January 30, 2006
Temper Tantrums
It is Sunday noon and I am still recovering from Friday-Saturday. I had to dance at Cabaret again, and there was stupid drama there. Then Lito and I go to the Prophouse to hear the House music we love to hear. The security guard and a New Yorker were really feeling Lito, so I took it upon myself to give them his number and make them call him. "He sort of has a boyfriend, but then they're going to cheat on each other anyway so you should call him!" I say.
In the meantime I am getting desperate texts from a lovesick boy, and my kindness is being taken as reciprocity. So I try the mean approach and that still doesn't work. Me and Lits end the night at a loft party, and by then my vision is doubled and I am loving everyone. Everyone at the party is e'd or ski-ed up, and the conversations started to get long and non-sensical. Lovesick boy starts following me around, so I tell him things I don't mean. Then me and Lits go and get a stripper friend of ours to join in on the festivities. But by the time we get him he is drunk and mean and hella jealous. Now normally I enjoy seeing people get worked up, because I find it very cute and adorable. But when I see he is getting ready to beat on my very rolling and very touchy feely Filipino friend, me and Lito whisk him away paramedic-style.
Then Sunday more beat up stuff... I hope my car is not dented. Must watch what is being said to drunk steroid kings.
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January 27, 2006
Stripper Night
Me and Lito eat dinner at the Cheesecake Factory and he sees that I'm a little down. And since my brother knows me and what can cheer me up, he takes me to Hydrate for stripper night. Nothing like watching beautiful men get objectified to put the smile back on my face. We go to Hydrate and I have to grin and bear the ass-sex circuit music the "dj" is playing..."Where are the naked men??!!" I say impatiently. Magically they appear onstage and I'm like "yeah!" I feel like a dirty old man and I like it!
Lito says it's ironic that even at a gay bar I have access to ass and this is true. Two of the strippers introduce themselves and fight to take me home. One is this fine ass Puerto Rican/Italian piece of meat, and the other is a cute piece of Romanian. "Make them work for it, baby," Lito says and I give him a look that says "Don't I always??" And since hit it and quit it is obviously on their agenda, I pretend that they may get some.
Later as Lito and I leave the club, I thank him profusely for reminding me that a queen is a queen.
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January 25, 2006
Very Bad Things
I don't know what it is about Mondays, but I always end up doing very bad things. Like last Monday. I swore I would not go out, especially having the long day that I did. But we went to Boom Boom Room, did this and that, and then I ended up doing THIS AND THAT.
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January 24, 2006
Live on WHPK
Saturday night me, Lito and Lugo Rosado (awesome old school house dj) began the night at the Generator. Then we go to the much anticipated party at the Kinzie Suites, Dajae singing a live house set that blew everyone away. Everyone kept bugging me to have an afterhours but I said no. Then I had an accidental afterhours. Cheesecake Factory employees in the house...
Sunday night I pay a visit to Tony Washington's show on WHPK (Univ. of Chicago). Him and Snooze do Sunday nights from 10pm-12am and it's a good, quality House show. I spoke with Tony on air about the magazine and House music in Chicago. David Sabat was there wearing these super tight grey booty sweat pants and I am like "woah". He specifically asked me not to write that in my blog so I did. Then afterwards these 2 young boys had the next show, which was a very scary form of metal that had my hair standing up in 666 patterns. I think their names were Metal Scott and Metal Tom and they made lots of little yips and yelps. They must be in a lot of emotional pain. I feel for them.
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January 23, 2006
The Pornstar & Uncle Wood
Friday night me and Lito run around the city to get invoices to the clubs: Zentra, Cocktail, Cactus then Minx. Out of nowhere an old pornstar friend of ours calls us and wants to hang out. So him, his wife and his crazy drunk uncle "Wood" join us at Minx. Wood was trashed beyond belief and was trying his darndest to get kicked out of somewhere. We then went to pornstar couple's house and hung out. They left Wood sleeping in the car. Inside the house the energy felt a little weird because of some drama in the past, so me and Lits head back home.
