"We don't need a clique to make our hearts sing. Our clique is the world. The world is our clique."
- Dee-Lite
first things first:
Los Angeles Lakers 1-0 over the Portland Trailblazers, Round 1, NBA Playoffs. Outrebounded, poor shooting night. Kobe still has a career playoff high (34 points) and we still beat that ass. Here we go, Lakers, Here we go! (and FYI...even though I love my Lakers, I'm not crazy like that lady in NY who threatened to commit suicide if she couldn't watch the Yankees on tv. She's trippin', yo.)
its been a long time, i shouldn't have left you: I took a few days. Nothing personal. Just with the inability to sleep this past week, the spending time with the sister at the parent's house while my folks are off doing the whole 'working in entertainment' thing, and a little jaunt to San Diego, I didn't have the need or want to write. The sleeping problem was the most daunting. The nightmares were strong all week. Damn. But I had my first good night's sleep last night on the Martino Futon in Spring Valley, CA with a couple Vodka Gimlets in my belly, some sore feet from dancing in my uncomfortable shoes and just a new sense of self and clarity about my current lot in life. But that's still for the head and not for the klickity-klack of the laptop quite yet so let's just talk about something of more pressing importance...drag queens.
Hi, my name is Gina, Vah-Gina, or Vag...you can call me whatever you want, just call me: Remember that post a while back when I discussed how I'm straight and all? Well, I am straight but you may not believe me anymore. You see, I have a confession to make: I fell in love with a drag queen. Now, let me clarify that I'm not the only one...Jocelyn and Anna were enamored as well and Jocelyn has a husband and a baby. But if a woman falls in love with a drag queen is there something wrong with her? I mean, he is still a man, right? Even with the red dress and the hair and the ridiculous dance routine (with sassy high kicks and back flips and fireworks and puppies...okay maybe not fireworks and puppies, but that little number was the shit, yo. Fo'rilla) and not having man hands and the no bass in the voice and giving me the eyes with her/his ambigous pinoy power...still a man right? I mean even with the fake chee-chees and the shoulders a little too broad...I might not have been able to tell the difference if I had seen him/her on the street and not at Lips in the Hillcrest section of San Diego proper. Did you see her/him in the jeans? Jocelyn and I spent much of the evening not looking directly into Gina's eyes...the power was too strong.
Yeah...that was my Saturday. Me, 12 beautiful Filipinas, 1 roger rabbit dancin' white girl, 1 balding white guy of unclear age who couldn't find a clue even if they were taped to his eyelids...but we'll get to him later. Oh...and a house full of drag queens. Wow. Hi. New experiences for Jason. But...before we begin. The Martino clan rules. They have such a Filipino American house with the christianity mixed with all the familial love mixed with the philipine roots mixed with tons of things that aren't in use but that nobody throws out...ever. With Tagalog being sprinkled into conversations leaving me two steps behind while I attempt to decipher using my rudimentary Tagalog databank in the back of my head from having Filipino best friends for most of the early part of my life. I loved it. Noah's my new favorite kid in the whole wide world and Anna's still my new favorite...just favorite. But I think I've mentioned this before.
Okay...back to Lips. Here's one truth that I think you all should know: If at a table of 35-45 year old women of ambiguous gender, there sits a very sloppy 39 year old woman named Princess with Princess in glitter on her too tight too small tank top and a tiara on her head, please don't let her do anything except drink her drink and shut the fuck up. I'm begging you. Don't invite her on stage, don't ask her to move, don't ask her to dance, don't talk to her. She will attempt to flash you, harass you, unwittingly show you her naughty bits, and have a great time doing it. I'm not about it. Really, I'm not.
The MC of the evening was "Tooty." Now, I like Tooty. She does a great Cher impersonation, she's good with the crowd. Makes some good jokes. Says "Bitch" a lot. But, Tooty. Sweetheart. Let me impart some advice to you. I'm at a drag show. I really do want to suspend some disbelief and forget that you're a man. Like Gina and Erica, my filipina he/she's. They work it work it. You, however....well, we've seen your package too many times this evening. You may have the wig and the lipstick but your twig, your berries, your whole goddamn cherry tree is practically smacking people in the face when you walk by. Let's cover it up. Okay? OK.
Ooops, there's Gina. Don't look. Why is she/he making eyes at me? Did I just check out his/her butt? Am I gay? Damn. And what's a Screaming Pek Pek?
Let's deal with balding white guy. Hey, Guy. You seem like a nice guy. Maybe a little too old for this crowd. Maybe a little too intrigued by this whole Asian Pacific Connection. But a nice guy, so I'm going to give you some tips too. Not all Asians know each other. Yeah, just because they are all brown people that doesn't mean they know every asian you know. No, they aren't related to Chow Yun Fat and B.D. Wong. They really didn't all ride over on the same boat together, man. And yeah...The "Me Love You Long Time" jokes went out in 1989 when 2 Live Crew got buh-buh-buh-banned in the U.S.A. We moved on to Sir-Mix-A-Lot's 'Baby Got Back' (which, while just as sexual, is far less...you know, jingoistic, xenophobic, and culturally insensitive. Mix didn't care if you spoke in broken english. He just knew his anaconda didn't want none unless you had buns hun).
Now...in all seriousness, I did have a kind of deep thought going on while I watched the Drag Queens do their thing. They are really comfortable in their own skin (which is kind of ironic considering they are pretending to be something else...wrap your head around that notion for a moment). At least in the confines of Lips, they are absolutely comfortable being exactly who they want to be, saying exactly what they want to say, doing exactly what they want to do. You wanna wear an orange wig? Wear it. You wanna be 800 pounds and do a lapdance on a man while singing Bootylicious? Go head ya'll. You want to pretend to be a fine ass filipina woman and call me sweetheart? Well, OK, I guess. I mean I might have to do a sexual orientation check (yup, not aroused. Thank God...now, not that there's anything wrong with that...but I been working this straight thing for 27 years, I don't need any change-ups now. I'm not trying to learn a new language at this stage in my life...ya feel me?). The point is...they are celebrating all that they are.
And while I didn't dig Gina enough to forget that she had a penis, I did dig that attitude.
And I will never think badly of anyone for being who they are, whatever that is.
Damn...maybe I finally really understand what RuPaul was talking about in "Supermodel"
Its funny cuz its true.
You better work.
Sashay.
Chanté.