SweetieSays

Thar She BLOWS!!!!

2006-07-21T00:38:00.000-04:00

Wow, it's been so long since I blogged, I feel like a virgin. This past Tuesday had to have been one of the scariest moments of my very scary life. I work on Fire Island on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Tuesday night, I was hosting my weekly game show MATCH GAYM with a rooftop bar full of happy homosexuals. Out of nowhere a storm unleashes itself on Cherry Grove like I have never seen in my life. The wind was so strong and came up so quickly, I honestly questioned if we were in a tornado. Cocktails literally raising off of the bar and flying everywhere, the cash registers trying desperately to take flight. All of this mind you in a matter of what seemed seconds. Then a torrential rain and lightning like I have never witnessed before. The whole sky lighting up and lightning splintering off in more directions than I could count. We were literally trapped with no place to go but inside to wait and watch. As quickly as all of this happened, in the MIDDLE of July, HAIL starts pelting down from the heavens and making the most insane noise as it hit the ground, rooftops and anything else in it's way. This persisted for 2 hours!!! Try looking glamorous with that kinda shit coming down around you!!! Like a good hostess, I scurried all of the patrons to the basement where wonderously, the cozy bar awaited our arrival. A fully stocked bar for a room fullof shaken faggala's in drenched summertime beach togs. Whats a lady to do but initiate a rousing game of STRIP TRIVIA. Old and youngalike sitting nearly naked, drinking their enlarged livers to toxicity levels that boggle the mind and certainly scramble the brain. When it all subsided and the night became still, I tipped back to my little hovel in this modern day Oz, took a shower and climbed my war torn ass into bed. How was your week?????
Love
Sweets

Opening March 23!!!!!

2006-03-12T00:28:00.000-05:00

Can't wait to have you all over at my new digs. I have assembled a merry band of freaks that is gonna work your LAST GAY NERVE!!! DJ's SAMMY JO, TEXXX, AARON ELVIS and COREY TUT!!! My in-house drag darlings Spanky, Noel and Bianca aka THE TURDLES!!! It's gonna be RETARDED!!!!!!!!

Forgive me father, its been nearly a month since I last Blogged!!

2006-02-02T06:08:00.000-05:00

I write this with shame splattered all over my face. How could I do it? How could I be soooo negligent? Yes I heard the whining. Yes I heard the complaints. YES I heard the cries of abandonment, and still I dug my round little heels in and refused to budge. I had what I like to call "blogger's block". God knows my life has been insane enough in the last month to have written a book. I just didn't take the time. Please don't look at me that way!!! I am trying to apologize here!! Oh God, pleeeeeeease take me back and I will be the best damned blogger cyber space has ever seen! MERRRRRRRRCY I scream!!! Oh thank you.
Let's start at the very beginning, it's a very nice place to start........... MY BIRTHDAY!!!! For a dirty old bird who didn't want any hoopla, Jesus did I do a good job of milking it for all I was worth. My actual birthday is December 31, you know New Years Eve. What a hateful day to be born. PLOP!!! "Congratulations, it's a queen". Now let's start the party!! Everyone is soooo goddamned self involved!!! Ok so my birthday is on the last day of the year. Sure there are literally millions of parties going on all over the globe. Well FUCK THEM I SAY!!! It's my birthday damnit! Well I learned looong ago, you can't compete with ol' Father Time. I worked not once but TWICE on my big day. Did what I usually do and pay it nootch and just take the filthy dollars you can rape the straights for where big holidays are concerned. Well I raped the straights AND the gays this year. It was my birthday damnit and EVERYONE was going to PAY!!! ( Imagine a maniacal laugh right now). I did an early party at Splash and then rang in the new year with a bunch of black clad, Prada wearing Euro- Trash at The Thompson Hotel in Soho looking like a crayola box had exploded all over me!! All I needed was a tiny clown car to have gotten out of and the feeling of total humiliation would have been complete. But the money was cute and I was done by 12:30!!!
That was my actual b'day. I CELEBRATED my birthday however on Jan 1 with a handful of cherished friends at Blue Mill Tavern on Commerce Street. Kat Delaney, the genius behind a documentary that I am privelidged to be the subject of, was the perfect hostess. She took care of everything. I just had to show up. Something I usually am not afforded the luxury of. My dinner guests were Mother Flawless Sabrina, Rose Royalle, Nicky LaLa, my dear old friend Ashley, another dear friend and biggest supporter David Gatten and of course Kat who provided me with such a special gift of sharing quality time with friends over great food and fabulous conversation. Her documentary "Charmed Life- Conversations with Sweetie" is in the final stages of editing. It is a brilliant peek into the world of drag and the gorgeous kaleidoscope of souls that keep it alive. She and I have become very close during the process of the filming. I am so excited and a little nervous to see the final cut. It's a big step to open your life to the world. she made it feel effortless. Her love of the "girls" is so genuine. I have worked with so many assholes looking to exploit queens for their own ego trip. Kat is so opposite. She has such a reverance and respect for the queens. I am positive the film will be sheer magic.
January 16 marked my BIG birthday party at Diner 24 where I perform every Monday night. I invited about 50 people and over 200 showed up to wish me well. What a GREAT night of old and new friends. The show was spectacular!! If I tried to name everyone who did me the honor of performing, I am sure I would forget someone. Let it be said it was star studded and every queen turned it out!!!!! The room was filled with beautiful faces that I have come to love so much over the years. I had a ball and actually had time to mingle and chat. I was smart enough to recruit my roommate JB to stage manage the show. The anal retentive Virgo that he is, insured I could concentrate on other things. I recieved so many gifts I had to have help carrying them to the cab. I just WISHED people would include sales reciepts. I hate returning merchandise without the proper documents. LOL What a great night!!!
This past month I realized more than ever just how much I am loved. Not just birthday sentiments, but honest to goodness love. The kind you see in peoples eyes and you feel in your heart. Thats the best feeling in the world. I have made New York City my home for the past 20 years. What an incredible feeling to see so much of my adult life gathered in one room to spend an evening with me. It's extremely humbling. The '06 is looking good so far. I look foward to every new day. It's a great head to be in!!!!

2005-12-25T06:08:00.000-05:00

It is very early Christmas morning. For me Christmas is always a season overflowing with memories. When I was very young Christmas was a time that my grandmother and grandfather would come to spend the night. I spent many nights as a child with them, but it was such a treat to have them spend the night at my house. My grandfather suffered from Parkinson's disease and was very hard to understand because the illness effected his speech. He was good natured and loved to laugh. Alot of times when he would laugh out loud or yawn, his dentures would slip and fall from the top of his mouth. That always fascinated me. He loved my mom's peanut butter cookies with his coffee. My grandmother (Maw) was almost indescribeable. She was truly a character in the best sense of the word. Feisty, outspoken, extremely loving and very indulging. To get me to go to bed Christmas Eve which was much more of a celebration in my house than Christmas day, Maw would come in and sit on the side of my bed. She and I would talk and she would scratch my back better than anyone ever has since. She would tease me and say she was getting the fleas off of me. She would also bring my brothers and I baby aspirins and tell us they were sleeping pills. Kind of funny your grandmother administering placebo narcotics, but it was the 60's after all.
My mother would obsess and work her fingers to the bone preparing for Christmas. We had beautiful honey colored hard wood floors when I was really young, and at Christmas the livingroom was so beautiful with the reflection of the twinkling christmas lights against the floor. My mother would bake about four days leading up to Christmas Eve. My grandmother made something each year that when I think about it now, I wonder how any of us escaped a heart attack. She would make something called boiled custard. A southern thing that you drink that is LETHAL. Eggs, sugar, heavy cream, you name it. It was delicious but a little bit went a looong way. Momma would make cookies and pies of a wide variety. All of us had our favorites and she loved to make sure we all got what we wanted. By Christmas Eve my mom would be so exhausted and short fused, but as soon as everyone would gather and compliment how pretty the house looked and how delicious the food was, momma would get a second wind and finally relax and enjoy herself. From the time she was 16 momma wore a perfume called White Shoulders. Undoubtedly she would get at least one bottle each Christmas. She loved pretty nightgowns and collected music boxes. she was always so easy to shop for. As I got older it was always my thing to get her a new outfit to wear out for New Years Eve. I would always splurge on her and get her beautiful things that I knew she would love to tell all the other women her "baby" had taken the time to pick out for her. I loved making my mother happy. I loved watching her open up gifts. She was a person that was ALWAYS happy with anything that anyone took the time to choose just for her. She was very childlike in that way. My father has never really gotten excited about too much. They balanced each other out very well that way. Daddy was always pretty liquored up by the time the gift exchanging would roll around. He was appreciative but the gift giving thing never really sank in to him. Probably because my mom was the only person he ever really had to buy for and it was usually done with instructions from her. My favorite time would be late in the night after everyone had gone to bed. Momma would always get up extremely early to get the turkey started for Chritmas dinner and it would be just her and I. We would talk about the earlier gathering in detail. Who got what,and so forth. My grandmother would be the next to get up. There I would be, sitting with these two amazing women, loving them both so much. They both would be sitting at the kitchen table smoking cigarettes in their robes. Momma would always have to have something sweet, which would start another feeding frenzy. LOL. I would go to bed about 6am and wake up with the house filled with what I can only describe as Christmas smells. Dinner would always be early in the afternoon. My brother Shawn had collected every wishbone from thanksgiving and Christmas for as long as I can remember. After Dinner the holiday was pretty much over. It was now time to see friends and relax. Momma would usually take a well deserved nap until early evening when everyone would gather again for leftovers. My brothers and their wives and children. Extended family stopping over. People we most often loved to see and LOVED to hate to see other times. After I had grown up and moved to away, I would always have to figure out how to spend tiome with my family AND see everyone I needed to during the duration of my visit. My mom was great with guilt trips about spending time with the family. If I could take back time, I would have definitely spent that time right there at the dining room table. Just sitting around with my brothers and my parents. I would not trade those times for anything.
My mother has been gone for four years now. I made the mistake of going home just once for Christmas since then. I say mistake because the house is so empty without her. I would much rather remember Christmas the way I can, than wade thru the emptiness that is apparent everywhere I would turn. I have had the luxury and curse of not having to be in my childhood home for any extended period of time since we lost my mom. Maybe its easier for my dad and brothers because they are there on a more constant level. Then again maybe its ten times more painful because they do have to walk in and feel the loneliness that the house has so much of since her death. I miss my father and brothers and their families during the holiday, but have to say the pain of visiting my mother at a cemetary instead of at that diningroom table outweighs the need to go home and face that tremendous void. My family has never been the same since my mothers death. There is a distance now that has gone too long I am afraid to be able to fix. I don't know if they can feel it like I do. What I mean is they have wives and children and even grandchildren to occupy their time during the holidays. I feel like where they are concerced, I more or less stand alone looking in from the outside. I used to be so worried before going home. Afraid that things would change, that home wouldn't feel like home anymore. Every time I walked thru that door and sat at that table with my mother, I always was instantly comforted, that home would ALWAYS be home. I keep those memories locked away in my heart. I keep the Christmas I want to hang on to right beside it. It's safe and warm and full of love. Thats what Christmas is to me.

