I Thought It Got Better?

In elementary school, I was always the kid that got picked on at the monkey bars and when I would go home and cry my mom used to tell me...don't worry it gets better.

In middle school, I used to have to borrow an extra uniform from the nurse because mine would get bloody from getting beat up and I didn't want my parents to know and the nurse used to tell me...don't worry it gets better.

In high school, my sister would fight my battles and defend me against kids who wouldn't touch the same paper I was touching because they were afraid they would "catch the gay" and when we were driving home from school she would tell me...don't worry it gets better.

In college I moved to London and fought with myself to come out and become the person I was destined to be. During those hard times of finding my voice and seeing my potential my friend Christine would tell me...don't worry it gets better.

Then, I became Glitter, an indestructible ray of light that shined and danced and brought smiles wherever I would go. I wore funny outfits and strange make-up but my positivity was real and my message to those who were dealing with bullying and adversity was so simple: Don't Worry...It Gets Better.

But now I'm here, my back to the wall, the glitter washed away with tears and the bullies don't wear uniforms anymore ... they now wear suits. They don't have backpacks, they have business cards. They aren't stopping you from playing kickball...they're stopping you from living. You're in the business where "The Show Must Go On" but at what cost? When do you stop fearing you won't achieve fame and start fearing you won't achieve tomorrow? There are no teachers, no moms or sisters or anyone to tell you it gets better...so why should I think it to be true? Am I just repeating what I have been told because I don't want kids to grow up in fear? I'll be honest...I've never been more scared than I am right now. 

My Epi-Date From Hell

As I sit here with my wine looking out of my window, I can't help but think of how great writers find their inspiration to write about the important things...What is the meaning of life? How do I define success? and then I remember...it's an online blog and it's much more entertaining to write about shitty men....don't believe me? I got 10 seasons and 2 movies that are on my side.  

Part of me thinks I should retire from dating all together. I mean, I'm 26...I'm no spring chicken. I have had my share of really amazing dates and some awful awful dates but recently (and this could be because I live in a vortex or because I could actually be losing my game...but for some reason the scales of dating have leaned in the favor of terrible dates. I have had A LOT of bad dates and could start a new blog called Glitter: Queen of the bad dates but that doesn't have the same spicy flavor as my current title. Needless to say, I've never had a date almost die on me until recently. 

Things in Arizona are sort of awful in comparison to the rest of the world. By that I mean when someone says they are going to take you to the BEST _______  you ever experienced...hold onto your fucking hats...because it's probably going to suck. 

Date 1:

Do you like Italian food? 

Me:

Yes

Date 1:

Ok, we have to go to this place, BEST ITALIAN FOOD YOU'VE EVER HAD! 

Me: 

I've been to Italy and was raised by Italian women so I really doubt it but yea let's go! 

Result: It's an Olive Garden decorated like a Chili's #FAIL

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Date 2:

I want to take you somewhere exotic.

Me:

Awesome, like Tahiti? I'm already packed! 

Date 2:

Better! Do you like Sushi? I know the BEST SUSHI PLACE EVER!

Me:

Ummm, hate to break it to you but there kind of isn't any water near here? But yea, let's give it a try!

Result: Cream cheese and rice rolls...and the place was decorated like Chili's. #FAIL

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Date 3:

Do you like Mexican Food?

Me:

Now you're talking! I can see Mexico from my house! 

I do! 

Date 3:

Ok awesome! I'm going to take you to the BEST MEXICAN FOOD EVER!! 

Result: We went to Chili's...no really. Fucking. Chili's. #FUCKINGCHILIS

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And it's not just the food that's the issue, it's the company. Finding a funny, charming, respectable, working, drug free, over 21, under 55, English is your native language, single, gay, male in Southern Arizona is like looking for the Tooth Fairy...and I'd settle for any type of fairy at this point! 

Now, I know what your thinking...you can't be the best date ever but the reality is I AM!!! I am the best first date ever because all you get is the goodness and none of the crazy. My mama didn't raise no fool. I hide my flaws until after the wedding!

