So I am CLEARLY no good at keeping up with this blog. I try. I think about it all the time. I have ideas, I take pictures for the ideas, I tell my friends, “HEY, this would be SUCH a good idea!”
And then, nope. I sleep in. I go to lunch. I cook mac and cheese from the box for the third time in a week. I re-watch all the Project Freelancer seasons of Red Vs. Blue [spoiler.] There’s just always something right in front of my face that seems to take precedent.
So chronology is officially out the window as I’m just going to pick fun stories to recap for a while.
A few weeks ago, I went to a drag show! A handful of friends and I nabbed some Groupons to Hot Mess Drag Revue at XL Nightclub in Manhattan.
First off, you can tell a lot about a person by their reaction to the question, “Hey, wanna go to a drag show?”
For anyone who responds, “Uhm. No. That’s super weird, I don’t get it and frankly it makes me uncomfortable.”
…ya know, you’ve probably already been offended by something I’ve said in the past, so I really don’t need to be addressing you.
For my friends and I, our eyes lit up at the potential hysteria and chaos analogous with a drag show. All too excited, we got super cute one Friday evening and made our way to NYC.
It was Fan-Fucking-Tastic. It was raunchy and racist and flamboyant and hilarious and absurd, by all the best standards.
I recommend a drag show to anyone and everyone who has skin thick enough to handle the jokes. If you’re super sensitive, maybe not for you. Frankly, if you were born and raised on Long Island, chances are you’ll be alright. Just make sure you go to a drag show that costs you almost $200 after your free ticket AND your first free drink AND a free appetizer. Cause it’s a waste if you don’t. And if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s wasteful.
There was an intro dance to the song Put Your Graffiti On Me by Kat Graham.
There was a guy named Bunny who sung about dick cheese.
An audience member danced to Beyoncé and won a prize.
And a whole lotta fierceness.
Oh, OF COURSE there was some Whitney!
We ended up over-paying for drinks at one bar, traipsing across Manhattan to meet some friends at another bar, watching our phones all die before figuring out how to get home, two of our friends had to run to catch the LIRR, and the subway we tried to take back to Brooklyn wasn’t running, so we took a $25 cab ride home.
All-in-all, so happy we went. I don’t care about the money I spent or how much my legs felt like jell-o the next day or the fact that I needed three cups of coffee to boost myself up to 50% functionality in the morning. I had a lovely night with some of my favorite girl-friends, and that’s all that matters.
I am sure that Bianca Del Rio, our fabulous host of the Hot Mess Drag Revue, would say the same.