If it's Monday it must be show tunes.
I met up with some chorus boys last night at Sidetrack for boywatching and show tune singing. The place was PACKED too -- mostly with straight women who are so achingly trendy they hang out at gay bars on Monday nights.
There was also this guy named Todd there. Todd goes to my gym, attends circuit events religiously, dresses like a fashion victim and shows far more interest in social climbing with the circuit set than in spending any time with me. So last night he sloshes up to me and declares through his alcoholic fog that he's "alwaysh had a crush on" me.
Now, for us teetotalers there's nothing more romantic than a drunken declaration of love -- especially from a drug user who all but ignores you when he's sober. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I asked him if that wasn't just the liquor talking -- which was obviously the wrong reception for the heroic bravery he and his Miller Lite had summoned up all the courage to show me. He mumbled something unintelligible and stumbled off in a mix of confusion and indignation, leaving me alone to ponder the cruelty of a god who would allow Madonna to be cast in the Evita movie.
And I have a feeling this is really gonna hurt my chances when I try to pledge his fraternity. Assuming he remembers any of it when he sobers up.