Here’s Some Whine With My Whining!

Sometimes the most amusing part of my blog posts are the comments. People often misunderstand me. If I were writing for, say, a magazine or newspaper (as I once did) I would put everything into context. But since this is a continuing story, more or less, I don’t feel it’s really necessary. I assume that my readers are already acquainted with me, if not in the brick and mortar world, then here, online. They read what I write because they enjoy it. Though judging by some of their comments, that is most definitely not always the case! The complaints kinda crack me up. I write for free. They read for free. And never in the history of communication has it been easier to, in the blink of an eye, move on. Read something else. Ooooh, look! Shiny! Anyway, my most recent post elicited a few choice reactions. So choice I had to share them, in addition to them being available. Allow me to bore you all with my responses to…my responses.

Jim asked me a reasonable question. I responded reasonably. Andy and Karen? Ditto.

Then n.c. weighs in. I’m already at a disadvantage. Is n.c. a man or a woman? Old or young? Single or not? Since everyone reading knows (almost) everything about me, it might be nice to have some context. As in, “I”m happily married and therefore in a position to give advice or cast aspersions!” But I really don’t know who I’m corresponding with. When n.c. said, “Surely in your absence you’ve had bar stories, boy stories, valentine stories, st. patty’s stories, millinery stories that are far more compelling than these misbegotten attempts with online pablum,” it’s tough to know where he/she is coming from. Is he/she really that bored with my dating complaints? If so, why not disregard this particular post and tune back in when I write about my travels or nightlife? While most of what I write about is the sad state of dating affairs, it isn’t the only thing I write about. Does n.c. read every newspaper and magazine from cover to cover? Wouldn’t it be simple to be more discerning? Read only the topics of interest to him/her? But in response to the question, no, n.c., I don’t have any stories about the bar or boys. My Valentine’s Day was pretty fun and I do believe I blogged about it, albeit briefly. I went to a Kostume Kult party and then on to Marquee, where I was packed in with a million gay boys and drag queens. At that point I didn’t have any St. Patty’s stories since the post was on March 12. And millinery stories? Well, I’ve been posting pix of my hat making adventures on Facebook. There are dozens of millinery blogs by people far more skilled and experienced than I am so I didn’t really feel like competing. Anyway, I hope that addresses your concerns, n.c.

Next up is Gregor, who often has valuable insights. Good to know that when “a man is not interested in a woman, there’s nothing more for him to say.” But it didn’t quite answer the “why” of his being so rude. As in, WHY respond rudely? Why not just not respond at all? It’s all really conversational anyway, but…

Then we have a new contributor to the mix, “dude.” He immediately assumes I have 800+ readers, which is far from the case. On my best day every, I topped out at 350 views. Most of the searches that dump people off at my site are for “Le Trapeze” or “penis pix” or “panty boy.” No, not dating, but also nothing any of these thoughtful commenters would be interested in either. Dude is incredulous when I tell him that my negative, depressing or disastrous date posts receive more viewers than my upbeat, cheerful posts do. Sadly, the stats don’t lie. And when he suggests I write about something “interesting,” citing n.c.’s request for a post about millinery, I am compelled to ask, would you all be THAT interested in reading about my hat making? Cause, ya know, I can certainly describe the hours of hand sewing I’ve spent over the past week or so. I can easily explain the rapture I experience while shopping in the garment district, fondling trims and notions. If, you know, that’s your…thing. And the “shrewish” jab? Well, whatever. I’ve called myself a cunt so many times I’m surprised anyone even reads my damn blog. But he didn’t stop there. Oh, no. He has a LOT to say to me. Aw, go read it if you want. Moving along.

Last night, while in bed reading, my phone went “bing” and, oh look! A new comment. It’s Kath. But she’s responding to…my latest tweet. Huh? Um, okay. Here’s the tweet, for those of you who aren’t hanging on my every social networked word: I cannot believe anyone wants to watch D list “celebrities” dive into a pool. What’s next, “D Listers Sitting On Their Couches”?  #splash It was an off the cuff remark after far too many commercials for “Splash,” the new ABC reality show about, yes, D list celebrities (more like former celebrities) diving into a pool. A ridiculous premise for a TV show, don’t you think? But I’m betting Kath has NO idea what I’m talking about. Our back and forth here:

Kath
you have the temerity to talk about D-list celebrities when you pander the same bullshit (“controversy?”, yeah, right) here?
nice try.
Abby
Hahah! You’re comparing my blog with a major network’s reality show? That’s hilarious!
Kath
no abby, i’m coming the d-list bullshit of which you speak with your own bullshit. it seems to be endless.
Abby
Huh? Fuck off.
Kath
typo. urgency to respond created “coming” when i meant “comparing” [the d-list bullshit which offends you] to your own oft-written bullshit about men and dating and their apparent inability to find a noun, verb, adjective and cogent thought.
apparently it’s contageous (not the typos.)
as for fucking off, how sweet you’ve composed the cyber equivalent to “i know you are but what am i.”
grow up, stop writing, or stop complaining. you made your “controversy” (readers love it!) now sleep with it.

