I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
They might as well have called it Pink!: The Lesbo Tour. Not only was the audience 86% butch lesbian but the whole show was full of scantily clad woman writhing around with each other, the floor and ceiling height poles. Of course Pink was included in these woman on woman actions much to our and everyone's moist delight. Our lady even dry humped a blow up doll before turning the plastic wonder to face the dripping crowd and yelling 'Look at her face!' The face was a melted replica of that other plastic wonder, Ms Aguilera who then got her air filled face smashed in quite viciously as all the Pink wannabes in the crowd with their ten inch high hair went fully mental. It's a shame life doesn't always imitate art.
What else can I say about our weekend down south? In no particular order...
I bought fuschia pink converse, J Bo lost her girlie heel to a canal to the soundtrack of the freaks of the night in complete hysterics, we got jostled so severely in the gay bars on Saturday night that by Sunday we were walking lesions, met Steve and Liz McDonald (real names thankfully unknown) from Coronation Street, got offered a threesome from a Burberry clad ned, scored a seat in first class after being removed from our seats by a Scouser slag and her numerous scabby kids, caused such a ruckus on said first class that we were almost removed a second time by upper class wanks who couldn't cope with our laughter level, been completely disgusted with the lack of hygiene in evey female toilet I was in which included a diarhea stripe on a toliet wall and floors so sodden I could have surfed my panty liner on them, got freaked out by the faceless gollywog dancers in Queer, ate in my first Hard Rock cafe with unsurprising results, somehow got the new nickname Man Beast while others became The Giant, Queen of Tude and Baldy Bill, laughed so much I almost burst my bladder on multiple occasions, vomited lumpy goo twice, drank so much red bull that I was teetering on the brink of paranoia for three days, got my bag searched just after a visit to Ann Summers, got asked if I was a beaver hunter so I could get into a man gay bar which was tighter packed than Baldy Bill's jeans, had maximum droolage over Heidi at the Sugababes, felt ancient and too gay while having maximum droolage at the Sugababes as surrounded by under tens, tried to follow twa dykes to the Polo Lounge after interupting their 'deep conversation', got attitude in Moda from a fat poof who sneered, 'Are they even gay?' when he couldn't get his global ass past us at the bar, started another truama on another train when Lil Red dared climb on the seats to get our luggage, got started on by a mammoth taxi driver who resented taking us a short distance and displayed this by speeding and slamming on brakes at any available opportunity, spent more time waiting for The Gentleman than we did shopping, got bored in Harvey Nicks very quickly, got to hold my girl's hand all weekend without getting Ned abuse, managed to eat continuously for five days and wondered why I fitted into nada, saw more gays in one bar than we have in the whole of Aberdeen, stayed above the loudest pub in the world which played I Will Survive right under our bed until 3 am every morning, was awoken to the sound of farts reverberating through the wall, accidently put on a lesbo show as we didn't realise our window was ten feet from a packed gay bar, preferred going out on Thursday because tehre was actual room for feet movement, got stuck to the floor in Cruz 101 which I had been falsely led to believe was cool, saw too many hairy arse cracks, was gutted when it was all over. had the best weekend ever.
Roll on April 30th where we get to see Britney's naughty antics. Yum delicious.
And so I go watch my new favourite show, Third Watch, for that hot paramedic and the oddly hot butchey policewoman in that sexy lil shirt... Till the next time.
3/31/2004 12:11:00 PM
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