bittenburg

People have been such jerks lately, I don't know what the hell is going on. Cycle of the moon, maybe? Lately it simply seems that most people I run into are just... assholes. The people that wouldn't get out of my way as I was trying to exit the building (they were milling about the entrance, talking loudly to each other). The lady at the grocery store who huffed at me when I stepped around her to get to the entrance. The cashier who glared at H and I, then pointedly walked away without saying a word. The guy who yelled at me for running a yellow light (and almost running over his jaywalking ass). Some people online who've been short and snappish lately...

WTF. The world needs to get laid or something. Have a drink. Smoke a cigarette if you're inclined.

( Now, for a completely pointless 'ghost' story... )

I used to have a thing about drag queens. Ok, so I never really stopped having a thing about drag queens. No, it's not some sort of fag-hag, sexuality-based thing. It's just a ... a thing. A like, a fetish kind of, similar to my love and adoration for anything Elvis.

I remember the very first time I saw a drag queen. It was near my birthday, and a friend had taken me out to get smashed (a first, since I was turning 21). Through a haze of whiskey sours and electric blue drinks, he spirited me around the town. We first sampled an exquisitely horrible karaoke bar, but left when the screeching got to be too much. Then, we went to another bar, this one filled with college kids and rowdiness. Not my taste. But then, he took me to the city's Holy Grail of bars, the oft passed-over Bianca's.

He ordered me a Smirnoff Ice, and as we were waiting I took a chance to look around. Peering blearily into the darkened corners, I saw a woman and a man. The woman had huge hair, these lovely ribbons wrapped around her hugely buff calves, broad shoulders from which hung a glittering mini dress and... in a moment of luminous realization, I understood.

I turned to my companion and whispered with exposed delight, "There is a drag queen in this bar!"

"Yeah," he said, handing me my drink, "There's more than one, you know."

I looked around and it seemed like suddenly, the night was full of glittering dresses and wild red lipstick and teased hair, the likes of which I had never seen. Sparkling sultry smiles flashed as the queens talked to each other, some of them hanging with drag kings and others drinking at the bar. One of them declared she was going to dance, and I watched in fevered admiration as they took to the dance floor, clomping around in heels higher than I had ever seen, swinging their hips and... it was so very glorious, so very complete, I wanted to laugh but didn't. One sashayed up to the bar and ordered a drink, then said loudly, "This town needs some more fags!" Laughter rippled over the loud music. She looked at me, her glittery blue eyeshadow catching in the light. "Isn't that right, hon?"

I could only grin.

All too soon the lights were turned up and we had to leave. We stumbled our way to the popular greasy-spoon diner down the road, and the glitter of the Drag Queens slowly wore off with the advent of the first real substance I'd had since eight a.m, but was not to be completely extinguished. No, it's one of my real goals in life to visit New York City and go to a drag bar, to sit and gaze with undisguised admiration at the best of the female impersonators. There are precious few here, where I live now, which is probably a product of local politics, but saddening nonetheless. If everyone could appreciate drag queens, the sparkling dresses and perfect smiles and the clever souls who pretend a different sex and get away with it, surely the world would be a better place.

I had a dream last night that I was stuck on a first-date (again) with the Count of Comino. Never, ever was I so glad to wake up and find H beside me. It struck me that I should make a list of the 10 most "interesting" first dates I've had, in the spirit of my Top Ten Most Embarassing Sexual Incidents, and because I can use some amusement just as much as you might. Yes, these all did happen, honest-to-god. Could anyone even make this stuff up?

#10: *sees the cowboy hat, cowboy boots, big-ass belt buckle with the likeness of the Confederate Flag stamped on it walking over, everyone in the uptown cafe staring* "Hey, are you (Ms. Tea)?" "Yes?" "Well hells bells woman, I'm your date!" (internally - "Did he just say... hells bells?")

#9: Me, nearly gagging with the sudden stench that overtook the car: "Phew! Do you smell something? It smells like something died in my backseat." Him, adjusting shirt: "I don't smell anything."

#8: Him: "C'mon, come in and say hello to my Mom." Me: "Well... okay." *walks into the house, sees crone-like Mother coming towards towards the front of the house* Mother: "You're not Catholic, are you? I can smell a Catholic from twenty feet away! Smell like those damn communion wafers..."

#7: "You're the count of what? Comino? The visiting dignitary gave you the Countship because you saved his life? Oh, and you're a fireman and a local politician as well? And you're into hard-core BDSM and want me as your slave-girl, but I'd have to be understanding of your reliance on Viagra? Uhm..... I'll call you." (author's note: sitting in a crowded cafe trying not to split into peals of slightly hysterical laughter after hearing all this is insanely difficult, and will result in stiff face muscles for days to come)

#6: Me: *recieves explanation about how the guy can control the weather and make lightning appear in his hands but by doing so conjured up a demon that haunts him* "Uh huh."

#5: Me: *receives explanation from completely unrelated guy about how he *seriously* controls the weather, can make lightning appear in a clear blue sky, how he is one of the greatest sorcerers the world has ever known and the evil sorcerer is trying to get him but he locked him away into a prison and the only requirement to keep the awful evil sorcerer from getting lose in the world is to stay chaste and never lay his hands on a woman which is why he hasn't dated in five years and OMG he has just violated that with me so now the evil awful sorcerer is going to try to kill him because he held my hand* "Uhm... sorry about that, then."

#4: Him: "I'm a vampire. Doesn't it make you nervous to go on a date with a vampire?" Me: "Yes, yes it does."

#3: Him: "I was kidnapped by aliens, I think. But I can't remember." Me: "Check, please!"

#2: Him and I: *watching 9 1/2 Weeks* His mother: *enters the room* Him: "Hey Mom! C'mon and watch with us! I have an empty cushion right next to me..."

#1: Him: *complicated explanation about how he inherited his Scottish Sean-Connery-ish accent from his Scottish grandfather once-removed because he stayed with them a couple of times in the summer of 1993* Me: *spies huge collection of Sean Connery's work in closet, autographed Sean Connery photo, large "James Bond" framed poster* "Ah. It all makes sense now."