Boy Of Your Dreams
My Rocky Montage
Tony Soprano got whacked at the end of the series. I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense!
This last weekend I visited my old friend Mr. Reality Show Reject who now lives in a grand house-turned-apartment in Jersey with his partner who is a huge puerto rican man with the bitchiest attitude on earth.
Mr. Reality show Reject was well, and he asked me why I looked so thin.
"You got AIDS or something."
I explained to him my predicament:
For the last three weeks I've known that an old flame of mine, a flame that never burnt out I might add, is coming to New York for a good two months. He's a teacher and a former closet case towards our mutual friend, that is until he met me. We all got drunk and he was shoved out of the closet by my friend and into my arms.
He said he'd messed around with guys, but that I was the only guy he'd ever thought he could date.
And we kissed, and it was sweet, and we held elbows, interlocked.
And then he went back home that Monday, and I was left with just a delightful memory.
Well the dude is coming back to New York, and I'm on a speedboat towards reality. When I see him, what if it isn't THERE anymore? What if there's no spark? What if there IS, then what do I do? Do I hang out with him all 2 months, do we elope? Do I try and convince him to stay?
I was determined to follow one thing through though...I would look the BEST I'VE EVER LOOKED.
And so I embarked on an intense 3 week regiment consisting of light sandwhiches, push ups, sit ups, weights, half-assed yoga, and embarrassing stretching exercises in front of mirrors.
All boys are pushed aside. All crushes are put on hold. My dream boy from Australia is coming, and I'm going to get him HOT.
Its just too bad i blew the diet once I was in Jersey with Mr. Reality Show Reject. I ate some chocolate and massive amounts of potatoes.
He arrives on Saturday, that's when I'll see him. Let's get training.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Boy Of Your Dreams