Being reared.

A friend wrote a blog mentioning her mother's sometimes rascist comments that she would slough off by saying that's "just how her generation was raised" and shit like that.

My parents would do the same thing. I think it's inexcusable and stupid. Now that I'm having a kid soon I know I have to be super careful to mind my p's and q's too. I say homo and faggot way too much.

Trying to find good child care will be tough too. I hire some old English nanny and I risk Miss Doubtfire dying on me. I hire a hot, trendy manny and he'll end up screwing Boyfriend. Do I hire some Euro girl au pair? She'll just end up stealing my clothes.

Either way, it'll be a pleasant and racism-free work enviornment. No swastikas or nooses in the trees. In fact the only thing in trees here are pinatas and panties and both are changed weekly when Gardener comes (I don't know his name but I capitalize to show respect).

I'm gonna teach my kids all about respect and shit.

Halloween Countdown!

I'm taking suggestions for Halloween outfits this year.

So far I'm leaning towards a slutty Smurfette.

(I had to cross out slutty because it's a given. I mean seriously- she's the only chick in that little mushroom village. Tell me that she don't have a line outside her door every night and I'll shove a Snork sandwich down your lying throat)

So any advice? Recommendations?

4 oz. (the average weight of the male penis)

I'm in a foul ass mood...and it's worsened by the fact that I know I don't deserve to be. Seriously. I auditioned for a character today on a show that I wasn't right for according to what the script said. I went in and they said that I "always do good work." It was super nice to hear that coming out of the mouth of the man who gave me the biggest break of my career. I would do anything for this dude. I just want his approval more than anything in the world. More than Spielberg or Donatella Versace. Although Donatella giving me a once over, snapping her fingers and nodding in agreeance would be cool (She wouldn't have time to purr "bella" because she'd have to rush off to do a line of coke of the life-sized cocaine replica of The David she keeps in her powder room)

Back to the audition (straight to producers at least-no pre-read)-I walked out knowing I wouldn't get the job. I walked to the parking lot with the woman I thought would get the job. Hours pass with no phone call = no job. I immediately got in a funk. Why? I don't know. I'm super happy for Alex (the cool-as-hell chick I'd bet money that got it). And I've lost plenty of jobs. The role was a transexual woman in her 40's.

Of course they read Carson Kressley for the role.

Alexandra Billings (google her) and I had this exchange with the casting associate.

Me: Carson Kressley?
Alexandra: Really?!
Casting Associate: They're thinking outside the box.
Me: That would be one man-made box...

EMMY's....Who you calling a bitch (U.N.I.T.Y.)

My friend Bridgette of Madison County has dissed Jamie Pressley's Emmy win for Best Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series. I did the My Name is Earl pilot with Jamie. Nicest and most gracious chick who was truly a pavement pounder. I'm so happy for her.

But this presents a question.
Is the actor truly nominated for their skill level or their performance?
Like Greg Kinnear was nominated for an Oscar for playing a gay man in As Good as It Gets. The same year, Rupert Everett was overlooked for his much more enjoyable and welcome performance as a gay man in My Best Friend's Wedding. Makes me wonder-did Greg garner the nod because Greg playing gay was a greater display of skill? I mean all Rupert had to do was up the camp and play fag to Julia's hag right?

Something to think about? Nah. But who didn't love love LOVE that Miss Latifah is so proud to be introducing Roots as part of the whole Black culture movement? Would love even more if she ever got around to being proud enough to announce she's a lesbian. It's sooo keeping it real La-La. Go back to rapping where you can stay in the closet (Are you listening Da Brat?)

She could be a role model to young gay girls instead of just a Covergirl (like she actually wears that drugstore shit though? HA!)

Confession

I have an admission for you all. I mean to blog much more than I do. I really, truly do.
The problem is my Favorites...y'know- the list of sites that you frequent that are stored on your computer?
Mine go like this:
1. Amatuerstraightguys.com
2. As Long As There's Sidewalks, I'll Have a Job
3. Awful Plastic Surgery.

My blog falls right between two sites that I could spend hours (or minutes depending on the subject). It's kinda like locking Carnie Wilson in a Krispy Kreme to scrub the floors. Does anyone think any work would get done? No!

Another reason is I've been having an influx of eustress (good stress- suck it SAT Prep!). Meetings, auditions and the looming return of Tranny McGuyver. That's right. It's back and big. I have a director, producer and budget. It'll be between 12-20 minutes and will be doing the festival circuit with a DVD release. Who knows...Maybe I'll submit it for the Best Short Film Oscar too. My Maxim Hot 100 pal Noureen DeWulf's was in last year's winner West Bank Story. This year I suggested to Boyfriend that maybe I could win next year. I had hoped for his support. Instead I got laughter. It wasn't hurtful. I got a thick skin.

The popsicle I threw at his head might've hurt though (don't worry- it was half gone, he didn't call the cops, and it was low calorie).

Thank you cards are for pussies

My ears on fire. Everyone's been talking about my appearances on TV!
My ass is on fire too but that's 'cause I had a 6 pack of Smirnoff Ice, some Hot Fire Cheeto's and then kiki'ed it up to the Sheriff's station to visit my old friends.

I miss jail. You've never really had a gangbang until there's been actual gang dudes all tear tattooed finger banging you with blue bandana's flying (That's right- Crips only! Blood's are all bottoms anyway)

Oh...and a belated happy birthday to my Mom! I haven't spoken to my parents for the longest stretch of my life thus far- two weeks- but I know they read my blog. It's been tense all these years anyway. Like Mom was never proud that I learned how to French braid at 13. That really hurt.

But serious my family's a mess right now, y'all (say it like Britney and it's funny!). Mess, Mess, Mess. But then again so's my hair. It looks like I brushed it with a dick yet again. It's just the curls and the humidity. My mom's is the same. She used to go through a can of mousse a week. I miss my parents but I gotta just let that imaginary scab heal. It's always so tempting to pick it but that would make me a dirty scab picker.