“Look at how ‘It’s a wonderful life’ it is!” Belle commenting upon the largish snowflakes falling on Saturday afternoon, before I left for Milwaukee, which is originally Algonquin for “the good land”.*
*I learned that from watching Wayne’s World. Party on.
So this weekend.
This is going to be a long entry.
I’m warning you right now. Maybe go put on some sweatpants, get yourself a Diet Coke, and light an aromatherapy candle.
Or, if you have a short attention span, go read SaveCraig who is always very humorous and bite-sized.
Anyway, here goes:
On Friday, I decided that it is probably time for me to visit my friend Mary Kaye who lives in Milwaukee. Bit of back story on Mary Kaye (Here’s a really weird fuzzy picture of Mary Kaye dancing with Markus at my wedding… freakishly large Esteban cousins are in the background): she’s my oldest best friend and she’s also a lesbian. A “lipstick lesbian” to be precise, which means, for those of you who aren’t in the Rainbow Know, that she’s not all butch or even a tiny bit masculine. If she didn’t have rainbows everywhere or wear shirts that say, “I kiss girls”, one would never know that she is. She’s also a fabulous singer, has occasionally poor judgment in potential mates, and has excellent aesthetic taste. And she’s a lot of fun.
Anywhoo, I called her on Friday and said, “How about I drop down tomorrow?” And her mouth dropped open forcibly because she figured I’d never come down unless my life depended on it. So plans were made. She finished working at 6:00 pm on Saturday, so I planned to do some shopping and then meet her when she finished working.
Cool.
So I prepped. I took the Monte for a bath at lunchtime and cleaned the more obtrusive bits of junk from the interior. Of course, I didn’t really think about the fact that it was 6 degrees out.
You know where this is going.
When I left work five hours later, my doors were frozen shut. No big. Thanks to the design genius’ at Chevrolet, any mild frost settles into the weather stripping around my doors and freezes tighter than the knees of a guilty Catholic schoolgirl before confession. I have a system of jamming my fingernails between the doorframe and the car, breaking the ice crystals, freezing the tips of my fingers in the process. It’s fine. I can deal. I’m a badass tough Wisconsin girl and all that. So I did that and the door opened without much coercion.
But then it wouldn’t close. It was like the door was now too large. After about fifteen minutes of trying to get the door to close with the heat running full blast, I called Esteban and explained why I was going to be late. He offered to come and help me. I relinquished all self-dignity and gave in to my helpless female idiocy and said, ‘Yes, please.’
The worst part was knowing that I shouldn’t have washed the car, that I know better than to wash your car when it’s six degrees above zero outside. But I was just thinking about having a nice clean Monte.
Things like that are the reason men think girls are dumb.
Twenty minutes later, Esteban pulls up in his truck and works on the car door. Basically he slammed the door repeatedly several times, to the same results that I had.
‘Did you get it washed?’ He asked smarmily.
‘Yes’ I said in a Go ahead and make a comment’ I dare you voice.
‘Looks nice.’ He said, nodding. I married a very wise man.
We then drove over to a car parts place and snagged some lock de-icer. After spraying that into the latching mechanism, the car door closed like buttah. We then went to dinner, where we bumped into Scott No Pseudonym, and then some more friends joined us. We went to a really awful sports bar and I played trivia, taking second place against the other patrons. One of the questions was on the lyrics to ‘Xanadu’. There’s just no beating me when it comes to Songs Off LPs I Listened To Religiously When I Was 8. You have to believe we are magic, baby. Nothing can stand in our way.
Saturday morning rolls around and Esteban and I went to breakfast, as I had been dreaming maple syrup-covered dreams about warm seductive slices of French toast and thus who am I to interfere with what may have been an important oracle type dream? We went out and our friend Phil joined us and all in all, it was a lovely breakfast. Then I ran around, packing and what not, conveniently forgetting to put Mary Kaye’s Christmas present in the car (although I remembered to put the unopened Christmas present she had sent me via her mom, figuring we’d both open ours together), my Franklin planner, my refill, etc. I also quickly burned a CD for my listening enjoyment and strangely enough, the songs became kind of a strange soundtrack for my weekend and because it’s a given to include song lyrics in one’s online diary, I will do so as well.
of telling tales and biting nails are gone
— To sir with love (Natalie Merchant with Michael Stipe)–
I loaded way too much upon myself before I was to leave and I always do that. I did manage to stop by Belle’s house and chat with her for a bit, which was very nice, before I embarked upon my journey. I shirked the need to get my oil changed before I left. That’s because I’m just a girl and have no concern for such manly ventures. That’s not entirely true, but it was getting really late and starting to snow and I was nervous about my two-hour drive. I also shirked a couple of other things, but hey, I had a nice shiny car, a big Diet Coke and a shiny newly burned CD. Life was good.
