Time for a quick update of the last couple of weeks……… I’m baccccckkkkkk!!!! Sorry it’s been a while but I’ve just been busy writing for an app called Blued. If you haven’t heard of them then you’re either straight (gross) or a gay idiot. If you haven’t had chance to check my work out over there I’ll leave a link at the bottom of the page. I’m hilarious. Ask anyone.
Work/Werk/Werque wise it’s no secret that I perform in a musical to pay for my red wine needs (they’re big), and it’s also no secret that sometimes I appear in said musical as a Drag Queen. (Think Miss Piggy but less glam and a higher voice). So like Effie White (Dreamgirls reference, breeders look that up), this week I got pain. Calf pain. Thigh pain. Hamstring pain. Neck pain. Vocal pain. Pain pain. Pain. I finished performing in ‘Priscilla Queen Of The Desert’ (Breeders, if you have to look that one up I’m embarrassed for you) last summer thinking my days of dancing with heavy headdresses balanced on my head (I spent a year as an emu in the finale) were over……. this week (and every night I appear as a drag queen) I have my hair pulled out (literally) with pin curls, my microphone pinned into my stocking cap, and 4 different wigs complete with a thick tartan hat to finish the show….. you know, to really pull a guy’s hair when he’s down/going bald. Luckily though, the feeling I get on stage is incomparable. The same feeling as when you bump into your now clinically obese ex. Same feeling, but I’m wearing bigger lashes……… hopefully.
My social life has read much like a sad novel about an over weight hermit recently. Mostly as I’m planning a trip to Tel Aviv next month before I turn 30 and no doubt have a gay mid life life crisis. I say ‘gay mid life crisis’ because 30 is the very middle of your acceptable clubbing years before the birthday gifts of joke lube and designer tank tops inevitably turn into gifts of gardening gloves and especially pungent house plants. Gotta love a scented geranium! But I have also been hermitised as I’m trying to cut down on my drinking. Yawn I know. No one wants to lose another friend to the evil cult of AA, least of all me, but I would atleast like my liver to get me to an age where people do start buying me those lovely gardening gloves.
I have however dragged myself out to a couple of dates the past few weeks. One guy had all the charm and personality of a Hitler Youth (and tbh the Hitler Youth might have turned me on a bit more)(working on those issues with a therapist), another guy cancelled on me, so either he read this blog and decided he didn’t want to be another notch on my virtual bed post or he somehow heard my ridiculous speaking voice and decided he couldn’t sit through a coffee with Miss Piggy’s squeakier northern cousin. (Am I alone in hating my own speaking voice?) The most recent first date actually turned into a further one a half dates but he’s away on holiday now, so comme si comme ca (that’s French).
I will keep you posted with all my exciting plans (there are no plans), and other ways I have managed to multitask with my other hand whilst I brush my teeth (one of them includes combing my eyebrows), but ciaou for now.
Peace out mother truckers.
Here’s a blog I recently wrote for Blued-