Another night at the Gay 90’s in downtown Minneapolis. Lawd. Paul got a workout when they played the Macarena.
Another night at the Gay 90’s in downtown Minneapolis. Lawd. Paul got a workout when they played the Macarena.
Tader and I decided to spend Christmas week in warmer climates.
Renting a car was a little difficult. After haggling at the downtown Miami Avis we found our rental car parked in.
We eventually excised our rental and gave Tader a quick tour of Brickell.
We then spent some time on South Beach and happened upon the cutest puppy mill.
They are adorable, but I think I like my dogs better. Plus the entire place stunk of puppy piss.
We returned to South Beach later that evening and went to Twist, which was epic as ever. Twist is the massive gay bar in Miami. Never a cover, always a groove.
The next day we went to a hipster club in Miami’s design district called the Electric Pickle. They played the kind of house music you never hear in Minneapolis. The music was great, but not really danceable. It turned into a weird Sims-like line dance.
Oh, and we may have stolen a sign from Walgreens…
The night ended at Twist again. It’s a bad habit, but so fun. They have a beer-serving Burger King next door that’s open 24 hours, which is super convenient when you’re skipping out of a club at 5 a.m.
This is going to be a hilarious, expensive vacation.
Sigh. Naomi and I get into so much trouble downtown.
So, I wasn’t going to post these blurry pictures of the Townhouse drag show, but then I remembered that I took video with the blackberry too!
The quality is horrid, but here we go:
Matt and I are at the Saloon. I see a Hispanic guy wearing a thin white button down with a gaudy silver pattern on the back. He also has a “female” friend who made me instantly homesick for Miami – flat ironed hair, tight tank top, fake breasts, scandalously short skirt, and dangerous stilettos.
I couldn’t resist.
Me: “Oh gurl, you’re beautiful!”
Yamile: “Why thank you!”
Me: “I’m from Miami. You’re taking me back right now.”
Yamile: “Oh my god! We are from Miami!”
Note: Best Week Ever posts are a summary of the previous week(s).
My weeks are too unusual and packed to cover two weeks in a “best week ever” summary post, so here are five snippets of the chaos…
I am in court observing a bail hearing. A scraggly woman approaches the stand and the judge sentences her to four years in prison. She was the getaway driver for her godson’s bank robbing spree and could have been sentenced to 20 years. She thanks the judge for the 4-year sentence, and gets hauled to the next county for sentencing on another robbery.
It is hard to complain about much after volunteering at the public defender’s office. My time in court is always a nice reminder that some people have real problems.
1 a.m. on Saturday. A group of us are near the dance floor at Lush Bar in Northeast Minneapolis. Adam Lambert’s queeny little brother, Glambert, is on the floor. Glambert points dramatically, flips his hair, and challenges a sassy, break-dancing lesbian to a dance-off.
Hot messitude ensues.
Glambert flails around, points, and flips his hair like Jeffree Star without the tattoos, or personality. Glambert goes on for a long time until his friend grabs him and tells him to stop being ignorant.
That is when the sassy lesbian leaves her group of annoyed-looking butch girls. Sassy slides onto the dance floor and launches into into a dramatic, stunt-filled break dance routine.
Glambert got served, but instead of clapping and going on with his life, Glambert proceeds to drop to the floor, open his legs…and… well, my friend Pechman described the scene the best: “That’s just embarrassing.”
Fail.
I was sick. It felt like someone filled my sinuses with bleach, but I was going to finish this moot court brief, headache and bleach be-damned.
I camped out at Wilde Roast and worked for close to five hours on revisions. Randy made a cameo and gave me a study break, but I eventually finished my brief and then raced to a copy shop for a blue brief cover.
I felt ridiculous paying for parking and trudging through the snow for a single colored copy of the cover of a pretend legal brief.
But whatever. If the Moot Rules of Appellate Procedure say blue cover, then they’ll get a blue cover. I’ve stop trying to make sense of my school’s requirements.
These past two weeks were full of trips to the Spyhouse, Starbucks, and Caffetto. I blame moot court and the tax code.
I had a vogue battle with a Somali in St. Paul. Hilarity. That story is here.
Most guys simply drop equivocal hints that they want to go out on a date:
Pussyfooter: “I might want to get coffee. Someplace…somewhere…over the rainbow perhaps? You like coffee right? I like coffee…possibly, maybe…sometime…”
Pussyfooter: “I might be at this bar tonight. Possibly. Maybe. With friends. I’m not sure yet. Haven’t decided. Are you going out tonight? I might be…”
Pussyfooter: “I’m so bored. Thinking about doing something! Going out, maybe? Something. I mean, I may leave the house tonight… not having any plans or a life or anything makes this easy... So I might be up for something! With someone! Possibly! Maybe! What are you up to?”
They want me to ask them out. I have to make the plans because their fear of rejection limits them to pestering guys online.
And I refuse to go out with these guys beacuse I cannot be bothered to waste my time on self-conscious, timid guys. I’m not Dr. Phil, and don’t have the time to build a would-be suitor’s self esteem.
So how shocked was I when someone finally asked me out on a date? I had at least a dozen pussyfooters bothering me at the time, and this guy bowled them over and got the point.
He wasn’t quite my type based on his pictures, so of course he was attractive and interesting in person (seems to be a rule.) The date went well, and I am impressed.
I think Minnesota men might have redeemed themselves. Possibly, maybe.
I still can’t believe I brought a copy of the United States Tax Code to a club. The Tax Code was an amazing prop for my second Halloween costume: law student!
I had tape on my glasses, an old briefcase, and about 8 inches of books. I felt pretty…oh so pretty…
The craziest costume we saw last night was an abortion doctor who wore a monster fetus on his shoulder. Yes, it was as gross as it sounds.
At the Eagle there were three guys wearing the same pimp costume from Party City. Wearing the same $19.99 costume as two other people is worse than being caught wearing a duplicate dress on the red carpet. The pimps did not know each other, but the bar was so crowded that they ended up awkwardly close anyway.
When I made the Party City comment to my bar group, I got the craziest looks because two of the people in my bar-group had NEVER HEARD OF PARTY CITY! Gasp! I don’t know why I am so scandalized by this… it must be the franchise-lover in me…
Next to the duplicate pimps was a morbidly obese man dressed as Winnie the Pooh. I told Pooh that he should have brought a jar of honey as a prop.
The best costume of the night was Billy Mays. There was also a guy at the Saloon who I swear was NeNe Leakes from the Housewives of Atlanta.
In true NeNe style, the NeNe drag queen went off on someone….and that someone just happened to be my friend Phillip! We were on the dance floor and Phillip’s costume caught on NeNe’s sleeve. Nene thought Phillip was grabbing her and proceeded to smack him.
…and hilarity ensued.
NeNe’s friend eventually came and calmed her down. The awkwardness was delicious.
Last year I spent Halloween DJing at the Gamma eta Gamma house. Pictures are here.
Eric and I went to two shows last night.
First, Krischan Wesenberg (of Rotersand) was the guest DJ at the Bolt Underground – amazing costumes, great music. It was simply the business.
We then traded the goth club for the gay rap show: Cazwell at Saloon. Great live act…and what a chain!
Too much excitement this week. One of the best things from last night was hotmess aka “the Wizard.”
Do we really want to know how many?
I can do tricks! See! WOOSH! My belt is rendered useless!
Didn’t work hard enough this week, but it was sort of exciting.
I need to stop skipping around Little Havana at night.