M-O-U-R-Gay

Apologies that I didn't post last week. I was going to say it's because I got a new job and I was super busy but the reality is...I just discovered this show on Netflix called 30 Rock and well...I'm kind of obsessed. Anywho...

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I think it's safe to say that anyone who is reading this realizes that my goals are plain and simple. I want to be rich and I want to be famous. Regardless of what you think about my plan or style of getting these things, let me just give you a quick background.

I've always been rich. I don't mean that I'm heir to some wayward Doherty Irish Potato Famine fortune that traveled the Atlantic, I'm saying I've been a hustler since a young age. My bad, I realize many of my readers are gay. I'm not a hustler in that sense...anymore. I don't sell my body or services for money.  Think less Bel Ami or more Jay-Z. Being a hustler means you work very hard every single day and make money wherever and whenever you can.

Not so much...

Slightly better

This all goes back to my days with Kay. Kay was...well...I'm not really sure how to explain this...Kay was a Chinese merchant whose establishment in downtown Manhattan  was the proprietor of luxury name brand goods at discount prices. Translated: The bitch sold fake bags on Canal Street. When I happened upon there in the summer of 2002, I was instantly mesmerized by the money they made and the business they had. I couldn't let my father know what was going on because well...he was a cop and he would arrest me so I had to set up a small side business.

PRADAH, GUCHI, LUEEE VEETON?

It went GANGBUSTERS!! I'm not kidding. You'd think someone would be suspect of some random homo wearing sunless tanner and purple contacts because he thought he was Naomi Campbell for a brief period of time selling fake handbags out of the trunk of his Buick Century...but oddly they didn't. They probably thought I had enough problems with my identity to worry about my illegal activities...whatever.

But where did the being famous thing come from?

Many of you may or may know that when I was 10, my parents brought me and my sister to Lake Buena Vista Florida to audition for the second round of the Mickey Mouse Club. Many of your favorite stars like Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears, and that dude from Notebook all got started on the Mickey Mouse Club. As for the story of the overweight gay pre-teen and his anorexic sister who tried to impress the producers with their duet of the Boy Is Mine while wearing matching bucket hats?? They...didn't make the cut.

You need to give it up. I've had about enough... 

Rejection is part of the business and while my foray into the entertainment industry took some more twists and turns... There was the off off off Broadway play (when I say off Broadway...I mean Massachusetts). There was the reality tv show...oh that was a hoot. This was pre-Hilton/Kardashian reality tv so it was less Real World and more...well to be honest I don't know what the fuck it was. All I know is that it filmed in this creepy building with a prop desk, fake phones, and neon sign...it could have been a porn set...but then I remembered what I looked like at 18 when I did it and I realize it was NOT porn.

Girlfriend loves her fake tan...just sayin

So there was that...and then there was the actual adult film stint later on in life...but I'll save that for another blog.

I never knew that my career would lead me back to the Mouse. I say The Mouse because you and I both know what would happen if I used the actual name of the company. You think the Beygency is real? Try bad mouthing The Mouse...my family would be in danger.

The Mouse called me back to work for their entertainment division hosting various events, some radio/tv work, looks like tons of fun and a great paycheck! What could possibly go wrong?!

Ok let's get real...everybody loves The Mouse. They have to. It's ingrained into our minds as young children that being a child = loving the mouse. I'm no different! I love the mouse! I wanted to be fucking Mousekateer...I LOVE THE MOUSE.

See what happened? People get so crazy about the Mouse that they can't process it. To say you have to drink the kool-aid is a gross understatement. You have to inject that shit. Want to work for them? It's simple!! Just be the following: Happy, Thin, White, Toothy, Tatooless, Pierceless and Straight...The Other 7 Dwarfs.

I know what you're thinking...Glitter how did you possibly get a job with them? You aren't thin! I know I know but trust me, lighting and angles can fool even insane children.

The Mouse had a very military-like operation in that Don't Ask Don't Tell was super enforced. I didn't have to not be gay...I just couldn't be gay. EASY PEEZY!

Speaking of military. The training is the most intense thing I have ever done. First off, you cannot bring your phone for your trip to Mouse House. Why can't you have your phone? What don't they want me calling home for? You get on a chartered flight and zip to Orlando. EVERYONE ON THE PLANE IS SMILING. I look around at all the other shiny happy people and think...oh fuck.

Here's the other thing that I don't think the Mouse understands...every dude on the flight...was gay. Seriously, maybe one or two wayward bi guys but for the most part it looked like a flight to church camp...and we all know what happens at church camp.

You arrive to Mouse House on a bus...again...no phone...no way of asking for help...nowhere to hide.

Now, I've been to Mouse House a billion times and have stayed at every hotel. So, I was a little confused as to why my accommodations were more...CONCENTRATED CAMPing style with 8 rows of bunk beds but whatever...it was an experience.

The next morning we were to report to ROLL CALL at 6am before the House opened. If you want to be scared out of your mind...go to a theme park when it's empty.

and nobody can hear you scream

Roll call was then followed by audition rounds. Wait? I thought I already had the job? Why do I need to audition? Oh because you might have gotten A job and you will be held to your contact no matter what...but it might be THE job you actually wanted. Fun right? You sign a contract and THEN find out what you'll be doing.

Audition rounds were very American Idol-y. We all took turns saying the same crazy lines, performing all the moves to THE HOEDOWN THROWDOWN, singing various Mouse songs and practicing our Oprah hugs...for those of you who don't know...that's when a little kid wants to hug you because they think because you look like someone on their favorite show that they hug you but you have protect yourself from a lawsuit you throw your hands up to block them...

I could write a paper on how hug deprived kids are today as evident by their insane need to hug strangers...but I'm writing this instead.

The final part is held in this giant sound stage. It's just...unsavory. You're all there broken out by region and you go thru this final "impress the judges" process and then at the end of it they line everyone up and announce your name. You feign interest with your new "friends" and promise "no matter what, we will be friends FOREVER" while secretly hoping the bitch falls off the stage and can't move onto the next round...at least I thought that.

Finally, I heard my name. I didn't think I'd be happy because again I was very jaded about this whole process, but I was! Here I was 10 years after those bastards turned their backs on me and now I'm the guy they picked!! I did it!! I MADE IT!! I....fell flat on my fucking face in front of everyone.

It was a foretelling of what was to come. Working for The Mouse was an amazing experience and one I will never forget. I actually did meet some really great people and had some great times. I would recommend it anyone highly...so long as you're Happy, Thin, White, Toothy, Tatooless, Pierceless and Straight.

PS- once they send The Mouse after me to kill me and hide my body...tell my family I love them