Gay Bar - so my (totally straight) cousin texted me last week and asked if I'd want to go to see a drag queen show. As it turns out, I did want to go see a drag queen show. My curiosity has been peaked by a friend's stories as well as watching the episode of Sex and the City with the transexual prostitutes. I was envisioning a very glamorous evening of cosmopolitans, a catwalk, and fabulous hair. What I got was a dingy, dimly lit gay bar with awkward people waving dollar bills around and TV monitors with, well I won't go into what was playing on the monitors. To top it off, the queens were less than what I had hoped for. They lip synced and danced (sorta) to songs. Most were bad, a couple were decent, and the one I thought was simply fabulous turned out to be, get this, a real woman! Talk about confusing! The highlight of the evening was when the guy taking the cover charge asked for my ID and he said, "Oh my, I was way off on that one." "I'm sorry?" I asked. "Your age. I always try to guess everyone's age before I look at their ID," he replied. "Oh," I said, "How old did you think I was?" And he said to me, "I seriously thought you were 25 tops. Girl, whatever you're doing, keep on doing it!" I was waiting for a finger snap and bobble head movement but I never got it. I guess I do clean up pretty good after all. The low point of the evening, however, came when my sister and I were leaving the bar together (she drove) and a creepy guy followed us out and asked us if we were "like, uh, lesbians or something?" Ew, we're related! Although given our location, I guess I can't really blame the guy for asking.
Geronimo - ah, my trusty Jeep. My companion for over seven (count 'em, 7!) years. I really miss being in an SUV these days. I'm not so sure that the savings in gas mileage is really worth it or not. And his storage capacity! No way his windshield would have cracked under the pressure of fitting in an awkward piece of furniture. I miss him. At least he died a hero. He went out in a blaze of glory. Okay, okay, it was more like a puff of smoke that left me stranded on the highway.
Greta (the Jetta) - my newest liege. So far so good except for, of course, that pesky windshield incident...bygones! I'm envisioning many years of her company. I don't talk to her or pat her quite as much as I did Geronimo but I'm sure time will change that.
Guilty Conscience - I don't know what it is but I almost always feel like people are watching me when I'm out shopping. Like they're just waiting for me to shoplift something. Even though I know certain stores make bogus announcements like, "Security, sweep section four," I always freak out and wonder if I'm in section four. I worry about draping my jacket over my arm if I'm too hot because I don't want them to think I'm trying to cover up something I'm trying to swipe. I wonder why I carry such a big purse because that's gotta be a sure sign I want to fill it up with "freebies." I wonder why that woman (she must be undercover security) keeps walking by me because she's gotta be checking to see if I'm trying to put a lipstick in my pocket or something. I know, I know, major paranoia. Where did it come from?! I mean, there was the incident with the Snoopy pencil set thing I was like seven or something but that's been over 25 years ago! I mean seriously, what gives?!
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