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The first time I ever took the stage as Faux King Awesome was a little more than a year ago on the Charlie Horse stage. I have always enjoyed performing since I was a little kid, writing, directing, performing and charging family members to see my silly shows in my grandma’s basement. Later, in college I became obsessed with sensational multimedia performance art, throwing absurdly huge parties with midnight performances at my house in an Orthodox Jewish neighborhood just outside of Detroit. I would inevitably answer the door wearing a suit and tie with no pants to the startled amusement of local police, asking me to get the drunks inside and turn the music down. Neighbors would awake to plastic pigs and flamingos on my roof and front lawn, gobs of food everywhere, other party remnants laying about. But the party was always a success. My goal was to entertain folks. I never wanted them to forget what they saw; I wanted them to remember these parties forever. Showmanship. Realness. Fun.

Charlie Horse embodied the same vigor, imagination and rebellion that my parties did; so it’s no small wonder that after discovering my alter ego I approached Anna Conda to see if she’d let me perform. I said, “I have this idea, I don’t know if it’ll work, but I wanted to know if you’ll let me do it.” Through a cocktail or two Anna told me, “I don’t care if it doesn’t work.”

Low expections? Try NO EXPECTATIONS! That works for me! Not that I wasn’t nervous my first time, but at least it didn’t matter if I failed. I had my foot in the drag door, I did what I loved and people actually thought it was cute. I’ll take cute. Then I continued on, conjuring up all kinds of ideas that I was allowed to realize on that two-pool-tables-together stage. In less than a year Anna gave me my own pre-show, every last Friday. Reverend Awesome’s Tent Revival Show. Wow! I was shocked. I never expected this opportunity, way outta left field you know?

I liked Charlie Horse. I loved it. I “got” it. It’s irreverent, retarded, fierce, insane, just plain awful charm/performances. And I feel beyond lucky to have shared that stage with such amazing performers: those homegrown like myself, and also drag legends, folks from the famed Trannyshack stage, Aunt Charlie’s Lounge, etc. I learned a lot from these folks and I am grateful. They’re all very funny and I have several fond memories hanging out back stage, helping each other get ready, fastening buttons, spraying wigs, touching up makeup, dodging sewage dripping from the ceiling, pissing in the basement, jumping into the cooler after burning it up on stage. I spent some nights pacing in the basement, waiting to go on, others staking out my position at the foot of the stage to engage the performers with my camera. And I always had fun regardless of the performance caliber (some nights were admittedly just bad) and this is what made it great. Realness, a truth in the air, the ability to laugh at yourself.

Post-Trannyshack, Charlie Horse was the last of the old school alternative drag parties that kind of held vast drag factions together. I’m not saying (and I don’t think) that different groups are adversarial, but in the year and I half that I spent clicking picks and roaming about The Cinch I saw just about everyone there, whether they performed or not. This collective memory is important as it will shape the future of what we ALL do going forward. There are civic powers that want to control what we do and where we do it. The developers and corporations have plans for the city, big plans, and the better educated you are about what they are proposing the better. Make sure you do your homework before you vote next time, especially if you voted for Newsom last time. READ THE GUARDIAN EVERY WEEK!!! It’s the best local news. Ask me questions! I love it!

In the end we ALL have to work together to keep what is important to us. I suggest taking more drag to the streets. Hoku Mama and my Tiara Sensation drag family led a hilarious and inspired group of performers through the city last month. And although we were met with threats from authorities at every turn, we still created a visibility that can’t be denied, and laughter and joy that will be the highlight of many vacations of tourists who clicked our pictures and applauded our delightful antics. Why not just have a weekly performance in front of city hall? All you need is a sound system and a dream. Do it guerilla style.

I would like to thank Anna Conda for slinging drag every week for over five years in a dirty Polk Street saloon, and for her courage and tenacity when it comes to voicing herself politically, motivating others to take action as well. Thank you!

Adieu Charlie Horse, Adieu!