No matter how hard I’d try
–Son of a preacher man (Joan Osbourne live)–
I managed to make the 2-hour drive in about eighty minutes’. Must have driven through some time/space continuum thing that those Trekkies are always talking about’ heh heh.
First stop, The Spice House, where I purchased $45 worth of spices. Then I hustled to a distant mall where I visited the state’s only Franklin Covey store, home of luxurious products for anal retentive people. I drooled over a $250 Coach purse/planner combo. Then the sales guy came over with a rag to wipe up the drool and sneered at me.
I ended up buying a $120 planner.
It was on sale. Stop looking at me like that. It was really only $90. Sheesh.
I walked out of that store feeling deliciously snobby, with a tremendous sense of holier-than-thou. That doesn’t happen often. Thank god.
That mall was like the mall of my dreams. There was not only the Franklin Covey store and a Body Shop, but also a Pottery Barn, a two story Barnes & Noble, an Eddie Bauer Home, a Disney store, and a Reconstructive Hardware store. If it only had an Avenue, a Cute Socks store and a Godiva Chocolates store, it would be perfect. (Actually, Barnes & Noble carries Godiva chocolates, but still’)
At that point, I called Mary Kaye and she gave me directions to meet her at her apartment. She got home and I dragged my stuff into her pad, which is very tastefully decorated and filled with not one, not two, but three cats. Razzle Dazzle, the calico one, was psychotic and tried to beat me up. Tilly looks very normal compared to that cat’s brand of dysfunction. She even tried to beat up Mary Kaye at one point. Only MK could love a six-pound cat that threatens regularly to kick her ass.
Girl from the north — Candy (Iggy pop with Kate Pierson)–
MK then dressed in an outfit I can only describe as Super Hero Incognito. She wore a purple shirt, unbuttoned to show major cleavage and a black velvet bra, a black mini skirt, shiny silver tights and black thigh high boots. She topped it off with a weird shabby-chic fur coat. I looked relatively low key in my black ensemble with acid green turtleneck (and matching acid green lingerie, don’t forget!). We packed up her magic lasso and got into her invisible airplane and took off for The Velvet Room, which had live jazz and was famous for chocolate martinis.
Let me tell you, The Velvet Room is my new boyfriend. I love the Velvet Room. Any place which has a specific menu for the martinis and a live jazz combo, with a singer whose voice is like aural cream has got to be good, but the food was also divine. They had magenta toilets with black toilet seats. That’s not why I love it, it’s just a fact.
We drank our weight in vodka.
Go walking in these spooky old woods alone.
Owoooooooo!
— Little red riding hood- (Sam the Sham)–
I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and it was 8:00 pm at that point. First up to the plate were Cosmopolitans. Those went down so smoothly. Mary Kaye insisted on ordering whatever I ordered because she knew she’d want mine if she didn’t. We both affected a drunken crush on our waiter Josh, who looked like an escapee from a Real World cast. Next martini was a Laffy Taffy, upon Josh’s recommendation. This mixture of banana liquer and cream tasted like a melty banana shake. MK took a picture of me lapping it out of the glass like a kitten.
Yeah. We were a little toasted at that point.
Next martini was a chocolate martini. That was good. You wanted to lick out the glass when you were done drinking it. I don’t remember much at that point, but I think our meals came then. I ordered the Filet Mignon, with roasted garlic mashed potatoes, a demi glace, and steamed zucchini. Mary Kaye got the grilled salmon, with a dutch potato cake, grilled mushrooms, pinot noir, herbs, and steamed veggies. Both were divine.
We ordered another round of martinis’ I had another Cosmopolitan; MK deviated and had another Chocolate Martini. She then received a phone call from her would-be girlfriend Angel, who was going to meet us after dinner. She went to the bathroom to talk and I downed my Cosmo and ordered another Laffy Taffy. I actually felt compelled to give Josh a disclaimer, stating that I hardly ever drank but I really love martinis. He soothed me by saying that he WAS a lush and you only lived once. I’m certain that he said this because he wanted me to be comfortable and not due to the fact that his tip was skyrocketing with every graceful glass of vodka. The bill for Mary Kaye and my meal and drinks came to over $140.
Mary Kaye then sighted some friends from work and they congregated around us. I became vivacious and giggly with these cute boys. One called me a ‘kicky broad’ and I countered that I had never been called a ‘broad’ in my life and I preferred the term ‘Princess’ or ‘Goddess’ but for him, he would be allowed to call me a ‘chick’. We continued to banter and soon I was surrounded by cute boys, discussing breast size, football, and how many martinis I had downed thus far. One boy remarked that I was the perfect woman. Damn right, I said back.
