Posted by: check868 | May 24, 2008

The Producer

What a week.  I went to a Broadway show yesterday with a new guy.  We got along very well.  He was a producer, and he knew everyone at the theater district bar we met at.  He pointed out to me the theater critic for the Associated Press and then he pointed to the table in the corner.  “You see that old guy?  He wrote Annie.  I’ll introduce you.”  Oh man.  Now, I hate Annie, but good lord, it’s like the most famous musical ever.  

When we finished our wine, we went over to Mr. Annie’s table where he was with his wife and two of the ugliest children I have ever seen who must have been his grandkids.  It struck me as funny that this guy, who wrote about the cutest little orphan girl, ended up with a pair of gargoyles himself.  Which is horribly mean, and I am a terrible person.  But I’m sure they’ll look fine once they get braces.  But I got to meet the guy who wrote Annie!  It was so exciting.

While we were walking to the theater, I told my companion, “You know, I hated Annie, but it was so exciting to meet him.”  

“I produced Annie!” he angrily exclaimed.  Oops.

The play was fun and afterwards we went for drinks.  He wanted to see me again this Saturday, but I already had plans (Tom!).  He emailed me today to ask if we could meet on Thursday next week, and to call him if my Saturday plans fall through.  It’ll be nice if he wants a once-a-week kind of thing, because 1) I’ll get to see loads of plays and 2) he’s very nice and I actually enjoy spending time with him.  

And for people I don’t particularly enjoy spending time with… I saw The Good Boy again on Wednesday.  It was alright.  He came clean: he told me his real name, even showed me his credit card, told me he was actually a judge, not a lawyer as he had said before, and that he wanted to have sex with me eventually.  He seemed to think that being a judge was like being second to God, but I was a bad audience and remained unimpressed.  It did strike me as funny that I’ve heard women complain about not being able to meet “respectable” guys, like doctors and lawyers.  Honey, just hang a shingle with your ass on it, or threaten them with a bullwhip, and all the eligible bachelors will come running.

Humoring TGB does have it’s benefits, though.  It’s a pretty steady income, which I used today as a deposit on a custom-made latex catsuit.  I went to The Baroness, NYC’s latex store, and got fitted for it.  Latex feels so weird.  It’s like… wearing a balloon.  I loved the way it looked, but I don’t think I’ll ever have a fetish for it.  

I tried on a top and pants so I could make sure I liked the feeling before spending a gazillion dollars on a full catsuit.  It is very strange.  You need to lube up your body so it can slide in, otherwise the latex gets stuck on your skin.  The baroness took my measurements while I was wearing the outfit, so I was in it for about a half-hour.  By the time she finished, there were actually streams of sweat coming out of the arms and down the legs.  If I wear the full suit, including gloves, a mask, and boots, for a couple hours, I’m going to be squishing around like I’m in a wetsuit.

She said it will be ready in about 3 weeks.  I can’t wait.  Now I just need practice my whipping…

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