Fighting Back

2005-12-18T19:39:00.000-05:00

It took forever to get a cab Friday night after my show. There I stood in a black lace dress (not very warm), high heels and a short fur jacket. The streets were full of everybody and their momma wanting a cab. I stood on the corner of 54th and 8th ave for almost 20 minutes before moving up to 55th street in hopes of a west bound cab to get me home. If any of you know me, you know the kind of hairdo's I wear for shows. Huge, henna red ringlets blowing in every direction, wind blowing up my dress. It was less than pleasant. To make matters worse 2 straight couples, all very drunk, come walking up. One of the men a total drunken asshole starts some shit with me. I know what I look like. I just stepped off of a stage for chrissake. A big girl in big hair with ALOT of make-up does cause some attention. Look all you want, giggle even, but don't get hateful! The drunken asshole starts screaming at me. I ignore him. Finally after 3 minutes of antagonizing remarks I turn and simply ask the guy why he is so fucking threatented by me standing quietly trying to get a cab? This prompts the human turd to threaten to chew me up and spit me out. The guy was about 6ft4, on the stocky side and full of hate. Like a fool I told him if he wanted to put his mouth on me it would cost him $300. Out of nowhere he charges towards me and literally knocks me into the middle of 55th street. I went BESERK!! I was holding a huge Gucci overnight bag in one of my hands overstuffed with 3 costumes and three pairs of heels. Before I could even think of what I was doing, I swung the bag at the low life and hit him square between the shoulder blades with all of my might. Mr. Big Shot WENT DOWN!!! The other man ran towards me at that point and started apologizing saying the man was very drunk and they were all very sorry. Mr. Drunky Tough Guy starts to get up spewing hate even worse than before. I took off a high heeled sling back, held it firmly in my hand and told him that he got a free shot, I reacted and knocked him down, and if he came for me again I was going to open his head with my heel and his next stop would be the hospital. I was totally prepared to knock this fools head in. I was so infuriated that not only did he take too much time to spew hate at me from the sidewalk, he then became physical AND THEN wanted to do more. He got to his feet screaming that I was insane and needed help as his friends took him by the hand and led him away. Like magic, a cab pulled up and got me safely to my home. I have to say that on the cab ride home I had a sense of empowerment that overshadowed any feelings of rage.

What is it about people that makes them think they are entitled to bring their narrow minded bullshit onto the streets with them? I do NOT buy the drunk thing. You may have less inhibitions if you have been drinking, but that kind of behavior is just plain senseless. Enough about WHY, let's talk about WHAT to do if you are met with this kind of negative bullshit. I say if you are AT ALL ABLE fight back!!! These imbeciles will only feel more relaxed to act out in this way if people passively let them get away with it. I know I acted in a rather reckless way by goading the man with a smart comment, BUT I have just as much right to be anywhere as he does. I am sure when he woke up Saturday morning and felt the remains of that wollop I gave him with Miss Gucci he will think twice before talking shit to a pretty lady on the street. We are living in dangerous days folks. The right keeps closing in on the left. People are spoon fed messages that it's OK to hate other people. It's ok to voice your distaste for other human beings. I think everyone deserves a right to be heard, but you cannot knock someone down on the street JUST BECAUSE you don't like the way they are dressed. If that were the case I would carry a stun gun and zap every badly dressed boob I come across. The West Village would be a heap of fashion violators lying in piles of spandex and International Male distasters. My friends and I LOVE to coment on what we see on the street. We don't become agressive about it however. We all have to band together and send a clear message that acts of violence will not be tolerated. Otherwise everyone is just a sitting duck until they somehow silently piss someone off. Be careful my friends, please be very careful.

Brokeback Mountain

2005-12-09T03:26:00.000-05:00

While it's still fresh in my head I feel compelled to write about this film I saw tonight. I sat with a room full of mostly men at The Chelsea Cinemas for the first showing of Brokeback Mountain. I have to say what I expected and what I got were two very different things. I expected half naked bodies frolicking in the sunshine with the great landscape of Wyoming serving as a backdrop ala some Falcon Video. By and large Hollywood has never been able to, or had the courage to present a true love story about two men without drawing on stereotypical characters and cheesy gay themes. Brokeback Mountain is a moving tale of two men and and a love that spans 20 years of getting married, having children, going thru the day to day routine in seperate states and always secretly longing for the other. These men meet on "fishing trips" over decades, but never spend more than a week together. In the end one is left alone when the other dies in a freak accident. Heath Legers character finding out his best friend and lover of twenty years (Jake Gyllenhal) is dead by a DECEASED stamp in red ink across a returned post card he had sent in hopes of seeing his buddy Jack.

These two men were so thought provoking to me. I have lived my life "out loud" since I was 24, which is pretty late compared to many of my friends. I move thru life surrounded by proud queers who live for the most part safely within the confines of the concrete that makes up Manhattan. On an average day I would have to say at least 50% of my interactions are done with people who live the same lifestyle I do. The other half is done with people who see me and my community on an everyday basis. They might not understand it, but certainly don't chase me down the street with a baseball bat. I have never really had to explain my life to too many people once I stepped up to the plate and owned who I was. The main characters in Brokeback Mountain are quite the opposite. This question keeps coming into my head. Does falling in love with another man make you GAY or simply capable of loving another human being without thinking FIRST about what is between their legs? Being "GAY" is a lifestyle in many ways. I do not believe an individual has a choice in the matter of desiring someone of the same sex. Your brain may try to reason otherwise, but your heart tells you what feels right to you. These men of Brokeback Mountain were not flag waving, freedom ring wearing guys you would see at the parade. They were two men that no matter how conventional they tried to live their lives, HAD to have each other.

I have met so many men in my lifetime that desire other men, but could never commit to living their lives in the open. They could never come clean with themselves or the people around them that they have felt an emotional as well as physical need to be with the same sex. Many need their partner to at least appear as the opposite sex to be ok with being intimate. These men live their day to day routine with girlfriends and wives and children. Their lives are burdened with shame and denial. They carry a secret that they feel is so bad that if they were find out their lives would be ruined. I don't know what living like that must be. I have had an on again, off again love affair with the same guy for nine years. What I wear is not an issue with him. I have always been introduced as his friend, which I am. BUT I am also something much more. His face kept flashing in front of me during the film. I thought how bound he must feel. How heavy his heart must be to never be able to say out loud who he is. I used to try to pressure him. I WANTED him to be gay. I wanted him to say it. How selfish on my part. To him gay is not a life he is cut out to live. IS he gay, or is he simply a man that for what ever reason found another person that he wanted to share himself with? It really is baffling. Why is my desire so strong to live my life in the light and his so secretive that he constantly wrestles in the darkness?

This film is important. Number one is paints a picture of two men in love that are not lisping leather daddy's or drag queens. It is a story of two common men living their lives a million miles from Christopher Street, the East Village or the Castro. They know nothing but what feels right to them. There is a purity to this film that I have not seen before. Jake Gyllenhal is admirable as Jack Twist. This movie belongs to Heath Leger. His portrayal of Enis is so human. Roles like this don't come around often, like stories like this seldom get told. Go see Brokeback Mountain and tell me what you think.

Sweetie's Christmas List

2005-12-08T04:16:00.000-05:00

Dear Santa,
I hope this letter finds you and the Mrs. happy and well. I'm sure you know how wonderful I have been all year. You knew when I was sleeping, you knew when I was awake, bad and good and all the rest of that happy horseshit, lets quit the ass kissing session and get down to business.

For starters, could you run your sleigh over Oprah's self righteous ass? I am sick to death of watching that mug with her eyes on each side of her head, sittin' up in her diamond earrings and Chanel being an armchair mother, wife, gay man, attorney, AND expert on everything else thats going on in the world. She has no clue of what the real world is about anymore. Please Santa, rid her from my television. While you're at it, can you take Tony Danza, Tyra Banks, Judge Judy, Dennis Miller, Paris Hilton, Kathy Griffin, Ant, that screaming asshole from Extreme Makeover Home Edition, Adrian Curry, Donald Trump, and Martha Stewart with her? Thanks Doll.

What I would love to have for my very own is Colin Farrell, Jaime Foxx, Max D'Million from MeatPackers Video, The Gotti Boys (magically ALL over 18 of course), Jake Gyllenhal, Dermot Mulroney, Busta Rhymes, John Cusack, Anderson Cooper, Freddie Prinze Jr, JLo's first ex husband, Vin Diesel, the Mexican guy with the tats and long hair that delivers from Famous Deli, and that HOT Indian dude that took his turban off for me two Sundays ago and showed me his long, beautiful, shiny hair sitting in front of my apartment. These things would definitely make me very good for the next year.