So after talking to this guy for what seemed like forever we finally make plans to go out and guess what I hear:

I want to take you somewhere really special...do you mind being surprised? 

He picks me up and we're driving and he asks me if I'm ready for the best dining experience of my life?

I guess dinner with the Clinton's and Tony Blair does deserve a one-up...and so I open my eyes.

MOTHERFUCKER TOOK ME TO THE MELTING POT! 

                                      

"Experiential Dining" my ass...you have to cook your own food!! Who the fuck wants to spend a now extended date cooking their own food?! And you're not even cooking it...for those of you that haven't been to the Melting Pot...you boil shit in soup. In fact, I think I'm going to submit that as their new slogan.

THE MELTING POT: COME BOIL SHIT IN SOUP! 

 We get seated and the waiter goes through the standard shpeel about how to "dine" at the Melting Pot. Now, here's the thing. I don't dislike the Melting Pot if you're going for apps and wine to dip things in cheese or for dessert to dip things in chocolate...and drink wine...but if the Melting Pot is YOUR FAVORITE RESTAURANT EVER...email me and no matter where in the world you live...I'll send you 5 places that are better.

Date and I are exchanging pleasantries and I'm actually not having a bad time!! He's really nice (aside from his horrible laugh...my fault...I'm hilarious) and as I look up from my plate/texting my sister under the table to tell her about his horrible laugh...I see this: 

OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR FACE!?

Date looks worried...although now I can't really see his eyes anymore and his laughing has turned to wheezing...awesome...he's allergic to something shitty we have just boiled in soup....I ask for help.

Date:

In my car...get my epi-pen! 

Me:

Your epi-pen?! If you're allergic enough to something that you need an epi-pen shouldn't you carry it with you!?

Date:

Shut up and go! 

So I run back out to his car search is car ....napkins in the glove compartment....cd's in the side doors....condoms in the console...I doubt the swelling is going to be that impressive...and an epi-pen. 

I run back inside and Date has created quite the scene. 1) He's surrounded by the entire wait staff 2) He's the size of a small hippo. 

I get the eli-pen ready...

Waitress:

What are doing?!

Me:

Stabbing him with his epi pen!! 

Waitress:

Not in the neck!! You have to stab his leg! 

Me:

The lighting in here is far too dim!          

and BOOM! stabbed date in his leg...he didn't magically deflate like I was expecting. Instead his eyes just started fluttering and his breathing sped up...awesome

The manager comes over and asks us if everything was OK...we reply yes and he brings us the check. I ask date if he's OK and he looks pissed! 

Date:

I can't believe they are going to charge us for the meal when it nearly killed me.

Me:

You have an allergy and you didn't tell anyone, it's not really their fault! 

Date:

Whatever, you know it's unlawful to use an epi-pen on someone and I could technically sue you and the restaurant...but I probably won't. 

1) Next time I get the chance to stab you, I'm going for the neck

2) I used the napkins from the glove compartment to handle the pen...NO PRINTS BITCH!  

No Bullshit Here

This blog follows the past 96 hours I spent with the best friend anyone could have.
(Up there with Kerri and JJ - what up Josephs!!)

I first met Scotty Andrew Lee Bruce in London during the fall of 2006.  I was a newly outed homo from the big city of Boston and he was a charismatic country bumpkin from Northern Michigan...needless to say we had very little in common when we first met.  I guess it's mostly my fault. When you start working in radio at a young age you get very used to lugery and opalence when it comes to certain things. Unless you had an open bar, an all access pass, or you were one of the Pussycat Dolls, I wasn't interested. So when I first heard this mid westerner talking to my other roommates on the street it was customary for me to go up to him and exclaim "Ya accenent sounds wicked retahded"...I was a typical Boston douchebag.

We realized very quickly though that we both shared a similar passion...being the life of the mutha-fuckin par-tay!! For some reason, when we ended up hanging out together, we could accomplish some miraculous things. For instance, some would say that the Bachelorette should get all the free drinks during her party correct? Well Scotty and I could go up to a bachelorette party and convince them to buy us drinks all night in exchange for dancing for with all of the brides fat friends...genius!

