Since nothing new really happens in Milwaukee (except getting drunk and working), I guess I'll reflect on my little jaunt to Lansing, Michigan. I've been thinking of a title, possibly:
"All I Really Need To Know I Learned At...Michigan State volleyball camp."
Don't piss off the drag queens. If you make nice with the head drag queen after she chases one of your friends across the dance floor with a high heel over her head for making out with HER shot boy...you get invited to a pool party. A pool party? A pool party! At 3 am. When you have to be at work to coach little 14 year old girls at 8:00. A pool party.
OR
"This One Time AT...Volleyball Camp..."
I'm not going to lie, I was a little excited to go to stripper night at X-Cel in downtown Lansing. Stripper night? Really? Yeah. Considering I was in Lansing to coach 12-18 year old girls during the day, it didn't seem quite right to go and watch strippers at night. But, I was assured that people don't really watch the strippers, it's just the night that lots of people go out and get all ho-ed out after the strippers. I was all about that.
There's something about going to a gay bar to watch strippers with 10 hottie women athletes that...makes me uneasy for a couple of reasons.
One..."the invasion mentality": Two years ago when my friend Maren and I went to Spiral in out-of-the-way Lansing, I got a quite shocking talking-to by one of the regulars about all the straight women who were "invading" the bar. Are you serious? WTF? First off, have you heard of Fruit Flies? (Maren doesn't like fag hag). Second, she's one of the nicest people anyone will ever meet. Third...SHE'S HOT. I would think that gay men in a smaller college town would be more than happy to have an entire team of athletes become fruit flies/fag hags...which they now are. Hell, two of them are majoring in Fashion Design at MSU...isn't being a fag hag a prerequisite for that?
Two..."is this a straight bar?": Now, at the point when five of said hottie fag hags pulled the two...count em, two...drinks out of my hand and dragged me onto the dance floor and acted out the wet dream of 20,000 straight Lansing college men, I should have been in heaven. But...alas, the pudenda and boobiges are not my thing. Not that I can't appreciate the boobiges. I can. And I do. But not in a gay bar...after strippers...with a whole bunch of hotties in non-Abercrombie sleevelesses meandering about.
And then...boom...they're gone. Like a Harry Potter character disapparating. That's when I saw the head drag queen storming across the dance floor with the high heel over her head chasing two of my friends. Now, that's not something I've ever seen in a bar, club or party...well, I've seen that at a party. Drama ensued.
Half and hour later, I found myself thinking: "This is a situation my parents never envisioned for my life." I was standing outside of a gay bar in Lansing, Michigan at 2:30 am helping a drag queen and a stripper retrieve a sparkly high heel out of a tree while helping one of my friends look for a crack whore that stole her purse while simultaneously getting directions to an afterhours pool party with Slurpees and pot. It's like the opening montage of a religious right video.
So this one time at volleyball camp...
More to come.
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2 comments:
This is "the friend"... aka Murn... aka Babs - depending on how you know me... thanks for the props there dude - needless to say, yes, I have been shirtless in a gay bar (and as a straight woman, it is one of the safest places to do so for me) that being said... no I am not a lipstick lesbian - but who doesn't enjoy a little martini every once in a while. But ahhhhhhhh remember the times - Ass and Titties blaring... sitting amongst the Gashtrays... we've all been there.
Good times.
No! That would be cheating. It would besmirch the reputation of gay spelling bees organized by drag queens in filthy tranny bars everywhere.
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