Black Swan Is "a Lezzie Wet Dream"!

Friars do Quentin Tarantino to a turn; Miami's pretty hot, too

My hotel was gay, too—the Lords South Beach, “an appropriately oriented” place with a giant polar bear statue in the lobby, but mainly twinks in the rooms, which by the way are yellow and white and just the right side of kitsch. The hotel has nothing specifically to do with Madonna’s daughter—different spelling—but it’s a sensible homosex destination for hanging and pool-partying, and I shockingly saw bunches of straights there, too. They had courage, faith, and enthusiasm!

A friend to the gays, Cyndi Lauper just hit the Tropicana in Atlantic City, where the chantoozie performed highlights from her Memphis Blues album, backed by a crack bunch of seasoned musicians. The result was a potent mix of bluesing and musing, the latter about wide-ranging topics from Cyndi’s speaking voice (“It’s better than it was. I lowered it. It doesn’t sound so mouse-like”) to the time Sophia Loren was arrested for tax evasion (“I stopped eating spaghetti in protest. Then my mother said, ‘Cyn, our family makes pasta!’ ”). After singing her Queens-raised tuchus off, Cyn left the stage, came back, and did all her pop hits! And she pays taxes, too!

Bluesy, boozy fireball Bridget Everett sang Lauper’s “She Bop” at Joe’s Pub last week after reminiscing about her early days spent she-bopping to photos of Kirk Cameron. “I was a virgin,” remembered Everett, adding, “ish.” After another pause, she clarified, “Outside of the bloodline, I was a virgin.” WHORE! At one point, Everett barreled through the audience with her sex toy—it vibrated right on my face, lady juice and all—then in her most shocking moment, she took off her ripped fishnets, sat her ass on a stool onstage, and sang a perfectly lovely version of “Pure Imagination.” A gorgeously subversive talent—and what genitals!

And in the lilting Moisty Saves Christmas at Dixon Place, impure imagination had Bradford Scobie playing a campy snowman made of snow, mulch, candy wrappers, and excrement. He swished up a storm, but Moisty’s “not gay,” as he kept repeating, Travolta-style. Even more intriguingly, Santa turned out to be the North Pole’s only transsexual. (“You mean you have sex on subways?” asked Moisty, cutely.) By the time Moisty decided he was in love with one of the Jonas brothers, it was the moistest wet dream in ages. Now make me desire you.

« Previous Page
 |
 
1
 
2
 
All
 
My Voice Nation Help
0 comments
 
Loading...