Santa can you please force certain designers to start making their clothes in plus sizes and ask me to be their spokemodel? I will do it for free as long as I get to keep the clothes. Also Santa, please make sure that every shoe store carries up to size 15 for ladies, that way even I can feel like "at least my feet aren't THAT big" as I browse thru the 13's and pity the big footed women around me, hoping that the 15's are cut generously enough for their mammoth tootsies.

Santa I wouldn't be truly good unless I asked for a few things for other people. Please refer to the video of "The Wizard of Oz" that I am sure some of your happy little helpers have hidden in their drawers next to their International Male catalogues. Santa please bring President Bush a heart, some courage AND a brain. Please leave a lie detector at the Cheney's house, and please lift the obsession from Condeliza Rice to always appear as if she has just farted in public.

It's Raining Midgets!!!

2005-11-22T13:54:00.000-05:00

My luck has been bubbling over as of late at SPLASH. As I reported in my last rant, I experienced a tiny little man named Andios who I introduced as my husband. Barely five feet tall with all the bravado of a Latin Inches model. THIS WEEK I had the pleasure of meeting Heather. Heather was a full fledged "little person". The gorgeous part about Heather is she was probably 4ft5 and was everything that Britney and Christina would WANT to be. Heather had a huge head of salon done hair. FIERCE under teased Jennifer Aniston realness in that sexy slide cut style that looks completely messy AND done at the same time. I am talking mounds of thick, glossy hair. Miss Heather rocked lashes, a flawlessly painted face, midriff halter, a belly chain, and low slung trousers that showed JUST the slightest bit of crack in the back. She admitted to me she was out looking for freaky Bi-sexual men. She was in from Long Island where she worked as a waitress at Applebees. This bitch was FIERCE. She moved thru the crowd with complete confidence. I spied her on the dancefloor letting the faggots know who the hell she was!! I LIVED!!!! The down side of the evening is one of the contestants was a ego maniac queen who JUST HAPPENED to mop a gorgeous pair of earrings from me that Rose Royalle gave me as a gift 2 summers ago. She also "borrowed" a CD player that never seemed to get back to me. I will call the little bitch KIESHA because that happens to be her name. I have emailed her, spoken to her directly, and each attempt to retrieve my goods have gone completely ignored. She would show up at my parties and slways FORGET to bring my stuff. My first thought was to be a bitch myself and just CHOP her from the contest. She never had the backbone to even look me in the eye. She was on MY STAGE (I do not book the talent) and couldn't have the decency to bring me what she stole. She has been PHOTOGRAPHED in the earrings (which are done by designers who no longer are in business) I have the matching necklace, but the earrings are hanging on the dried out, ashy lobes of a queen who doesn't deserve the sweat off my tits. If any of you go to Lucky Chengs and see a half baked, Princess Diandra look alike trying to be fierce in a huge pair of round gold earrings, snatch them off of her ears, spit on her and and make sure they get back to me. Just make sure you don't do it to the REAL Princess Diandra who happens to be a sister and friend of mine AND happens to work at Chengs as well. I would give her a titty if she needed it.

THE ULTIMATE DRAG OFF opened last Friday to a sold out house. I had a ball. Most of the show follows a formula, but I get a good amount of improv. time. The audience is not the kind to dig around a dark nightclub after midnight. Good, old fashioned, God fearing theatre audiences. Playing to an audience like that is much more challenging than the peeps who have supported me the last 14 years in almost every club in the rotten apple. This week is a tribute to MaGrandma. I mean Madonna. I will be working a broken rib effect to channel Madge realness. If the show is not already sold out, it is going to be HYSTERICAL. Go to www.DragOff.com , or www.TheaterMania.com for more info and ticket sales.

Thanksgiving is fast approaching. I am working furiously on my home made "holiday season" sweater. I have chosen a Cheryl Tiegs chocolate brown velour number. I have made a three dimensional pilgrim dinner tableaux out of needlepoint and felt. I am having a hard time creating realistic baked yams on that scale. When it is finished I will stitch it to the front. I will wear authentic turkey feathers attatched to roach clips in my hair, and a pair of knee high moccasin boots. I love a theme!! I tried working a Priscilla Alden look last year, but the damned starched bonnet looked terrible on top of three stacked wigs. Puritan chic is hard to pull off. I hope where-ever you spend your holiday, you take a few minutes and truly be thankful. I know on the big scale we dont have alot to be thankful for this year. But if you can get past the war, the death, the deciet, the torture.........look around you, in your "cozy" apartment you can hardly afford. Be thankful for the sky rocketing electric bill, the looming threat of bird flu, the natural disasters tearing the earth apart. Find peace in your Prada sunglasses. Your Abercrombie T's. Snuggle your Ipod and shed a tear of thanks. Show your gratitude by getting barebacked by a room full of strangers at conveniently planned holiday "gatherings" of fucked up souls trying to forget about yesterday and blocking out tomorrow. Raise your Tina pipe like our forefathers raised a glass of cheer. Take a big ol' hit, close your eyes, and wish upon the stars dancing in your head. It doesn't get much better than this. Does it???

Linda Simpson's 60th Birthday Bash

2005-11-18T13:29:00.000-05:00

I don't know if it was actually Linda's 60th, I am merely going on the looks of the old girl, but her party was absolutely fantastic last night. For those of you not in the know, let me tell you a bit about La Simpson. Linda had one of New York's most memorable partys in the early 90's. It was called "Channel 69" at The Pyramid on Avenue A. It was a hotbed of burgeoning drag stars. Misstress Formika, Sherry Vine, Ebony Jett, Aphrodite, Faux Pas and Sweetie, PLUS full fledged drag stars like Tabboo, Mona Foot, Lady Bunny and even Rupaul. The place swelled to capacity each week as Linda in her trademark dryer than an over baked turkey style would take to the stage and emcee one dynamite show after another. Channel 69 was extremely influential in the drag explosion of that time. We were suddenly catapulted from a dingy East Village stage onto televison screens and coffee table books. The media couldn't get enough of us. As fabulous as the shows always were, it was the backstage scene that was always the real deal. Pyramid's dressing room was in the basement of the club directly beneath the stage. To get onstage you had to climb a rickety ladder through a tight little space in the floor. It was insanity. The dressing room was always THE place to get the gossip, network and get a good buzz off of an over abundance opf weed and Linda's private stash of Vodka for the performers. I did my first nightclub performance in drag at Channel 69. I showed up all gussied up and Linda threw me onstage doing Tammy Wynette's hillbilly anthem " Stand By Your Man". The night that truly was magical however was Faux PAs and my first collaboration. It was a full fledged spectacle with intricate choreography, kooky props and even half baked fire works for the ending. The club did not hold THAT many people, but more times than not when talking about my drag career, SOMEONE will no doubt tell me they were there that night when Faux and I brought the house down. Back to Linda. Linda is also editrix of a genuis underground magazine called MY COMRADE. It is a celebration of faggotry with zany articles, photo layouts and posseses a grass roots quality that makes each edition a treasure that you put away and atke out from time to time to re-live. Linda went on to be the editor of the gay and lesbian section of TIME OUT NY magazine and even had a stint as a correspondent on a now defunk queer cable show called Party Talk. Linda is an anchor in the drag community. She is a constant source of support in whatever way she can. She has been responsible for launching many a drag career, has fought a valiant fight for queer and transgender rights and has been a player in rallying the gay community together in the fight against this senseless war and the adminastration that continues to let innocent people die on both sides of the battlefield.

Linda's party last night was at Piola on 12th street. A cute italian joint that didn't know what hit it last night. When Linda pulls a crowd together it is ALWAYS a fabulous mix of almost anybody you would want to chat with. Many a drag star was there last night. Most of us dressed more like Donny than Marie, but there never the less to wish a happy birthday to our beloved Lydia Sampson. The guests represented a cross section of party makers and party goers. Vaginal Cream Davis, Barbara Patterson Lloyd, Tabboo!, Formika, Sherry Vine, Miss Understood, Sultana, Duch, Artemis, The Dazzles and Murray Hill were just a FEW of the performers on hand. There were Dj's and clothing designers, actors and artists. The room was just an amazing mix of who makes this city glitter. I spoke with people last night that I really never get a chance to talk with in a club. Most of the people there are people I have known for a decade but see less and less as all of our careers have become bigger and better. The atmosphere was light and unpretentious. It was a great gathering for a pretty great gal. I wish Linda at least another 40 happy years so we can all gather for her 100th celebration. I just hope she finally has her hair re-done by then.

Confessions of a Negligent Blogger

2005-11-17T12:28:00.000-05:00

I wish I could say I had a good reason for not blogging in over two weeks. When I thought about "SweetieSays" today I was amazed at what has went down since the last time I wrote.

For starters I attended a surreal concert starring latin crooner Jon Secada and the butch lady supreme MISS Ricky Martin. The whole experience was like walking thru a dream. It was sponsored by KTU radio, and was labled as an "intimate evening". I went with my good friend and partner in shameful activity David. What I expected was a room filled to capacity with screaming teenaged latinas. What I got was a half filled room of middle aged Jersey girls who all appeared to have just come from the free buffet at TGIFridays. I learned a valuable lesson on how to go from the office to a concert on a limited budget. Scatterd packs of pitiful Pearls gatherd at The Hammerstein Ballroom, each pack representing their own brand of fashion violation. I was dumbstruck drinking in the sick beauty of a 3some that hung out just in front of the tech booth. Each 80's lady had her own distinct version of painfully bleached, over processed mall hair. I revelled in the fact that each wore her black eyeliner on the INSIDE rim of her beady eyes. Each woman outfitted in ill fitting "Strawberry" sales rack items. It was a gorgeous sight. Anyhoo, Jon Secada was was fantastic! He deliverd each song with ferocious passion that only a hot blooded latino can. He looked a bit yellow in a butter colored sweater against his fading tanned skin, but I was enthralled watching him beat his chest, drop to his knees and bend backward as he deliverd the goods. MISS Martin was a real show pony!! I would lie if I didn't say his performance was electric. It's impossible NOT to watch him perform. When he pulled out a classic southern drag move (the windmill) I almost shat myself. Miss Lady Girl let the audience have it. He drifted between a modern version of Tom Jones and Peter Allen in his physicality. Above and beyond it all, he was fearless.

