May 26, 2006
Junkets & Tonight's Show @ Zentra
Tuesday is the press party at Saltaus for the International House Music
Festival this summer. Frankie Knuckles is the host and me and Doug
Brandt attend. There is free wine and Doug is all over it (ok and me
slightly.) I was trolling around for food while trying to be classy but
eventually gave up. "Come by me twice" I ask the waitress with the
hors'dourvers. It was a small intimate affair and we had a wonderful
time.
Wednesday I went to Dating Game, Four and The Note and woops...
We've been rehearsing for the show this Friday at Zentra, and I hope my
knee will make it.
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May 22, 2006
Whirlwind
Friday I go see a kids dance show at a park district on the westside. I
used to teach the little girls ballet, and bless them because they are
true hiphop dancers at heart. In the midst of popping their booties
they throw in the occasional high kick to show me some technique.
Later that night me and Boogie go to Tini Martini, Zentra and Berlin.
Berlin has a House night on Thursdays, and it's frequented by not just
gay people... I was hit on more times that night than at a straight
club. For some reason whenever I'm there my bi tendencies come out and
I saw this fine little white dj girl that I wanted to talk to. But I
was too lazy. My charm mode has an on and off switch and right then it
was purely off.
Friday through Saturday was a whirlwind of clubs and afterhours... way
too many places to mention. I am truly a dangerous inebriato on my
phone between the hours of 2 and 5am. There's no telling who I will
call or for what reason. And it makes people think I care about them,
when really I'm just bored.
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May 19, 2006
Bend Down
Went back to taking ballet, capoeira and african dance classes... and of course the whole reason I stopped training was because of my ongoing knee injury. Sure enough, my damn knee exploded and I have been seeing my acupuncturist Dr. Feng like 50 times a week. He gives me these weird stinky herbs for my "circulation" that have cool side effects such as birth control. Ouch my knee! I can't even walk down the street anymore. At least I have an excuse not to go down on a guy. HAH! NOT! (The queen bows down to no one!)
Saw Alvin Ailey Dance Company at the Auditorium Thursday night and was completely mesmerized. I met these 2 older ladies sitting next to me and they even gave me a ride home :) I gave them a copy of the magazine, and I'm sure they were perplexed by what the hell it was. How do you explain House music to a high society octogenarian? I was going to give them a thank you gift for the ride, but I didn't know them well enough to just hand them a few pills of viagra.
If you see me out limping, tell me it'll be ok.
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May 15, 2006
Saturday
Saturday night I go to hear Kaskade at Smart Bar and arrange for a future interview. What a cutie. We then go to AJ Dubbz' afterhours at F212. The place was packed, sobriety unwelcome at the door, and it was an all around good time.
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May 15, 2006
Afterhours Hell
Friday night we went to hear Roy Davis Jr. at Zentra and he was fabulous as usual. We then went to an afterhours at an empty office space downtown and from there I should have just called it quits.
Despite my vow not to have another afterhours at my condo until I was sure I could regulate, I went ahead and invited a few friends over. Needless to say, I had a whole bunch of people in my house that I did not want. Because it's been ingrained in me to be the uber-hostess no matter what, people assume I like them or I'm their friend, when the reality is that their presence made me feel uncomfortable. One of them was an ex-boytoy whom I could not believe had the nerve to show up and try to be all up on my grill. So most of the night/morning I was either (a) busy picking up after everyone's drunken spills and (b) trying to avoid 4 or 5 people. The last to leave was a couple who left at 4pm. Yes 4pm. I will never have another afterhours again.
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May 12, 2006
Someday My Prince Will Come
I was doing so good staying home! Then I had to go out Thursday to Zentra to help my girl out with ex-boyfriend problems. I couldn't stand being there. So in my boredom I played one of my all-time favorite games: bottoms up the Long Island. After just 1 round I am a happy camper. Me and my girl went and chilled in the car for a minute, and met 2 guys who played in a band at Joe's down the street. I was trying to hook the blond spiky haired one with my girl, and I thought it was going well. When we asked him what instrument he played, he said "guitar... and I play the skin flute." We let that slide as they went in the club, then it slowly dawned on our hetero selves what he really
meant. "We got competition for the boys up in there girl!" I said. And here we were thinking they liked sushi.
2:30 and I just wanted the night to end. An ex-boytoy was working down the street, so he tells me he's stopping by. Whatever. Then my ex walks in before he does and I'm like "SHIT!" They walk in practically back to back and I try to hide behind a hockey player and an oily pervert. Why? Why? I don't enjoy Jerry Springer moments. So I had to break my ex's little heart again by telling him to go home. I had to hang out with some other guy that I didn't really like tonight. And buy him drinks. They both stare each other down for a few minutes then proceed to act like they're talking to other people. I just want to go home.
Someday my prince will come.
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May 10, 2006
Regret Day
Sunday is officially Regret Day... where I lay in bed in complete and depressed misery, swearing to the heavens never to drink and do bad things ever again. Crash crash crash. Andre Hatchett told my ex last night to give it up, that I'd never want him again. He looked like he was about to cry and I felt like total shit. What can I do? I cancel the girls' rehearsal and no one seems to mind. Later that night I go to Ronda Flower's bday party at the Dating Game and hang with my Housearrest friends afterwards at Clybar. I'm sinking sinking so sad.
