I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else
I'm sure everyone (or maybe just the unstable minded amongst you) has songs that when heard make you instantly drop everything, literally, and get up and shake that booty, no matter where you are. I've lost drinks, food, hamsters and limbs to my mental-fit inducing song of the moment. The song that inspires my fucked-up fanny dancing of is Dr Pressure (Mylo Vs Gloria Estefan). Decade blending, particularly in a music sense, is fully fabulous. I'm just recovering from a particularly nasty rhythmic seizure as my shaking hands make some lame attempt at typing. It's rocking my ass so much that everything must be halted as soon as i hear the intro strike up. By the time Gloria tells me she's 'paging Dr Beat' my shoulders are frantically shimmying and my butt is shoogling like it's never shoogled before (not since the last time at least). I'm thankful that I'm mostly in the privacy of my own home when this comes over me but this is not always the case. As there is nothing I can do to stop it (I blame the beat and Gloria's top notch 80s dancing), I've seen me leap out of my chair (not an easy thing for me, Miss Unfit 2005 I tell you)at work and get down and not very dirty right there at my desk, praying with all my might that I'm not rudely interrputed mid 'dance' (using the term more loosely than my ass after a night on the beer and curry). I don't know what people think when they arrive, post dance, to be faced with one very sweaty and oddly purple Fee in place of the usually demure Fee who speaks mainly to herself.
Fortunately I have yet to hear this song over a shop sound system. Who knows what might happen were I to break into the funky chicken in the middle of H&M. I'd be dumped for one thing.
Ah well, if it makes me happy I'm guessing we have no problem here. And if it aids in my eternal quest to bust a belly then it can only be good.
And so I go to remove Dr Pressure from repeat mode. What fucker thought that was funny I just don't know.
"Doctor, I’ve got this feelin’ deep inside of me, deep inside of me
I just can’t control my feet when I hear the beat, when I hear the beat
Hey doctor, could you give me somethin’ to ease the pain
’cause if you don’t help me soon gonna lose my brain
Gonna go insane"
Spoken like a true Fee.
8/25/2005 07:00:00 PM
Drinks were certainly not free in Aberdeen's very own Club Tropicana, nor were they -particularly cheap, unlike so many of its patrons. The only thing that was free was the abundance of male wandering hands who felt it necessary to double-hand grab any ass that passed, as long as it was attached to something vaguley resembling a female. Never before have I seen so many of the same breed of male in one place (you know the type, checked short-sleeved shirt buttoned uncomfortably high, slender fit jeans bought by their wife or ex-girlfriend and black buckled shoes and all over 35 years old). It was fully vile, as was the appreciation they got back from the over-eager (desperate) women who were clearly in dire need of male attention. You could tell it had been so long that clearly they all possessed re-grown hymens. don't even ask how I know this...
It was pretty lucky that courtesy of a massive amount of vodka I was fully cross-eyedly wasted. So I fitted in pretty well. We went there because Triple S was in full swing of an 80s night so how could we not go see our lesbo chum in her gold sequined ensemblea? There really was too much testosterone for that netted puffy skirt and footless tights number. And her similarity to Gloria Estafan could not go unnoticed... though in place of a mega perm was a mass of crimped hair. It was truly divine and an image that will be forever ingrained in my memory. It was a worry however that at least half the people dressed in 80s attire were not actually in fancy dress. The tapered jeans and shoulder padded blouses were their best outfits, probably having been worn on every special occasion since 1982.
Let's also not forget the crazy 80s dancing in which we partook. The wives (Lil Red and Queen of Fun) could only watch in horror as their husbands spun each other round the dance floor as though in the throes of some horrible kind of fit. We felt like we were at a school disco circa 1986. I had clammy man hands and everything.
Needless to say, it was a truly excellent night (even though at the end of it I was taken into someone's bedroom and promptly thrown on the floor while the others were passed out. And who said chivalry was dead, Triple S?). No doubt after stupid amounts of vodka I will return but only if Triple S will lend me her slip on flats and gold lame shoulder bag. Twit ta woo.
And so I go chew on my callus in place of walking to the shops for actual food. Do have a good weekend.
Triple S and Queen of Fun, our lesbo chums are rockin my socks
King of Queens, Cary, yum yum
Watching daytime TV
Dancing to Tiffany and Chesney in the 80s bar (even if Chesney is 90s)
Having heard that Holly Valance will be appearing in Neighbours again... woo hoo...