Faux King Awesome

I love looking forward to something that I know is going to be amazing, like a weekend get-away or PB and Bacon sandwich. The few days before your get-away drag on and on until the last minute, but then the moment comes when you’re about to embark on your trip, you have all the time in the world ahead of you. I always savor those moments, the ride up, the journey.

But fuck that! The real fun is the destination: Some Are Camp!

Me, my favorite ex, Seanie, his fab gal pal Arielle, and my two jealous, tragically flawed, but super fun buddies John and Joe arrived on Friday night, set up camp in the ugliest motel room I’ve ever seen, gussied up, went to Safeway, then hit up the RRR in Guerneville for some boozing, cruising and Karaoke. Oh, and because of our belated arrival and dilly dallying, we missed the Maricon-ita drag show by about 20 minutes. Thanks to Kiddie for heading this up. I heard it was amazing!

The next day we got up, drank a bloody mary breakfast and never looked back. The whole day was filled with sun, fun, boys, girls, mudslides, trannies and of course drag.

Poolside drag anyone? Downey, Hoku, Mutha Chucka, Dam Dyke and Dean Disaster put on a hilarious and inspired poolside drag show. Downey and Hoku’s duet to “Almost Paradise” was a hit, featuring Hoku as one die, and Downey as a domino. Close enough! It’s a touching number where they fall in love and teach each other about life’s pleasures, eating Sun Chips and ribbon dancing.

Saturday night found us entertained by a crazy drag show hosted by Glamamore, titled “Glamamore’s Meager Things and Stuff” which was a sensation! Lady Bunny flew all the way from New York just to entertain us with her bawdy songs filled with poo and dick jokes.

During the show I was busy taking pics of David Aguilar and his gorgeous boa constrictors. Folks got to pose with them, having first to sign a waiver in case the snake did something unexpected. No one was hurt, but I heard a rumor that I started where a certain someone had to be escorted away from David and the snakes cuz she was a tranny train wreck drunky pants and could potentially startle the snakes. Action packed!

After the drag show all the boys and girls got saddled up into their beast outfits, donning masks, hooves, snouts, fur, feathers and antlers, parading through the streets of Guerneville after midnight, crashing all the parties in all the bars in town one after the other. This was the moment, the sheer pandemonium that we created, brining a sleepy resort town onto its dancing feet. Not everyone was pleased. A local stopped to ask Vivvy Anne Forevermore “What are you twelve?” And she responded, “No, I’m 29 and I’m dressed like a deer.” We moved on, dancing and laughing in our beastly guises. We tore up the bars, the streets, and if I had made it any further (I got distracted by a new special friend), then I would have seen us tear up the local Safeway at almost 2am as well. Rumor has it that tupperware was stolen in a drunken stupor. Genius!

The next day after the dizziness and blur of Saturday faded, I found myself not in my ugly motel room, but with a complete stranger in a very nice private cabin. What a relief! Once I got my bearings I walk-of-shamed back to my buddies at our room to find that they had already checked out. I was abandoned! But not for long. I headed over to the poolside at the RRR and laid out, waiting for my buddies and sussing out breakfast plans with my fellow food seekers.

Sunday was a blast, laid back, tipsy, fun.  Vivvy treated us to a poolside version of “Part of Your World” from the Little Mermaid. The splashing was relentless, fulfilling. My new special friend and I ran up to the local store to get floaty toys for the pool. While I was there I fell in love with a little charmer who I named Drowney Sensation (see pic below). She was such hit, stealing all of my attention! I’m hoping that she can make it next year.

The ride home was good, a bit sleepy with a stop off to get some In and Out Burger. There my buddy Joe entertained the locals with some of his beast trickery. Work those panty hose beastie!

What an amazing weekend. If you didn’t go this summer, you MUST go next year! It has to be experienced  to be believed. Some people said it was the best weekend of their lives. I thought it was outstanding! I made new “friends,” lost count on mudslides, performed (on and off stage), took sexy pix of everyone, met a drag legend, dressed up like something from “Where the Wild Things Are,” and drown my newly adopted baby. It was exhausting fun! I dare you to do next year!

xo

Faux King Awesome!

