Because I simply can't stand virgins (something about their Winnie the Pooh pyjamas), I sent my leather virgin intern, the one and only Justin Juul, to the Folsom Street Fair to record his experiences. This is what I had to do to make Folsom shocking again -- at least to someone. He returned with a message of love. And maybe the clap. Read on ... --Marke B.
Sorry Marke, I know I promised, but I just couldn’t do it. Read more »
By Marke B.
Thousands of fantastically perverse revelers (most of them gay) will flood San Francisco for the Folsom Street Leather Fair on Sept. 23, ensuring that every cranny of the city brims with wanton copulation — which really is the way it should always be in our famously lewd burg, no? Read more »
Oye -- this weekend -- Lovefest, Folsom Street Fair and Rosh Hashanah! Can I use my yarmulke as as a jockstrap? Can I twirl my flaming leather poi? I think I'm just gonna go all weekend dressed as a mime in lederhosen: the Silent Yodel, they'll call me. Funtime! Climbing the escalator of pants. Sliding down the invisible rope of chaps. I'm going nuts already. Too bad I'm sober. Read more »
Is it really $40 to go see the Human League at Red Devil Lounge? Retro hipsters start saving up now! Here's new intern Chris Cooney's brief, decidedly non-retro hipster take on the event.
I invented a new stupid-pet trick: ask 10 of your friends to tell you something about the Human League, and nine of them will start singing, “Don’t you want me Baby? Don’t you want me ohhhhh!” It’s adorable.
The first thing they should hand you when you land in the Bay Area is a fork. (Well, that and maybe a condom.) The Bay is brimming with deliciousness, and one of the best things about living in such a genteel environment is the copious amount of wanton gourmandizing to be had. International specialty stores, world-famous organic eateries, precious little bistros, tasty pastries, cuisines you've never heard of ... Read more »
The noses were small, the dresses were expensive, the Mayor was in attendance, and the music was sublime. Yep, I crashed the annual SF Symphony Opening Gala, chockful o' Zellerbachs, Wilseys, DuPonts and whomever else rich-like, and lived to blog all about it (despite being almost kicked out for yodeling during the singing of the National Anthem, ahem.)
So I was stumbling to work today when a horrible sight stopped me dead in my tracks, made me drop my purse, and burst me into tears. SOMEONE had painted over the Positive Visibility/Women Fight HIV and Invisibility mural at Haight and Scott.
wow -- a lot of death on the blog this week. On Saturday, one of my favorite people in the world passed on from AIDS complications (yep, it still happens -- drugs aren't magic, people). Willi Ninja, voguer extraodinaire, mother of the House of Ninja, superfamous spokesperson for utterly fabulous butch queen love, was FIERCENESS itself. Read more »
SUPER EGO Does it count as gay if you're in love with yourself? That was my philomasophical rumination as I obsessively re-YouTubed Kevin Federline's icky, icky "rap" debut on last month's Teen Choice Awards. Because if loving yourself counts, then I agree with most of the 200,000 teens who posted comments: K-Fed is gay, honey. Too gay to know she's a train wreck.
Yet I simply couldn't tear myself away. My chica Anna Conda had just got fagbashed in the Tenderloin. Read more »
It's another brief club weekend update, courtesy of your eternal Guardian club whore Marke B. I don't know if you're saving your wad for the long weekend Sunday night (I'll be outta town, alas!) -- but don't. Go to my friends Ryan R$obles and Juantita More's fab new club Playboy at the MANsion, er, The Stud -- check it out.
gogo boy xtravaganza! lewd and lascivious fashions! lots of kooky musiks! and look -- sexy jesse who just turned 30 is on the flyer wearing acid wash! you have to go now, don't ya ... Read more »