Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Forever Red

CatCouver was adamant that I accompany her to a gay review featuring the "best transvestites in town!" I, of course, was all for it because back home, playing a game of "Is he or isn't he?" with my dad always led to a discussion initiated by his cumbersome reactions which were restricted to skepticism and (embarrassing) passing fancy.

Women flock to these places like bohos to crochet. The lack of single -- desperate -- men means less pressure for us to maintain a facade of coquettish decency (even crotch grinders have their limits). So it genuinely surprised me that my four dollar cover charge thankfully didn't include spandex wrapped breasts flounced freely on the dance floor (prescriptively disregarded pairs, that is). The night was without incident except for a few men with questionable orientations trying to move rather rapidly (and excitedly) between my denim-clad legs.

Straight men had infiltrated our wholesome hovel. CatCouver and I were not pleased.

We later walked down Ste-Denis after a good 2 hours of whiplash-worthy whirling and met two guys from Toronto. After a conversation that lasted about 2 hours that consisted of verbal licks of this sort and that (which I was merciless in doling out), one guy left to return to his hotel room. The remaining one, a white guy named Tyrone ("But it says Michael on your license"), ended up walking us back to CatCouver's temporary shindig and yelled out to me, before disappearing around the corner:

"Too bad I fell in love with a girl who whips my ass intellectually."

Intellectually? CatCouver and I laughed when he was out of earshot, reminding each other of the way he omitted syllables when he tried to sound smart: "Adaption? Connotion? Beer insinct?" The guy couldn't convince a near-sighted person dirt was brown.


Breakfast waitress totally shamed us for not tipping "enough." Scheming bitch, we emptied our wallets and gave her more than 15%! And yet, still she asked for more, more, MORE!

In response, I indulged in the purchase of two books by two Johns: Stossel's Give Me a Break and Perkins's Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. I couldn't resist: I go through tomes like a toddler on a Veggie Booty bender.

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