Not A Man

Oh my god. OH MY GOD. I went out with Brad again last night. You know, my cute neighbor? It was a great evening until we got home and I invited him in for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and I had him in my bedroom soon enough. With my back to him, I slid my pants down to show him my new and improved tattoo, which he thought was awesome. But when I turned to face him, a look of shock and disappointment filled his face. "You...you have a vagina," he moaned. Well of course I do. It seems...this is so damn embarrassing and awful...it seems he was attracted to me because he thought I was a man who chose to dress as a woman. He said I was so masculine looking that the conclusion was obvious. Me, masculine looking?! I'm a little butch, and my breasts may be as small as grapes, but come on!

Now I'm just pissed off and sad. Gotta head to the office shortly for my regular Saturday shift, so I guess I'll take my pot with me and just smoke it there. I never smoke pot in the office on weekday shifts. (Well, never anymore.) Only on Saturdays. Then after work tonight I need to find a man who apreciates a fine woman like myself. Someone who can be attracted to my femininity. Gotta get my self-esteem back up. I am NOT a man. I have a vagina.

Busy Week

It's been a really busy week for me. So much going on, I don't know where to start!

I finally found my car, which I "misplaced" a while ago when I went out celebrating my status as Worst Owner/Dispatcher at Veterans Cab. It was parked in the alley behind Babe's, a club on Cary Street. It's a wonder it never got towed. I went to Red Dragon Tattoo and got the embarassing tattoo on my rear end changed. I was going to just have it removed, but the tat artist there convinced me to alter it instead. Now it says "Free To Enter". Cool, huh?

They called me back for a second audition at the Hispanic Liberation Theater. Even though my breasts are nowhere near Oprah's size, and I'm not even the same skin color, they seem to really like my ability to cry on cue during the dramatic scenes and the leg split I can do during the big musical finale.

My neighbor, the cute one I had to borrow money from a while back? We went out to dinner together. He took me to this great Thai restaurant, then walking along the James River downtown. It was an enchanting evening. When he dropped me off at home, I was ready to drag him inside and jump his bones, but being a polite gentleman he simply kissed me on the cheek and asked if we could do this again sometime soon. OF COURSE WE CAN.

Due to some problems at work, I had to get someone arrested. He didn't do anything really out of the ordinary, but he pissed me off so bad that I thought I'd teach him a lesson.

Got a package in the mail from Raul. He's still in Brazil, taking care of his mother, but he hopes he can come and visit soon. What was in the package, you ask? Awww, sorry, guys and gals, but that's classified information.

They opened a new factory here and are hiring people to bag M&Ms. You know, the melt in your mouth, not in your hand chocolate candy? I thought about going over there. Could always use the extra income. But it occured to me: how will I know which ones have M on them and which ones have a W on them? I wouldn't want to toss out the wrong ones. Or do they have a machine that separates them before they get to the bagging line?

More to write about--it's been a busy few days--but I've got to get ready for my second date with my cute neighbor tonight. Hope it goes as well as the first!

Audition Blues

Had my audition today for the Hispanic Liberation Theater's production of "To Oprah, From John". I think I did okay, but one of the other women auditioning, a large black woman, laughed and told me I could never be Oprah. NEVER. Several other women gave me crap for not looking anything like Oprah, for not knowing who Stedman is, for coming to the auditon dressed ina tank top and pink hot pants. Whatever. They're just jealous. The producers said they'll make their final decision in the next couple of weeks so cross your fingers for me. It's not Ginger, but it's just as cool.

Oprah and John Tesh

I checked into the Hispanic Liberation Theater down on Jefferson Davis Highway, and they've got an exciting project coming up that I'm really excited about. They are doing a play/musical based on the time Oprah Winfrey and John Tesh supposedly were an item, and they need someone to fill the role of Oprah. How cool would that be? Me, as Oprah! There's possibly a nude scene, but I think I can deal with that, even with my stretch marks and all. I wonder who they're going to get to play John Tesh. The script is REALLY long, and you know I have trouble remembering things, but I should be okay. The big musical number in which Oprah begs John not to leave, with dancing chairs and table lamps and a disco strobe light, should be a real hoot. Maybe evena hoot and a half. Gotta go work on memorizing my lines for tomorrow's audition. Wish me luck!

Butch and Butch

I had the weirdest dream last night. I was having a threesome with Butch H and Butch B on a waveless water bed in a graveyard. I can't say it didn't turn me on, but still, it was strange. Tim did such a good job on that taxi song--maybe I could get him to write a song for me called "The Two Butches". Well, since I am kinda butch myself, maybe we could call it "The Three Butches" instead. What do you think?

Ginger Dream

Bummer. MAJOR bummer. I found out that if I want to audition for (and play) Ginger in the upcoming Broadway musical version of "Gilligan's Island", I would have to go to New York. Who knew Broadway was in New York? I sure didn't. You learn something new every day. No, I can't go to New York. You see, I went to NY on vacation several years ago and I still have an oustanding warrant against me there. Prostitution charge. But I was not and have never been a prostitute. I just told the guy that if he wanted to have sex with me, it would cost him $200. That's not prostitution. The guy said I wasn't worth twenty bucks. I know that, and you know that, but I wasn't going to admit it to him. So I think he just got pissed that I wouldn't lower my rates and that's why he reported me to a cop.

My uncle/father Butch Hatch says he could help me get the charges dismissed if we went up there. He says all we'd have to do is walk in the courtroom and ask the judge if I really looked pretty enough to get work as a hooker and it would get thrown out of court faster than my drivers get thrown out of Veterans Cab. (Which is pretty damn fast, let me tell you!)

But there's another problem with me playing Ginger. It turns out I would have to wear a short, tight dress for the role, and I just can't do that. I've never told anyone this before, but when I was a teenager I wasn't as thin as I am now. Hard to believe, I know, but true. I was a bit too much in love with food when I was fifteen. Smoking helped me lose a lot of the weight, and surgery took care of the rest, but I've still got these nasty stretch marks on my thighs. Can you see me up on stage in front of thousands of people with my stretch marks visible under the stage lights? No way. No can do. Plus, like I've mentioned before, learning all of theose lines might be a problem. I can't remember things very well.

So, my dream of playing Ginger will just have to remain that--a dream. I hear the Hispanic Liberation Theater on Jefferson Davis Highway is looking to put on a few major productions soon. Maybe I'll see what's up with that.