Scotty taught me a lot about life. How to enjoy the simpler things and how you don't have to have a VIP pass to have a good time. Luckily, I got also teach Scotty that having a VIP pass or going to an open bar party is a good time!! My most memorable accomplishment came in the fall of 2008. I call this, the Scotty Bruce Experiment. Keep in mind Scotty never owned dress shoes or a tie in his life up until this point...he was 22.

 

                                                                

                                                                                          BEFORE



AFTER

But this blog isn't about dressing up like Batman and Robin and running around the United Kingdom, this isn't about the time I made Scotty dress up in a giant pizza costume and he got heatstroke or the time I flew to Michigan and showed up to the middle of nowhere in a stretch limo full of Hypnotic when I was 20....this blog is about BULL RIDING.

Scotty calls me about a month ago

Scotty:
Dude, I found a place to go bull riding are you in?

Me:
Ummm I guess so?

Scotty:
No, it's going to be awesome. It's only $20!

Me:
That sounds awfully cheap...does it come with anything?? Like the bull or a helmet?

Scotty:
I guess a helmet would be smart

Me:
Yes it would

Scotty:
Ok, let me double check

:::20 minutes later:::

Scotty:
Ok, you can rent gear but it's extra

Me:
See, this is how they get you! Ok, sign me up!

So last Friday I pick up Scotty in Phoenix and we drive up Bloody Basin Road to Cave Creek Arizona...aka...the styx.

We arrive at the Buffalo Chip Saloon and just like in the brochure...it's a bar with a bull pen in the back.

Now, up until this point, there was still a teeny tiny part of my mind that thought we might be riding mechanical bulls. I mean, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility!! I could show off my proess and cowboy skills all with the safety and comfort of an inflatable cushion under me.

But then we went and signed the waiver...just your standard "MAY RESULT IN DEATH" sign on the dotted line waiver from a large woman named Lacey. Lacey was a Melissa McCarthy look alike in the face except she had long gray hair. (small note about me, I am horrified by women who have long gray hair). Signed, sealed, and delivered I was ready to get my bull riding on!!

8pm rolls around and Scotty and I enter the ring. They open the rodeo with a prayer (because we are in South) the National Anthem (because we are at a sporting event) and we get to watch Lacey ride around the ring on a horse (because apparently we were being punished).

Then they introduce Gary. Gary was at the rodeo last week and got caught underneath the bull. He was maimed and sent to the hospital where they had to open up his skull to let his brain swelling go down...but he was back and ready for action tonight!!At this point, I was seriously considering backing out...then Scotty came over fresh off of his bull ride and locked me into my helmet.




Ima scurred mama

 Me:
How was it?

Scotty:
Dude...you can't....I can't...you just...

Me:
You're not making any sense

They called my name and I saw Playboy.

Playboy

Playboy was 2300lbs of bull that was ready for me mount. Scotty and I watched some YouTube videos on "how to ride a bull" and we asked some of the locals how they did it but NOTHING prepares you for actually sitting on the back of a bull...because nothing makes sense.

Once you're one...people just start SCREAMING at you!! And NONE of the words makes sense!!

"YOU ALL SET? YOU BUTTERFLIED"
"YOU SCQUATCHED IN? YOU READY TO GAUNTLET?"
"GIVE HIM A 10 KEY ROUND IN"
"READY?"
"READY?"
"READY!"

The next thing you hear is the sound of the giant gate openings and the beast underneath has one objective...get you the fuck off of his back!!
The maximum amount of time a bull rider is on a bull for is 8 seconds...some of you might be thinking...I can do anything for 8 seconds!...you...are full of fucking shit.

And I'm off!

The scariest part about bull riding is...well everything about it but my biggest fear was how am I going fall off? Scotty went forward and over the horns but that was not my plan...no way was baby boy was not going out like Gary the walking vegetable...no sir.

Instead after what felt like 3 hours (3 seconds) Playboy had enough of me and launched me up and off into the dirt below.

Now, there is falling on dirt and then there is getting launched onto dirt. Getting launched onto dirt means that dirt goes into places on your body that you have forgotten you even had. There is dirt...EVERYWHERE. And its up there....not pretty.