Early last week while walking my dog I saw a woman killed while dashing in front of a bus on 50th street and 10th avenue. She was trying to get across the street and could not have seen the bus making the turn. Time stood still. I couldn't breathe. My dog who is usually insane on the street stood completely still. He sensed something was terribly wrong. I have witnessed death before. It was on much more intimate terms. I was with my mother when she left this world. As devasting as that was, it was in a hospital room, where sick people sometimes die. Watching a stranger die on the street was a much different feeling. My mind began racing about how her familie's life was now changed forever. In a split second, their world would never be the same. Not going into too great of detail, the poor woman was literally knocked off of her legs. Horrifying doesn't come close to explaining what seeing that feels like. Adrenaline shot thru me in that way that makes a person's face tingle and they become suddenly dizzy from the jolt. The accident happened about 5pm. The street was full. The energy on the street was instantly sucked away as we all stood motionless. A woman on the corner broke the spell be running into the street and broke the deadly silence by screaming for help. Within seconds it seemed the street was blaring with sirens. The bus door opened and a man walked out. I could tell by the uniform he was the driver. All eyes turned to him. His face was expressionless. He stood at the front of the bus just shaking his head. He looked at the broken woman lying in the street and crumbled. What must have been going thru his head. When I finally got my bearings and started to move again, a thousand things flashed in my brain. The woman scattered on 50th street was probably JUST trying to get home. Just trying to pick her child up on time. Just trying to save a few seconds of precious time. I came home and was lost in my own apartment. Watching someone die is indescribeable. I found myself standing in the bathroom looking at my own face in the mirror. After standing there for what seemed forever, I moved very slowly to my bedroom where I laid down and cried like I haven't cried in a very long time.

I have been cast in a film starring Rupaul. I start shooting my scenes this weekend. I was originally submitted for another role. When I didn't hear back, I decided to go straight to the top. I have known Ru for over a decade. We are not close friends. She has come out and supported many of my parties and I have enjoyed some really hysterical converstaions with her. She has achieved the sort of fame with drag that just doesn't happen in this country. I respect her drive. When I did not hear back from the project people, Iemailed Ru and asked if she knew anything about who was cast. I also told Ru that if I did not get the part, I would still love a chance to work on the project on some level. I did not expect to hear back from her, much less in less than 24 hours. I got the most amazing email from Ru saying they had gone in a different direction with the role they were looking at me for, BUT they would be happy to write a role for me. Come on, isn't that FIERCE??? The plot and title are still very top secret. When I can tell you more I will. What I can tell you is I am very thankful that people like Ru are around and able to still push foward. Rock on Rupaul!!

Finally I want to take a moment and shamelessly plug a new off broadway show I open in FRIDAY Nov. 18. It's called THE ULTIMATE DRAG OFF. It is an interactive musical comedy that is part drag show, part sideshow, part gameshow and alot of laughs. There are actually 3 different contestants each week where one will win and two are killed off in hideous ways to be determined by the audience. The set is sooooooo gay I want to barf! I am the mistress of ceremonies, hostess and return each week to take the audience thru a kooky romp of ever changing cast members and weekly themes. Go to www.DragOff.com for more info.

OH and of course I am at SPLASH every Sunday night for TRANNYSHACK NYC. The show is at midnight, but the girls start shaking their moneymakers around 11:30. I have to say this last week was one of my all time favorite nights on stage. I was blessed with an over zealous Honduran midget in my audience. I introduced him to the crowd as my husband. The little guy spoke no english and as cutey pie DJ Ian Ford thru on some Merangue, the mighty little midget shook his bon bon better than Miss Martin could ever dream. What night couldn't be fabulous with drag queens, tranny chasers, humpy gay boys, thrill seekers and a glorious midget as a cherry on top of the cake???

Enough Already!

2005-11-01T06:08:00.000-05:00

Was it just me or did Halloween drag on FOREVER???!!! Everybody and their granny was trying to get in on the Halloween action. My eyes have been bleeding all week as one hateful hag after the next tried a hand at looking cutesy for Halloween. It's like the whole city goes thru some sick infantilism trip. "I'm a widdle girl! Look at my argyle knee-socks stretching to capacity around my tree trunk legs!!!" YUCK! The str8's down the hall had a Halloween party on Saturday night. She was a naughty wench and her hubby a swashbuckler. So edgy and kinky. Whatever. Store bought costumes, a huge lack of imagination, and a horde of testosterone hanging out on my porch swilling beer and smoking because the wench doesnt allow cigarettes in her house. Give me a break. If I am going to be cooped up with 50 losers in cheap polyester turd suits I better damn well get to smoke and plenty! They served sushi and fresh fruit. GAG! Just what I love, a bunch of human lumps spewing beer and sushi all over my nicotine free rug. I also had to notice how sexualized Halloween is for the adults. The lady I see walking her dog every day in sweats, a ponytail and sneakers all of a sudden is taking to the street in whorish feline effects. Why are cats portrayed in fishnets, illfitting bodysuits and come f&%# me pumps??? I have to say tho at least the ladies give it some thought. The guys I saw were absolutely BORING. Wow look, it's a cowboy! Gee Willikers is that Batman?? No honey, it's just a non-thinking asshole. Now move along.

I want Halloween to be scary!! I want it to be imaginative. I want to see blood and glitter and wings! If you have to wear a sexy little lingerie look, AT LEAST have half your face rotted off and maggots coming out of your scalp! Even for people without a lot of brains you can always bring it. I have always wanted to throw a Halloween party and call it simply MARGARET WHITE. How gorgeous to have a whole room dressed as Carrie's frizzy haired momma. All you need is a big cotton nightgown and a fright wig. Volia! You are Piper Laurie at her most gorgeous best. The contest could be who could slap Carrie in the head the hardest with the bible. "Eve was weak! Say it woman!" WHOP!! Of course I would crash the party as Chris McNeil, Reagan's mother in a fierce modified mushroom do', big sunglasses, gauchos, a turtleneck and a huge tumbler of scotch. I could spend the whole night chain smoking and overting my eyes from party guests so they won't see the shiner my little devil of a daughter gave me. Simple, chic and horrifying. I would hire some little brat to enter at the right moment and piss on the rug. Provided it's nicotine free of course! Why didn't some queen pull off a flawless re-creation of Ruth Gordon from Rosemary's Baby?? A perfect look for lets say.......Linda Simpson. Wonder around all night in a caftan trying to unload a bowl of "chocolate MOUSE" on waifish young ladies in Sassoon cuts and babydoll dresses. Get extra points for having Clyde from Every Which Way But Loose dressed as the old husband, and every so often break character and scream "Stop it , you Goddamned Baboon!!!" The possibilities are endless.
Now start thinking ahead for next year!

The Big 4 OHHHHH!!!

2005-10-25T08:55:00.000-04:00

This may come as a shock to my agent and the many guys I have dated, but New Years Eve will mark my 40th birthday. I had actually given it no thought, THAT IS UNTIL friends of mine started doing a countdown of sorts. Age has never been an issue for me mainly because I have shaved a few years off for about the last 5 years. I THINK therefore I AM. I don't feel a day over 36, even 34 on some days. Of course when I started my divine plan of always being 4 years younger, everyone pretty much bought it but my family. I told them, IF I AM FOUR YEARS YOUNGER, all of you can be four years younger. They didn't bite. I am finding it very funny that the only friends making an issue of my upcoming birthday are those bitter hags that have already reached 40 and can't wait to jump me into their gang of hateful fogeys. I DON'T BUY IT. I know I am buying into on some level by lessening my age by 4 years on my resume' BUT that is only because the rest of the fucking planet seems to put so much emphasis on age.
Two of my favorite people in the world are over 60 years old. Mother Flawless Sabrina and Rose Royalle are two bitches that are soooooo much younger than their birth certificates. Rose will outshop, outwalk any queen in this city. Have any of you ever seen Sabrina on the dancefloor??? Weeeerrrrrk lady!! They both have never bought into the whole age thing. I had always said I never wanted to be shaking my ass in a dress after I hit 40. THAT was 10 or 15 years ago. I hope I am mincing around in kicky heels when I am 80! As long as I can still get up and go, this fat ol' heffer is gonna let them have it!! I do experience all the things that any person would when they get a little older. The pathetic part of the whole process is holding a menu at a full arms legnth to see what the hell to order!!! That sucks! This seemed to happen over night. I blame it on too many hours on the computer, NOT the fact that I saw my mother and father do the same damned thing way before anyone could fit a computer into their homes. Besides the little things tho, I feel no different.
Summer before last I attended my first class reunion. I was horrified as how badly time had treated the people I had grown up with. Heads of grey hair, time creased faces, HIDEOUS FASHION SENSE!!! Some of these people at 38 were already grandparents. That shit will age you! I have really lived quite a charmed life up until now. Foot loose and fancy free. That keeps you young. I answer to nobody but ME. I am sure if I had married young, had a house full of kids, slaved at the local factory and broke down my body and spirit HAVING to stoop and shuffle everyday to make sure the family had food and clothes, I would be a mess too. I am soooo thanksful that I have made a living being creative AND pretty. It makes it alot easier to the face the day. It makes it alot easier to face the mirror!!!
I never have treated birthdays with any great cause of celebration. When my mother was living, I always took the time that day to thank her for having me. to thank her her laying a good foundation, to thank her for giving me my life. Now that she is gone, I still have that converstion with her, but its usually in the shower or taking a walk to the store. These days she's more of a listener, but it still gives me alot of comfort. I usually work on my birthday and therefore get to celebrate the new year and not another year for me. I always have a big birthday in the clubs around the 3rd week in January. I usually treat that as way tho of getting all my friends together and breaking the after holiday "stay at home" syndrome. Since I was a kid I have always cried when people sing Happy Birthday to me. It's always a bittersweet day. Its never about the age. For me, it's rmembering people in my life who are no longer there. I also always have a little conversation with God on my birthday. I look at it as kind of signing up for another year. Making a commitment. Asking for guideance in making my next year count even more to myself, to the world. 40 for me is going to be a piece of cake. I think my 100th is going to be hard for me. How does a 100 year old get away with dressing any way but age appropriate? I am sure Sabrina or Rose will let me in on it in about 40 years.
Love
SWEETIE

