Jen's been in Florida for almost a week teaching baby dolphins how to do math, and parasailing with German prostitutes, or at least that's what it sounded like she said when she called me, screaming, from the beach.  I love Jen, so it's hard for me to hate her, but at that moment I could have crushed her skull with a mallet.  Jealousy is dangerous, and I can't help but flirt with it.  "Ryan, you need to get here, you're going to love it here, I'm taking you here when our lease is up."   Jen has been promising me Florida for almost four years now.  We came up with our Florida master plan a few years ago when she was going to peruse her dreams of starting her own publication.  For me though, Florida was where I planned to become the drag queen I always wanted to be. 
        Thank God her car broke down and our move to Florida was postponed, because I was so dead set on being the next famous stand up comic in drag, that had it all worked out, my penis would be duck taped to my back hair right now.  That's one thing I learned living with Star, being a tranny whore is a lot of work, in fact cross dressing in general is one of the most time consuming hobbies or lifestyles out there.  Next to hoarding sand granules.  Star used to spend hours injecting herself with hormones, taping her dick to her small intestinal track, and globing on make up; just to walk down the street and buy a pack of Dorels.  As a man, Star was tall awkward, and ugly.  As a woman, she was tall, awkward, and slutty.  Men loved her.
         I also learned that no matter how big of a bitch someone who is a transexual or a drag queen might be, they are always funny.   For example; if I were to walk up to a woman and cup her breasts and then say, "Bitch your titties are saggy as shit," I would probably have a black eye at the least.  But when Star did it to an overweight woman in the line of Dominik's grocery store, the woman just laughed and said, "I know! Do you know a good plastic surgeon because yours look great!"   Star was the biggest bitch I've ever known, but I loved her because she was funny, and honestly if you took away the make up and the fake tits, she would have had the comedic impact of a bean sprout. Which is why, two years ago, I was planning to move to Florida with Jen to be a drag queen.  I wanted the kind of power that allows you to verbally terrorize someone, but have them find it funny. 
         Don't get me wrong, I love being a man.  I've seen the aftermath of Jen's herculean periods scattered around the house.  Between the tampon and chocolate wrappers, I could probably build a car that is self sustaining on the melted down energy of plastic wrappers alone.  I want no part in that.  No part of me wants to be a woman.  Instead of doing stand up in drag, I had to settle for stand up, not in drag, which as we all know, is not as funny.   I started doing stand up at a comedy club in Kansas City called, Stanfords.  My first bit I did was about the hilarity I found in getting tested for HIV, it killed.  Apparently people find AIDS as funny as I do, which is weird because I don't find AIDS funny at all.  I just like making something so terrible and sad funny.