“That’s not drag!” shouts the obnoxious know-it-all trannysseur wannabe. “That’s not drag! You can’t just go up there on stage dressed like a clown and pull ribbons out of your ass! I’m sorry, but that’s not drag!”

Well then what is it? What is it when you’re not sure what it is? Is it art? What is art?

Does it matter? Does questioning it matter? Who cares?

Personally I don’t effen care how people get their rocks off on stage as long as it’s funny, scary or sad. I don’t really care if anyone lives or dies on that stage as long as I feel something. Isn’t that what it really is? It’s really about you as a voyeur, an audience member, being pleased, satiated. I go to shows to be challenged, to be moved, to laugh till my head hurts, to heckle, to be inspired. But I go to Tiara Sensation on Monday nights at the Stud to celebrate the retarded things that make life so amazing! Clearly Tiara Sensation has become the most retarded drag night in the city. The infamous Project Runtover, the once a month dragstravaganza that pits multiple teams of models/designers against each other to win the most infantile fashion (drag) show you’ve ever seen. The Bathhouse Betty nights with themed drag show and “special maze” for clothing optional encounters. The once in a while game shows hosted by Hot Gloobanks, most recently Family Screwed! Oh, and let’s not forget that this dance floor comes with a craft table for creating your own tiaras. There was a weenie roast last week and S’mores this past week. Is this really drag? It has to be experienced to believed. Trust.

The creators of Project Runtover Vivvy Anne Forevermore, DJ Down-E, Glamamore and Hot Gloo have brainstormed a night that dares you not to do drag. When I first heard they were doing this I thought it was brilliant, but did not think anyone would show up to do anything. They had over a dozen performers. It was a hit! Everything from spoken word, dancing, drama, smoking, vogueing, screeching cats, and live singing. The show went on forever and was hysterical, crescendoing into a drag number that took everyone outside into the parking lot next door.

Vivvy Anne Forevermore and Elijah Minelli opened the show with a 10 minute dual lip synch to Elizabeth Taylor’s Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.  Applying makeup, tossing back a slew of shots, grimacing, glaring, fist-clenching, screaming, working the room, using the whole place as their stage, in our faces, in unison with each other. In the end the two Martha’s held hands. It was funny, mesmerizing, and beautiful, but mostly retarded.

The rest of the night ceased to amaze, a cavalcade of drag/not drag performances that dazzled the imagination, but mostly were really retarded. Such varied performances ranged from spoken word to spoken lip synch, from interpretive dance to interpretive modeling.

The true highlight of the night came from Beth Amphetamine’s outdoor parking lot performance atop a moving vehicle.  Lip synching “Hold On” by Wilson Philips, Beth worked the trashy crack whore drag, climbed onto her own car and held on tight as it moved around in circles. Flava Flav helped out with art direction and general dope-cred factor. “Dontcha know things will change, things will go your way…” Work!!!

So this is drag. It’s been re-defined as not-not drag. Irony upon irony until it just doesn’t matter anymore. I wanna give a 5-star shout out to the folks over at Tiara for making this such a fun and unexpectedly great night of the most random performances. Tiara really puts the art in retarded.

The morning of 9/11 was my day off. I was sleeping in late after a night up late. My phone kept ringing all morning, so naturally I ignored it.  Finally when I couldn’t sleep any longer I got up and checked my voicemail.  ”Turn on CNN! They’re flying planes into the World Trade Center!” Great.

They closed all the malls in the Detroit Metro Area; flights were grounded, everything was canceled. At the time I was working for Pacific Sunwear and my two managers came over to my house because of the mall shutdown. We watched the world fall apart all afternoon. Later that night my boss and I went to a local gay dive bar called the Male Box. We drank a bit, bitched about how stupid Americans are, shot some pool, drank some more, and then I think I ended up sleeping with him. I quit shortly after. A few days later my best friend videotaped me ranting about American Imperialism in his living room. Some would have thought I was insensitive, unpatriotic at the time, but in the end I was right.

