It's hot in Disney.

I'm in Disney World (or on Disney property at least) right now. It's 91 degrees down here, so there's a lot of half-naked guys walking around. Awesome. Except they've got their girl-friends, and they act really straight. And the closet fags among them keep it to themselves, like I do. You never know, which is the problem. All in all it's sort of discouraging. Oh well! At least I can look. We've been taking a lot of pictures down here, as well--not of the hot guys (though I have been trying to fit them into some of the shots, hehe) but of us everywhere. It's a good thing. It seems like when I turned ten we suddenly stopped taking pictures. If people looked in our family albums they might think we dropped off the face of the earth around the year 2000. Maybe earlier, I don't know. It sort of sucks though. My parents aren't in pictures either, so they don't really exist in the material world [of others].

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Part of me hopes I'll get sunburned on all these trips I'm going to be taking this summer. I always look more healthy and less like a ghost when I'm red. I don't ever recall being tan. Would it look good? Why did whoever have to make us so self-conscious? JUST GET OUT THERE! I wanted to talk to this guy on the last day of my fitness class because I knew I'd never see him again; so what if he brushed me off? I didn't, but maybe some day I will. I need muscles!

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We're going to the Magic Kingdom tomorrow (my dad is done with his meetings) so that should be fun. I hope we all meet up in front of the castle, or around the lake, and watch fireworks like they did in that episode of Full House. Man, Steve was hot.