I got back to Scotty and thought it was the best thing I have ever done. I have been bungee jumping, cliff jumping, sky diving and I've danced with fat chicks at a bachelorette party...I know danger but this was nothing like I've ever done.

Scotty rides twice more and I have one more ride...the bull was named Blue.

Blue...was a bitch. He started bucking when I was in the pen...I asked them why the bulls were so mad

"Well they got this here rope your holding tied around their balls, soon as you fall off, the rope falls off"

This was some Amistad shit right here...I almost felt bad for the bulls. I was in a bad relationship so I know what it's like to be held by the balls so I apologized to Blue to hoping he'd forgive me and let me impress my friends with an 8 second ride...NO FUCKING DICE.

Blue kicked the shit out of me...literally. Granted, I lasted longer than my first ride which was my goal...once Blue had me down...he wasn't done with me.


That is my leg with my boot underneath Blue

As I was leaving the pen with no wind in me and seeing stars some redneck motherfucker tried to come up to me and tell what I did wrong. Scotty descibes my reaction as "sassy". As he approached me...I just shot him a look and put my finger in his face. 

He nagging me despite my warning! Imagine you just fell off of a bull, got trampled, and some wannabe cowboy is going to come over and reprimand you?! OH. HELL.NO.

No more tough cowboy exterior...no more playing by the rules and pretending I gave a fuck about bull riding and impressing the ladies...I.QUEENED.OUT on this bitch and luckily Scotty filmed it...it pretty much looked like this: (I havent figured out how to load video on my blog yet)

I clearly scared him away by unleashing my inner Diva and we ended the night the only way we knew how...by line dancing with random women to a country band while drinking Dos Equis XX until we couldnt feel our pain anymore which by my calculations should be by 2018.

So here is to our next adventure...not sure what it will be but I have a feeling I might need to brush up on my swimming.

The Stalker

Some people might call me an attention whore and they wouldnt be entirely wrong. Since birth, I have always craved the spotlight and whether it be sitting on the bar holding court or being on stage for work, the spotlight sort of suits me.

Even my closest friends know that a night out with me will consist of drinks and caddy chatter until the time comes where I find some elevated platform to dance on so I don't have to mixed with the unwashed masses. It's nothing against everyone else, and I'm not some sort of Step Up 2: The Streets move maker, it's just that I don't like dancing with everyone else. I have recently learned though, that not all attention is good attention. Submitted for the approval of the midnight societ- oh wait, wrong show.

BEST.SHOW.EVER

Since the start of this blog, I have been receiving fan mail in many forms. Letters, emails, tweets, texts and actual gifts from people thanking me for entertaining them one way or another and I think it is quite sweet. I honestly, blog to pass the time as I attempt to keep sanity while I wait out my sentence in Sudemerica. One particular person, has been a little too interested tho. We will call him Mike for all intentional purposes. From what I gather he is a 26 year old homosexual from middle earth America where they don't like gays all that much. He started writing to me around Christmas time and telling me that I was his inspiration for coming out. Now, I don't like to be any body's muse when it comes to things like this because I am not 100% sure that what I'm doing is the right thing so the last thing I want is to be queen of the glitterettes....no no, not my style.

It was my fault for instigating Mike on account of the fact that 1) he's actually quite attractive 2) I'm terribly fucking bored. So I responded to his first few nice albeit standard compliments of "You're so funny and sexy" and we began to correspond via email. Now, my email therealglitterblog@gmail.com is not my personal email and only my blog email. Many of you know my personal email but you'll notice I don't put it up here for specifically this reason. Mike and I have corresponded for several months and I do not know what it is about me but sometimes people grow quite attached quite quickly. Mike...is one of those people.

"How's the sexiest blogger in the world?"
I don't know, ask Orlando Bloom 

"You should come visit me in Memphis"
Been once, cold and rainy...it was August. No thanks

"If I moved to Tucson, could we be together?"