Flash forward eight years, living in SF where Michael Jackson jokes popped up like toast before the body was cold, I have found myself surrounded by kindred spirits. No less than two drag nights have not only celebrated the 9/11 attacks, but infused them with the innocence of the mentally challenged to soften the blow. Downey hosted a 9/12 drag night at Charlie Horse last year and this year Tiara Sensation hosted a 9/11 in July party.

Speaking of insensitivity, the Cinch, hosted by Lucy Borden, was alit with blood and gore on 7-Ten (just pretend it was 7-Eleven) celebrating the 2nd annual Bloodbath at the 7-Eleven drag show. Performers are encouraged to terrorize guests with sprays, explosions and gurgles of fake blood. These antics left the stage a frightful mess by the end of the night, only bolstered by Lucy’s amazing backdrop featuring the aftermath of a brutal and horrific shootout near the Slurpee machine.

All these bombing dates are a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream, but trannies and drag queens naturally seize it as an opportunity to make you uncomfortable yet happy.  And let’s not forget that the London Tube Bombings took place on 7-Seven. The Madrid bombings occurred on 3-Eleven. The theme nights are endless here folks. Again drag folks make lemonade outta lemons, albiet, to the dismay and horror of millions.

I remember when my brother and his best friend went to go see WrestleMania III at the Pontiac Silverdome in 1987.  At the time the WWF (now WWE) was at its peak.  Hulk Hogan, Rowdy Roddy Piper, Superfly Jimmy Snuka, Andre the Giant, Hacksaw Jim Duggan, these guys were amazing in the ring, and while I was like totally in love with Bret “The Hitman” Hart it was the ladies of the WWF that always got my attention. They made the whole thing seem legit. I’d get so excited when The Fabulous (and Trashy) Moolah, Wendi Richter and, of course, Cyndi Lauper would come stomping down the aisle, fists raised in the air, toward the ring… and I swear I saw Captain Lou Albano showing thousands how to give a self-breast exam at the dyke march last year, so I guess he’s a gorgeous lady of wresting, too.

G.L.O.P. – The Gorgeous Ladies of Polk was the brainchild of Anna Conda who, after being attacked on stage at Charlie Horse by an unruly person, did a video search of the taped attack on YouTube and found female wrestling listed as suggested viewing. Genius. The result was a sensational night of body slams, raging estrogen and spandex. All this lemonade from just one lemon.

The Marcy Playground Minute opened the show at 11pm. Marcy brought a dart-shooting gun on stage, taking dead-eye-in-a-drunken-haze aim at some innocent confetti-filled balloons. There was a moment when I thought I might lose an eye or get a dart in the neck, but I persevered at the foot of the stage.

 

 

Anna Conda started the Charlie Horse Show punching and mugging to a song about “female mud wrestling.”  She had the whole place singing along.  It was great!  And her titties looked great in that tiger print bathingsuit with fringed-trimmed elbow-length gloves and blond afro. Sick!

 

 

 

No wrestling night would be complete without the special (limited due to challenges) talents of Downey.  Downey busted up onto the stage with the coolest mask I’ve ever seen (is that a shopping bag?), plus a friend with which to wrestle to Chumbawamba’s “Tubthumping (I Get Knocked Down).” Pretty much every time they sing “I get knocked down” either Downey, his pal or both would suddenly fall to the stage. A few times I heard Downey actually scream “Ahhhhhhhh!” before hitting the stage.

 

 

 

 

Pristine Condition followed next in a fringed teal dress with matching mask makeup. If any measure of the success of a wrestler is based on pure entertainment and showmanship, then Pristine could have a career in eating cum from old condoms. What follows is a photo essay as to what occurred. I’m nearly speechless…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anna Warhola entered the ring singing “Sweet Transvestite” from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. It was actually refreshing to hear this song done in this context. Anna sported her red devil’s tail, baseball bat and Indiana Jones whip, beating and cracking that shit all over the place. The audience even participated during the “SAY IT SAY IT!” anticipation line of the song. Amazing!