By Monday I have switched to full PMS mode and am having murder fantasies. I remember past conversations and make a mental note to scream and/or slap the offending person(s) the next time I see them. Everyone I encounter is an asshole. I run a boys' dance rehearsal at the park district and I want to kick out the 1 weak link boy who cannot catch up. "Learn it!" I snap at him.
Then suddenly we see a stray mutt puppy running around. He has a messed up red collar with rope around it, so I'm not sure if he has an owner or not. I try to call him, and everytime he almost comes, he runs. He is the cutest thing in the world. He is breaking my heart and I don't want to leave him until I know he has a home. After 1 hour of waiting and looking around, I reluctantly call 311 and they say they will call animal control/doggie auschwitz. Shit. Which is better, to run astray in the non-dog-friendly westside, or be locked up in a cage with a 3 week lifespan?
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May 9, 2006
Hotdogs and Other Things
Boogie's birthday was Friday, and it wasn't good. So we promise to make it a really special one for Saturday. We do Zentra, Robert Williams' party on the southside, then back to Zentra. We are HAMMERED like 2 frat boys in a junior college and discuss the benefits of weed and dick. During our many parking stops we see a hotdog place that says it sells "Hotdogs and other things." We are so delighted by this sign that while I instruct my ex to steal an orange parking cone outside the place, we look at it and take pictures. Yes, we had to call the ex because we could not drive at all. (And we couldn't trust any other designated driver in our over-sexualized state.)
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By 5am when the clubs are closed a group of us are calling around looking for an afterhours. My house is no longer hosting such hoo-hahs until I find a system to regulate who comes in. We all go to our photographer boy Flynt's house and begin Round 2 of partying. But then I get a call from Ojay of the 67th St. Loft parties to come over, and we do. Andre Hatchett, Linda and Ojay are all there while Willie Wills is spinning. I love these people because they are real and down-to-earth, unlike many of the sketchy northsiders that you'll find at afterhours. They will talk your ear off about absolutely nothing. At 67th we're all on the same vibe and the music is soulful.
It's only 6:30am and we have many more hours to go. We are a lovely mess.
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May 8, 2006
Bus Bitch
Doug and I tape the radio show.
Friday was not good. The theme of my breakdowns this week (aside from boys) seems to be my car. After stopping by Red-I to try and catch Loleatta Holloway (didn't) and the Prophouse, I head to Zentra to hear
Dajae and Cajmere. I am listening to a remix of Nasty Girl as I go east
on North Avenue and I see a bus holding up traffic. It's parked and has
its brights on. So cars start going around it. I do too, and that's
when the bus driver moves forward and hits me. Great! I park my car,
see there's no damage, and leave it alone. As I'm putting on lipstick,
the bus driver approaches my car and tells me she's calling the cops to
report it blah blah blah. It's her first day on the job and she's
tripping. I write down ALL my information on a flier (driver's license
#, insurance info, tel. number, bra size, Everything), tell her to call
me when the cops come because I have to run in and get pictures of
Dajae, and go in.
Zentra is so crowded and packed it's ridiculous. More packed than I've
ever seen it in my life. I say hi to Dajae and Cajmere, take their
pictures, and promise to watch her stuff while she sings. She is
flawless. She says my name on the mic so she's even more flawless in my
eyes. Cajmere is shaking his little booty while she sings and the whole
thing is just too cute. Need to get more magazines.
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I walk out, and yeah! My car is nowhere to be found. I will spare the
long sordid story of me calling 10,000 places looking for my car, all
the endless conversations I had with various cops in different squad
cars, how I was standing outside freezing my ass off with no one to help
because I didn't want to put my friends through bullshit while they were
having fun getting drunk. Basically this bus driver bitch called the
cops and said it was a hit and run, and lied and said I gave her no
info. So they towed my car to as yet unknown location. Thank god I had
pigtails on, because for some reason all 10 cops I spoke to (except for
2 who were total assholes) felt sorry for me and gave in to my
I'm-about-to-cry-I'm-so-helpless persona. They would have impounded my
car and made me go through court to get my car, but thankfully the cop
called in the tow company and all I had to do was cough up a mere $165
to get it out. And he wrote me 3 tickets. And he didn't search me.
(Thank you God)
Me and my recently awoken ex (my current hero apparently for all
roadside emergencies) get in David Sabat's car along with assorted
characters and were driven to 83rd and somewhere. I didn't have half
the shit the guy needed to prove it was my car (registration? Hah?),
but again...the magic of the pigtails and that look we women have
perfected got me my car in no time...
I now have my car. And I'm out looking for that bus driver on that
North Avenue route. Is that the #72? I will find her and girl-rape her
like the bus-bitch she is. Watch out.
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May 1, 2006
May Day
I swear I will slow down. Thursday is Vic Lavender's bday at Tini Martini, Zentra, Four, an afterhours... Friday I chill with the trannies at Prophouse, then see the return of Mr. Paul Johnson himself at Zentra. An afterhours... Saturday is the Generator, Zentra, Smart Bar, an afterhours.
By Sunday afternoon and going on artificial semi-sleep and an obnoxiously large chemical imbalance in my body, I have to run a dance rehearsal for our next show at Zentra on May 26. Me and Boogie called this the obliterata weekend because we wanted to numb our pain by excessive party-girling... we were miserable on Friday, dealing with bad boy drama and wishing we could be above it. In the end we came up with the same resigned and bitter outlook as we did before. Get your shit together before you talk to the queen.
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