RandomCha

The party is less than 3 hours away! The punch is made, all but mixed: the juice of 11 lemons. Thank goodness I have my Juice-O-Matic. Party planning is all set. Andy even found gold lame. He’ll look fabulous, and rather queeny (in a touching way). Feelin’ good.

from imdb.com:

Speaking exclusively to US news show Access Hollywood as part of a week-long special about his scientology beliefs, Tom Cruise declares, “I’m going right after psychiatry and these false labels and this pseudo-science. I was diagnosed as dyslexic; I had a lot of energy as a child. They wanted to put me on drugs… Never did; my mother said no, absolutely not, no way and I’m thankful. Had I been put on those drugs, I never would be here today… I never would have had the career that I’m having. Am I making people aware of it by discussing it openly and saying what a fraud psychiatry is? You bet I am. I feel a responsibility because I care…” The actor also maintains that poor results in education in America can be blamed on mind-altering drugs that are given to children. He adds, “SAT (exam) scores have gone right down the toilet. The parents are blaming the teachers, the teachers are blaming the parents and the psychs are putting everyone on drugs.”

Brandon had to go jump on the truck & help out with a delivery. That was 45 minutes ago. Uh oh. I think he might be cranky when he gets back.

Getting a little tingly about Andy’s party tomorrow night. We’re so well-stocked with sustenance items and libations, I almost feel ashamed. Hope the weather’s nice. Need to create a preparation schedule, a loose framework for doing things: making the brownies, ensuring the punch is properly chilled, trays of finger food, cleaning up the back porch, stocking plenty of ice. Andy is going shopping with Jeremy for a party outfit tomorrow. While I plan to wear a simple and comfy combo of grey t-shirt and soft canvas trousers, Andy is sticking with his pledge to wear gold lame (accent grave) … or at least some sort of a gold sequiny jacket. He needs something like the magic outfit that Malcolm McDowell wears in “O Lucky Man!”

Brandon called in sick this morning and Edgar is going home early because he’s sick. But so far it’s been slow. Strangely, I’m in a good mood.

I am so fucking sick of SUPERHERO MOVIES! For crying out loud, give it a rest! If I see ONE more preview for a comic-book-turned-movie-CGI-orgy, I swear someone is gonna get it! Fuck!

“You doth protest too much.”

He woke up again and he felt like he wanted to sleep for another 200 years. And he was almost scared. He felt a hole inside of him, a concrete absence of something he didn’t have a name for. It almost paralyzed him. That was new, the feeling of helplessness, but the hole wasn’t. He knew the hole must have been there for awhile. That he couldn’t tell how long it had been there was what scared him. It was loneliness. He was aware of the fact that, for whatever reason, up until this moment he had lacked the necessary sensory receptors to know it was there. Now it was like a kind of sight that felt worse than being blind. He wished he could tell when it had started to control him.

He was on the bed, lying on top of the sheets naked, something he never did. Then he remembered finding his way back to the hotel. Going up to the desk clerk and making it known that he needed laundry service, and then stumbling up the stairs to his room where he stripped off his clothes and dumped them in the middle of the hallway outside his door. He hoped the porter had known what to do. Maybe they were still there. He was still exhausted, bone-tired, as if suffering from a hangover caused by an alcohol he had never drank before.

From the solid dimness in the room he took a guess that it was late afternoon. He stared at the shadows falling across his bare skin. Somehow in the silence and the dull burnt orange light he could imagine he was looking at someone else, and the thought suddenly excited him. He saw himself get instantly hard, and then a hand coming into view. He started panting, went rigid and rocked back and forth on is spine as he jacked off. He started moaning, “Grant, Grant, oh fuck,” and he didn’t know where it was coming from or what it meant, but it was so hot, he was watching Grant getting him off, and imagining his own face, Grant lying right there barely not-touching him, and then he came. And he shot so hard that he literally hit the wall behind his head. It was completely confusing. And then he was rudely jerked out of the moment, and he was lying there sticky and cold and alone on the bed. He dragged his fingers through the stickiness and then put them in his mouth to try and stop the crying, but it didn’t.

thejeremyshow had his application for a new apartment approved & moves in June 1st.

andystardust did not receive a scholarship for the Fall term at Dominican.

Keep both gentlemen in your thoughts.

A large Leona’s pepperoni/onion deep dish is on the way.

*drool*