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January 20, 2006
SQUEAK SQUEAK
My dog is a blanket sex addict. Remember several weeks ago when me and Lito witnessed his squeaky-hamburger-rodeo-blanket-humping in dismay? And then he "came"???!!? I'm still in therapy for that. I have 2 doggie beds with blankies on them, and Luigi has developed this habit of hiding his squeaky burger inside them and playing a game of hide and seek with it. Or shall I say, hide and hump-seek. Ech! I know I'm a very open-minded person sexually, but seeing my little doggie play with himself (literally) day in and day out is wearing on my sexual health. He has no balls, so I would think he'd have no sex drive. Squeak squeak. Aaaargh!!
Should I make a movie and sell it on ebay? Will I get arrested? I volunteer for the Anti-Cruelty Chicago, PAWS, and the Furry Friends Foundation. Am I going crazy?
Plan: I will hide the squeaky hamburger when Luigi is out on his walk. I have to believe in romance again.
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January 20, 2006
Glug Glug
Beviamos, David Sabat's new night at Katacomb, then Wet. Glug glug ha ha how you doin hee hee hoo hoo ha ha glug glug cheers bottoms up let's do shots where have you been hey you glug glug gotta pee let's go to my house!
Must throw away down comforter with hole in it. Chicken sacrifice looking room.
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January 18, 2006
Big Booty
I have a crush on this guy who is not my typical boytoy material. He can actually read! And I can stand being around him for long periods of time. Who knew that was possible?
Dance rehearsal with the girls for Feb. 4th Zentra show. Partying and breakdancing do not mix. It's getting hard to get my booty off the damn floor.
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January 18, 2006
Good Boy
So Lito introduces me to this Eastern European stripper at the club. He is your typical steroid-pumping self-loving he-man, but he's really very sweet and not that bright. After talking about how all the other strippers are jealous of him because he's so good looking and makes the most money, he adds "But I'm not one of those guys who thinks he's so great. I'm not..."
"Conceited?" I help.
"What does that mean? I don't know big words."
But he is the ultimate gentleman: opening doors for the ladies, offering to pay, and being very kind (downers take the meanness out of steroids). Next to my buddies Smitty, James and Dysqo, he has probably been the only guy to buy me a drink or "treat" instead of me always paying for my guy friends. What happened to generosity? I'm sick of being the bank.
And saying thank you? Forget about it! Yo homeboy, if someone buys you a drink, dinner, candy, or ski equipment... thank her. The shit aint free and she didn't have to get you that. This has been a problem I've had for years and years with friends, boyfriends, acquaintances and everything in between. Once people see that you're not a starving artist, they will be all up on your shit when you go up the bar and get that 1st, 2nd, 3rd round. Even my closest friends play me like that.
So I pat the stripper on top of his head and tell him "Good boy. Thank
you for making me feel like I'm worth it." :(
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January 17, 2006
Bad Girl
Monday. I have been a very very VERY bad girl......
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January 16, 2006
Drunk Dancer
Saturday morning I stumble to African dance class and cower my hazy-headed self to the very back. We start doing these crazy fast exercises and next thing you know the teacher calls me in front of the class to demonstrate my lovely technique. The room starts to spin and I try to keep my breakfast/liquor down as I dance, and I am greeted to warm applause. Thank you children, yes mommy is a good drunk dancer.
Long night... so many parties... must trim them down to a manageable few. Generator, Safehouse then Lego's afterparty at the Kinzie Suites. Da House Spot has been shut down. Spent much of the night hiding from ex-boytoy stalker crazy creepy guy and super macho e-head thinks he's all that casanova. The "Wait, gotta do something be right back!" technique worked a few times, and I relegate myself to the couch upstairs.
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Sunday is Betty's Blue Star. Mike Brown from Unified and I co-host the party. I tell Lito to go ahead while I catch a 5 no okay 10 minute nap in the car. I sleep for an hour and a half. I walk into Betty's and try to sit quietly in the back. Mother Diva comes up to me and asks me why her picture with Mayor Daley isn't in the magazine. She gloats about Da House Spot closing. I try not to let the subtext inside my head show in my face. Then 10 people decide I look lonely and sit around me and scream in my ear. "Let's go Lits, before I primal
scream", and Lito shuffles me away. No sparkling hostess tonight.
