You are friend are gaining unprecedented access into the life of a fabulous colored girl. If you've ever doubted the presence of God in this lifetime, let me tell you...God exists...and when God cannot show up he sends his angels: Gay Men.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (harp plays)
Recently as you know I've fallen on hard times. Now, make no mistake about it...the recession is not affecting me. I'm an artist, so we always live in a recession. Its often feast or famine. It's just a shit storm for me right now... really pun intended. Like when you think you're going to use your friends bathroom to do a number one, and then your bowels loosen. All the while you're thinking "oh no, I can't poop here! We're all eating apples and popcorn, watching Drag Race. Oh fuck...apples and popcorn? Drats! Those goddamned skinny gays! Always insist on being healty. Its the fiber that's making me wanna poo. But I can hold it...I can control this." But really you can't. Then before you know it. You've sharted. Oh come on, you know the fart that leads to the uncontrollable shit? You don't have a choice but to deal with it then and there. While the rest of the party is screaming "Lip sync, for your life!" along with RuPaul, having a jolly old time, you've got to deal with shit. That's my life right about now.
My good good Judy David ("Judy" means friend in gay-talk for you squares not hip enuf to be gay adjacent like me) invited me to the opening night of The Women Of Brewster Place musical at Celebration Theatre in West Hollywood, America's anus. WeHo is like the Shire to me. It's filled with gorgeous little bungalows, shops, restaurants, boutique hotels, six figure & two comma bank account holders. When you cross over into the life of WeHo, it really can be like goin to church. Suddenly you wanna lay your burdens down, and just soak up the good life.
I was determined not to wear my depression mask Friday night. I didn't want to think about the 27 days we have left to pack up the house, move and find a new place. So I did what any good fallen princess does during hard times. I filled my flask with Jameson, slapped on some hooker red Dior lip gloss, slicked my hair back, slipped into my Valentino slacks, and a sailor top. Sprayed my black lace gloves with perfume and I was out the door. I felt like a character in one of Dominick Dunne's novels. He often wrote about the trials and tribulations of New Yorks elite. Now lord knows, I'm anything but elite. I'm a thug ass black girl from the southside of Chicago. But I've watched enough Dynasty and PBS to know how rich people dress when they go broke. So I channeled Eunice Johnson of Ebony and Coco Chanel.
So I stepped out in my cute they kinda hurt my feet Spanish heels to complete my ensemble, and slipped a condom over my toe to protect my bunion. Oh shuddap! I like the squishy squishy feeling it gives my toe.
I did the usual two sided Euro air kisses...introductions...congratulations...pictures...saw my good friend Joey Honsa, a lovely actress who I haven't seen since Chicago was a prairie...met the legendary Della Reese, who was in attendance (yes she still has her pinky toe)...loved the performances by the powerful cast...and then went to Jaxon Allan interior design showroom. Walking into Jaxon Allan was like walking into Willy Wonka's factory. It was filled with all of the shit that I love. Booze, expensive chandeliers, tapestry, art, expensive soaps & perfumes...and gay men. Yes, that is how I want my home to be.
Ramon, my cute new Puerto Rican Judy was part owner of the showroom and was the most hospitable host. And he was truly like Willy Wonka. He sang, gave us whatever we wanted to eat and drink but warned us if we spilled wine on his furniture, the Oompa Loompas would come and toss our asses onto LaBrea. After a while I didn't think about the dark clouds hanging over my head. I was surrounded by brilliant artists and theatre lovers. All of my senses were happy. My olfactory had perfumed lotions and soaps, my taste buds had crisp wine, my eyes had eclectic art (even a rare framed headshot of DorothyDandridge), and my heart had a twinge of hope.
I didn't really talk much with the other party goers. I was too busy manifesting the life I know I deserve. Not a life filled with expensive bullshit, but good friends who take care of you when the chips are down. So in the moments that I live my life in absentia...I've got my Judy's to bring me back to earth. Because the food & shopping on Pluto ain't really that great. I prefer planet WeHo.
Ciao for now.
NEXT BLOG: SLICKS "TOP 10 BLUE EYED SOUL" ARTISTS OF ALL TIME. AND THE "I DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS WHITE! HE SOUNDS BLACK" ACHIEVEMENT AWARD NOMINEES: JAMIROQUAI, SIMPLY RED, REMY SHAND, & JOHN B.