Oh, Kath, Kath, Kath! Sooooo many things are wrong with this picture! Firstly, is my blog THAT important you feel an actual “urgency” to respond? Wow, my writing is more compelling than I thought! And far more compelling than n.c. and Dude have been finding it recently! Secondly, I’m not “offended” by ANY D list bullshit. I just think the premise for the show is a bit weak. That’s all. None of it is bullshit, really. But hey, thanks for “comparing” my “bullshit” about men not being about to string a sentence together with Louie Anderson (who?) being unable to climb out of a pool (a big crisis on the show, apparently, although there was a fucking ladder only a few feet away) or Kareem Abdul-Jabbar bellyflopping. I fail to see the comparison but I certainly can’t control what other people think! I will say, however, pardon the FUCK outta me for preferring men who aren’t functionally illiterate. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a relationship with a man who didn’t know the difference between “your” and “you’re.” The temerity, indeed!

Her admonition to “grow up” falls on some seriously deaf ears here, my dear. Je refuse! If I’ve made it to 53 without growing up, why would I start now? Stop writing? Uh, no. How about you stop reading? There are, literally, millions — MILLIONS! — of blogs! Why the hell do you (and all these other nutjobs) insist upon reading mine if it annoys you so? Oy motherfucking vey! Breathe, Abby… Okay! Stop complaining? FUCK OFF! Oh, that’s right. Saying fuck off is “the cyber equivalent of ‘I know you are but what am I’.” I AM A CUNT. A cranky old, jaundiced, jaded, shriveled up, bitter CUNT! Are you fucking NEW?

As for “making my controversy,” I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you mean what I was saying in my response to Dude (and that I’ve mentioned in the past) about readers enjoying the bullshit, well, um, yeah. So I’m so grateful to you for providing more of it I’ve devoted an entire post to the subject! Now, let’s see how many views it gets! I’m ready to sleep with it. Which is a damn good thing, because ain’t nothing or nobody else sleepin’ with me! Bwahahaha. Oh my! Thanks, Kath!

On a related note, can someone tell me how people like Kath find me? And why?

Early Signs of Spring?

Sure, there was a blizzard on Friday. It wasn’t a very spring-like weekend, weather-wise. But activity-wise, it most definitely was!

On Friday, my millinery class was cancelled due to “Nemo” so I got my Mardi Gras on and headed over to NYC’s Most Authentic Mardi Gras Party, a fundraiser event coordinated by my friend Wylie. Brother Josephus, a band I first experienced at the same party a few years back, was the headlining act. I’d been, um, charmed by one particular band member. He performed in a white tux with tails, purple gloves, a king crown and goggles. Quite a fashion statement. This year, however, he wore a white t-shirt (like, an undershirt t-shirt), a red scarf and no hat or goggles. Or purple gloves. I didn’t recognize him at all. It left me wondering why he’d, well, let himself go. Maybe he got married. Har-har-har! Anyway, Pinky and I got smashed on hurricanes, stopped for a nightcap and photobooth pix at Double Down, then bumbled home in the snow.

Saturday we donned our matching sparkly pink snakeskin spandex pants and our light-up headpieces for Ominous City’s First Date, a celebration of Chinese New Year and Valentine’s Day. I tended bar and had a blast while Pinky hobnobbed with the other revelers and helped me out as barback. That bash lasted until 5:30am. Gah. But it was the warmest, most wonderful assemblage of humans I’ve experienced in a long time! I can’t wait for the next one! Johnny joined us for a slumber party and Sunday the three of us ordered Chinese in further sobered-up celebration. Then, if you can believe it, I got called into Double Down. I dragged my exhausted ass into the bar at 8 and actually managed to remain vertical until closing time. Thank goodness for the birthday party group that kept me awake.

Ordinarily I would’ve spent Monday sprawled on the couch in recuperation but, alas, I have an upcoming event to promote so I headed east a block for Poly Cocktails. I didn’t last long, but at least I made an appearance! I also met the manager and got to chat up Kat, Larissa, Carin and Dicie — many birds with one stone.

Today I very much wanted to celebrate Fat Tuesday but there just didn’t seem to be an easy way to pull it off. I had an afternoon jewelry making lesson in Brooklyn with the talented Anne Arden McDonald and my party partner Pinky was in class all evening, making planning problematic. Oh well. This holiday passed us by. Though we certainly roullez-ed enough bonne temps on Friday!