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January 14, 2006
Ass-Shakin' Booty Call
Early morning ballet class, then driving all over the city dropping off the Jan mags, business calls to and from everybody, more calls - I hate my cellphone! Then I dance again at Cabaret. We learn each dance 10 minutes before we go on. I can't stand these bougie clubs with the fake boobs, fake people, and wack ass music!! I can't believe I had to dance to Usher and Britney and look like I like it!
Myself, Lito and Tremaine then head off to the Prophouse to hear some real music, and Craig Loftis has us jumping all night. Every bartender at the Prophouse has their own set of signature mixed drinks, so I proceed to test them all out (using the bottoms up route). I get super happy and super horny. Booty call!
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January 13, 2006
I'll Beat that Bitch With a Bat!
Busy day. Ran around getting contracts signed, picked up the rest of the January magazines, then went to Claremont Elementary School on the southwest side to interview Carla Prather, lead singer for the house band Mr. A.L.I. After teaching her classes she sat down with me and gave me a very lovely interview... I've always been a big fan of hers. Then calls more errands more calls etc.
Lito is missing. He has no phone, and he blew off his boyfriend this morning. But then he magically turns up at my place. It seems that he had bad pizza and spent the day barfing. Poor baby.
The ex-boyfriend harrassing calls are thinning out. Thank god. Maybe because I yelled at him after the 10th ring and said "LEAVE ME ALONE!!! STOP STALKING ME!!!"
Tonight we go to the Negro League Cafe, and Farley was banging it!
We saw this mean skinny girl we didn't like, so I twinkled and flirted with her man and rolled my eyes at her. We then went to Tini Martini for promoter Mario's birthday. It was a very strange crowd... some of the househeads were there, but there was a real violent "circle" of "dancers" going on, but I would say that it was more of a moshpit. I had to stand waaaay back because I didn't want to get hurt. (Note: if you're drunk, don't break fool! Ka-thunk! Bang!) One of them started to put on surgical gloves and that's when I unconsciously covered by butthole.
One of my black girlfriends wanted to kick the shit out of this one punk-rock drunk white girl whose pants were literally down by her knees. And me being in my moon-cycle/pms-mode would have gladly joined in and had Lito take pictures because there's nothing like a good fight to get that adrenaline going and relieve my soon to be coming menstrual cramps. Then another guy with the requisite wristbands was pissing Lito off with his little side "gay" comments, so I encouraged Lits to swing at him. "It will make you feel better!" I say enthusiastically. Please, someone start a fight and entertain me! I was that bitch in middle school and high school that would take on the boys and sometimes girls and go all out. (I'm really a nice person but none of us should take shit from nobody. I love you Gandhi my great-grandfather but I gots too many hormones partying up in my spine that need to be expressed through beatdowns.
After that freakshow at Tini we go to Zentra to a tomb of a night. Dysqo, Eddie and Gerald were there, plus the bartenders and 2 rats. We called it a night.
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January 12, 2006
Off the Wagon
Shame on me. After NY, I swore no more drinking and partying. Just go to the club and do business. And I was doing fine! Monday (home), Tuesday (home)...then Wednesday I had to hit all the hump day spots heavy. Me and Lito go to the Dating Game all the way on the southside, realize that we had no magazines left, drive all the way damn back up north, then back south again. By then I am raging-PMS-kill you-salty, so I give in and order a Bacardi 151 straight from the lovely bartender in this month's issue of 5... so I'm nice and sleepy-buzzed. We then go back home and get more mags, go to The Note for the new house night there, then end up at Wet. Everyone and their mama is on some generous tip with me...Smitty buys me shots...Victory my favorite bartender forever refuses to take my money as I buy more drinks...and there goes my New Years Eve resolution. I am drunk as a skunk and start screaming/hugging/talking to all my friends. Why can't clubs stay open till 6am at least?
At least my resolution to be celibate seems to be working....