 

 

At this point in the show I was so overwhelmed from the courage and shear magic of the G.L.O.P. that was practically raining down upon us that I didn’t think it could get any gloppier.  But then Donna Personna took to the stage!  At first I thought The Fabulous Moolah had risen from the grave.  Donna came out all gangbusters and did not stop until the number was over.  High kicks, grunts, fist punches, mugging and dingleberry cherries, her performance rocked!  

 

 

 

 

 

This night was magical, absolutely one of my favorites.  The ladies lit up the stage like we haven’t seen in a while with action, body slams, jizz shots, etc. It was really something else!  Funny that all this mayhem would not have been possible if that chick hadn’t snatched Anna’s wig that fateful night.  Maybe it was the spirit of The Fabulous Moolah or just meant to be.

My favorite drag night of the year is when all the gorgeous plus size, full-figured ladies fill the stage with their presence, giving you twice as much to love. Trans Fat Night at Charlie Horse showcases some of SF’s finest plump and vivacious ladies bringing down the house. Who knew that getting so much would leave you wanting more!

Anna Conda opened the show with an off-topic number (appropriate since she’s so skinny), but it was a great way to start the show following our third Take Back the Polk March. About two dozen pissed off and determined folks marched from The Cinch to the Supreme Court of California to protest their decision to uphold Prop 8’s injustices. With sacks of doo doo wrapped up in designer shopping bags in tow, we chanted for 13 blocks, grabbing the attention of passersby and the occasional police car.

 

 

Holy McGrail needed the help of a big strong man (and some bolt cutters) to get her buttons undone, revealing some clever and tantalizing pasties.

Mutha Chucka busted out the corn dogs for her number, mowing on them, teasing the audience with them, and all in the name of equal rights! Her number had a political edge to it in honor of the march.

 

Lady Bear, Joie de Vivre, Marcy Playground and Miss Nix bring their extra-caloric realness to the Trans Fat stage.

 

 

 

Hoku Mama Swamp closed the show with an updated version of “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” Mama treats the audience to some random radio play before drowning herself in milk, chocolate sauce, marshmallows and a box of sugar over an inflatable kiddie pool. The crowd went ape shit when she kicked the pool to the side as the sugar came falling down over her body. Rich. 

 

 

This was a wonderful way to end a night full of big beauties and their outrageous talents.  As always, looking forward to next year.

So there’s this over-the-top drag queen who got this reality TV show where she dresses the girls up, makes them sachet, work and fight to win America’s Next Top Model… oh, wait… that’s fucking RuPual under that weave! So I guess Rupaul has a reality TV show where a bunch of queens must “lip sync for their life,” I don’t really know cuz I never watched the first season; this is due to a conflict of interest: because there were no SF queens on the show my interest conflicted its way somewhere else, like to a bag of chips or hottie.  But this season there is a great chance of getting some representation: Hoku Mama Swamp!

Hoku is currently hovering somewhere between number 10 and 15 on rupaulcasting.com; she is also the top faux queen in the nation. This is quite an achievement and I wish her the best of luck; she’s hilarious, sexy, retarded and I would love to see her on TV. 

Tiara Sensation hosted Hoku’s Drag Race where each performer had to dress up in Hoku Mama face and lip sync for their lives. I was lucky enough to be one of the performers, although I only had one hour to find a song from DJ Down-E’s CDs, come up with a concept, and rehearse it.  I ended up doing Jimmy Buffet’s “Why Don’t We Get Drunk (and Screw),” wearing a Hoku eye mask, chugging a beer, and acting retarded. I think I did Mama proud.

Other, more seasoned and professional performers such as Lady Bear, Alotta Boutte, Kegel Kater and Mutha Chucka did justice to the name Swamp. Hoku opened the show with “The Man is Mine” by Ike and Tina; this was the first drag number Hoku ever did back in 2003; she brought it back covered in red fringe. Hot!