And speaking of my party partner, Pinky and I are combining creative forces to form PINKITRIX, making “whimsical costumery and colorful headpieces” as well as offering “party planning for special occasions.” Perhaps our works will soon include my newly acquired (though not quite yet honed) skills of millinery and jewelry making! Wheeeeeeee!

Yeah, I know…not the most exciting blog post. But I’ve been busy! I shipped two tiaras last week in between everything else! Oh! And I think OKCupid has banned me. Probably for promoting my Heart Palpitations event coming this Sunday. The site won’t let me log in, citing “technical difficulties,” but I’m the only person I know who’s experiencing them. Oh well. Maybe it’s time for Christian Mingle. Haharrrahahahhah-aackk! Anyway. Off I go to bed to watch another episode of Downton Abbey on my iPhone!

Brick & Mortar Me

Hello, readers!
Sorry I haven’t posted in a while but I’ve been busy being productive! I started my class at FIT and whipped up a few new tiaras. Now, I’d like to tell you about a few upcoming events I’m involved in:

The first one, I’ve been hired as sort of a “celebrity bartender.” I’m
very flattered and want to make sure they think they made a smart
choice! The cover is crazy high but they’ve offered MY FRIENDS a
discount!

The second event is one I’m producing myself. It’s the first event
I’ve put together in a LONG time. I’d love to see you there! And if
you can’t make it, any help promoting it, letting friends (or anyone
you think might be interested) know about it, would be greatly
appreciated!

This Saturday, February 9, I’ll be bartending at Ominous City, a
burneresque celebration of Valentine’s Day and the Lunar New Year.
The cover is steep but you’ll get in for a reduced price if you enter
this discount code: @bbiluv
For complete party details, check out their Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/events/534643026553612/?fref=ts

On Sunday, February 17, I’m producing my first event in ages: Heart
Palpitations, an enchanting evening of interactive lessons in
love…and more!
Complete details are below, but here is the link to the Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/events/127226280785561/?fref=ts

HEART PALPITATIONS
Valentine’s Day has blown over and you’ve gobbled down all your
conversation hearts. Now what? Dating Blogger and nightlife empresaria
EditrixAbby presents Heart Palpitations, a post-Valentine’s Day event
for couples, singles, seekers and students of the heart.

Recently fixated on all things LOVE, Abby has assembled an eclectic
assortment of experts on passion. Whether you’re suffering from a love
hangover or you’re blissfully coupled, this enchanting evening offers
lessons for everyone.

The evening begins with a tantalizing appetizer by Ebonie Little, who
will combine the two interests in a guided “eating meditation”, We’ll
learn to re-engage the senses to savor what we put into our
bodies–and in effect, remember loving self-care. Ebonie creates
chocolate delights through Miss Little’s Jars. She will be offering
sensuous treats like Moussexy, a chai-spiced, sugar-free confection,
and truffles in many flavors, for sale in the cocktail lounge. Ms.
Little also founded Eating Consciously, a grassroots online dialogue
on mindful nutrition.
www.ebonielittle.wordpress.com/miss-littles-jars

Author, sex educator, video producer and relationship lecturer Jamye
Waxman will facilitate an ice breaker to help you communicate more
effectively about sexuality.
www.jamyewaxman.com

Stacy Rapp, “Head Witch” at Enchantments, the East Village
headquarters for all your Wiccan and witchy needs, will lead a
goddess-based confidence and beauty spell to increase your attraction
factor!
www.enchantmentsincnyc.com

Be Wild Woman founder Kiana Love will incorporate dance and chakra
exercises to help you become more receptive to passion and abundance.
www. bewildwoman.com

Closing out the evening, Elf Girl Reverend Jen will prove that humor
is a key component to passion. Proprietrix of The Troll Museum,
producer of The Anti-Slam and puppetmaster of the Mr. Lower East Side
Pageant, Rev. Jen has been a fixture of the underground East Village
arts scene since there actually was an underground arts scene.
www.revjen.com

Katie Hotaling is an amateur baker who whips up creative concoctions
to satisfy your sugar cravings. She will be sharing her pastry
decorating tips with you as you embellish your own baby cupcake.
‘Cause who doesn’t love sprinkles?
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Katies-Konfectionery/274713385984706

DJ Douggie Style will provide the sensuous soundtrack for the soiree,
from conversation-conducive subdued to a more electrified ambience
after 11. Monday is a holiday, so come out and play!

EditrixAbby will be your emcee, sharing anecdotes and advice for
dating in the 21st Century.

Show up early for your Goodie Bag, including a free porn DVD, cookies
by ThisChickBakes.com and more!

Affaire Downstairs is a cozy venue with a cocktail lounge for
conversation and a dance floor with plush nooks perfect for absorbing
lessons in romance. You are free to opt in (or out) of each
presentation.

