful of our previous encounter, but I started opening up and responding more and more the more he persisted. At first, and I guess this is exactly why I feel more okay about our relationship now, I was a total douche in response to everything that was sent to me, and sometimes I'd ignore text messages just because I could. But eventually I started responding, and he kept trying, and I finally decided to consider dating him again.

And, here we are. And it's going well so far. But, I mean, we aren't without our fair share of drama this time. I won't go into it here, since there are still some issues with who can and can't know we're dating, but suffice it to say he'll be leaving for an extended period of time, soon, and it'll suck when he does. Especially if I continue to build feelings for him at the rate I am now, I will be crushed when he leaves.

But anyway, this is related to my musical theater interests because our musical this year is All Shook Up, an Elvis jukebox musical. Why yes, that does sound terrible, and yes, I am apprehensive, but the best song on the album is a medley of Teddy Bear and Hound Dog, in which the main character, Chad, attempts to convince a love interest, Sandra, that she should be with him. However, Sandra believes him to be a silly scoundrel that isn't worth her time. And I guess it sort of felt like that between me and my current boyfriend, for a while. He tried for probably about three months to convince me that he was worthwhile, and I spat things back at him that were probably pretty hurtful. But he stuck with me, and I'm glad he did.

I even held back on the mushiness and this post was still a little sickly sweet, and not funny at all. Oh, well. I'm sure my ability to blog humorously will reappear sometime.

Does this alternative lifestyle make me look hipster?

Oh God, Clay Aiken is My Real Dad

So I saw an Interpol concert last night, and I'll have a big long post about that later, but I think it requires Erica's drawings to do it justice, so it's being postponed as awesomeness takes some time to create. So, I'll move on to other news.

My mouth, which was previously approximately 25% foreign material, is now probably more like 50% foreign material, which I think probably qualifies it for healthcare benefits and a scholarship, because it's legally a cyborg.

Can I get racial scholarships, too?

So, I spent today briefly having a panic attack/meltdown because I had a mild lisp and then I got angry about it and it became more than mild because of my panic and eventually I was a quivering mass of tearth.

My tearth are a thad thubthitute for the mithery in my thoul.

I have a show tomorrow and a competition in three days, so I was freaking out about my inability to talk when it was my job to talk. I didn't want to be another excuse for the show to stink. I immediately called my Dad and demanded the intruder be kicked out of my oral castle immediately, but he called the dentist's receptionist and she said they would charge me like $300, and since I just got it in today, that wasn't going to happen. Enter Aliza:

The 'A' is for 'Advice'.

I texted Aliza complaining about it, and she told me to man up and work on making the lisp disappear, so I'd stop sounding like Clay Aiken. But I was having no luck! I couldn't make it go away. Thankfully, a Publix lady saw me crying and handed me a free cookie. I'm pretty sure she was fate in disguise, because she gave me one with sprinkles and it concealed the solution to my problem.

I bit into the cookie and said something to my father. And while all the words were garbled messes of cookie, the "S" sounds came out clearly. I tried a couple times, and discovered that if I kept my teeth separated just the right amount (about enough for a bite of cookie) I could say words without slurring them.

Made of Sprinkles and Magic

Somewhere in this, K.M. posted on my Facebook status about it that I looked kind of like Clay Aiken. He was joking (I hope) but I searched Clay Aiken's pictures and I found this picture of me from ninth grade celebrity day (I was the Flying Spaghetti Monster) and one of Clay Aiken's pictures.

The resemblance is (unfortunately) uncanny.

Aliza came to the only logical conclusion: Clay Aiken is my Real Dad. No, that's not the name of a terrible reality T.V. show, (though that gives me some ideas) it's a serious problem, with some serious genetic implications. Guys, this means you do pass the gay.

The more you know.  Oh well, maybe I can collect some serious child support, though me and my mother are going to have to have a talk about her Gaydar. As Aliza and I said when he came out, "I thought he already was? What is this madness." I have to go practice tongue twisters.

She sells sea shells by the sea shore. She sells thea shells-- NO!


Does this speech impediment make me look hipster?