Dreaming

2005-10-18T05:48:00.000-04:00

Last night I did my regular Sunday night gig TRANNYSHACK NYC @ SPLASH. The energy in the room was great. I moved at lightning speed because I knew the moment TRANNYSHACK NYC was over I had to scoot over to Avalon and perform in the "Women of HX" celebration. The beginning of my night was hurried and crazy. I got to SPLASH just under the wire, but once the show started I felt great. Anyhoo, I had a few cocktails last night which is something I rarely do. My business is the clubs and I have learned thru the years to keep afloat, not to mix business with pleasure. Well last night was my night to howl. I had a cocktail or five and while waiting to go on at Avalon ran into a queen I hadn't seen in ages. She and I were carrying on, talking shit and she asked me would I like a little "booger sugar". I have not done "the devil's dandruff" in forever!!! Don't ask we why, but I took a little toot-toot. Alright I took more than a little toot-toot. That first rush of adrenaline and feeling of false clarity is very satisfying. Kids you have to understand, momma don't do nothin' these days but Diet Pepsi. When I hit that stage, I was on fire. I turned the kids out. I closed the show, hung around for about 10 minutes and headed to my local watering hole to gossip with my girlfriend Miss Ginger. While I was there I had a lovely little beverage called hard cider. YUMMY. I got home about 4:30, worked Craigs List for a little late night lovin', and not finding what I wanted, washed my face and took to the streets. I visited a "social club" and still not satisfied and still feeling a bit "wound up", I went shopping the moment the stores opened. The bad thing about booger sugar is that I can't make up my damned mind. I finally started winding down about 2pm and realized I hadn't eaten since about 6pm the evening before. That is a rarity for this big, buxom beauty. I called my girlfriend Miss Kimberley and my partner in shame David and we decided to go to this genius Chinese buffet in mid-town. I ate a combination of things that could only be described as WRONG. We went for a walk and I headed home to crash. In my darkend bedroom with Oprah gibbering in my sub-conscience as she pontificated from my television, I drifted off to sleep.

Kids I have always had vivid dreams for as long as i can remember. The combination of booze, booger sugar, sleep deprivation and a feast of Chinese cuisine turned me out. I dreamed what seemed like one long, insane dream from the moment my head hit the pillow. Crazy shit that no matter how much I knew I needed to wake up and stop it, It kept on. I dreamt I was sitting in a booth at Renassiance Diner on 9th Avenue. I was having some sort of meeting with a crazy cast of characters. My elementary school principal Mr. Yandian was there. I remember the guy who sells me my NARS cosmetics at Saks being at the table and I am pretty sure Betty White, or somebody who was supposed to be her. I was in full drag and corseted. There is a certain posture you must assume while in a corset that is very unique, especially while seated. We kept talking and talking and very casually I started pulling clumps of my wig out and eating it. Although it was my wig, when I put the gobs of hair in my mouth and started to chew, it tasted like jerk chicken. Or thats what I percieved. I was stunned that my wig could taste so satisfying. I kept thinking not to eat too much of it or I would be at the meeting with nothing but a nylon wig cap. The feeling of being too conspicuous came over me a I noticed the Betty White lady looking at the side of my wig that I had been eating from. I got up and ran from the table trying not to trip over my wedding dress that flowed out everywhere from under the booth. I had to exit quickly without tripping over all the material. I ran into the back room of the diner and all of a sudden I was in what seemed like either a huge army barracks or a shelter I had seen in a newscast of Hurricane Katrina. I felt very uncomfortable being in the brightly lit room with a full face of make-up, wig and wedding dress. I looked around the room and decided the best bet was to take off the wedding gown and try to look somewhat casual. As I made my way thru the rows of bunkbeds now completely nude but still painted for the back row, DJ Johnny Dynell raised his head off of a pillow from a top bunk and asked what I was doing there. I blurted out something about being there to make the jerk chicken. Poof! I am now out of drag and in a big kitchen filled with angry Jamaican women all screaming at me to hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!! there were live animals all over the kitchen. Not exotic animals. Chickens, cows, and mean little pigs that kept pushing past me and almost knocking me off my feet. The women's accents were all very heavy and they were all screaming that time was almost up. It dawned on me I needed something very important to finish, but couldn't remember what it was. I stood there like a deer in the headlights. I woke up suddenly, my head completely off my pillows and my dog Jasper sitting where my head should be and his tail wagging across my face. It was dark outside and Jimmy Kimmel was now on the TV.

There have been times in my life that a dream has lingered. That during my waking hours I would replay the dream over in my head trying to understand it. The dream is as fresh right now as it was while I was experiencing it. It will be a long, long time before I decide to act like a party girl again. I do wonder however if my hair dresser Miss Shannon steams out my wigs with chicken stock. I will have to ask her.

Love
SWEETIE

Hell's Kitchen is Twitchin'!!!

2005-10-16T07:58:00.000-04:00

I live in Hell's Kitchen in the 40's. Because I have a dog, I get to see alot of the neighborhood at any given time of the day or night. I don't know what this neighborhood is going thru, but you can't swing your pocketbook without hitting one GORGEOUS guy after another. I lived in the East Village thru most of the 90's and grew sooooo tired of that clonish white t-shirt, Dr. Martin boots, tight levi's and crew cut. It was cute for ablout a year, but it took on a sort of uniformity that was a little nauseating after awhile. Faggots are known for being colorful souls, LIVE a little. Hell's Kitchen is literally overflowing with every kind of queer your heart or butt could ever desire. Just today I passed aged queens in khaki's with sweaters around their necks walking their precious , overly groomed pooches. I saw unwashed, dreadlocked skate board fags standing on a corner with their arms around each other and smiling in the sunlight. Tight butted ,braodway dancer boys gliding gracefully on crowded sidewalks. Leather daddies in motorcycle vests , hip chained wallets and cowboy boots. Thugged out Latino papi's in baggy velour sweat suits with braided hair, goatees and juicy pink lips. Afro-centric brothers with wonderfully wooly hair walking hand in hand with an Asian daughter who's hair was as shiny as black satin. Hell's Kitchen has it working overtime!!!

I live for diversity across the board, but have to say a street teeming with diverse queer culture is a glorious sight to behold. My building has many a gay boy, a few drag queens and a host of lesbian couples. Ok the lezzies spoil the soup a little (just kidding). It is actually painful to leave my building looking like shit. I have selected outfits I wear for walking Jasper. I have taken to the simplicity of black. Well black with silver accents. I love to walk my baby in a black hoodie, black pull on pants, black hat and HUGE Dior silver sunglasses. They are actually obnoxious, but are sooooo forgiving when you have shaved eyebrows and do not feel like starting your day with a brow pencil. It's plain enough to move thru the streets, but cute enough that if I get clocked as that glamorous lady who often times emerges from my building, it's not quite so shocking for the uneducated soul that assumes I have my face painted and my hair done 24/7. I run into ALOT of people I know. In one day standing on a corner with my girlfriend Ashley I ran into DJ Texxx, Destiny, Eve Starr's husband Paul Loesel, an ex- fuck buddy, and at least 5 people that knew ME, but I had no idea who the hell they were. This is within 20 minutes. I love this neighborhood. And cruising shouldn't even be called cruising in Hell's Kitchen, it should be called "walking to the deli".

If you are a fag, a queen, or something in-between, come on over to Hell's Kitchen and enjoy the fab restaurants, great bars, and succulent scenery that will make you want to move here immediately. BTW, the park on 52 and 11th ave is extremely "friendly" around mid-afternoon. Take your puppy, drag your cat, put your fucking fish in a bowl and have a seat on the many benches that surround the public restrooms. The guys are soooo chatty in bewteen "potty breaks". I haven't ventured into the loo myself yet because Jasper is pee shy. I just sit there behind my huge Dior shades and watch the circus go by.

Love

SWEETIE

Motown Memories

2005-10-14T07:15:00.000-04:00

I have recieved so much email commenting on my stories on suburbia and growing up. I just wished you heathens would comment on the blog instead of emailing my tired ass. I rustled inside my dittybag and decided it might be fun to explain how my friends and I escaped the burbs and found our kicks amidst the shit encrusted, burned down streets of MOTOWN.

