Big Gay Disco

So, I've been living in Nashville off and on for five years now. And I've asked pretty much everyone I've ever met: "What club should I go to in order to watch boys kiss?" No one has admitted to having the faintest idea about boy-kissing venues. I think they were lying to me out of sheer meanness.

As it turns out, there's a gigantic (really gigantic) Big Gay Disco right by my house, practically. It doesn't advertise, I guess. Or maybe I wasn't meant to discover it until now...Whatever. rhiannonhero is here, and we are eventually going to get around to some web maintenance for her site and some Photoshop tutorials, but tonight we went to The Connection and watched a rather bad drag show, drank a lot, danced a lot, and leered at a Justin Taylor look-alike (complete with tiny potbelly) who seemed to be the belle of the ball. He did vulgar, grindy dances with at least half a dozen guys that we saw.I got hit on by two guys, but no girls, which is typical gay bar for me. And it was like this when I was trying hard to be Officially Gay. *sigh*

I must say, the sleazy gay bar in Knoxville has both a superior drag show and far sluttier patrons, but this local venue will suffice between trips East.

I find myself getting severely annoyed with people when they don't just go ahead and give each other blowjobs in front of me. I mean, I can totally tell that's what they want to do, and I think they should just do it. Chickens. However, I refrained tonight from giving the reticent non-blowers a piece of my mind, because I am actually very ladylike. That's lady-like, as in facsimile or simulacrum...

And for those of you who claim Rhi can't dance: she can, too. Either that, or we're both incapable in the same way.

It's been a while since I've done a drunken post. I hope this is comprehensible. Or at least entertaining.

Picture me curtseying. Good night.

say you'll love me forever...

Big Gay Disco postscript: Apparently, last night when I bought a bottle of water at the bar, instead of handing the bartender the $5 bill from my pocket (for water + tip), I handed him the $20. I suppose it would have been difficult for him to get it back to me...but I still think he should have tried. A $20 bottle of plastic-flavored water.

Is it really a drag show if all the girl does is mince out onstage in a revealing dress and stand there accepting bills from her admirers? Hell, even I could do that. Rhi and I discussed the possibility of becoming female impersonators, thinking that we might have a slight advantage over the men who typically do the job.

Rhi has gone home without us accomplishing anything we claimed we were going to do. Instead, we sat around in our pajamas, read porn, talked about character motivations, and made exceedingly random food choices.

( QaF 411 and 412 )

Mr. Glove is in Florida. He's supposed to come home today, but I don't know when, and I can't get him on the phone. So, the obvious conclusion is that the hurricane has hit him, specifically, well in advance of hitting everything else, and that he is dead and I am alone and unloved forever and ever. I think my typical anxiety about these sorts of things is being exacerbated by a stealth hangover.