FAST FACTS
WHAT: Heart Palpitations
WHEN: Sunday, February 17
TIME: 7pm
PRESENTATIONS: 7:30-11
WHERE: Affaire, 50 Avenue B at East 4th St.
COVER: $10

Overbooked

Ack!

I can’t believe I’ll be leaving for the desert in just over a month! There doesn’t seem to be a spare moment between now and then! I was planning on using this blog to jettison much of my costumery and clutter but I don’t think I’ll have time to photograph and post it all! I will try and use Party Costume Exchange on Facebook, so keep an eye out for fun stuff there!

I have one week till I leave for Vegas, where I’ll be wrangling balloons again for Balloon Chain at Electric Daisy Carnival. Between now and then I’ll be working at the bar, taking a two-day seminar — “Going All the Way: Sex and Money Intensive” – with Amy Jo Goddard, attending the “Meet & Beat” for The New York Fetish Marathon Thursday night and emceeing for the HOWL! Festival finale, The Jackie Factory presents’ “Low Life 6: East Village Others” on Sunday. Whew! Guess it’s a good thing I’ve given up dating!

Somewhere in there I’d like to have a clothing swap, do Pink Drinks at Sidewalk and, well, you know, pack! There’s 4th of July in there (come visit me at Double Down!) and a trip out to the Hamptons to hang with my family. Oh! And The Mermaid Parade! I have a feeling I won’t be blogging much. But maybe this year I’ll do a bit more of it from out in the desert. Though it’s very difficult to focus on a computer screen after eight hours in the sun…

The ideal situation would be if I could just think the things I want to write here and have it all magically transmitted into type. Sigh. I’m sure we’ll have that technology any moment now. Which will be awesome because that would make it super easy to write my memoir! Anyway, keep an eye on my Facebook page for more up-to-date info, since it’s so easy to just zap a photo there. (Shakes fist at Mark Zuckerberg.) Anyway, stay tuned!

Three’s a Charm…Chore

Uh. I wanted the word “Charm” to have a “strike-through” but evidently I can only edit HTML for the body of the text (here) and not in my headline. Use your imaginations. See it? The word “Charm” crossed out and replaced with “Chore”? Okay, good. Shall we proceed?

This past Thursday I went on three dates. Yes, three. Sort of. The first guy said he wanted to meet for coffee but had a conference call at 7pm. So I made another date at 7:30 to meet guy #2 for a beer. Date #3 was an invitation to a party co-hosted by a guy who has been checking my profile on OKCupid (and randomly emailing me) for about two years.

I know, it sounds a bit overambitious but I figured once I was dressed up and date-ready, I might as well get as much mileage out of my night as possible. So how did they go? Well, hmmmm…

Date #1 was a little late. No big deal. But when he’d said we’d meet “outside” I kinda thought that there might be, you know, outside seating. Instead I leaned against a financial district high rise outside an Aroma coffee shop. He bought my chai, which was nice, and we had a pleasant enough conversation. He didn’t look quite as good in person as he did in his photo (could’ve been the boring business suit instead of the tight t-shirt) but his looks weren’t as problematic as his professional life. On his profile he’d professed to “a gypsy lifestyle” and “working too hard,” years without a day off, in fact, and admitted to seeking more “play.” I was obviously willing to take on that challenge. However, in our fairly brief conversation, I couldn’t figure out when he would be able to fit in that “play.” His “gypsy lifestyle” wasn’t as romantic in reality as it sounded in print; he commutes between Manhattan and Rochester and his home in Syracuse. For a government job. Erm… His time in NYC is on the gub-ment dime so even if he’d been up for some playing, he’d have to spring for a separate hotel room or pass out on a very long train ride home. Sigh. Though we both said it would be nice to see each other again, I don’t anticipate that actually happening.

Date #2 was much more my speed, a craftsman and sailor. I met him at one bar, where we had a few beers, and then we had a few more at another bar. He was tall and smart and funny and since his online photos didn’t reveal much due to a baseball cap and sunglasses, there wasn’t as much of that usual visual discrepancy. Yet this is where my problem with online dating becomes so pronounced: while enjoying myself — and his company — all I could think was “Could I kiss this guy?” And the answer was consistently, “No.” I can’t say why.

Whatever, I invited him along to the party that guy #3 had invited me to, saying that he wouldn’t have much time to talk since he’d be busy hosting. Which I thought was a perfect situation: I’d get to see him in action without that awkward one on one dynamic. I’d invited my friend Karen, too, who was there when we arrived. The party was at Taj, a horrible club I’ve been to before, with mandatory coat check and overpriced drinks. I promised date #2 we wouldn’t stay long as soon as I realized what we were in for. Well, nothing, my friends, I mean NOTHING had prepared me for what we were actually in for. All the $12 cocktails in the world paled in comparison to the guests at this event. Yes, I had read the fine print: Date #3′s “Back to the Beach Party” was sharing the evening with “BoomerParties.com.” Uh-huh. “Parties for ages 40s and 50s & up.” Oh yeah. Up. And UP!

