Giving new meaning to the term, "Gay old time", Bonnie and I attended both a tranny show and a gay house party last night. Fabulous!
Andy's stage-managing a new show called "Family Jewels; the making of Veronica Klaus" and gave us his comps for last night. Veronica, it seems, was a Midwestern little fella who became a successful San Francisco chanteuse, and this is her life story, snip surgery and all. Having no idea what to expect, I dragged Bonnie with me and drove down to the Tenderloin. Playing at the Exit Theatre for the next 3 weeks, Veronica could not have chosen a more ghetto location for her act. We were practically gang raped as we RAN to the theatre, but Andy was waiting for us and ushered us right in. We ended up sitting with a friend of his, Rob, who is a man nurse and delightful.
And now, Veronica...I could go on and on about the show. I could swoon and flutter and tell you how absolutely fantastic it was. Or I could simply confess that I am now in love with Veronica Klaus. I can't explain the gender complications, the curiosity factor, the bizarre switch in sexuality. But I can tell you that sometime during the first act, maybe when she sang "Slow Gin", I fell head over heels.
After the show, Veronica meets her public, and I ran up to her and threw my arms around her beefy shoulders. "I love you, Veronica. I love you, I love you, and I'm never letting go."
Bonnie and I are such fans, we're planning another visit. We're thinking next weekend, so plan on attending. I'm going to insist that my parents come as they will love it. And my friends? Well, Jason will be in heaven, Joe and Amanda will fall to the floor in ecstasy, Zoë and Kate will join me in my never ending standing ovation, and Big Chris will hate it.
After the show, we hopped in Rhonda the Honda and headed over to Dale's 80's party in, where else, The Castro. Dale has a fabulous little apartment and fabulous little parties, the last of which is where I procured the "Marc Jackass" t-shirt from a generous and drunken reveler. Bonnie and I arrived before Andy and Rob and were greeted with ecstatic squeals from all of the queens I met last time. We grabbed a bottle from the pile of Ravenswood and got to mingling.
We were soon joined by Sophie, the lesbian who hit on me last time, although now she's in love with someone named Kathy. Sophie is pretty hilarious, although a tad abrasive, and greatly enjoyed discussing lesbian romance and sex with Bonnie and I. In fact, I think I talked her into taking us to a lesbian bar, a forbidden locale I've been secretly desperate to attend. I feel like a straight girl can't just walk into some dyke bar without a "member of the club", so to speak. Needless to say, Sophie readily agreed.
Andy and Rob soon arrived, but Andy, true to form, disappeared with some ripped South American and that's the last I ever saw of him. I had a marvelous time sucking down cigarettes and Cabernet with a fabulously dressed cast of characters, and ended up singing the night away to Cyndi Lauper and the Eurythmics.
Bonnie was at first disgruntled that we looked so fabulous and wasted it on the gays, soon learned that it's actually just the opposite. It's wasted on the straight boys, Bonnie. They don't get how fabulous your top is, they simply care that you have boobs. They don't get the sassy genius of my tiered mini-skirt, they're just looking at the legs. But the gays, they get everything, and appreciate the effort. Not only that, but at Dale's parties, you're surrounded by stunning, charming, well-dressed men who do nothing but refill your glass and tell you you're "delightful." Plus, you can get exceedingly trashed, have make-up running down your face, and in my case, find your little skirt tucked into the back of your pantyhose, and never give it a care.
Last night, I fell in love with a past-op transsexual, got invited to a lesbian bar by big butch Sophie, and flashed ass to a room full of homos. Needless to say, I had a lovely time...