I spent the weekend in Chicago visiting my dear kindred spirit Blanche. We went to high school together, but I didn't know her very well then. We started reconnecting this year, and I am so so grateful for it. She is a peach and a half and makes the world a brighter place. I took the train up, and you know how well that went. I stayed with her and her husband, and met Judy and Jim: also peaches.
We kikied for hours, and Blanche made us homemade pasta. A regular Martha Stewart, that one. She puts Ina Garten to shame. Bitch keeps a TIGHT household.
We headed to a club to see the wonderful Pandora Boxx perform. She was supposed to go on at 12, but there we were, milling around the place, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. Drag performers are notorious for their tardiness, so we thought nothing of it and busied ourselves with the goings on around us. Ooooh there was some shit. As expected, there was a plethora of shitty faggots. A few of them cute. Not many great looks, but oh well. It may have been cool outside, but it was HOT in there. One gay really committed to his whatever looks in the cardigan and beanie. I hope he had a heat stroke. There were SO many girls too. I'm not used to that at a gay club. And tons of lesbians too. As evidenced here:
I was a little shy about taking pictures, but then I thought, what the fuck? I don't know these bitches and probably won't see them ever again. Also seen: the trashiest skank ever. She had ratty Britney hair, raccoon eye makeup, a ruffle denim micro-skirt, and some kind of Ugg BOOTS WITH THE FUR. I didn't get a good picture of her unfortunately.
There were two go-go boys, which was a new experience for me. One was really muscled and meh in the face. The other was adorable and had a sexy scar on his midsection. He was still a shitty, shitty faggot. Look, even at my sexiest and lowest-self-esteemiest, I would never have danced on the bar in my underwear for money--and I've done some crazy shit in my twenty. . . one years. What really killed me was his Santa's little helper look. His red underwear was attached to red suspenders. The pièce de damn résistance that brought it all together was the mark of a crummy faggot: FLIP-FLOPS. Yes, boy was shaking his ass on the bar for dollars in flip-flops. I didn't want to be attracted to him, and at first I was determined. He won me over though. That mop of hair gave him a boyish cuteness, and he really did have a nice ass. We decided, however, that he was stuffing his underwear. Oh well. I still wanted to hate fuck him:
We witnessed a great scene through the window. There was a party trolley filled with all kinds of wasted people dancing and carrying on. There was one kid who had obviously started the party early, and he was swaying in his seat, chugging water from a giant jug. Luckily the traffic light was long enough for us all to observe. Some drunk buddy talked to him for a moment, and the kid drank more water, swaying the whole time. He gagged and fought the urge to vomit. This continued for what felt like a long time, but must have been only 45 seconds. It was a game, and I was really hoping he would puke before the trolley took off. He heaved more and more, and finally he threw up! All of us watching in the club cheered and laughed as the kid spewed onto the street. Fantastically hilarious.
None of us had ever been to that particular venue before, so we didn't know there was also a giant basement, which was apparently where the performance was. By the time we wised up, we had missed the first set. Oh well, we saw enough to gag us. The opener, Jade (also from RuPaul's Drag Race) was great. She did a ballet number while lipsynching, and she was really on point. And en pointe. Pandora was her usually goofy self, and she delivered. She performed to what is becoming her signature song:
We headed to a club to see the wonderful Pandora Boxx perform. She was supposed to go on at 12, but there we were, milling around the place, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. Drag performers are notorious for their tardiness, so we thought nothing of it and busied ourselves with the goings on around us. Ooooh there was some shit. As expected, there was a plethora of shitty faggots. A few of them cute. Not many great looks, but oh well. It may have been cool outside, but it was HOT in there. One gay really committed to his whatever looks in the cardigan and beanie. I hope he had a heat stroke. There were SO many girls too. I'm not used to that at a gay club. And tons of lesbians too. As evidenced here:
I was a little shy about taking pictures, but then I thought, what the fuck? I don't know these bitches and probably won't see them ever again. Also seen: the trashiest skank ever. She had ratty Britney hair, raccoon eye makeup, a ruffle denim micro-skirt, and some kind of Ugg BOOTS WITH THE FUR. I didn't get a good picture of her unfortunately.
There were two go-go boys, which was a new experience for me. One was really muscled and meh in the face. The other was adorable and had a sexy scar on his midsection. He was still a shitty, shitty faggot. Look, even at my sexiest and lowest-self-esteemiest, I would never have danced on the bar in my underwear for money--and I've done some crazy shit in my twenty. . . one years. What really killed me was his Santa's little helper look. His red underwear was attached to red suspenders. The pièce de damn résistance that brought it all together was the mark of a crummy faggot: FLIP-FLOPS. Yes, boy was shaking his ass on the bar for dollars in flip-flops. I didn't want to be attracted to him, and at first I was determined. He won me over though. That mop of hair gave him a boyish cuteness, and he really did have a nice ass. We decided, however, that he was stuffing his underwear. Oh well. I still wanted to hate fuck him:
We witnessed a great scene through the window. There was a party trolley filled with all kinds of wasted people dancing and carrying on. There was one kid who had obviously started the party early, and he was swaying in his seat, chugging water from a giant jug. Luckily the traffic light was long enough for us all to observe. Some drunk buddy talked to him for a moment, and the kid drank more water, swaying the whole time. He gagged and fought the urge to vomit. This continued for what felt like a long time, but must have been only 45 seconds. It was a game, and I was really hoping he would puke before the trolley took off. He heaved more and more, and finally he threw up! All of us watching in the club cheered and laughed as the kid spewed onto the street. Fantastically hilarious.
None of us had ever been to that particular venue before, so we didn't know there was also a giant basement, which was apparently where the performance was. By the time we wised up, we had missed the first set. Oh well, we saw enough to gag us. The opener, Jade (also from RuPaul's Drag Race) was great. She did a ballet number while lipsynching, and she was really on point. And en pointe. Pandora was her usually goofy self, and she delivered. She performed to what is becoming her signature song:
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