On Wednesday, Mom, nephew and I decided to drive to the beach because it was going to be pretty cold for water come the weekend. Two and a half hours we drove, and upon opening my truck doors, were blasted with strong, chilly winds. Oh, no way we're getting in the water like that, but we can still walk on the shore. Oh no, the entrance is nailed shut . . . oh bother. We ended up going to the mall for food and a little shopping so it wasn't a total wasted trip, even if I would have liked to just stay and stare at the ocean for a few hours. On Friday, money was taken from the pharmacy 'Birthday fund' that we keep to buy me cake and a card, signed by everyone. The cake itself was Happy Feet themed, and I learned later that Pip helped Dixie pick it out. Fuck, every time I try to get good and mad, good and over him, he goes and pulls stunts like that. He's like that big, dumb dog that we've all known and/or had. It infuriates you with its ridiculous antics, but no matter how many of your clothes it ruins or how many times you trip in a huge hole it dug in the yard, you just can't stay mad at it. That night I did go over Dixie's house and got a little wasted, but it was mostly epic failure because her snoring kept me WIDE awake and I ended up leaving at 5 in the morning before I went postal. I also learned that raspberry Four Loko tasted like ass. I never understood how someone could use the term 'tastes like ass', but now I do. I think the drink in general was pretty nasty, no matter what flavor, and all it does is get you tipsy for an hour or two after which your eyes are plastered awake in pure, misery, painfully aware of everything going on around you. Never again.
Sunday night . . . I don't even know where to begin. For whatever reason, I decided I really wanted to go to the drag show for my birthday, since I'd been promising my friend Tom I'd go see him perform for . . . well, for a very long time now, and he was probably starting to think I was full of shit. As it turns out, I don't think a better idea could have been had. Once Pip finds out something, it's almost certain Johnny will find out too. Johnny is a bartender there, so by Sunday afternoon I found myself featured in his usual, almost daily "Come on out to the bar!" status. When I got there, Dixie met me in the parking lot and threw my gift, a pink stuffed unicorn, at me. Instead of putting it in my truck like a normal person, I stuffed it down the front of my shirt so the head was sticking out and went inside. I was there to have fun, wasn't I? Heels, denim jacket, too-low, too-tight shirt and all. Pip and Johnny are waiting for me at the bar and I'm immediately smothered in hugs, which I love because Johnny's of course are always great, and Pip had already been doing what he does best for half the day, which meant he'd already hit the "I love everybody!" point and was ripe for mauling for the rest of the night. We introduced him to the unicorn, which I had attempted to name "Jareth", the key word being 'attempted'. Have I mentioned most of my friends are extremely perverted? He grabbed poor Jareth out from between my boobs, examined him, then crammed it against his crotch and made it look like he had a sparkly pink dick with hooves and a horn.
"Haha, you might wanna wash that with some bleach when you get home, might be sticky."
Thankfully, it wasn't, but pointing at the unicorn in my shirt, screaming "STICKYYYYY!" and giggling became his favorite thing to do that night. And so everyone now called Jareth "Sticky", and Sticky McJizzersen he shall remain for the rest of his days. Moving right along, I was also greeted by a few members of the bar staff, who had heard about me from Johnny and wanted to say hi. And they were without a doubt, completely genuine. I don't think I've ever felt so loved and welcomed by strangers in my entire life. Got another surprise when Stevie from the bakery showed up, too. He has a special 'friend' at the bar, but also says to people that I'm 'tasty' and 'hot'. Bless, but I love this guy to death, in a kid brother way. He's always smiling and always ready to say something positive. Tom emerged from the dressing rooms not long after, in full drag. This was going to be a fun night. Dix bought me a martini and I sat at the bar with Pip on one side of me and Stevie on the other - I met another of the regular patrons, a nice older woman who was familiar with Pip, and disturbingly enough, while she was very friendly, asked me "So is Kenny your queer? We all have a queer here!" (she herself was straight). Pip will always insist he's straight, so either he's not being honest with her, himself, or he doesn't realize she's under the impression he bats for the other team. Regardless, she was another shining example of the complete acceptance I felt. What a wonderful group of people . . .
Pip bought me Jello shots. We sang songs, he bitched about work a little. Johnny slipped out for a smoke, but not before adding "Watch my beer, Doll." I squeed inside - I love it when he calls me that.