Detroit was a dying city in the 80's. Nobody went to Detroit to play unless you were really looking for a hardcore taste of night life. MMM MMM Good!!! I guess I have to introduce you all to the cast of characters that I hung with. You have to understand, everybody I ran with by all appearances were good kids. We were all above average in intelligence, participated in theatre and choir and yearbook. Squeaky clean teens that were absolutely twisted at the same time. We all longed for excitement and somehow found each other. One of my best friends at the time was Shannon. Shannon NEVER spoke when I first spied her in choir class. Shannon was working a modified Jacklyn Smith hairdo and favored color themed outfits sometimes with a matching headband. She had the purple ensemble which consisted of purple cotton, pegged leg harem pants, a purple gauze blouse with purple china girl shoes. She had her military inspired olive drab look. I could go on forever, but please understand these were OUTFITS. Shannon was not a tiny girl, standing at about 5'10 and weighing well over 200lbs. She was painfully shy and wore these huge 80's glasses that constantly slipped down her nose. We became friends on a choir field trip to Williamsburg Va. The moment we met, she in 11th grade and me in 10th, I had an instant connection. We had somehow known each other forever. Shannon to this day is hysterical in the most cerebral of ways. Thru the couple years of high school she came out of her shell and became THE party princess of our group. Miss Shannon knew how to party. She would roll joints that looked more like something out of a Cheech and Chong movie. I remember Shannon going thru her "Egyptian Earth" phase. It was a jar of rust powder that served as blush, eyeshadow and when mixed with vaseline, lipgloss. Her father was a teacher at our High School, so Miss Shannon's behavior was very much on the DL. Russell was a guy I met in acting class. Tall, lanky with bright red hair that could recite full episodes of "All In The Family". A funny, funny , dry witted guy who would clear the dancefloor when Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out For a Hero" would come on. He would flail about, drop to his knees and gyrate like a freak!! We would almost go thru the floor when he would get the spirit. Russell was once called an "encylopedia of useless knowledge". He knew things that no human should know. Brian who is now known as Kimberley was a guy we met in choir and theatre. He was the ring leader usually for our jaunts into the darkside. He was the only one of us who was in student government. A black sister trapped in the lily white suburbs BUT knew his way out. Carol was a chick who went to our rival high school. A princess and wild child. Bleach blonde, buxom and a slave to fashion. She dated an Arab and was a sexual revolutionary. Carol would turn up at White Castle at 5am in head to toe Norma Kamali complete with roman sandals, huge shoulder pads and 80's head wrap and wonder why people were staring at her. Carol was fearless!! Ken was in theatre and choir. He was the most passive, but certainly was a kid who needed to let his hair down. Ultimately I would move to NYC with Carol and Ken in 1985.

Brian turned us on at 16 to our first gay bar. CAFE GIGI's!!! This was a dump if ever there was one. A magical dump tho, where fags and dykes, drag queens and cross dressers would all mix together. The drag at Gigi's was FIERCE. The two ruling queens were The Lady T. Tempest and Vanessa LaSalle. Totally different from one another and truly brilliant. Tempest was hard as nails. Big, black hair, heavy paint and a filthy mouth teetering on 5 inch stiletto heels. She wasn't more than 5'5 but was a giant on stage. Vanessa was the ACTRESS. The girl could steam roll an audience with her ballads. Saturday night was the drag shows. I saw a tranny snake charmer there one Saturday night. I was amazed. The cast of queens would change but the stable of girls was pretty locked in. Renee Peters, Caress Gently, Michelle Lee, Rosilyn Delight JUST to name a few. Gigi's was about 25 minutes from where we lived. It was in a rough neighborhood that made you very nervous if you couldn't get a spot in the bull dyke patrolled parking lot. The doorman was a total bitch named Ray. Older queen with glasses and too much attitude. He knew we were under-age, would always let us in but sometime could put us thru it. Our drink of choice was Fuzzy Navels. BLUCK!! We would get tore up on sweet liquor. Our lives consisted of sleeping late, going shopping, and dancing the night away. Oh, and smoking a ton of weed in between. Gigi's had two floors. The drag shows were always in this very dank basement that would be completely packed every Friday and Saturday night. We would spend hours getting it together. Shannon could put on more make -up than any queen I have since met. We would have to tell her we were leaving at 8 to get her out the door by 11. And if she got stoned before, FORGET IT. When Miss Shannon came out of her shell, she dyed her hair fuschia, and had every tragic 80's haircut in the book. We would show up at the club in our best New Wave mall ensembles. I remember going out to a punk club one night and wearing a long skirt, a "Save the World" t-shirt with black calf legnth sandals. DEAR GOD NO!!!

A bar I will NEVER forget was called The Gas Station. It was in one of the worst neighborhoods in Detroit. It was on Woodward Avenue which was basically prostitutes and cheap motels scatterd in between bullet proof glassed check cashing places and rib joints. The Gas Station was about as seedy as you could get. You entered thru a back door and as soon as you hit the inside the smell of sweat and poppers consumed your senses immediately. The fierce thing about this bar was you danced in a pit. The bar caterd to hustlers and tranny's and was very black. Fierce black fags getting down to Grace Jones and Diana's "I Want Muscles". The place was always 500 degrees and we would leave drenched. Next door to the bar was a dispicable after hours place I can't remember the name of.

I remember on Russell's 18th birthday we sat behind a fierce gay disco called Menjo's. It was beautiful in an 80's way. Black lacquer, pin spot lights and lots of African violets. We never made it into the club that night because as we sat behind the place , we smoked a whole bag of pot in Russell's orange Chevy we called the Bat Mobile for some reason. We were so stoned we could not get out of the car. One of those instances where I could have literally spit cotton out of my mouth but was too paralyzed to go someplace and get a damned drink. We looked like our eyes were bleeding. Russ had gotten so whacked he started talking shit that we would never get home alive and would end up in a Nancy Reagan "Just Say No" commercial. He really knew how to ruin a car load of stoner's head's. I remember not being able to see other people's faces because the smoke was soooo thick in the car and we didn't dare roll down a window as it was January in Michigan. Russell was too messed up to drive and his big boat of a car was crammed with too many people. Brian decided he would drive and on the way home wanted to know JUST how fast the car would go. We took a turn on the highway doing over 90 mph and blew out a tire. We GAGGED!!! The car spun out of control and I thought Russell's prophecy was going to come true. Somehow we ended up off the highway in some grass. Once the car finally STOPPED, none of us could stop laughing EXCEPT for Russ who by this time, was crying his eyes out. The sorry part of the whole thing is NONE of us knew how to change a tire. NOBODY. An old geezer stopped and offerd to help. Little did he know we ended up standing behind him giggling like goons as the poor old guy changed our tire for us. How we weren't killed still amazes me.

Another time after way too much of EVERYTHING ,we decided to go over to this queens "house" named Benson. He actually lived in a flop house inhabited by drunks and derilects somewhere by Tiger Stadium. There had to be 10 of us in a tiny room with Culture Club's first album BLARING. We were all loaded and having a grand time. Benson's mom was a Pentecostal preacher and he was demonstrating the art of speaking in tongues. That is until the door was knocked off it's frame and standing on the other side was a mob of crazy alchies holding bottles as weapons and screaming that we were all faggots and about to get the shit beat out of us. While Benson menaced back with a bar bell the rest of us escaped thru a window and down a fire escape. We took Benson to the police station to file a report with him wearing a women's 1950's cloth coat, pillbox hat, huge clutch purse and black stretch pants. This get up on a man that was a dead ringer for John Candy. Oh the good ol' days.

One New Years Eve Shannon rented a suite at The Hyatt Regency hotel. It was a very chic affair with hand deliverd invitations that rained mylar confetti when they were opened from their black and silver tubes. I think I was just turning 17 that night. Carol and I got completely annihalated on champagne with full bottles with us, and decided to lock ourselves into the bathroom. We wouldn't let anyone enter unless they knew the password. Hours went by. How could they not guess a simple password like RUMPLESTILTSKIN???? I will never forget finally coming out as the sun was starting to rise and seeing this sea of youth lying asleep in front of me. Even in my champagne haze, I knew I was looking at a site I would remember forever. Beautifully dressed young men and women sleeping peacefully on couches and chairs and floors. Not a care in the world. Life was so simple then. So uncompromised.

When I think about that period of my life, I can almost smell Shannon's OmbreRose perfume that clung to her clothes and funky wool cape. I can still feel that syrupy, heavy feel of smoking pot and giggling for hours. Looking at life thru blurry eyes. The warm, flushed feel of sitting in heated cars with the snow blowing outside. Falling asleep entwined with friends, not having anything to do the next day, but look for a new adventure. Hours on the phone discussing what to wear, where to go, how to get Shannon there on time. Gliding on the highway with "Pillow Talk" winding down on WNIC, or The Electrifying Mojo turning us out with the perfect Prince tune........................ Drifting off to sleep knowing the other kids at school would never believe where we had been, what we had touched.

Cynthia Rose, You're a LADY!!!!

2005-10-12T06:15:00.000-04:00

I have mentioned one my best friends while growing up. Her name is Cindy and we truly were each others saviours. We were these two odd birds that would go almost to any legnth to amuse ourselves amidst the mediocrity that prevailed in suburban Michigan in the 70's and 80's, before we could actually drive and escape. I was so happy when thru this BLOG, Cindy reached out, commenting in a couple of code names I immediately recognized as my dear old friend. She left me a phone message today saying how my writing had reminded her of us growing up and how much she missed me. I miss her too. I miss the innocence and wonder. I am so grateful to have had a soulmate that understood me. A partner in crime when the world was less complicated.

