by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid -
SGN A&E Writer
First of all, this one would love to know who that person was who, upon seeing this one's lovely Pride bead-bedecked self, was hastily trying to lock her front doors like I was some kind of escaped lunatic. To Miss Beotch, I have this to say: if we, the Queers of Capitol Hill scare you that much, honey, you'd best go work in Auburn, Monroe, or some other podunk place (not to besmirch those places, or whatever GLBT life there might be dwelling there). Get over your mad fear, honey, and learn to be more tolerant, eh?
Okay, enough rants, because this one is in too good of a mood these days to pick fights with anyone (though we do have our haters, now, don't we, sweeties, oh yes, we do), since honey bunny and me said the great big old "L" word a few weeks ago ("love," babies, not the other l-word, ya know?). We're like two bunnies, keeping my sheets sizzling and undoubtedly keeping my rather strange neighbors either entertained, or grumbling about the noise we make. Me, I say, honey, get over it and turn up your telly or just put cotton in your ears, 'cause we're in love and we will keep it raunchy and noisy for some time to come.
Also, this one took that one to see Star Trek for his birthday, and that one teared up at the death scene, where young Spock's mother is killed. Oh, honey, if you don't have a love that cries at the sad parts in movies, or who doesn't clean up your messy digs (as that one is doing for me), or make your bell ring more times than you can count, you've got the wrong lover, and I say dump their ass.
Also, mad props, Ms. Charlotte, for putting on the best festival Broadway has seen in a long time. And with the tragic death of Michael Jackson still in folks' minds, of course there were lots of "Jackson moments," including my favorite, two hot chickies dancing "Thriller" zombie style to the aforementioned song in the middle of Broadway while the DJ spun this classic hit. That, and hearing and dancing to "Man In The Mirror," further down Broadway, nearly brought tears to this gothic punk rocker's black, kohl-rimmed eyes, honeys.
Viva Michael and viva Farrah, that gorgeous, ever smiling glam girl from the '70s, who got this one all hot and bothered when I looked at the now-famous poster, and imagined what I could do to those lovely nipples. We'll miss you, babe, the cheesecake you and the serious actress from Burning Bed.
So what else has this one been up to besides rocking the mattress with Le Slave/Love and doing the Pride thang last weekend with a buncha gawgeous gals at the Pride Festival and the Dyke Rally (this one didn't march, 'cause she had a little cold, which is all better now, thank you very much)?
Well, I've been watching Harper's Island (after I came home and let my body rest from little sleep - hey, relationships are good, but they do cost in sleep, dahling), and honestly, that last one made me so mad I had to rant to my kitties Zzell and Garbo. I mean, how could a woman, armed with a rifle - and keep in mind it's said women are better shots than men - not hit the killer, who was but a few feet away? Nor could her friend, who missed said killer by a mile, thus allowing two more of their friends to meet tragic and gory ends. What a buncha disappointment at a show I've up until now liked. Okay, I still like it and will watch that finale if I'm home, but hey, someone should tell that writer that women are much better shots than that. At least, in my fiction they are, baby.
Also, I have been lusting for the Lipton green tea girl, with her soft eyes and pert little smile and cute nose. Ah, the things I could do with a sweetie like that, or better yet with her and my slave/love, who, like moi, is polyamorous. Oh, and on that note (the poly one, sweetie, pay attention here!), great honking chirps of joy to whoever had the good sense to invite Alena from The Wet Spot to speak at The Dyke Rally. Sure made me feel welcome and happy too, 'cause trust me, a sexy woman is a happy woman, be she Lesbian, Bi or Trans, like me.
Also, this one has been mulling two things over in the old noggin here, and wondering what others think of this. First, if all of the country's so damned broke, how is it that Burger King can be giving away a million bucks, and also if they are, and someone wins, shouldn't that someone be compelled to help out the recovery of the rest of us? Then there's my big, burning question, why is it that the folks always end up in two bathtubs in those Cialis commercials? What, one big bathtub doesn't make it for these people? Things that make me go, "what the flip?"
So, on to the delish things I've tried and want to tell you about (besides Babeland's lube, which we've been putting to good use since I won it at a dance fundraiser many weeks ago) and recommend. On the top of my list is the scrummy new face and body makeup this one purchased from Metro (who also has authentic gas masks on sale that this one plans to buy when cash is more flush, for a scene with slavey) a week ago. In a gothic burnt orange, this liquid liner can be used to accent eyes, especially good with a black liner under the eyes for that really good zombie or vamp look. It dries fast too.
Also tried - and loved - Kenzo's Fleur Silk and Fleur Tea eau de toilette, which I got in sample form from my beloved Sephora (located in Westlake Square downtown), and DKNY's Fresh Blossom, from the same place. Get in there and get some and smell good on that crowded, hot Metro bus, dahlings. You never know who might be interested in you.
And if you're looking for a really, really black kohl eye pencil, then Rimmel has one that'll make you look like goth royalty, so pick this up at either Walgreens or Bartels. It's my new "go to" look, that and the hot new liquid liner from Metro.
So, that's it babies, and hope all of you had a good Pride and have a safe and happy 4th of July with nothing blown off or blown up except your dresses, cute things. Be more tolerant, stop, stop, stop throwing trash on Mother Earth, and smile more, drive less, and remember we're on this planet together, so let's be nice to each other. Buhbye, peace out, kiss kiss!
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