Now, I will be the first to admit that I am a GIANT virtual flirt. I have amazing work hours that are currently filled with sub par dates and too much downtime so I will of course, spend the extra few minutes emailing you and flirting with you...especially if you're telling me I'm the sexiest funniest person you know...I mean...c'mon...I'm not retarded. BUT...I will not ever give you false hope that I want to be with you in any capacity nor will I tell you that I think you should you move to Tucson so "we can be together" gross. what is this the Notebook?

So I started to retract my emails. I know enough not to go cold turkey because that just sends bitches crazy but little did I know that while I keep track of how many people read my blog...this crazy bitch kept track of how many emails a day we exchanged.

"Just wondering if I did something wrong, you're not emailing me as much"
Nope, just really busy with work ::crazypants::

"I was reading back on our emails and I noticed we had 4 last Thursday but only 1 today"
I know, work is just really busy. ::crazypants::

"You must be writing your blog. I know you're writing your blog because I can see you have a pending  draft so it must be the one that's coming out tomorrow. You must be on your computer then. Why won't you email me back".
::crazypants::

Now, I'm not into games. If I think someone is being led on by me...and I have boys that will attest to this...I will put everything in an email and let you know where we stand. So I did...and I thought that would be ok. It was a very nice email...too nice even.

"I think you're a very nice guy and I'm sorry I led you on. It was my fault for flirting back and it was very irresponsible of me..."

"I'm really appreciative that you like my blog but I can't let you think anything is going to become of this...I'm sure you'll find a really nice guy but that guy just isn't me"

Oh yea, I know what you're thinking...I'm a jerk and you're right I am...but this isn't even someone I've ever met!!! This isn't like you used to date or met for coffee or have even met in real life! This is a fan of your online blog.

For weeks I got no response and I was pretty OK with that. Obviously, I didn't want the kid to go hurt himself on my behalf...I mean...I'm full of myself but I'm a good person.

Finally, about 3 weeks ago, I get an email from him. I doesn't have RE: in the subject line so I'm not even sure if he's read my email. The body of email just says the following:

"I don't want anyone else. I want you and we will be together" 
-Mike 

Now OBVIOUSLY, I would not be writing this if I didn't contact my father who called his FBI/CIA/DEA/DIA/FCC/DOD/KFC buddies and have this problem handled. Nor, would I ever make the mistake of entertaining corresponding in depth with a fan of me or my blog in the matter of which I did. But when I see these people on social media be so OBSESSED with celebrities all I can think of is Brit Brit.

you say i'm crazy? I got your crazy

Dr. DooGlitter

Ah Springtime!! A time for my friends Allegra and Beny to come play from the cabinet, a time for constant reminders on social media how single you are, and of course, a daily alarm clock that Summer is right around the corner and that teeny tiny bathing suit probably isn't going to be showing off your sixpack anytime soon.

Luckily, in Arizona, nobody knows what fucking month it is weather wise because every month is pretty much the same. Nov-Feb (High 80s low 50s) Mar-Jun (High 90's Low 50's) and Jul-Oct (High 100's Low 50's)...and it's sunny every goddamn day. I'm not asking for rain or sleet or snow but if MAYBE those U of A Adonis' could keep their shirts on one day a week while I'm in line for the Dunkin Donuts Drive Thru it would really help my mental stability....not to mention I'll stop jumping curbs because I'm not paying attention to the road.

Everyday

Another super swell part of springtime in the desert is that the animals mate like crazy. I'm not talking about the sorority girls...although....but I am talking about the rabid wildlife that inhabits this God forsaken land. I had no idea how much the Circle of Life was going to fuck mine up until the other day......

I don't like vaginas. I just want to get that out the way. I have never seen a vagina in real life since I was born via c-section. I am what we call..."A Platinum Gay"...never been there, no intention of visiting, sometimes browse the visitor's brochure.

