Suitable for Children and Fathers

Look kids, my dad, former squeezes and possible employers read my blog occasionally, so don't be expecting all the nasty little details of my personal life, m'kay? Sure, you heard rumours about Tuesday night, but you'll just have to find out all about it in the gutter, like any other self-respecting gossip hound.

That said, last night I performed at Gomorrah for the last installment of Fresh Meat, Ken Feet's party. Lord, that microphone is hot. My voice is loud enough as it is, but with that mic no one could have ignored my performance. Thus, I got to stare at the blank expressions of a bunch of latex-clad freaks and wannabes while trying to charm my way through "Otto Titsling" from Beaches. Let's not kid ourselves, I own that song. It's a hard one, and I turn that baby out. Heck, I even managed to whip my bra out from under my shirt with one hand at the last line of the song! Still, the vibe I got from the audience was "nonplussed." I did see a few folks who knew the number and seemed entertained, but I get much more of a response from a crowd that isn't grouchy from the five inch heels, corsets and facial piercings. As a friend of mine said afterward, "These people have no fucking sense of humour." Ah, well, I got to sing, had a free cocktail and made $10. Of course, I spent $24 on a cab and $32 on the CD, so I didn't exactly come out ahead. Another reason I do it is for exposure. I harbor the hope that someday I'll be singing in one of these freaky joints and someone with the actual ability to expoit my talent for money will see me. One can dream!

I, I, I, me, me, me. Sheesh, that's all I ever talk about. How are you? Did you have a nice dinner last night or was it another baby carrots and Hershey's kisses with a bottle of Coke night? Did you sleep well? How do you like your job? Uh huh. I see. That's fascinating. Anyway, enough about you, let's talk more about me.

I can't remember the last time I ate a vegetable. Oh yeah, it was the baby carrots night.