Green Eyed Monster

The other day, I was blabbering on (which I usually do) about how grateful I am that I'm not in New York (which I usually don't).

Feeling all content and self-righteous with my St. Louis is the New York for the New Millennium commentary, I went about my weekend making mischief, something also not uncommon.

Before you think this is going somewhere lurid (which it doesn't - but it could - because it has), I should explain that now that I have found the Church, my mischief making ways now invole bicycling compulsively, smoking like a fiend and finding cute, new tee shirts to wear.

All for the glory of a cheap buzz, vanity and a new gay.com profile photo.

Think of it as a mix of: Can I get an Amen? and Can I get a man? But those are questions I'm not answering up in here. I don't kiss and tell. Not anymore.

So I was all full of sassafrass this morning, ready to spill the beans on a Top Secret project I've been working on and then I read this entry from my Pretend Internet Boyfriend, who is one of those "unfortuante New Yorkers."

He saw Suzanne Sommer's one woman show in NYC and my smugness evaporated. It was like salt in a wound, reading about the final performance of her "One Woman Musical Joyride," The Blonde in the Thunderbird.

But I can't begrudge him for having access to theater, which is all he may have access to, these days. But if Suzanne takes her show on the road, I'm thinking it's time for a road trip.

And as for my Top Secret project, well, that's still in the works...