Down in Chelsea, lesbiansand sometimes even drink ticketsare queen at King's Saturday night Lovergirl event, where a tasty trail mix of young sapphists cruises and schmoozes amid lapdancing and liplocking. Its male equivalent, the Dante-esquely circular g, is still crowded, though there hasn't been the usual line of sex-ridden hags and fitness trainers down the block on Saturdays; half the clientele is on Fire Island, where they have half-shares. But its straight equivalentBenefit at Joe's Pub on Mondayscontinues to bring out a randy bunch of straights who say original things like, "I'll be in the Hamptons this weekend. Call me on my cell," as they knock you down on the way to their third martooney. I couldn't stand it, but was suitably awe-inspired by the fact that Joel Blaine would find the place hard-on heaven.
Finally, cutting-it-off heaven came at the Slipper Room, a snazzy Orchard Street hangout where Hello, Dali!a "surreal tribute to the art of transsexualism"had us cheering on all fours. As the trannies tarted themselves up backstage, sultry DJ Sunny Suitsplayed "We Don't Have to Take Our Clothes Off," an advisory that was vehemently ignored come showtime. In rapid succession, Amanda Leporeand Sophia Lamarperformed deadpan magic tricks in panties; Tina Sparklespushed her sequined titties into an audience member's face in a vivid tribute to The Lion King; Candis Cayneclimaxed "Le Jazz Hot" in a way skimpier ensemble than Julie Andrewscould ever manage; and Glorya Wholesomeshed her boa while dedicating "Different Drum" to George W. Bush(though bush is generally this crowd's goal genital). The switcheroo finale had our female host, *BOB*, stripping behind a screen to reveal a huge prosthetic schlong, then declaring, "In the future, there is no gender!" Uh-oh, Jackie Collins is in trouble.