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January 11, 2006
Codeine Dreams
After 3 rescheduled appointments, I finally get to see my glamorous Cuban diva Doctor Silva. She hasn't aged one bit, and still wears miniskirts and high-heeled boots. I tell her about my coughing/hacking/vocal chord problems, and she proceeds to ply me with 57 different prescriptions for antibiotics, antinflammatories, antihistamines, etc. Then I have to get this test, that test, this test done to make sure I'm not suffering from tetanus, acid reflux, osteoporosis, Saharan viral infections, throat cancer or some nasty ailment that has been subjecting me to miserable chronic pain.
Now I'm more of a Whole Foods type girl, and truly believe in more natural forms of treatment. But I'm so desperate to get better that I willingly fling myself atop the Walgreens pharmacy counter and beg science to cure me.
Doug and I tape another installment of the 5 Magazine radio show. We're starting to talk too much. Okay, I'm starting to talk too much. (Doug was GQing it rocking a striped polo shirt with flip flops.)
I stop by Four to leave magazines before they're even open. I have ZERO desire to go out anymore. The tectonic plates of my social life have shifted and I now want to clean my house and watch the food channel in an apron and white gym shoes.
I was prescribed codeine, so yeah! I'm going to Cinderella-sleep at midnight and have beautiful codeine-laced dreams of 5 Puerto Rican men in g-strings doing a salsa on my toilet seat... (and they won't be gay...)
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January 10, 2006
Back Home
I spend one last blessed day in New York raiding all the stores on Broadway and midtown... pack all my shit into my already exploding suitcases, and the next day head back to Chi.
The travel is smooth (although I must say ATA pilots have this strange crash landing technique where they just don't give a flying f&*k about being smooth... one minute you're up, the next minute CRASH!)
Lito comes and gets me in my car. I am faded by 8pm, and now I go from sleeping
obscenely late to pre-school kid early. I beg Lito to take care of handing out the mags at The Family Den and Green Dolphin, not to mention take care of all my networking blah blah business. He does, good boy that he is. Phone off. Goodnight.
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January 10, 2006
New York Chronicles II
My NY actor/filmmaker friend Adam wants to shoot a documentary on b-girls and
make moi one of the stars. Yes!! Shoot my documentary!
Long day of walking around and I purchase a massage at the salon next door to my hotel. A Korean guy gives me 30 minutes of bliss. The background music was an interesting mix of Korean opera and fake progressive Broadway-ish tunes, but hey I'm not complaining.
Speaking of massages, I am sick and tired of guys asking me to give them a massage. Now mind you, if I offer then that means I want to. But ladies be forewarned: once you offer to give one, you will be doomed to give it all the frigging time. "Can you rub my back?", "Can I get a massage?", "My back is killing me will you rub it?" Hell no! There was a time when I would get all hot and bothered about massaging a guy and want to jump his bones. Now whenever I give a guy a massage I have to stop myself from smacking him on the head. ("There! You like that technique?") When I give a guy a massage I'm either rolling my eyes or else glaring at him with voodoo-intense death wishing. I think my psyche has inconscious imprints of my Asian ancestra servicing big lunky men in dirty massage parlors.
I am a princess. Me no love you long time! Give me a massage.
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January 8, 2006
New York Chronicles
I love New York I love New York I love New York. Please anonymous rich man buy me an apartment here so I can come back every week!! I haven't really been taking mad dance classes the way I usually do... mostly I've just been shopping and hanging in my hotel room.
Thursday the House Dance Conference was insane... you had to stand in line for 45 minutes to get in. Picture a gigantic club with 2 big rooms and nothing but dancers and circles... bboys, housers, poppers, lockers, capoeristas, voguers and everything in between. I watched a bit of the dance contest but didn't have the patience. Willie Ninja was one of the judges and he didn't look like he aged one bit since the movie Paris is Burning.
I saw my ex/love of my life on Friday, and we did the usual smoke a blunt thing and talk. The shit was so strong my eyes were rolling in the back of my head and I could barely stay up. By the time he was gone I was useless and just knocked out.