I don't just dislike vaginas and all their gross nicknames...I'm actually quite scared of them. I mean, I'm not retarded, I know what they look like in their full, upright, and locked position...but then there's added layers of awfulness that in my mind look like this:

So it's no surprise that I wouldn't know how to operate a vagina in the event of an emergency if my life depended on it. Cut to last week when I was volunteering at the local animal shelter. Now, I love dogs but I have had a really bad track record keeping them. I believe my sister and I have gone through 7 dogs and have seen none of them die. Bella we had to give away because she was rabid, Mercedes-Beyonce now lives with my aunt under the assumed named "Sadie", and Nike went to live with a nice family on a farm. But I really do love animals and I was so excited to start volunteering at the shelter.

I have been there about 3 months and have keys to the place and everything. I just show up, walk some dogs, give them baths on the weekends, help them find homes and completely avoid anything that has to do with cats....(see above).

I noticed something odd about the other volunteers at the shelter and went to my coordinator one day and said "should I be wearing an orange jumpsuit too? nobody gave me one and I just want to make sure I dont need one"

Once he stopped laughing and realized I was serious, he explained to me that the other "workers" were in fact, criminals serving out their community service in the shelter. This didn't bother me so much since I was never alone with them by myself...until this day.

I get back from walking Blue Ivy and I notice the other walkers have all left. I am somewhat cautious to quickly drop Blue off and hightail it out of there because I've seen OZ and I know how these things can turn out. As I'm leaving, this trashy little Saturn comes speeding into the parking lot and out pops a mom and her little girl...I'll say she was 10...old enough that she certainly should have been in school.  

Mom:

Is there a vet here? My dog is sick!!

Me:

I'm sorry, the vets aren't here until 10. 

Mom:

Are you a Vet?! Can you help us! 

Little Girl:

Please help Missy, she's sick! 

Mom:

Look, my little girl just lost her dad (found out he was arrested later and I should have asked her if works with me) and I can't have her lose her puppy, isn't there SOMETHING you can do?

Me:

They're gonna stop serving egg mcmuffins in 10 minutes...aw fuck it

Um, sure...come inside. 

So I take Mom and Little Girl into the volunteer area where is makeshift grass for the dogs to have playtime. I look at Missy and this bitch is no puppy...she in labor.  I have ZERO medical background nor do I play a doctor on TV (yet). I start to panic. 

Me:

Ummm, ok first we need to call the emergency number on that flyer. Can you do that?

Mom:

We ain't got no mobile phone

Me:

Of course you don't

Here, use mine. 

Mom:

I don't know how to use this computer

Me:

It's an iPhone!! Oh for christs sake! 

I call the director...and got his voicemail. 

At this point, several of the other "workers" hear the ruckus and come over. Missy is laying on the fake grass panting like she's going to die surrounded by (2) red necks (4) convicts and a homo...

Mom:

The puppy is stuck...help it out!

Me:

I AM NOT A TRAINED VET LADY!! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'M LOOK- OH MY FUCKING GOD! 

Missy was (attempting) to birth a puppy that got stuck. Where? Oh yea...you guessed it. 

Me:

Can anyone get me gloves? Salad tongs? Something!!! 

Missy is crying, little girl is crying...pretty sure one of the inmates were crying and I was crying...on the inside. On the outside I was Dr. DooGlitter - Vet Tech To The Stars! 

Me:

Ok, Missy, let's get you some puppies! 

And I did it...I went in...didn't know what I was doing, didn't know what I was looking for...but I knew that I found it.

Me:

OH MY GOD IT'S SO GROSS IN HERE!

And then I saw what a newborn puppy looks like....for the first time in my life I got to witness the miracle of nature in all of it's glory. The start of a new life destined to provide companionship and love to this trashy woman and her trashy daughter and honestly, I can say for the bottom of my heart...

It was FUCKING GROSS.

The thing came out in a sack! Just plopped right now in a moving sack and Missy had to CHEW the sack off so the little blind puppy could find it's teat. I have never been more sick in my entire life.

After that one popped out about 3 more followed. I don't know how Missy did it but I wanted an epideral just for watching. 

Mom and Daughter offered me one of the puppies for helping deliver it and I politely declined. I kind of don't want my dog anymore. (of course I still love jenniferlopez) but I can only compare it to if you saw how Chinese Food was made you probably wouldn't want it to eat it anymore...because there are some secrets of life that should not be revealed.