2:22 a.m. - 2008-08-15
WHISKEY AND CHAMPAGNE
Ok, I've looked through my old entries and figured out that the Deee-lite story somehow slipped through the cracks, so I'm going to tell it now. But first...
Have any of you ever read the Missed Connections on Craigslist? Of course you have. They are sometimes funny, sometimes sad, often repetitive, and occasionally are actually ads for hookers.
Now. Have any of you ever read the Missed Connections w4w ads on Craigslist? Good christ. The dyke drama knows no bounds. At least 2 out of every 3 posts is some girl begging her gf to leave her new lover and come home again, or castigating the new lover for stealing her away. The ones which are actually missed connections are sappy to the extreme, with the girls waxing poetic what a wonderful life they could have together, if only the most beautiful woman in the world happens to see this. In the past two days, there have been two individual postings in which the post was actually A POEM. An original (*cough*) work, written for the occasion. Seriously, girls, you are being cliches. Giant, dykey, moving-vans-and-turkey-basters cliches.
*That's 'women for women', if you can't figure it out on your own. Maybe some of out there do not internet date. Actually, I don't internet date either, but I consider it frequently. Then I remember the horrible, repeated rejection of house hunting via Craigslist, and those people were just rating me on my potential as a refrigerator-buddy, not even a potential sex partner.
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In other news, I went downstairs to smoke a cigarette a few minutes ago and locked myself out of the house. This is a stupid thing to do if you are barefoot, wearing a miniskirt, and live in an apartment with no buzzer on a kinda-creepy, rat-infested industrial block. I had to climb up on a ledge and beat on my roommate's window with a stick, all while being observed by some presumably confused/freaked-out dude who was parking his car down the street. Not recommended.
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Ok, back to Deee-lite. At this point, it happened long enough ago that it feels a little anti-climactic to be writing about it here, but I want to have a record of this. So, a few weeks ago I went with JJ and Max to Marquee to hear Lady Miss Kier (hereafter, LMK) dj, and to drink free booze at some dude's table. I guess we got a little caught up in the second part of that, because a few, hazy hours later, we all found ourselves on the street, headed back to LMK's apartment for the after party. On the way there, two club queens stopped her on the street and go, "The shoes. The dress. The hair. Love it". She promptly invited them to join us, and they did. It was only after we got there and had been drinking for a while that we realized that they had no idea she was famous, and had just come along for...well, I don't really know why. Btw, if you do not know who LMK/Deee-lite is, just click on the youtube video below. Give it about thirty seconds. It will all make sense (sort of).
I think Deee-lite and I exchanged telephone numbers (though I can't find her's) and made plans to go shopping at some point during the evening. Sadly, this never happened. Finally, at about six in the morning, Max, JJ, and I all decided to leave and then Max fell down the stairs, ran around in the middle of 6th Ave, shoeless and bleeding, for a while, shouting "It is LITERALLY 10 o'clock in the morning and we don't where we are!", and then we all got omelets and found a taxi. Good times.
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Oh, right, I was also going to post an excuse for not writing enough. Well, here it is. I have had a limited amount of private time lately, but, also, for a while, didn't have a computer charger. This is because I loaned my computer to JJ while I was in Oregon. He took it up to the Hamptons for a performance, discovered the gallery owner who hired him didn't know how to hook it up, got annoyed, got drunk, and improvised a performance that ended with him pissing in some dude's champagne glass and then drinking it. At some point during all of this kerfluffle, the gallery owner's charger and mine got swapped, and I had to wait for forever to get them swapped back.
I would also like to note that, in order to get it back, I went to some place called SubMercer (in the basement of the Mercer hotel) to do the handoff, and while I was there, met a lovely man named Larry. Larry was quite convinced that we had met before, and that I was named Jennifer. So convinced, in fact, that even after I repeatedly denied being Jennifer, or knowing him, or having ever in my life been to SubMercer before, that he felt entirely comfortable leaving his arm around me the whole time we talked. He conviction wavered only after he realized that JohnJoseph was not a biological female, that in fact everyone I was with seemed to be at least a little queer, and that my apparent disinterest might not just be me playing 'hard to get', but that in fact, I was maybe *gasp* gay. He then (just to add a little symmetry to the story) excused himself for a glass of champagne.
-Britt
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