Saturday I hung out with my actor friends Andre, Adam and Stacy from Chicago that moved to New York. I love these guys. We hit up a bunch of lower east side bars and I showed them the beauty of partying tequila style. We ended our night at a bar called Double Happiness, and it was essentially an old Chinese restaurant converted into a bar. By then we were obliterated and stumbled out. I still had to go to my favorite club of all: Shelter. I sat staring at the dance circle as the room spun, and had to field 6 calls from people looking to hang out. Hey Chicago, I'm in NY! Whatever I texted you that night, sorry.
Sunday: Victoria's Secret sale. Bitches and panties everywhere.
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January 6, 2006
I Love New York
After a sleepless Tuesday night watching King Kong with my friend, Lito drives me to the airport and I am joyfully in New York... my inspiration, my muse, my home away from home. I take a renegade limo with 4 cute (but very underage) Texas college students and park my butt at a suite at the Salisbury Hotel on 57th and 7th. I am in heaven. I shut off my phone, hop on the train and obsessively buy all the vegan/organic/macrobiotic sandwiches and noodles from the bodega on 14th street. I lug all my food back to the hotel, watch cartoons and sleep the sleep of the dead.
I wake up at 6am the next day. Yes, I get to see sunlight! I turn on my phone and have 20 damn messages. Thought of the day: who says one has to return calls? Or for that matter, even listen to one's messages?
I take my first ballet class in 4 months. After years of taking class everyday, I had to chill out on training because of my damn knee. It's not too bad, and the senile French teacher keeps me entertained. I then call and talk to some of my NY friends...one of which is my ex from many years ago that I often refer to as "the love of my life."
I am being left dramatic "why don't you love me anymore" voicemails from my current ex. Sigh. When you tell people to leave you alone, they just don't get it. "Well what do you mean by that? Why don't you answer any of my 32 calls per 2 hours that I subject you to???"
Have to go to the House Dance Conference tonight.
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January 4, 2006
Never Again
Friday I get a last minute gig to dance at this newish club called Cabaret. Wear red and black, learn a quick routine in the back hallway, shake your ass for 2 short sets and I get my New Year's Eve party money. Afterwards Lito and I go 1 block down to Minx. The place was so packed that people were hanging outside the door. We then go to Willie Wills and Ojay's always amazing party on 67th street. People were so sweaty and huggy and kissy and I love it but I'm still like "ew" (I'm wiping your sweat off my face...) We finished the night with a stop-thru to Da House Spot, and ended up crashing at a friend's house. I cannot sleep even though I am totally exhausted so I play a game of staring back and forth between the ceiling and the non-moving alarm clock.
The next day is New Year's Eve and I spent it home alone for the first time ever. Alone alone alone. Best time of my life. 12:30am of the new year, I put on my red dress and scrub the bathroom floors. Guests about to come over for yet another crazy Czarina party. I won't go into detail about it, we had a blast for sure. People broke my guest bed in half. There were also so many disturbing relevatory moments during that night... gay men who swore they were straight, pedophiliac behavior, confessed crackheads, barfing girls on my toilet... kleptomaniacs... and this was supposed to be an exclusive invite only party to weed out the weirdos! New Year's Eve resolution: reevaluate friends.
January 1st, post party, I am crashing hard hard hard. I'm sicking into the ground and I don't ever want to get up. Just make me a coffin to lay on. Depressed, sad, tired, wasted, hating life. Why why why must we party so hard?? What is the point?? Never again.
Sunday, January 1st. Me, Lito and our NY friend Tremaine head out to Poorwoods in a comatose state. Peven and his band are playing and we can't miss that. We catch the last 3 songs of the night and loved it. Then off to Betty's for a chicagohouseradio party that I'm co-hosting. I meet this adorable English couple visiting from Tennessee that had emailed me prior to coming here. We talk, other people with other English friends talk, blah blah blah "Afterhours in my house!!!" (yes, I said that. Just 2 short hours after swearing never to drink or have a party at my house again.) I bring the party to my war-zone looking hasn't been cleaned yet house and give them the last drops of what alcohol I had left.
Monday morning. Never again.
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