Holychristonapogostick! This hellish party was like Heaven’s Waiting Room! There was even a clichéd crone with the dyed black hair and makeup scrawled over her face like an SNL skit. She was sportin’ enormous sneakers, hunched over a trés chic cane. There was “Fabio,” who I needed to see up close in order to properly appreciate his full glamor: Mr. Magoo glasses, too-tight acid washed jeans, a white button down barely containing his girth and bleached blond hair that he kept smoothing down. He had positioned himself by the dance floor, perhaps to catch one of the crones if she lost her orthopedic footing. The women were, quite literally, shuffling around! The exception were the few 50-ish “cougar” wanna-bes, with their streaked, over-sprayed hair, flirty cocktail dresses and high-pitched cackles, draped all over each other and no doubt hoping to meet a man who’ll pay for their (next) facelifts.

All this to a bangin’ top-40 dance beat that I’m sure no one in the room cared for. Or heard. Oy. To say this was depressing would be a gross understatement. It was a HORROR! Fortunately, date #3 slipped me a few fancy plastic drink tickets on his way out, so Karen, date #2 and I each enjoyed a free cocktail as we attempted to contain our guffaws. We stumbled out of there safe in the knowledge that, however bad it may be, it ain’t that bad yet!

After that debacle, date #2 insisted on getting something to eat, which I wasn’t really up for. But we wound up at a tacky retro diner where I got to slurp down one of the most amazing milkshakes of my life! Cotton Candy! Complete with real cotton candy garnish! I used it to wash down my chili cheese tater tots. After such an action-packed date I just wanted to get home and hide under the covers, so I gave date #2 a hug goodbye, saying yes, of course we should get together again. I couldn’t find a cab to save my life, so I bumbled home, cackling like a crone the whole way! Next step: KILL my OKCupid profile! Anyway….

While I Wasn’t Writing…

I’ve been noodling with a blog post for well over a week. Though the topic feels specific, it seems I have more to say than I’ve been able to properly encapsulate. In addition to my inability to  sufficiently whittle down my words, I had an entertainingly distracting week:

I feel like Linda Stasi but, wow, what a week it’s been!

One week ago my friend Robin arrived from San Francisco. Her boyfriend Ace was in town to celebrate his 50th birthday and she surprised him with her appearance at his Tammany Hall rock bash. I couldn’t make it a late night due to the ear-bleedingly loud music and the resulting lack of ability to converse. Wednesday and Thursday were eight-hour work days followed by drinking. At 7:20am Friday, Heather and Caitlin arrived, also from San Francisco. They napped, I ran errands and Robin headed to The Met. I managed to fit in a workout and an hour of sitting in the sun, all in preparation for my big Friday night — and the primary reason for Heather’s visit: Night of a Thousand Stevies.

Photo by Jason Russo

The ultimate Stevie Nicks tribute extravaganza originated at Jackie 60 22 years ago, making “Dreams Unwind,” yes, the 22nd annual! I worked the VIP list at the door with Cynthia, as usual, and then got to emcee on the Stevie stage for my very first time! It was glorious! And of course, the entire evening was exquisite! A crew of us headed to Double Down afterward for a nightcap before I bumbled back to Hotel Abby.

Saturday had a slooowwww start due to my Stevie-sized hangover. It was May 12, Ace’s actual birthday, and he showed up to start DJing at 4. He was spinning some seriously entertaining rock and punk, pretty much the soundtrack of my lifetime, so I was really enjoying it! Between his pals and the visiting DPW folks, the bar was full of friendly faces. When my shift was over, a bunch of us relocated the festivities to my roof. It was, quite possibly, the most pleasant weather of the season, perfect for sitting outdoors and drinking. When I finally lost my shit — and my patience — from sheer exhaustion around 2am, I sent the last few stragglers out to a bar and passed out on my fold-out couch.

Sunday was another slow one and I wound up on the roof for more sunshine. Then Caitlin and Heather treated me to dinner and a show: Priscilla, Queen of the Desert! Oh! Em! Gee! The costumes were fucking mind-blowing! And the blinky bus? Amazing! It was, like, the gayest show EVAR! We managed to grab the only available cab in all of Times Square and headed straight downtown to Crif Dogs, followed by a milkshake stop at Ray’s. Wheeeeee! What an awesome Sunday!

Caitlin and Heather left Monday morning-ish after a quick brunch at Yuca Bar and I fit in a quick trip to the gym before Robin and I met Johnny and David at the 10th Street Baths. It was really nice to sweat out all the booze and beer of the weekend. I hung out with them while they ate sushi, then jumped into a cab to meet Edie and Marianne for Mexican. It was like old times, except I eschewed the booze. We even hung out afterward at Mare’s apartment.