Finally, MK’s suitor Angel showed up with a friend of Mary Kaye’s from Lesbian Choir (yes, there is such a thing). So then Mary Kaye was surrounded by lesbians and I was surrounded by cute boys. We were very happy. We hung out there until the jazz combo finished their set and the girls decided that our next stop would be the ‘219’ or something like that. Mary Kaye told me this with a gleam in her eye. I knew instinctively that this was a gay bar, which I don’t mind, but there was something else that she wasn’t telling me. I knew her too well.
‘So it’s a dance bar?’ I questioned.
‘Yes.’ She said, refusing to say any more.
‘Anything I should know about it?’
‘No. Why do you ask?’ She said, trying to look innocent.
‘Because you’re acting strangely.’
We went to the bar and Angel paid the cover charge for all of us (she’s very chivalrous, that Angel’ held the doors open for us too. She’s a police officer, incidentally).
When we entered the bar, every head in the place swiveled and stared at us.
They were all men. There was not a single female in the place.
We went up and secured spots at the bar by the dance floor. The place was dead. A drag queen came in. Then it got busier. I chatted with the bartender. Mary Kaye’s friend from choir left and the bartender asked me what was wrong with my girlfriend. I told him that she caught me looking at a guy. He nodded knowingly. I giggled insanely.
I’ve been in gay bars before. Mary Kaye used to frequent many fine alternative establishments when she lived in Green Bay. They’re cheery and have great music and lots of fun. I’m always treated like that Funny Fat Girl Sidekick that every Sidekick-less Gay Man is searching for so I have a blast.
But this Milwaukee bar was totally different. The clientele was a bit scarier and far less friendly. This was a Village People Motorcycle Leather Guy kind of bar. There was one guy who looked like Keith Richards after being drug behind a moving train for miles. Another man was pierced through the neck and also had a huge ring in his nose through which he drank his beer.
take me out show me every thing — Baby wants a diamond ring (Squirrel Nut Zippers)–
Then the show started. You see, we didn’t realize this but there was to be a show.
A strip show.
— Hash pipe (Weezer)–
I watched with wide eyes as a male stripper took it all off, down to a hot pink g-string. A HUGE hot pink g-string. His would-be member bobbed up and down, pointing at the drooling patrons around the bar. Every time that thing would jump, I’d crack up. Mary Kaye was embarrassed, but Angel thought it was funny that I was laughing. There was much bending over and showing of the buttocks region. Oh, too be so flexible! Three strippers in all, one was very hot (I believe his stripper name was Dalton) and one looked disturbingly like Kurt Cobain (his stripper name was Tigger). Eventually, men would go up and put currency in their g-strings, each time taking a grope of their enormous packages. Sometimes, they’d sort of throttle the area, as if judging it for weight or buoyancy. They’d reach underneath for a surreptitious ass grab as well. Dalton had a cold and kept coughing and sipping on a bottle of water between thrusts and gyrations and ass grabs. Then he’d kiss skanky Keith Richards guys and cough more.
In a strange twist, they communicated to each other in sign language. I think Tigger might have been deaf but they all used it. Dalton acted pretty macho and I was wondering if perhaps he wasn’t gay but then when I saw him use ASL with Tigger, there was no doubt in my mind. Apparently, it is possible to lisp in sign language.
The bar started to get really crowded and scary. Mary Kaye wanted to know if I wanted to go elsewhere. Yes. Without a question.
Wisconsin’s first Krispy Kreme opened near MK’s apartment and I wanted to try it. They laughed at me, that I wanted doughnuts instead of partying and booze, but hey, let’s get our priorities straight people. Warm doughnuts on the hoof are not to be taken lightly.
I’m the real thing (I’m the real thing)
— Crush with eyeliner(REM) —
Angel perfectly navigated us to the restaurant (hey, she’s a cop, it’s a doughnut place!) and I bought a dozen hot steaming doughnuts and icy cold milk for me and water for MK and Angel. Angel refused to eat anything because she’s super fit and has a perfect body. I didn’t care; I chowed down three warm melt-in-your-mouth doughnuts in five minutes. Damn, that was good. It was like sin in your hand.
We then retired to Mary Kaye’s apartment and Angel went home, only to call Mary Kaye immediately. We both fell asleep in MK’s bed, (I’ll bet that every one of my male readers just said ‘oooh’ Weetabix and a lesbian’..sweet!’ to themselves when they read that) but then apparently, the fact that I snore like a congested water buffalo prevented Mary Kaye from sleeping, so she moved the couch. Then another girlfriend wannabe called at 2:15 and drunkenly proclaimed her love to Mary Kaye. She’s a very popular girl.