Feeling like I may fall down when I stand up for too long
A pretty day and no garden in which to enjoy it
Bothersome printers, the girl hath no patience
Panny Jenny, L Word, oh just go away
Having to wait too long for next Lost
8/20/2005 12:18:00 PM
After a very garlicky trip to Wagamama, I
Go to the gay bar in Aberdeen and you'll get a decent tune shoved in amongst the Gaylord seventies shite every twenty minutes but the Polo was literally dripping with quality tunes (well my idea of quality tunes). Of course the excellent tunes brought on the not so excellent dance moves that I usually reserve for private viewing only. Not because my moves are in any way raunchy but pretty much because they are so appalling and laughter inducing. Of course it wasn't my fault. I blame the multiple apple sourz shots that I had constantly attached to my lips.
Anyway, we avoided the Mega Butch that refused us entry last time (for our collective amount of hair remember) and snuck in with only a 'Have you been here before' comment from another bouncer. Just making sure we'd know how to behave in a gay bar I suspect. Mind you, no amount of hair was gonna have me mistaken for a hetero, not with my butch shirt and mannerisms. Hell no. I'd have made kd lang look femme. The Polo Lounge patrons seemed to agree too...
Anyway, have got my tunes, which are reminiscent of Saturday night, blastin' my neighbours out of their mid-evening sleeps so I must go recreate some of my better dance moves. If I can find them that is.
Ernesto Vs Bastian - Dark side of the moon - nope, not a dodgy Pink Floyd cover but a dodgy euro dance tune which is making my booty shake at the minute
Vinland Sheep - Hurry up with the gayness already
My new (fabulous) black bag complete with pink skull, so very cool
Internet access at work again, hurrah
LOST, Kate is hotter than toast
My baggy belly, even with my 15,000+ steps a day it still won't shift. Sit ups? Oh no I don't think so
Sugar Rush no more! And still haven't seen the last episode
Not having seen L Word in two weeks... am serisouly having withdrawals
Delmonicas in Glasgow, full of sweaty man breasticles
Craig from Big Brother, truly horrid
Saturday night's rockin' tunes... (Do you think we had a good time or something?)
Tunes that allowed me to empty my bladder and reapply deodarant
That really was it for bad tunes, hence the sweat and urine leakage. Thank God for Tena Lady. Adios.
8/11/2005 06:26:00 PM
"Some people stand in the darkness, afraid to step into the light." Wow, deep.
Is it wrong to be in the type of club that plays the Baywatch theme tune? Is it a little sad to even know the Baywatch theme tune? I'm guessing then it's completely out of order to not only dance to the Baywatch theme tune but also to lip sync and air grab to the Baywatch theme tune? What then can be said about Lil Red who, as the tune struck up, stripped to her well worn red swimmer as she clutched her bag to her chest as if it were a life-saving can? Nothing that can be repeated? Yeah, that's what I thought. "I'll be ready..." Stop it now. No good can come of it.
I can't imagine where we were that we found ourselves a little too over-eager re: the Baywatch theme but I'm thinking it was Hetreo Hell aka Espionage. Where else do you get straight men in tapered jeans, over-sized, out-of-shape sports Tshirts and tightly pulled white Nike trainers? Oh every bar in Aberdeen really. And I have the ordacity to moan about the Gay Bar? Never again dear readers, never again. Well, until next weekend no doubt. At least we don't have to dance to YMCA and I am what I am in straight bars. I just can't cope with that gay nonsense any longer.
Anyway, we're off to Gay Glasgow this weekend and I have already got my bomber jacket and chunky man boots ready to ensure we get into the Polo Lounge without question this time around. Appointment to get my girlie hair cut off tomorrow too. Or perhaps not. I'd look as good as Jenny L Word with short hair.
And so I go light my own farts before Lil Red does it for me.
kt tunstall's new song, gay as the day
Ricky Gervais' Extras
My fabulously, stop-traffic, pink nails
Filing nails noise
Trains, always a drama
The burn on my finger which now looks like a wart, not hot
Grace as in Will and... always an issue
Oasis, please, enough already
8/05/2005 06:54:00 PM
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Hit the Jag Spot...
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