By the way, you haven't truly lived until you've been molested by a drag queen. These ladies are not shy, they will flirt with you, touch you, and if they know you or think you feel comfortable with it, sit in your lap. One of them would insist on touching my hair and kissing my forehead. Another mimicked going down on Sticky's horn. I recognized her as the cute younger guy who used to work in electronics. Another, who incidentally currently works in electronics, danced up to me with a huge grin, grabbed one of my boobs in each hand, SQUEEZED, and then proceeded to shake them violently until Sticky popped out and almost fell on the floor.
^ That last sentence reads all kinds of wrong out of context.
The one who kissed me came back for another go during her second song and this time grabbed my faced and pulled on me so hard to give me another kiss that I almost fell off the barstool while everyone laughed, including Stevie and Pip who both put an arm out to save me. At some point Pip was teasing me about something and I reached behind me to put an arm around his neck - he's very cuddly at times and I don't know how but I ended up holding his hand. Big contrast to after the show when I made to slap his rear end really hard and kind of failed because I chose the side he keeps his wallet on. Yeah, that doesn't really work. I reached over and grabbed a big handful of the other cheek anyways, just because. I don't really remember what he said, but he didn't seem upset. I suppose he's used to getting his ass grabbed.
All in all, not a night I'll soon forget. I met a few new friends, who wanted nothing better than to have me look a fool beside them while we tried shuffling to LMFAO and failed epically. Saw an old friend, who, ironically, I knew from my church days. He's now an RN and evidently, spends his weekends taking copious amounts of pictures of drag queens. Yesterday my lower half kind of regretted dancing in three and a half inch heels, but it was so worth it. I danced with Stevie. And Teresa. And Johnny's friend/coworker whose name I regrettably can't remember. And of course Pippy, who ended up sandwiched between me and his friend who asked if he was my queer. Oddly at one point he would insist on booty dancing his rump into my crotch, which was fun. Be warned boy, keep doing that and I WILL breach the topic of pegging with you, mark my words. I'll be gentle with you, I promise. At least at first.
I'm a sick woman.
After almost two years though, at least I finally got a kiss. On the cheek. But still. Gesture returned and ditto with Johnny, who charmingly enough farewells his male friends in the same intimate way. Oh yes, and if I had any doubts as to whether or not my teddy bear was in fact, a 'bear'. I no longer had them after seeing him come out from behind the bar, almost in a trance, and dry hump the house queen every time she did a number. Slowly. Closely. And without smiling.
There are pictures of me lying on a pool table with Tom/Teresa on top of me. After the bar closed, Tom, me, Dixie, another one of the queens, and queen's boyfriend went to McDonald's. Tom was still in full drag except for his wig and Justin still had makeup on. The look on people's faces when they walked in? Priceless.
It's an odd idea, that I had such a good time, and felt so loved at a gay bar, and have never gotten such a reception or warm fuzzy feeling from walking into any of the local churches. I suppose that is sad, but I really don't care. I've learned who the people in my life are who really care, and who don't. It also brings me back to the 18th birthday I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. 10 years ago, I really thought I was having the best birthday ever, because I was eating dinner at a church revival and the two guys I fancied were on their knees singing happy birthday to me. It's important to note that I was also devoutly against drinking, premarital sex, and had anti-gay and somewhat homophobic views. That was 2002. None of those people are my friends, or keep up with me anymore. I think I have one of them on FB, and though he might have been my first crush, he's a trainwreck now. In my opinion anyways. He's a youth pastor, brain cancer runs in the male line of his family, and his biggest ambition is to have a 'pack' of his own, biological kids. Way to go, buddy! Doom any male children and grandchildren to the same painful ordeal that you, your father, and your late grandfather have already been through. Chemo and brain surgery are what we all dream of for the children.
2012. I'm sipping a margarita at a gay bar. Sitting next to a redneck with a shady past and even shadier 'morals', beer in his hand and a pack of L&Ms in his pocket, actually cracking a smile when he laughs at my difficulty getting wine-based jello out of a cup and tells me to "Lick it, bitch!" I had also threatened to put my ice cold hand down his pants earlier, too. Later that night he yanked Sticky out from between my boobs again because he wanted a photo with it. I made him put the plushie back where he found it.Oh yes, Precious, we did.
On the rare occasion I'm told 'come on back' to a church, I make some polite, flaky reply and then bullshit my way right out the door, vowing to never come back. If Johnny were anymore insistent about how much I'm wanted back at the den, he'd be on his knees begging. Well, he might be on his good knee, anyways. And every part of me wants to be there more, and not just because Johnny works there and Tom is a regular and sometimes Pip is a fly on the bar, too. But the other people there were hugging on me as if we'd been friends forever.
What a strange commentary on today's world.
Either way, anywho, best birthday EVAR. For now. Who knows what the next one will bring.