This morning, after Robin left for the airport, I spent two hours getting paid for my opinions on hair dye. Easiest hundred bucks I’ve ever made! And finally, I met Karen at the movie theater to see Dark Shadows. Which was cute! Now, to curl up with my Scribble and enjoy a little bit of solitude. Oh, and perhaps get back to some writing…

West Coast, Sex & Absurdity, Cinco de Drunko

Ack! It’s been days — DAYS! — since I’ve (b)logged on here. I went on a whirlwind trip out west:

Left my apartment last Thursday at 5am, Jamye picked me up at the airport and we hung out at her new place in San Francisco. She drove me to my parents, who took us out for dinner. Friday morning my mom drove me back into the city to drop me off at Mel and Tony’s, who gave me a ride to Gerlach and Black Rock Station. We stopped in Oakland for Anna and Dylan, had lunch in Auburn and pulled into Gerlach around 5 for drinks at Bev’s Miners Club. By the time we got to the Ranch it was getting dark. I threw my sleeping bags into one of the metal condos, set out Scribble’s food and water and the drinking commenced. It sure was great to be sitting around a burn barrel again!

Woke up super early Saturday morning, still on east coast time. Enjoyed my coffee beside the burn barrel before breakfast and our DPW Managers’ Meeting, which only lasted till lunch time! Soooo, yup, you got it, the drinking commenced! I managed to stay sober enough to conduct my contract and budget meeting and taste our delicious dinner! By the time 10pm rolled around I had to roll myself into bed!

Such an early bedtime meant another early rise and more coffee around the burn barrel. Monte Christos for breakfast were followed by goodbyes and a quick stop in Gerlach so Hayseed could check out some real estate. We drove three young Eastern Europeans into Reno; they’d rolled their car on the playa. Then it was on to Sacramento for dinner with Vaughn and Dawn. By the time I’d dropped Hayseed in Oakland I was too exhausted to attend Fuckin’ Andy’s going away party, opting to head to San Rafael for the rest I knew I’d need for Monday. Sunburned, windburned and exhausted!

Monday morning I had coffee with my mom, then drove into the city for a massage with Franny. Mmm, that was awesome! I hurried to meet my sister and niece for lunch and hung with them all afternoon. My parents came in for a full family dinner before I had to rush downtown to the Center for Sex and Culture and my wacky “Sex & Absurdity” event. It got off to an awkward start but turned out awesome in the end! Anna ran the door, Ace was our DJ and sound guy and the talented link-up featured Miss Roach, Dr. Notorious and Princess Cream Pie, Laika Fox, Austintatious, Tizzy Walls, MegaFlame, Fudgie Frottage and yours truly. The audience was enthusiastic and receptive and everyone had a blast! A few of us bumbled off for after show beverages and I didn’t crawl into bed till after 1am.

Tuesday was spent almost entirely in transit and man, was I happy to get home to my comfy bed and black-out curtains! I’ve spent the past few days catching up and working, picking up an extra shift on Thursday. Cinco de Mayo was amazing, celebrating Don and Natasha’s birthdays at the bar and working in my Frida Kahlo drag. Now I’m preparing for a slew of out of town visitors, Night of a Thousand Stevies, Ace’s NYC birthday juggernaut, the Black & Light Ball and more! I have a million ideas to blog about, just not enough bandwidth to actually concentrate. Soon, soon… Maybe I need to move to a remote mountain top!

Done with Dating

So I did it again. Yup. I went on a date. And perhaps there’s no way dates will ever go well for me ever again. I don’t know if that’s because I subconsciously  crave disaster in order to create more content for you, my dear readers, or if there’s something seriously wrong with me. I’m pretty confident it’s both. Anyway, back to the date. ‘Cause I know you’re dying to hear all about it.

I met this man sorta randomly, even for an online dating situation. I was planning on meeting friends at an event and found myself a little early with some time to kill. I checked out the “Locals” feature on OKCupid and a bare chest emblazoned (okay, Photoshopped) with the Batman logo caught my eye. I pinged him that I’d “like to meet” and he responded almost immediately. “Ha. Do you mean like right now? This might be good timing…” Turns out he was on another OKCupid date that hadn’t gone well. Within a half hour we were laughing over beers at 2A.

I don’t know if it was my mood or the circumstances but it went amazingly well. I thoroughly enjoyed his company and the conversation never flagged. Batman has been to Burning Man, which automatically establishes common ground. Plus we have a mutual friend. He admitted to three different profiles: one semi-kinky, one kinkier and yet another kinkier still. I was intrigued. Because his kink happened to be one with which I’m fairly well acquainted: the splosh fetish.