Cindy's house while growing up was a blast!! Her mother Jeanette was easily vexed and Cindy would take ultimate pleasure in making her squirm. Cindy's mother held onto EVERYTHING. Because after all it would one day be an "antique collectors item" . Cindy was the last of 5 children AND the only daughter. There is a huge difference in age between she and her brothers. The brother closest in age is who I remember as Dickie. I know he is now Richard, but he will always be Dickie to me. Dickie wasn't just gay, he was GAAAYYYY!!! He smoked Eve 120 cigarettes, had a permed afro and wore jumpsuits of his own design with platform clogs! He blew my mind! He drove a vintage candy apple red MG convertible. He played the piano beautifully and had a Cher doll perched on the top that would change outfits from time to time. He was a complete rebel in the most delicious sense of the word. Tried to sell Avon, skipped school, ran away from home with his best friend Jeannie. Jeannie was a bleach blonde who lived two doors down. She drove a midnight blue camarro, had huge tits and got pregnant at 16 by a MEXICAN!!! Jeannie and Dickie were total terrors. They would hitchhike to New Orleans at the drop of a hat. We had a neighbor who lived across the street named Mrs. Wright. A bitch if ever there was one. Dickie and Jeannie LIVED to torture her. Anyhoo before I get lost on the family, let me tell you a little about Cindy. Cindy was the type of girl that HATED getting her hair brushed, hated getting up in the morning, and truly walked to the beat of her own drummer. She was always years older than her age. An old soul if ever there was one. A brilliant child, years ahead of herself intellectually. She also had a sense of humor that teeterd on the insane. Her mother who longed for a proper little lady would have complete meltdowns as Cindy would feign a seizure, fall to the floor and claw at her crotch. Her eyes rolling back in her head and gnashing her teeth. Jeanette would scream "Cynthia Rose, your'e a LADY!!!" Cindy and I would absolutely howl. We would spend literally a full day making prank phone calls. NOT the typical prank calls mind you. We would call the only Xrated movie house for miles and carry on provocative conversations with the slobbering goon on the other end. We would get on chat lines at maybe 10 or 12 years old and talk freely about the joys of nude cowback riding to anyone who would buy our underage lunacy. We were so bored in our surroundings we spent hours on end pretending to be Farrah Fawcett and Lee Majors. Of course it was always the most fun when I would be Farrah. We had a daughter Farrah Junior who we would dress in snazzy outfits because she was a child model like Brooke Shields. Farrah Junior was actually a doll with a head full of thick hair that we would slut up by putting blue pool chalk on her eyes. Cindy and I took up ceramics one summer and would literally DIE when we had to come in contact with the old fucks that ran the ceramics place. Hiding behind shelves and crying at the old woman's retarded hair do. We called her Sweaty Betty Bob Dot. We would repeat it over and over again, each time getting more manaiacal. It was if we sufferd from OCD. We had secret sayings and words that only we knew the meaning of. She was one of those friends that can only come once in your life. We would walk around our neighborhood in the hot summer evenings and never grow tired of each other. Never run out of things to say. Never grow weary of the others entertainment.

As we got older, of course the hormones kicked in. I remember getting caught on the couch with one of Cindy's girlfriends. This creepy girl named Elizabeth with some crazy thyroid condition that made her look kind of like a female Marty Feldman. Pop eyes and all, I fell for Elizabeth and Cindy's basement which was always a retreat for us now became the official make-out room. I was in 8th grade and Cindy a year younger. I will never forget Cindy's mother coming into the room and catching Elizabeth and I groping on the couch with our tongues down each others throats. She did not go ballistic as I had envisioned but said simply that it was time that I go home. It was not that easy tho, when Cindy had a halloween party and my girlfriend at the time Michelle and I were discoverd dry humping in Cindy's laundry room. As we got older Jeanette's grip on Cindy tightend. She was hell bent on Cynthia Rose being a good girl. BAH!!! Miss Cindy did a little entertaining in that basement of her own. I think his name was Billy Blunk or something like that. Jeanette's good girl was wanting to go bad! I had always felt like Cindy was my sister in alot of ways. I remember that feeling of betrayal when I knew someone else was taking up her time. Someone that offerd something that I could not. We reamined friends thru Junior High. Not as close, but always comfortable in knowing the other was just down the street when we needed them. Cindy was someone who I spent every day with for as long as I can remember. I got alot of heat at times for being friends with a "girl". I would hang out as well with a boy down the street named Billy Gragg. Talk about bad seeds. This kid was a lunatic. He used to poop behind people's garages!!! POOP!! Oh yeah he was also Jeannie's little brother. His parents both hit the bottle and HIM alot. I saw Billy when my mother passed away 4 years ago. I hadn't seen him once since I moved to New York. He used to get into fights as a kid and use a dog chain as a weapon. Verrrry butch. Verrrry crazy. He did things I would NEVER think of doing. He shop lifted. Vandalized buildings. He dropped out of school in like the 8th grade. He is now a grandfather, an ex-convict and still lives at home with his father. PRETTY.

Cindy and I discoverd so much together. We read constantly, and would exchange books. Books that 12 year olds had no business reading. Very adult novels. Of course we also read our share of Judy Blume. I thought of Cindy recently when I was asked to read passages of "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" at a literature series hosted by TWEED theatre here in NYC. I remember Cindy in her Toni Tennille stage. She worked a mushroom hair do like nobody else could. She also had that 80's poodle perm that she would wear with her Gloria Vanderbilt jeans and velour sweater. Cindy and I took acting lessons together. We were on the Forensics team together. We appeared in Elementary School in a talent show together. We had originally auditioned with me lipsyncing to Shaun Cassidy with her in the role of "back up dancer". That idea was nixed so we did a skit where she was "Gossiping Gladys" and I played an escapee from a mental institution. It was high art in 4th grade kids. Cindy now lives in San Francisco, is happily married to an independent film maker and has a beautiful son named Elliott. We have known each other for well over 30 years and still find each other in the world every few years. When we talk, the locations may change, the cast members different, but it always feels so good. Cynthia Rose if you are reading this, I hope you know what a tremendous part you played in me being me. With you my imagination could never go too far. You always dreamed right alongside of me. I would love to see you, hold your son, find out who the man is you love so much. I think of you so often, especially with Autumn in the air. If you were here I would make a big pot of Michigan Chili and we would settle in for a nice long talk.

Ok, MOVIE! 4 words in the title! STAR? (As Cindy lays on the floor and simulates birth at a birthday party while her mother watches in horror. She demonstrates something immerging from her vagina ) A STAR IS BORN!!!! Our team wins!!! I love you Sarndy Warndy Parndy Scarndy!!!

Love
SWEETIE

LOGO in Slow-Mo'

2005-10-10T07:31:00.000-04:00

I have watched LOGO every day since I found it on my cable. In that time I have to say the programming SUCKS. I have heard that they made a conscious decision to do a slow opening. It is said they wanted to spoon feed middle America the notion of a cable station devoted to queers. Ok, Ok, but seeing as Hollywood is run by sissies, I am appalled at the film selections they have chosen to show in CONSTANT rotation. How many times can you watch "The Birdcage"? Still I watch because I feel we have to support something so monumental in our visibility to the world. I think we should all watch LOGO and see how it evolves. The most impressive part of LOGO are the documentaries they have shown so far. LOGO has also done some very impressive things with the time they have between films. I have seen Varla Jean Merman do a hilarious gay history lesson in about three minutes put to music. It really is genius. I also love the visual blips of gay couples as babies, children, teens and finally adult couples. It paints a great picture that we are simply the same kids that come from EVERYWHERE. F to M transsexual Ethan Carter has a brave recurring moment where he is shown with his girlfriend. Shot after shot appears on the screen of two little girls and the final shot is Ethan and his girl in a tender embrace. It's mind blowing that that kind of love is being celebrated on national television. There are great moments on LOGO, but they are few and far between.
One of the WORST programmng choices on LOGO is a show called "Open Bar". OY!! It takes us into the life of a man who came out extremely late in life who chooses to suddenly open a gay bar in West Hollywood as a statement to his committment to his community. I seriously do not see any interesting characters in this program. They are constantly stressed out, constantly bickering and constantly reinforcing the stereotype of the tempermental faggot. I am looking foward to the future of LOGO but the programming people have to step on the gas.
I have watched The Indigo Girls, Erasure, Melissa Etheridge, Morrissey and Queen til I want to puke. They are just so damned pedestrian. I know we all own their music. I also know they certainly have a place in our history. Lets move foward!! I say give America a Kiki and Herb concert. Why isn't Lisa Jackson being courted by LOGO for a big gorgeous live show? They show The Scissor Sister's video 'Take Your Mama Out", which I commend, but let's see Jake and the gang really get down in a live performance. Queers dominate every creative aspect of the entertainment industry. Lets take the stick out of our asses and set this country on fire with just exactly WHAT we can deliver as an alternative cable station.
I have always had a dream of hosting a "Oprah" type show where queers are viewed as the norm and all of the hateful, conservative right are seen as the underdogs. What a glorious platform to actually look in at different people and get a more accurate view of who we are. I would love to see a talk show that actaully TALKS about queer issues and experiences instead of shouting about them. A relaxed atmosphere where a whole nation can see us on our terms. Even groups that we may see as damaging to our cause. I have no support whatsoever for groups like NAMBLA. I will say however that it would make dynamite television for them to be put in the hotseat by their own community and not people who hate all faggots not to mention an extremist group like NAMBLA. Much of the country view ALL queers as pathetic perverts who prey on the innocence of children. What a fantastic way to explain that the majority of queers are just as confused and upset by NAMBLA's views as the straight world. I would not want the public lynching style format of Jerry Springer or Montel Williams. I would love to see a show that lets a person paint a picture of who they are in their own words instead of leading questions or set ups for screaming matches. The possibilities are endless in topics that have been exploited since the onslaught of sensational talk shows. Instead of showing Tranny's as clowns and hookers and undesireables, why not do a show dedicated to the legions of men who are married or live by all accounts "straight" lives, but can't wait to get a poke in the caboose by a shemale before going home to Long Island to have dinner with the wife and kids. THAT is certainly not a story we have seen before. It takes two to tango right??? LOGO give a girl a break. Enough of the fluff, let's get down to business!

Love
SWEETIE

If It Ain't Broke.........