Mutha Chucka camped up the stage in swamp makeup that looked like a toddler did it.  Chucka admitted that she put a few too many lower lashes in.  I say more more more! The rouge is my favorite part! Go Chucka go!!

Kegel Kater busted out the cowboy hat a mic to parody a Paula Cole ditty.  Kegel’s version: “Where Have All the Hoku’s Gone?” had the crowd laughing.  I spoke with Kegel later and she said that she pretty much ad-libbed the verses. Total props!

Lady Bear had the honor of doing two numbers that night; the first interrupted by Hoku because she thought Lady Bear could do better, the second a dancey house number that had everyone bopping and rolling.  It was a magic moment.

 

Alotta Boutte did a sexy number where she transformed from a dapper gentleman to a sexy burlesque hot mama.  The swamp makeup fit the transition quite well.  Get it girl!

 

Hoku closed the show with Mariah Carey’s “We Belong Together,” sitting in a fake bathtub, dousing herself in water.  This is one of my favorite numbers; it’s sexy, funny and wet.  Hoku jumps out of the tub at the end to mug for the camera. Sheer genius!

 

 

After the show all the girls got into the tub for a little photo session. For real!

 

Soon entering our fourth decade of Madonna, one thing is for certain… Madonna drag numbers will never die, only multiply. The Material Mom has given us so much… well, material to work with. And the queens worked it out hard for a packed-to-the-gills night at The Cat Club.  

After waiting in line for 20 minutes I got inside and immediately lost the group I arrived with, not seeing them again until the next day, typical night out in SF. I downed my cocktail so I could push my way to the stage in one of the most difficult crowds I’ve ever had to push through. At one point some castro queen was like “you’re not moving past me.” I was like “OK.” So I just went around that bitch. When I got to the stage I found a pleasant and remarkably elbow-roomy spot to the left of the stage. I soon found out why as I stepped in some chick’s vomit. For some reason there was a bottle of Visine in the puke. Not sure what kind of dietary needs these Marina chicks have, but I would highly recommend avoiding substances containing tetrahydrozoline hydrochloride. And while I’m musing on barf, I’d like to mention that I thought it was more common for people to upchuck after or even during a drag show (John Waters sees this as a compliment), but BEFORE the show! C’mon lady, keep it together!

Our hostess, Heklina, opened the show with a bangin and hilarious version of “Secret.” Heklina (Madonna) catches her lover (who is of dubious heterosexuality) making out with another man just in time for the line “my baby’s got a secret…” But the real secret has less to do with where her man has been putting his dick, as what kind of VD he’s been covertly passing around. Enter syphilis.

 

 

And how appropriate that Syphilis Diller was the next performer as Heklina was so deft to explain, “that’s why I get paid the big bucks.” This clever way of lining up the acts would reappear later in the show. Syphilis kept the good vibes and excitement moving with “Dress You Up,” featuring Raya Light and Kim Burly as back up dancers. Syphilis’ crazy crimped out hair gave for some fab pics.

 

 

Mercy Fuque and Ben Randle gave us a wonderfully choreographed, strobe lit extravaganza with “Hanky Panky.”  This was the wild card number for me, a total surprise choice of song from Madonna’s repertoire.  

 

Jordan L’Amour packs a wallop with “Burning Up.”  As the number progressed I realized that Jordan looks so much like Belinda Carlyle in her number; I call that 80s legit! 

I love that Madonna did Evita, mostly because it allowed Precious Moments to do this amazing and hilarious number.  The props were great and I loved that she received an Oscar at the end.  I also dig the muffin/cake tin microphones. Genius.

 

Raya Light puts a new spin on “Nothing Really Matters,” playing Madonna as a self-centered, arrogant, plastic surgery and african baby obsessed maniac… oh, wait… nevermind, too easy.  Aside from tossing a baby into the audience and injecting herself with Botox, a piece of fabric goes up near the end of the song only to drop, revealing Madonna’s transformation into Lady Bear!  This was such a great gag!

