Saratoga, California
I am so gay. And here’s why.
After a moderately irritating hour drive to this VILLA in the SARATOGA HILLS (http://villamontalvo.org/, where upcoming shows include Linda Ronstadt, Liza Minnelli and the Go-Go’s), we arrive, park in our VIP parking spot, and pick up our tickets and backstage passes. I am wearing one of a few dresses that I’ve shrunk in the wash that is now *rather* form fitting, fishnets, 2-sizes-too-small push-up bra and my “special occasion” stilettos. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to an Indigo Girls concert, but let me tell you, I DID NOT BLEND.
We cruise the seats and spot uglybass and bettygirl. I panic instantly when I see how spectacular they look: bettygirl and I are on this whole “business-casual-is-hot” kick and had agreed to dress accordingly for the show. I guess I *was* dressed business-casual, just a different business, right? Also, it was a little self-esteem boost, as most of the other people there were, um, not as concerned with fashion as I am: I felt like a fucking supermodel! (About which L. suggested I make a t-shirt reading, “Dad’s Little Supermodel.” Sweet!)
Bettygirl looked so lovely and so hot, and that was just enhanced by her chardonnay-inspired confession that she wasn’t wearing panties. Also, she was wearing a short skirt, which prompted much discussion about how an autograph wasn’t nearly enough of a memento so she’d just take home a case of syphillus. From the seat. Syphillus is the funniest STD ever, don’t you think?
So I go to the bathroom during a slow song and return to cheers and squeals and the first few chords of Closer to Fine! The entire audience was standing up except for the 8 people in our row, which is a good thing because I’d half-jokingly promised L. a Closer to Fine lapdance. It was probably funnier in fantasy than execution, especially since I insisted on dancing to the entire song and there’s not much of a beat, but that didn’t stop me. Uglybass did comment that it made her like that song again, and I think L. actually blushed. Also, it entirely alienated all the cowell-neck-wearing straight girls and khaki-wearing men around us, which is always good!
The backstage interlude ended shortly after I realized that there were *not*, in fact, going to be endless lines of cocaine and hoards of topless stalkerazzi girls. What a gyp. Also, as we walked back to the car, my stiletto snapped off and I cried. The only thing I can think of that would have made it a better night would have been hearing Phil Collins on the radio during the car ride home. So now L.’s had a bonding moment with Amy Ray over MWMF, uglybass has the distinction of hottest butch outfit in a 1000-dyke venue, bettygirl’s got a fresh new STD and I’ve got a dismembered high heel.
BEST GAY NIGHT EVER!
After a moderately irritating hour drive to this VILLA in the SARATOGA HILLS (http://villamontalvo.org/, where upcoming shows include Linda Ronstadt, Liza Minnelli and the Go-Go’s), we arrive, park in our VIP parking spot, and pick up our tickets and backstage passes. I am wearing one of a few dresses that I’ve shrunk in the wash that is now *rather* form fitting, fishnets, 2-sizes-too-small push-up bra and my “special occasion” stilettos. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to an Indigo Girls concert, but let me tell you, I DID NOT BLEND.
We cruise the seats and spot uglybass and bettygirl. I panic instantly when I see how spectacular they look: bettygirl and I are on this whole “business-casual-is-hot” kick and had agreed to dress accordingly for the show. I guess I *was* dressed business-casual, just a different business, right? Also, it was a little self-esteem boost, as most of the other people there were, um, not as concerned with fashion as I am: I felt like a fucking supermodel! (About which L. suggested I make a t-shirt reading, “Dad’s Little Supermodel.” Sweet!)
Bettygirl looked so lovely and so hot, and that was just enhanced by her chardonnay-inspired confession that she wasn’t wearing panties. Also, she was wearing a short skirt, which prompted much discussion about how an autograph wasn’t nearly enough of a memento so she’d just take home a case of syphillus. From the seat. Syphillus is the funniest STD ever, don’t you think?
So I go to the bathroom during a slow song and return to cheers and squeals and the first few chords of Closer to Fine! The entire audience was standing up except for the 8 people in our row, which is a good thing because I’d half-jokingly promised L. a Closer to Fine lapdance. It was probably funnier in fantasy than execution, especially since I insisted on dancing to the entire song and there’s not much of a beat, but that didn’t stop me. Uglybass did comment that it made her like that song again, and I think L. actually blushed. Also, it entirely alienated all the cowell-neck-wearing straight girls and khaki-wearing men around us, which is always good!
The backstage interlude ended shortly after I realized that there were *not*, in fact, going to be endless lines of cocaine and hoards of topless stalkerazzi girls. What a gyp. Also, as we walked back to the car, my stiletto snapped off and I cried. The only thing I can think of that would have made it a better night would have been hearing Phil Collins on the radio during the car ride home. So now L.’s had a bonding moment with Amy Ray over MWMF, uglybass has the distinction of hottest butch outfit in a 1000-dyke venue, bettygirl’s got a fresh new STD and I’ve got a dismembered high heel.
BEST GAY NIGHT EVER!