The Lord's Day, or Obligatory Drunken Sunday Evening Post

[Possibly the most perfect sunny day San Francisco has given us all year and I spent it indoors getting caught up on season 3 of Buffy. I'm beginning to come around to Chriso's view: it really was when everything was set up, expertly, for the rest of the run. Good stuff...]

[Then Dennis, the token straight, called to say he was certainly a manly enough fag-hag to urge our attendance at Cookie Dough's cab-fag-drag act at Martuni's. Well, OK, why not? After checking in with my mother, I slipped on the red long-sleeve tee I bought at Zara in Athens (where have three-years-plus gone? he whined) and jeans and red clown shoes and Muni'd it down to Hayes Valley of the Dolls. Raspberry lemon drops are competing for Nelliest Drink of the Century with ManCrans, based mostly on their ability to go down more smoothly than...something especially adept at going down. Delightful detour for tapas at Picaro on 16th nr. Valencia, then back for the main event. Lessons learned:]

[1. Depeche Mode's true classic "Just Can't Get Enough" can work in a drag-cabaret setting IF the queen lets the audience sing along AND she remembers that Vince Clarke, NOT Martin Gore, wrote that shit. You do not want ex-goth queens coming down on your hairsprayed ass, Ms. Dough, no you do not.]

[2. I like it when guys I think are handsome call me handsome. As vices go, I think I could do a lot worse. I have done a lot worse.]

[3. Uh...there are no other lessons learned, except that $5.00 cover charges, when money is tight, should not be thrown lightly around when you don't know what you're getting. Eh, whatever; it was car-crash-style fun, in the scag-drag/tone-deaf idiom. Dennis, who after working at the Cute Victorian Hotel Around The Corner (and Friendly Neighborhood Cabarets appurtenant thereto) ought to have known better, enjoyed himself.]

[Oh! And! Dennis played Peter Murphy and that little Trenty Reznor's cover of the Normal's "Warm Leatherette" for me on his iPod while Sonny & Cher's "The Beat Goes On" played on the bar's speakers. (Martuni's grand poobah Skip winced when I informed him that dear Britney Spears once covered the latter.) It really doesn't get any better than that.]

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