 

 

Cookie Dough busted out actual lasers for “Ray of Light.” Heklina’s clever performance order put this act after Raya’s number. Retarded fun. Cookie’s light show dazzled the audience and perhaps stunned a few with some unwanted laser light treatment to the eyes.  I think green was a great choice.

Fauxnique’s performance of “Shanti/Ashtangi” involved complex and delicate yoga moves that defied gravity; and all of this aloft a platform supported by a team of strong men. HOT!  She emerged on the stage wrapped in a sari then spun out of it across the stage to the delight of the audience.  The funniest part is when she whips out her pink yoga mat and unfurls it over the platform with a slice of attitude, a riot!

 

Pollo Del Mar finished the show with a supersexy S&M number to “Erotica.”  Pollo’s sex victim gets stripped, blindfolded, bound, gagged and beaten by her and her team of sex kittens.  I like the studded leather paddle and hot boys.  Grrr. There was lots of boy on boy, tranny on tranny action to behold. One hot number!

 

The show was great! There were no slow parts during the performance, everyone brought it hard, and the place remained packed all night with fantastic energy.  Folks were getting their pictures taken in the front room and dancing in the back.  After the show I hung out a little bit, chatted up some cuties, gossiped a bit with some trannies, then grabbed a bacon-wrapped hot dog from the mexican lady out front.  I shared a cab home with a sexy dude and made out with him until I got to my stop. What a great way to end an awesome night.  Thanks Madonna!

Mimicking another queen’s best known performances can be risky, perhaps dangerous if you fuck it up while said queen is nearby with weapon (stiletto, broken bottle, hairspray and lighter, etc.) and a mob of angry groupies. But on one special night of the year a drag queen can impersonate another, for better or worse, sometimes wearing the exact outfit, wig and makeup, and get away with it. That said, if imitation is the highest form of flattery, then Impostors Night at Charlie Horse surely must be the worst… in the trashiest way possible.

Everyone was in great spirits Friday night, anticipating performances from some of our favorites: Chucka, Ferosha, Raya, Playground, Downey, Lady Bear, and Monistat… oh wait… that’s effen Glamamore!  

Anna Conda started off the show cutting a deep one into San Francisco elite socialite tranny, Donna Sachet.  Singing a live parody about herself and making ill-favored comments had me cracking the fuck up. Fierce bangs! I loved it!

 

Even VivvyAnne Forevermore got into the mix with the best non-performance performance as Marcy Playground, leaning stage side, digging into purse, smoking bowl, fixing hair and makeup, getting tee-rashed. Hilare!

   

The best part about Impostors Night for me was being able to have two drag queens in one… 2-4-1, just like the well drink offer between 10 and 11. Yes, plug.

Here’s the breakdown:

Mutha Chucka : I’m pretty sure was Miss Nix, can’t ‘member. I’ll get read for this one. Sorry Chucka (and Nix). ***UPDATE: Chucka told me it was Glamamore. I suck.

Ferosha Titties : Suppositori Spelling

Raya Light : Alexis the Waitress

Downey : Mutha Chucka

Lady Bear : Mercy Faque

Glamamore : Monistat

Highlights include:  Mutha Chucka’s onstage tantrum that resembled a scary frizzed out Bad Seed/Janis Joplin/Stevie Nicks. Ferosha’s retractable brassiere cigarette lighter, scowling fuck you attitude and insane screaming.  Marcy Playground’s drunken dancing with a stuffed snake, resembling a Sister of Perpetual Indulgence… I was deeply confused, but entertained.

    

Raya’s creepy, all too real impersonation/anger mismanagement breakdown of Alexis and subsequent random, but funny, self-flagellation of mustard and strawberry jam.

  

Downey’s resemblance to Mutha Chucka was uncanny; numerous times throughout the night I would catch him in the corner of my eye thinking, oh, there’s Chucka! The best part about the number was that it looked like Chucka but felt like Downey… started messing with my brain.