If you needed to click on the link to find out what that means, you’re definitely in the majority. The fact that this guy wound up on a date with someone who was not only knowledgeable but actually experienced with it is nothing short of a miracle! I appeared in the British magazine Splosh! ages ago, in a spread shot by Porno Jim: a group of girlfriends having a make believe paint fight. And I was hired for a pie sploshing video shoot once upon a time. It took place in a tacky New Jersey no-tell motel. Jamye Waxman came along for moral support and to document the afternoon. I was washing coconut shreds out of my frilly panties for weeks! But I digress…

Anyway, though I wound up blowing off the event I’d planned to attend, we parted after only a few beers. It went so well I expected to hear from him again almost immediately. I mean, given that I was game for indulging his fetish — and the rarity of that situation — I assumed he’d be eager to see me as soon as possible. I was, of course, sorely mistaken. The date took place on March 23. We emailed back and forth a bit that night, post date: a bit of splosh-centric teasing. By April 5 I hadn’t heard a word — no invitation for another date, nothing — so I prompted him. He responded and I inquired about whether he’d be interested in attending a sex party and perhaps engaging in a sploshing scenario. I’d come up with a novel idea that he was initially enthusiastic about but he seemed reluctant to try something new in such a public forum. Another week passed and I asked again about the party. We decided to merely meet and save the sploshing for another time.

All of our communication was very businesslike with little or no passion. I’m not sure if that was my doing, if I set a tone or something, or if his casual manner was just his default setting. Either way, he didn’t seem too terribly excited to see me again. Whatever, we made plans to meet at a bar and venture to the sex party venue together.  [Editor's note: Desire is sexy. When someone really wants me, it's a turn-on. Thus far, I didn't exactly feel desired. I was hoping, I guess... Or was I?]

The bar meeting was okay, if a bit awkward. I don’t know if I’ve lost my touch or simply no longer remember how to conduct myself on a date but I was uncomfortable. Not great, given the circumstances. But after a drink a piece, we strolled up Lexington to the space. It was nice to know a good chunk of people upon arrival. But what began as discomfort with my date soon escalated to annoyance. For no real reason. I could feel myself becoming cranky. And rude. Uh-oh. It didn’t help when I wound up chatting with M., who has been regaling me with her peri-menopausal sexual conquests. I told her that I, too, had enjoyed a period of “last hurrah”-like sex but that those days were over. Her earnest reassurances, translated through my fucked up filters, became condescension. Grrr. And when she began asking other people if I was “fuckable,” well, any chance of my remaining pleasant — with anyone — went right out the window.

Perhaps a sex party wasn’t the best idea for a second date. Was it the female equivalent of taking a woman to a strip club, the way Dustin Hoffman’s character did in “The Graduate?” A sort of trial by fire? Or act of aggression? If so, Batman behaved admirably. He was pleasant to everyone he met, conversed with whoever I abandoned him beside when I wandered off to chat up someone else and, apparently, handled my escalating irritation with a sense of humor. In other words, he was a great guy. Ack.

My departure is somewhat fuzzy; I’d been hitting the vodka pretty hard. (Not that that’s an excuse.) I had a feeling it wasn’t pretty so I asked my friend, who was working the door. Our email exchange:

Hey there, that party was pretty great! Kinda wish I hadn’t dragged that guy along. I bailed…was I a mess when I left? I really shouldn’t drink hard liquor…oh my. And I hope he behaved himself after I left him there. I think he was hooking up with M. Happy birthday to her. Sigh.
wow.
I didn’t realize you were so crocked! 
um you were really kinda mean and rude to him on his way out, if you wanna know the truth
I dunno, maybe he’d done something to deserve it?
m. left long after he did
they didn’t click
to his credit, he seemed to take the stuff you were giving him and just roll with it and headed out with some other folks, went and got coffee…he invited you to come w him
I’m glad to hear that you actually enjoyed the party!
Oh dear. It was worse than I thought. Really? Shit shit shit…What did I say? I totally thought I’d left him with M.!
heh
he came out, you were on the stairs talking w us and he was just talking politely about how it was nice to meet you, thanked you for bringing him to the party and would you like to join him and that other couple for some coffee…and you were all, “JUST. LEAVE. BYE. BYE. GO. AWAY.” and stuff
I’m sure you had your reasons.
Oh I don’t think I did. I’m an ass. I think there’s something wrong with me. Shit. eh like I said, he rolled with it

I have no specific recollection of why I would’ve treated him that way. Aside from my irritation with M. I’d felt a certain edginess with him that I can’t quite put my finger on. Could it be that I was annoyed by his politeness with me? His casual jocularity? I can say that I’m sure the alcohol amplified my feelings. Which, at this point, are obviously those of insecurity and sadness. Aggression is usually a result of those emotions and, for all my bluster, I’m really just scared shitless and sad. This may be obvious to those of you who’ve been reading me here but the casual observer of me live, moving through my day-to-day life, well, I may have them hoodwinked. Anyway, my behavior was indefensible. And embarrassing. The culmination of all the accumulating irritation I’ve felt on every date I’ve been on over the past two years.

