yes yes it was that, and how does a little northern queer such as myself spend this oh-so-holy of patriotic days? Why with booze and women of course.
Firstly, I arose late in the morning and shuffled about my house with fresh coffee and a beleagured feeling. Why I felt so shuffly, I'm not sure but there you go. Then as I'm chatting away with BestBoy over his current walk of shame, my roomi J realizes that she is out of tortilla's. This is earthshattering because she is already in the process of making a quesadilla, the pan is heating, the veggies are cut, its all ready to go but WHERE are the tortillas? So I get off the phone and help J root through the kitchen in what we both know is a vain but earnest effort to locate said tortillas. They are nowhere to be found.
J leaves the kitchen in a fury ( holidays are not her favorite time and when a girl wants a quesadilla, a girl should get one), so I settle in to making scrambled eggs and coax J back to the table with the lure of hot breakfast.
We then bum around for a while, doing not much of anything and then finally manage to get ourselves together and over to M's house for our patriotic duties of sunbathing and drinking.
We mill about on M's roof, laughing, gossiping ( it seems this is our primary activity around here) and discussing important novels such as 4 Blondes by Candace Bushnell. After a few cocktails we are drowsy and head home to nap. J leaves for work shortly afterwards and I settle in for a long solo evening of the Sims and beer.
NOT TO BE
Instead, I receive a phonecall from a chick I met on myspace who I've hung out with once in DC and with whom had a generally good time. She asks me if I want to go into the city (DC) and watch these guys perform. Of course I do.
So I quickly pretty myself up and head into the world's biggest traffic jam, known as fireworks in DC. The streets are blocked by people who have simply stopped driving and gotten out of their cars to watch the fireworks.....fantastic, people. The sidestreets are full of packs of people throwing firecrackers at cars to watch them swerve and then laughing uproariously. There are three year olds with popcans full of bottlerockets, laughing and tripping over the forties that are clogging the gutter. People are roaring down the streets and spinning out only to crash and be driven past as though nothing has happened.
unreal.
I finally get to the show, gulp down my beer and proceed to enjoy one of the finest performances of Drag I've ever been privy to. It was nuanced, clever, playful and sexy. The performers had a wide range and while making clear statements about gender and sex, they also riled the crowd up and poked fun at themselves and society at large. I had a grin on my face from ear to ear, thoroughly enjoyable. At point I was so amused, I started to bellylaugh out loud.
so the moral is:
even though your life may be in danger, drag is always worth it.
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