Please press play:
“FAME: AS TOLD IN A SERIES OF BLANCHE DEVEREAUX GIFS”
On most Saturday nights, I turn to myself in the mirror and say:
But one Saturday out of every month, I get dolled up to work the door at an LGBT-friendly dance party because:
JJs.* While these men don’t want me, they make me feel like a queen. It does wonders for my self-esteem! So this past weekend I worked, danced and posed for some photos before I high-tailed it to the Bovine Sex Club. My favourite band was playing a 2AM show and I didn’t want to miss it. I was in my fur, a purple titmiddles™-exposing dress and my new hair. I was feeling good, I was feeling right and tight.
I arrived at the bar just before the band took the stage, so I shimmied my way through the crowd when I found myself chest-to-titmiddles™ with a strapping man. Neither of us could move any further, so he took a step back and said, “After you.” I almost heard a “m’lady” but it was all in my head. I flashed my smile, thanked him and swooned on by. Please understand this scenario with the same man happened thrice more that night. THRICE!
I figured this was my night. This was a sign. I’m going to make my move. I mean, it’s been so long since I’ve had a real-life encounter with a beautiful man. A beautiful man with manners and style. A beautiful man with manners, style and a chest that would not quit!!!
The band finished their set and I scoured the scene for Chester McMannerson (that’s just the name we’ll go with) when a mohawked man approached me. I didn’t even notice him as I sipped my cider until he backed up and asked: “Do you ever have a hard time hiding when you’re famous?”
Well, he got my attention because what the hell did he just ask me? So I say, “Excuse me?” He repeated himself: “Do you ever have a hard time hiding when you’re famous?” I chuckled, took a more calculated sip of my drink and shook my head. So he continued because my body language was obviously telling him to. *single blink*
Mohawk: “Everyone is recognizing me and I just want to have a good time.”
Me: “At least people know who you are? But I’m not one of them.” *cider sip, look away*
Mohawk: “I’m the bassist in <insert Canadian band name here>. Can you help me hide?”
Me: “Computer says no.”
Somehow I escaped to an unoccupied wall near the back and saw Chester behind the bar. He totally worked there!!! Alright, this was perfect. I would chug the rest of my drink and order another and be charmingly cute and everything would come up Milhouse. I wouldn’t be like a million other girls in this bar who probably hit on him all the time. I’d be different and he’d see that. And…and…where’d he go?! Sigh.
I didn’t realize I was standing directly across from the washrooms, the male traffic was out of hand and I felt right at home. Again, someone I didn’t notice the first time passed me by, backed up and began a conversation. The difference was this dude was super cute and didn’t give me a creepy vibe at all. So…why not, right? I gave him my patented smile and engaged him in conversation. My body said: “I’m interested in what you’re saying” but my eyes said:
Oh HELLS naw!!! Mohawk was back? For reals? The new boy gave me a look like “who is that?” I leaned in and told him that he played in <insert band name here> and he was so very tired of people recognizing him when he just wanted to remain incognito. I ended this statement with the hardest eye roll I’ve ever done (I still haven’t found my contact lens). I felt a tap on my shoulder:
New boy dove in to save the day and told Mohawk it was cool he played in a band and liked some of his songs. Mohawk responded with: “Do you like the song “F*ck Right Off?” New boy was not impressed, words were exchanged and new boy wished me luck AND WALKED AWAY. I took off for new boy when Mohawk grabbed my arm and asked if that was my man. I shook his hand off and read him the riot act. He responded: “So…you don’t have a man? That’s a shame – you’re black and beautiful.”
The rest of the night does not make a difference because Chester never showed his face again and new boy never resurfaced. What I can tell you is this comedy of errors will result in a very definite future for yours truly:
*JJs = Just Jokes