From the files of our cocktail sniffer Jonathan Beckhardt
I am sorry that I only contact you when i need something, but I was wondering if you could send me my whiskey-shoes. I imagine they're on the bottom shelf of my dresser, since I haven't worn them since Jim Holt's barbecue last summer. If you could get them in the mail this week, that would be great, as I need them for next Saturday. Read more »
And another for the great and apparently tranny-infested Eurovision Song Contest! This one's called DQ (which used to mean something pretty scandalous in the Midwestern gay underground) and the song is ..... Read more »
AMERICA'S NEXT TOP TRANNY Why would Felicia Fellatio, a 6'7" drag queen from Trashville, USA, get up at 5 a.m. on March 20 and wing it down to the Serramonte Center in Daly City to audition for America's Next Top Model? Well, why wouldn't she? In six-inch fuck-me pumps and a belt whose giant buckle spelled "ORAL" in diamonds, even. Glittery! Read more »
It's 6 a.m., and I think I just asked a mailbox for a light. Nonetheless, it was a cute and sturdy one, unlike the male boxes I usually encounter stumbling home from Nob Hill in the way-wee hours and at least I got that light. Right?
I've got one copy of Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace strapped under my right foot, one strapped under my left. The new 1,400-page Penguin Classics translation by Anthony Briggs makes for a great pair of platforms. Read more »
Last Wednesday we unleashed the first issue of our new quarterly glossy supplement SCENE: The Guardian Guide to Nightlife and Glamour to thunderous approval and only a few (disappointing) howls of protest. I want more protest dammit! Where's freakin' Fox News when you want 'em! My nails are too long to dial the right-wing media up. Read more »