Sometimes, very rarely, I will go out and drink too much. I know, I always go to church afterwards and confess, but what’s even better is hearing some of my girlfriend’s drunk stories. They got me thinking… Who is more obnoxious when we’re oot and aboot?
You Can Find Me In The Club
We’re pretty bad. Homegirls, we need to dance with our arms! Go to Fly on a Saturday night (seriously, I dare you) and you will see this very interesting dance move. It’s basically Madonna in her Vogue days. We love to dance wide. So watch out, because drinks at arm level don’t last long. And not only will most gays not appologize, most won’t even notice they did it. ‘Cause it’s Saturday Night, I feel the air is getting hot…
Um, does pushing your tits together and kind of leaning over like you’re thinking… “Oh, I’m just not sure what I want… Maybe if I get closer, I’ll be able to decide. Yes, barkeep, Smirnoff Ice , pronto!” work every time? Because, fuck me, I’ve never had that work! And my guns are smoking! Wordplay! So many chicks you basically see just barrel into the front of the line, with eight other chicks, and they still get served before me! No wonder I always go to gay bars. At least only the attractive men get served before me. Oh shit — is that why I’m still waiting for a drink?
Did You See What She’s Wearing?
I’ll say it before and I’ll say it again: we are not known for our subtlety. The only reason O’Grady’s does so well (save for their delicious O’Bruschetta) is the fabulous people watching corner. Gays love to while away a Saturday afternoon there, drinking, smoking and judging. And we are not quiet. I’ve actually been told to shush before. That could be the large size pitcher (60 something ounces, holler!), or it could be my innate gayness coming out. All I know is that fucker across the street is wearing the ugliest shoes I’ve ever seen in my life. Wait, I think he looked, turn away…
Whispering. Bitches love to whisper! I think they believe it makes it less rude, but pretty much everyone knows who/what you’re talking about, ho-bag, so you might as well just let us all share. That, and toilet talk. Now, I don’t make it a habit of going in the girls room (lady parts scare me), but everytime I do, I get a running commentary of the entire night up to the point of the toilet excursion. “He’s cute, but his friend is fuck ugly…” “Yeah, I might give him a beej (all ladies use this term), but that’s it!”… “She is such a fucking slut! Did you see her grinding that guy? I want to do that!!!” At least you save it though. We just say that shit in front of people and hope the Euro beats are loud enough to cover it up.
You’re On My Turf
I only went to Circa once, but I imagine that’s what it’s like all the time. When I went, they used to have this room that was only for gays. Granted, the place is ginormous, but still. If I were some girl coming in from Woodbridge (btdubs, is Woodbridge officially our New Jersey? Any other suggestions?) I would be pissed off that a bunch of homos came in to mince up the bar I just payed twenty bones to get into. And holy shit, did I mince! I was basically grinding all up on some dude all night. Later went home with him for drunk sloppy sex, but that’s a story for every other column.
Holy sweet mother of Jesus. Why do you choose gaytown for your stagettes/bachelorettes/jills/whatever-the-fuck-they’re-called-now? Two weeks ago, I was walking down Church and a horde of ten wildebeests came charging down at me! Sorry, that was the ten forty year old women celebrating their friend’s marriage. Pink feathers flying everywhere, penises in every shape (necklace, earrings, on the forehead, as drink stirrers, etc.), and tiaras! Granted, my Friday night outfit wasn’t too different (I only had three different penises tacked on), but shit girl, that’s my hood! I hear Milestone’s has a great “Girls Night Out” package if you want some fun… Check Croc Rock too!
Drinking will make us all do crazy shit, but rest assured, no matter how bad and terrible and drunk with mascara running down our tear stained faces we get… we’ll still always be better than the straight men. Can I get an amen, sister?