Now I’m starting to worry that there actually may be something wrong with me. And that I may be done with dating.

Remiss

Gah! It has been DAYS! Not just days since I’ve blogged but days since I’ve even been on my computer! Since Tuesday, I think! I worked on Wednesday, a friend came into town Thursday, we had a sample sale-slash-cocktail party Friday night (for which I was madly crafting things to samply SELL!) and then yesterday I got called in to work; YAY, Saturday shifts! After standing for eight straight hours I stumbled home and somehow managed to regroup sufficiently to attend Disorient‘s GlamTech. Of course, that took not one, not two but three costume changes before I was satisfied with the way I looked. Someone needs to stop eating boxes of cookies in bed. Yipes! Anyway, that insanity involved being ushered in without waiting in line like some kind of celebrity (thank you, Miyo!) and spending most of the evening in the VIP lounge. Black lights and gummi bears? The only way to fly, my friends! Super fun, super pornj and even an amazing, spaceship-sized blowy-uppy thing being bounced around the dance floor (thanks to The Eye)! I caught a car home at 4:30am with an enormous smile on my face!

Hopefully I’ll find some time this week to get back to my blogging. And I need to figure out whether or not to add more smut to my “collected works of erotica.” Stay tuned!

Mardi Blah

Mardi Gras is one of my High Holy Days. Last year I was in New Orleans, marching with the Krewe of Saint Anne on Fat Tuesday. Since Louisiana wasn’t in the budget this year, I had to settle for a little local color. So Ruth, Pinky and I got our glitter on and headed out to Billy Hurricane’s, where the barmaid was wearing a bright red minidress with a plunging neckline, raccoon-eye makeup and a teased ponytail. Not a smidge of glitter, gold or green to be seen. Now this establishment’s raison d’etre is Mardi Gras so you’d think that the only person behind the bar might at least give a little nod to the holiday. Nope. And did she make mention of our festive attire? Nope. She did, however, act like a supreme bitch.

Anyway, we got ourselves a table since the place was, surprisingly, kinda empty. I didn’t trust myself to go back to the bar for more booze, fearing I’d tell off the bitchy barmaid and get us kicked out. Fortunately my friends didn’t mind doing the dirty work. Supposedly she got “nicer” as the evening wore on and even winked at Ruth. Uh, yeah, my bet would be that the wink was pure sarcasm. If she’d winked at me I probably would’ve popped her in raccoon-eyed eye. (Cue kicking out.) The Cajun spiced tater tots were the place’s only saving grace.

After achieving a proper Mardi Gras buzz, we decided it was time to move along to the next event. Which wasn’t a moment too soon because the place had filled up with dozens of BEIGE people: mostly female, all wearing the same clothes, same color hair, same haircuts, same handbags. I stumbled out of there shrieking “That is the muggliest bar EVAR!” (This has become a standard cri de coeur for me. Apparently I have become so ensconced in my own little world of weirdos that I am completely out of touch with “normals.”)

Pinky opted out of the activities at this point and Karie had joined in; the three of us grabbed a cab to Gowanus for a Mardi Gras party at The Bell House. In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I’m a total borough snob. I never know where I am in Brooklyn and most of it feels like a no-man’s land. We circled blocks of warehouse spaces until we arrived to find a room full of horrible denim-clad hipsters! Not one person wearing gold, green or purple! Or beads! Even the bartenders were bead-less in boring blue jeans. A few burners showed up and stood out like sore thumbs: a single blinking EL wire top hat swimming in a sea of BLAH! I’d seen the Hungry March Band a million times — and usually for free — so I wasn’t exactly enchanted by the music. I had to get the hell outta there!

Fortunately my friend Rob rescued me and  swept me back into Manhattan to see Bjork’s drummer, Manu Delago, play an instrument that looked like a flying saucer. On a few of his pieces he was backed by a choir of blonde Icelandic women. Whoa! They were like angels! And all this took place at Rockwood Music Hall, a pizza slice of a venue on Allan Street, mere blocks from my apartment. Aaahhh!

In conclusion it was a good thing I got my Mardi Gras on the previous Friday at “NYC’s Most Authentic Mardi Gras Party!” Now that was festive! Pinky and I handed out beads while Johnny and Billy bartended, Eric took photos against a green and gold backdrop and everyone danced to Brother Josephus and the Love Revival Revolution Orchestra. The two of us had waaaay too many hurricanes and waayy too much fun!