 

Lady Bear’s rendition of Mercy’s “Top of the World” was priceless. I wish Mercy could have been there (enjoy the pics)… this rare gem of a song just repeats over and over in a boozy helium-fed voice, “I’m at the top of the world, I’m so happy. The tippy top of the world…etc.”  I lost my shit when she goes “I’m at the tippy tippy tippy tippy tippy tippy tippy top of the world…” Lady Bear did not disappoint and I can’t wait to see Mercy’s version.

  

Finally, Glamastat, er, I mean Monimore… Glamamore (my granny) struts onto stage to Siouxsie and the Banshees’ “Hong Kong Garden” with a cheap Chinatown fan and a carton of takeout rice. Her performance included snubbing an offer for a dollar, mugging and other fierceness which were followed by the devouring of the entire carton of rice… with chop sticks.

   

After the show I spoke with Monistat to see what she thought of legendary drag queen Glamamore’s performance. She told me that she felt like she’d arrived.

 

Knowing these queens made the show that much more enjoyable for me, but I could tell that my fellow audience members, whether they are drag hags or not, enjoyed it just as much. Good times!

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• Congratulations to this Year’s Best of San Francisco Winners (sfist.com)

Having low expectations can save you from a lifetime of disappointment, but it often makes you feel like an asshole when some things actually impress the pants off of you. This is Fresno.  

Leaving the gravitational pull of the city, passing through the windmills near Livermore, your mind tends to drift.  Overwhelmed with a sense of adventure, you really appreciate yourself and your fellow travelers… or was it because some tranny train-wreck spilled poppers in the back of the van?

We came upon a rest stop in the middle of Nowhere, CA.  Startling other motorists and truckers which allowed us to have the run of the place.  Although our rest was brief we managed to get some laughs, pics and a tranny march around the toilets to mark our territory (tranny-tory).

 

After traveling for another hour the stench of poppers and nail polish dissipated (this made driving very difficult) so we decided to stop and eat.  Passing Los Baños, an oasis consisting of a Wal-Mart, car dealerships, dead strip malls, Denny’s and string of fast food joints, we pulled into a sprawling parking lot, unloaded and brought drag realness to the locals.  They reacted as if they saw this shit everyday. So we acted accordingly. Nothing makes a Grand Slam with your choice of meat or Moons Over My Hammy go down quite so well as a fruit fizzy and klonopin. Delish.

Arriving at The Den in Fresno was amazing.  Belmont Avenue is strewn with hookers, tranny hookers, pimps, johns, speed addicts, winos, hoochie mamas and homophobic cops.  I felt like I was back in Detroit on McNichols and Woodward. Good times. Realness!

 

 

 

Cisco and Terry, our gracious and generous hosts, made sure that everything went smooth, from club to afterhours to brunch the next morning. And what a booze/tranny chaser selection at the afterhours! Thank you guys!

 

 

Charlie Horse would not be complete without Juanita Fajita’s taco truck.  Bringing fresh meats and cheeses from San Francisco, Fajita starts crockpotting early in the evening to kill any potential swine flu that may have tainted the food.  This is the way they prepare tacos in her native land of Guadalajara, Oregon.  It’s a shame most of the nacho cheese ended up on the floor of the van, then subsequently on the blacktop of the Best Western parking lot.

 

Splat!

The evening at The Den continued…

 

The performances were stellar.  The whole gang of misfits brought it, showing Fresno and ourselves just how special and fucked up we really are…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We cleaned up, packed up and got kicked out of The Den at closing time.  But I was able to get a quick shot of some local gay culture…

 

After the show we all piled into our vehicles and caravaned to Cisco and Terry’s place for a wonderful afterparty filled with liquor and tranny chasers…

 

 

The trip was amazing and eye-opening.  We saw tranny chaser realness, and found fans in the valley.  We found ourselves to be fonts of inspiration for those of the ‘No.  Looking forward to coming back in October, don’t forget to bring poppers.