— Bittersweet (Big Head Todd & the Monsters)–
I slept very lightly due to the horrible parking lot light shining in through the entire apartment and the fact that the three cats like to frolic throughout the night. Also, Razzie came in and tried to rumble with me at one point and then hissed at me. I really dislike that cat. I threatened to throw her up against the wall. Mary Kaye woke up shortly thereafter and I watched a Depeche Mode ‘Behind the Music’ while I waited for her to get up and get ready. I ate two more Krispy Kremes while I waited. Mary Kaye confessed to having eaten three in the middle of the night as well.
Then we went to a Rainbow-Centric coffee shoppe for some caffeine. We were going to eat something healthy there, but decided that what we really wanted was a little Ed Debevics diner chow to get us going right. We tooled over to Ed’s, where our waitress was extremely tired, after playing Janet in their local production of the midnight Rocky Horror Picture Show. We tried to connive her to perform a bit, singing the Brad role ‘Dammit, Janet! I love you!’ but apparently it was a bit much for her on a Sunday morning. Later, however, we were treated to the entire staff doing the Twist on the countertops. It was a righteous breakfast, despite the fact that I ordered a Vanilla Phosphate and felt three of my teeth develop cavities upon the first taste. Our waitress would not feed us until we agreed to come to one of their shows. She really didn’t have to twist our arms. Any occaision to dress up in fishnet stockings is a good time, in my book.
We then went shopping for clothing. Green Bay has really no hip clothing in plus sizes, unless you consider fuschia sweatshirts with ‘I love to Bingo!’ embroidered on them hip. The first store we went to was lame and gross, but Mary Kaye found a $9 jacket which looked like it was made from road kill. She was happy. I didn’t have the heart to point out the tire marks.
We then saw another store that Mary Kaye swore had cool plus size clothing. We walked in and were immediately greeted with racks upon racks of colorful African tribal muu-muu things. Um’ probably wouldn’t really fly back home on a chubby white chick. I browsed to humor Mary Kaye.
Then Mary Kaye held up a red crocodile pleather jacket and said ‘Ooooh.’
‘For you?’ I asked.
Ooh, I know she gave me all that
— Black (Pearl Jam- acoustic) —
‘No’ for you.’
So I tried it on. And it was good. Damned good.
I giggled. It was so’. ROCK STAR!
Then I saw an electric blue ‘eyelash’ sweater. And then MK held up a pair of black pleather pants. Or maybe I did. It’s all a blur of fashion binging. And then MK held up a glittery velvet shirt and pointed me in the direction of the dressing rooms.
I emerged first wearing the eyelash sweater and pleather black pants. Mary Kaye squealed. I clapped my hands. I looked so damn hot! Actually, probably because I WAS damned hot. Pleather pants are an instant heat thing. My knees were sweating. I tried to whine about that to Mary Kaye, who has a special affinity for pleather, but she dismissed my complaints with ‘That’s the price you pay for fashion, darling.’ So I rest assured knowing that when I eventually wear them, I will look extremely cute before I spontaneously combust.
Next, I tried on the velvet sparkly thingy. The cute black girl store clerk (because this store was really not targeted toward your repressed Midwestern white girl) looked at me, did a little head jiggy thing and said ‘Mmmm mmmm girl, you be looking FAHN’. While teetering upon being Trailer Trash, it’s got these cute little vamp sleeves and keyhole neckline that I truly love. And it’s not hot like the pleather.
I also found a leather collar thing with a silver plate on it that says ‘Princess’. I may wear that collar until the day I die.
And the best thing about the fashion extravanganza is that the entire thing (crocodile red jacket with matching crocodile pants which I’ll never wear, black pleather pants, blue fluffy eyelash sweater, velvet keyhole top, and ‘Princess’ collar) cost me a paltry $38. And now I get to dress like Salt N’ Pepa or something.
I love me the Chubby Rock Star store!
Afterwards, we went to a suburb mall in search of an Avenue and Lane Bryant, but then we were ruined by the Rock Star Clothes at Rock Bottom Prices. I did end up buying a black satin corset thingy to wear to Rocky Horror when I eventually go. The price for the corset was the same as the entire fashion binge downtown.
Then it was time to leave, only a short 24 hours after I arrived in Milwaukee. I drove home tired but sated, sipping on copious amounts of Diet Coke and listening to my mixed CD (rather than the radio where it would drive me insane to listen to the Packers lose the god damn chance at another Superbowl’. Let’s just not talk about that, shall we?). I went home, crawled into bed and slept for 12 hours.
It was a lovely weekend. I’m still tired.
Have a super Martin Luther King day!
