February, what an exciting time of year. North Carolina blanketed in snowstorms and 70 degree weather here in the Bay area. An exhausting string of evenings, a whirlwind weekend with my two true Valentines, Rusty and Di. Yes, I know Valentine's Day is somewhat of a manufactured holiday and love is expressed in minutes and hours of every day, but for a German guy like myself, expressing my love is a challenge on the best of days, so Valentine's Day provides a much needed opportunity.
We started Valentine's weekend with a concert at the Hotel Rex, featuring Denise Fraga. We are big fans of Denise, she is a sweet and witty jazz singer playing every few weeks at the hotel with a portable system and one guitar, very intimate, very casual, very SF. We are not official groupies yet, but working our way up the groupie food chain.
Saturday Night? Booger drag at Aunt Charlies, featuring the Hot Box Girls and $4 gin and tonics. Gotta love bars in the tenderloin. This bar has thousands of Christmas lights on the ceiling, only turned on during Gay Pride, as it appears the joint gets too hot and too bright, and the lights take seven different outlets and can drain the power from three city blocks (that last part may or may not be true)!
We not only spent the evening with the Hot Box Girls, but also with Gary (Rusty's workmate), his Chicago "man friend" Jason, a sweet fella named Keith, and two others, I'm sure they were nice guys but I didn't have a chance to get to know them as they were way on the other side of the table, perhaps next go around. Fortunately, we were right up front to catch every make-up filled pore.
These are not the pretty ladies of the Mordecai is a Drag party, rather are potentially the grandmothers of our very own lovelies. Drag royalty was in attendance this evening, as Vicki Marlene performed. It's been rumored Vicki Marlene is featured in a documentary coming soon to a theatre in the Bay Area. According to the drag chatter between sets, she was heavily involved in the White Night riots, the riots occurring after the verdict of manslaughter (instead of first degree) was handed to Dan White, the murderer of Harvey Milk and George Moscone. (Look it up people: wikipedia.) Enough of the politico!
The following photos are grainy and somewhat out of focus, guess who forgot his camera and relied on Rusty's phone for photos? Honestly, it is just as well to have out-of-focus pics as high definition is not a friend to these ladies.
Miss Reality dons clown shoes and a style fit for a gay punk club. Latino booger drag kind of escapes me.
Daphne Deluxe, truly a vision from Down Under, and one shouldn't ask her about down under...as this diva surely hides an ugly truth in the bush...a wise idea to avoid the outback...no, I don't have any other Australian double entendres.
A lovely flutter of drag moves. Very compelling.
Keith was a drag superstar magnet. I guess opposites really do attract...of course I'm making alot of assumptions about Keith's personal drag potential, and the lack there of.
As usual, Di ends the evening by wrestling a drag queen to the ground.
Kisses and hugs all around, then the bar cleared to desolation in record time. All of the talent threw their shit in a roll away bag and were off to the next show somewhere in the big bright city. We were left with harsh over head florescent lighting and a surly bartender scrubbing the bar. If ever there was a stark contrast to the glitter and glamor, to the "illusion", it was us standing in the deserted bar with the remnant rhinestones, feathers and the scent of Mary Kay cosmetics wafting through the air and no drag queen in sight. Oh well, home and bed at the ungodly hour of midnight.
Valentine's, finally. Nifty gifties for and from my two Valentine's. Di brought us back Le Cruseut ramekins as a gift. Love it. Rusty surprised me with the best gift ever, reservations to Hawaii over spring break. I know by then I will need it desperately. Jealous much? He got a really good deal and of course I had to faux scold him for spending so much, but I'm really looking forward to laying on a beach for a few days enjoying ridiculously priced drinks. We'll be staying in Kona on the big island. Let me know if anyone would like to join us. We'd be happy to send you our reservation information.
My gift to Rusty and Di? First dinner with our good friends Tony and Steven at 2223, a fantastic restaurant in the Castro, then showtime at the Castro Theatre. We had fabulous seats for Justin Bond singing Carpenter's tunes.
Readers, you may not be aware but Rusty loves the Carpenters. As a matter of fact, any joking about Karen Carpenter is strictly verboten in our household...and as many of you know holding back a mean spirited comment in this household is tantamount to holding back the Mongul hordes in China, in other words gentle readers, a near impossible task.
Justin Bond was charming, funny and fabulous. I was absolutely impressed with her entire show.
We splurged for the good seats and the champagne reception after the show. Justin was Sainted by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, an honor bestowed upon only but a few dignitaries in Babylon by the Bay.
We wrapped last weekend up with dinner at the house on President's Day. Seph and Denis joined us for big hearty bowls of Ciappino, and pasta with Vodka Sauce...Ciappino is horribly expensive to make, but what an orgasmic experience to enjoy.
This past Friday, Rusty made reservations early at the Mint for Karaoke. We truly thought we would have a few drinks, and enjoy a light dinner in SF before getting home at a decent hour. San Francisco bartenders are certainly heavy handed on the pour, especially when ordering the cheap house booze. Dinner never materialized as the synergy in the bar was fun-tabulous. Everyone, excepting of course the crazy angry lady at the bar, was in exceptionally high spirits and singing inhibitions were suspended for the duration of the evening. Dinsesh, the son of one of my very good friends in NC and a young man I shamelessly flirt with on every occasion, belted out a few tunse. Even Di got up there once, and Rusty of course was up there as much as possible. Foregoing dinner was a small price to pay for an evening of spontaneous whole group madness.
That's Ms. drew if you're nasty!
Another Carpenter's song?
Oh to be young, in love, and crooning songs in SF...is there anything sweeter.
Well, blogsters, last night Monique and Lance met us in SF for a good three hour meal at Absynth, and next weekend we will be spending a night at their house in Sacramento. Many more adventures on the way as we prepare to yet again say good bye to our aussie mate...Until the next adventure, go out there and live a little!
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