When life gets to be a drag

W called me a few weeks ago from work.

“Martha just announced that she’s doing an afternoon show on Saturday. Can we go?”

Martha, also known as Martha Graham Cracker, is W’s favorite drag queen. I had already agreed to go to an evening show.

“Yes, if it will make you happy,” I said. “And if I can drink beer.”

So, last weekend, we took off for Philly for back to back drag shows at a dive bar called Bob & Barbara’s.

The timing could not have been worse. I have a big writers’ event this weekend. We’re having 16 people over for Thanksgiving. And we’re in the middle of a whole bunch of home repairs, including having a new heating system installed.

But it was good to get away. Once we were in the city, there was nothing for me to do but relax.

We watched Martha’s first show.

And Martha’s second show.

We drank what is know as a “city wide.” That’s a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a shot of Jim Beam for $4 ($3 during happy hour). We drank many city wides. The city wide is, without a doubt, the best bargain in all of Philadelphia.

We got a deal on a fancy hotel room through Priceline Express.

And just when we didn’t think the weekend could get any better, we found a great little diner for breakfast the next day.

I don’t think we wanted the weekend to end, because we stopped on our way home to see A Star is Born.

So, here’s some advice from your favorite butch blogger: When life gets to be too crazy, take a timeout, toss back some cheap booze and find thee a drag queen.

* * *

What’s your go to when you need to blow off some steam?

 

 

 

 

Sleeping with drag queens

If my calculations are correct, W and I have been sleeping in the same bed for about seven years. Not continuously like we are in the movie Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Although that idea always seemed appealing when I was younger and depressed.

On Friday, the kid will have been in the hospital for three weeks, save the three days he spent at home. W has stayed with him every night, which means our bed is empty when I turn in.

I pile clean laundry and things to take to the hospital on W’s side of the bed to keep it from seeming so empty.

I look at our pillowcases that say “Big Spoon” and “Little Spoon” and wonder when the Big Spoon will be coming home. Yes, folks, I’m butch enough to admit that I’m usually the little spoon.

One of our cats is so distraught over W’s absence that he cries and deposits random items in a pile in the middle of the bed — socks, a cloth to polish shoes, cat toys. I’m not sure where he’s finding these items. I’m pretty sure some of them aren’t even ours.

At night, I stay up way too late and watch mindless TV shows — Shark Tank, Teen Mom 2, Bar Rescue, Catfish — until I am so tired I pass out.

For some strange reason, I find RuPaul’s Drag Race especially soothing and often find myself falling asleep to “I’m Every Woman” or some other disco tune and instructions to “sashay away.” Because drag queens always make me feel better. The are like a Band-Aid — a sequined Band-Aid with rhinestones and wigs and high heels.

This new habit has made for some very weird dreams.

When I was a kid and my grandmother visited, she always slept in my double bed with me.

This was weird and annoying for a variety of reasons but mostly because my grandmother slept with a transistor radio that she kept on until she fell asleep.

It was an old radio, one of my grandfather’s, and seemed unable to broadcast anything but static.

My grandmother loved music but always listened to the news on her handheld radio.

I used to think she was an old lady way too interested in what was happening in the world.

But when I got older, I realized she missed my grandfather, who had passed away years before, and it was impossible for her to fall asleep without some kind of distraction.

I wonder what it was about the sound of the radio that soothed her. If the buzz reminded her of his rhythmic breathing or snoring or if she just needed noise, any noise, to fill the void he had left behind.

So with that, I’m going to sashay to bed. Just me and the cats and a gaggle of drag queens. That’s what you call a group of drag queens, right?

* * *

What about you? How do you sleep when your significant other is away?

 

Here’s what put the “Fest” in OutFest

I think I’ve finally recovered from OutFest.  If you don’t know, OutFest is the national Coming Out Day block party in Philadelphia.  Tens of thousands of people attend every year.

This year, I paid for a table to promote Leaving Normal: Adventures in Gender.  I sold books, handed out business cards, talked with anyone who stopped by and raffled off some sweet bowties to people who signed up to follow The Flannel Files.  A big shout out to all of my new followers!

I pretty much broke even after adding up all of my expenses.  But still, it was a beautiful gay day.  And me and W’s anniversary day to boot.

So, here are my top 10 highlights from OutFest:

10. Everyone who stopped by and talked Fun Home the Musical and “Ring of Keys” with me.  You really know how to make a butch’s day.

9. Those people who gave me fist bumps and high fives and said “I respect that” after I gave them the elevator pitch to my book.

8. The woman who wanted her picture taken with me because I had written a book.

7. The mother who wanted to buy her fresh-out-of-the-closet teen daughter the book, but the daughter wanted nothing to do with the book or me. “Buy it for yourself,” I told the mom.  And she did.  God bless you, mom and good luck.

6. All of the butches in all of their ball cap and cargo shorts and spiky hair glory. You are my tribe.  (Silent head nod.)

5. The guy who told me that he liked the cover to my book.  “We should all wear capes,” he said.  Amen, brother.

4. All the bois who read the back of my book, nodding their heads and saying “yep” to growing up tomboy, being called “sir,” etc.

3. Drag queens.

2. Me and W wearing matching “I Love My Wife” buttons and having everyone congratulate us when they learned it was our anniversary. I felt that people were truly happy for us and understood how big a deal it is that we were able to marry.  Marriage is something our community doesn’t take for granted.

1. Dinner out at a Cuban restaurant with family and friends after.  Our friend who married us last Oct. 11 — the “Right Reverend” — toasted us.  And everything came full circle.  And all was right in the world.

Broadway and drag queens

As they say in Kinky Boots …

Ladies, gentlemen and those who have yet to make up their minds …

W and I have returned from our jaunt to the Big Apple.  Barely.  We almost died on more than one occasion riding in NYC taxi cabs.  Or “yellow cars of death,” as I like to call them.

Highlights include some really good pizza, Ellen’s Stardust Diner where the waiters and waitresses serve burgers and Cokes and belt out Broadway tunes, and the glory that is the Broadway musical Kinky Boots.  W and I had third row seats, so we were right at boot level.

If you don’t know the Kinky Boots story, it’s about a drag queen who saves a shoe factory on the verge of bankruptcy.  But more than that, it’s a gender-bender of a tale about accepting others and loving yourself.  And drag queens.

So, with that, I’d thought I’d share the six-step program from Kinky Boots:

• One: Pursue the truth.
• Two: Learn something new.
• Three: Accept yourself and you’ll accept others too!
• Four: Let love shine.
• Five: Let pride be your guide.
• Six: Change the world when you change your mind!  Just be.  Who you wanna be.  Never let them tell you who you oughta be.  Just be.  With dignity.  Celebrate yourself triumphantly.  You’ll see.  It’s beautiful.  You’ll see.  It’s beautiful.