2005-10-08T07:33:00.000-04:00

As much as the world views queers as the ultimate trend setters, I also happen to think we can also be the most nostalgic. Speaking for myself, I am always hungry for something new, something exciting, something to peek my curiosity. I also am one of the worst creatures of habit one could ever come across. There are certain treasures that I have found in my life that I return to time and time again. A favorite album...I mean CD, a favorite film, a favorite book. I just recently bought ANOTHER copy of Laura Nyro's amazing teaming with LaBelle on "Gonna Take a Miracle". This has to be my third or fourth copy because I always end up lending it to someone to listen to and never seem to get it back. What an amazing recording. Laura Nyro like so many of my favorite singers does not have what is viewed as a beautiful voice. She is much more an interpreter of music, and with the powerhouse vocals of LaBelle behind her, how could she go wrong. Certain cuts on the CD are so fantastic I keep my repeat button working overtime. The CD is homage to the pop music that came out of The Brill Building as well as Motown in the early years. The first two cuts are so diverse from one another. The CD opens with "I Met Him on a Sunday" complete with hand claps, intricate harmonies and an effortless energy that makes me smile every time. It is followed immediately by "The Bells", a lush ballad that just soars with Patti Labelle taking an amazing turn as back up singer. She compliments Nyro's voice in such a breathtaking way. The fourth cut "Desiree" is a heartbreaking love song that lasts a mere 1 minute 50 seconds and goes places in that short time that are nothing short of mesmerizing. The CD's title track "It's Gonna Take a Miracle" is featured as the closing song in a great movie I just saw on HBO called " A Home at the End of the World" starring Colin Farrell, Robin Wright Penn and Sissy Spacek. This recording debuted in 1971. If you haven't heard it, you owe it to yourself. Please don't ask to borrow mine tho, as I know I will never get it back.

Another amazing CD I just keep going back to is Tom Waits "Closing Time". Another unconventional voice that can make you laugh and break your heart all in one song. The first time I heard Tom Waits' voice was on a duet he did with Bette Midler called " I Never Talk to Strangers". His Lucky Strike and whiskey voice caught me immediately. I bought "Closing Time" on the recommendation of a guy working in a record shop on the UofM campus in Ann Arbor Michigan. His songs "Martha" and "I Hope I Don't Fall in Love with You" are two of my all time favorite songs. He is one of the few male vocalists that can deliver a ballad with the same understanding and tenderness that many female vocalists do with ease. It was when they still sold albums and I know someplace at my mom and dad's house the scratchy LP still exists alongside my first copy of Bette Midler's "The Divine Miss M". I was turned on to Bette by my best friend growing up Cindy's "colorful" older brothers. I remember playing with Cindy in their backyard and hearing "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" blaring out of a bedroom window. Not more than a year later I watched with Cindy and her family during summer vacation Bette perform on a Rolling Stone Magazine TV special. She did a song called "Paradise" that would ultimately become one of my favorite songs to perform. I begged my mother to let me watch Bette's own television Special called "Ol' Red Hair is Back". My mother thought I had lost my mind as at 10 years old I sat in astonishment as Bette and her Harlettes belted out oldie after oldie spanning from the 40's to girl group ditties that I had no history of whatsoever, but knew I was watching and hearing something amazing. At first glance my mother thought Bette was a vulgar pig humping the microphone stand and shaking her ass around the stage. Later my mother would take Cindy and I to the opening night of the Michigan release of " The Rose" in 1979. That night cemented my love affair with Miss M. She somehow spoke a language that I completely understood. Bette has become such a gay cliche' but at such a young age I only knew what appealed to me. Her music moved me in ways that nobody else did or could for some time. I remember the first time I ever heard her cover of The Carpenter's "Superstar", it was as if I was listening to a completely different song and I had heard Karen Carpenter sing that song a million times on the raidio. When I heard Bette's version I somehow understood. Over the past decade I have found the same understanding in Nina Simone and as I turn a sickening shade of pink I have to say Judy Garland. I NEVER wanted to like Judy Garland. I had been urged for years to listen to her music. I thought if I did I would for sure start collecting Barbra Streisand memorabilia and reciting Bette Davis movies. Thank God the only side effects I would suffer would be hours upon hours of discovering some of the most important music I would ever come across. Judy's version of "Danny Boy" makes me cry EVERY time. The lady sure knew how to bring the house down AND tear your heart out.

Three films I have never been able to go a year without seeing are "Norma Rae", "Coal Miner's Daughter", and "Silkwood". I can draw so many similarities in each film, but each has such a unique story and casts that can only be assembled once in a lifetime. Sally Field's performance in "Norma Rae" is brilliant. I have to say tho, it's the supporting cast, the workers in the textile mill that have been imprinted on my brain. The small roles in that movie are all so strong, so important to the film. I read the book "Coal Miner's Daughter" years before it ever became a movie. My father grew up about 20 miles from where the book took place. He and Loretta Lynn shared the same school teacher. The film version paints such an authentic portrait of the places I went so many times as a child. Places that my suburban friends could never imagine. It was so well cast and the story so pure and American. "Silkwood" falls right into the same vain. It's portrait of the working class made such an impression on me. Karen Silkwood's phone conversations with her mother were so authentic, deliverd effortlessly by Meryl Streep. Cher turned that movie out in such great style. Her portrayal of Dolly, a home grown dyke trying to find her way in a hetero world was done with such honesty. Work I have never seen Cher reproduce again. She is so naked for the camera. The scene between Cher and Meryl on the porch swing when she finally owns up to being hung up on Meryl's character is one of the best scene's in modern film history.

It rained all day today. Such a perfect time to bring out secret treasures and re-visit them. For those of you who do not know me, I swear I am not some demented ol' queen with 100 cats and stacks and stacks of newspapers all over my apartment. Ok, so I admit to loving Judy Garland. Yes I do collect celebrity dolls off Ebay. Dear God, I actually own a Judy Garland doll. Sweet Jesus I also own a Bette Midler doll.!! For anyone reading this, if I have the urge to buy a kitten, please shoot me if I then want to cancell all my cable except for Turner Classics. "The night is bitter, the stars have lost their........................."
Love
SWEETIE

The Comforts of Home

2005-10-01T22:10:00.000-04:00

So many of my best friends sought out the insanity of New York City because they knew no matter how hard they tried, they would never fit into the mold that was expected of them in their hometowns across this vast land of "red states" that seem to be gaining momentum every day. For me it wasn't so much about being gay, as I hadn't fully come to understand that about myself at that time. It was much more about never feeling truly at "home", even tho I came from a warm, loving, crazy southern family, with a fantastic mother that I could never begin to describe and do her any kind of justice. Even as a child tho, I felt like a stranger in a strange land. My interests always seemed to lie beyond the city limits. As much as I like to think that I walk in light, I have always been drawn towards the neon lit, garishly painted world that the dark seemed to welcome. There wasn't much neon where I grew up. A suburb with no real downtown that was ruled by the auto industry. It developed in the early 60's when people were fleeing Detroit for the comforts of green lawns, huge malls, and the solace of living side by side with lily white neighbors in cookie cutter ranch style homes and 2 story colonials. Oddly, I would never trade my childhood. I recieved a great education by caring teachers, lived in a world where doors were never locked, crime was not an issue, and I was allowed to live a somewhat protected childhood that kept me safe and sound until I could one day have the courage to face the realization I longed for a world filled with all the things I was shielded from . Films like "Midnight Cowboy" let me peek into a world of twinkling lights, seedy characters and all the darkness that a good midwestern kid could ever want. I have always danced very close to the flames. I am intelligent enough tho to so far, never get burnt. I moved to NYC shortly before my 20th birthday. Two friends and I saved up all summer, me working at Wendy's and on Sept 20th I moved to New York with $2000.00 in my pocket. I had never been to New York before, just always knew I belonged here. While we looked for an apartment we stayed in what was then The Century Paramount Hotel in Tmes Square. The same hotel is now called The Paramount and is considerd one of the more chic hotels in the city. It was $65 a night when we hit NYC in 1985. I can tell you, it was FAR from chic. I was scared shitless. Times Square at the time was this sewer with glitter strewn over it. As many times as my friends and I had ventured into the ghettos of Detroit, I had never witness this harsh a look at humanity. As unsettling as it was tho, I knew it was where I was suppose to be. 20 years later I live not 5 blocks from the first place I ever laid my head in NY. I have lived in Brooklyn twice, the Lower East Side, on 2nd Ave just around the corner from the late great "Rounds". and now am so content in the bosom of Hells Kitchen.

Although I have never hidden aspects of my life from my family, I have to say I have chosen not to discuss a great deal simply because I know that they have no identification with what I am talking about except thru the warped lens of news crews covering Gay Pride or Jerry Springer and other idiots who made a fat living propelling slanted views of queers and drag queens. I must take some blame having participated as a panelist on the "Rolanda" show. As a matter of fact I believe many people got their first glimpse of "Sweetie" on that aprticular television appearance. An old high school friend called my mother and got my number. She called and left a syrupy message about how she was so glad I was living my life the way I wanted and what peace of mind I must have now. The stupid cow actually thought I got up each morning, put on a clean cotton brassiere and faced the day in inches of make-up and 3 wigs plopped on my head to go to the Food Emporium. Thru the years as I have appeared more and more in TV and film it became inevitible that anyone who cared to know what I was up to in NYC could find out pretty easily. After 20 years the jig is up. I went to a classs reunion last year for the first time. It was actaully really hysterical the way people would dance around the gay issue, even more so if they had the nerve to utter the words DRAG QUEEN. The disarming thing for most of my classmates was they were shocked to see I was the same funny, easy going, warm spirit that I was so many years ago. I don't know what they were expecting, but I was a real disappointment up close and personal. I was wearing a Missoni suit. Where was my feather boa???? I appeared to be just another ( ok with better accessories) guy who had put on weight, lost some hair and couldn't dance as long as I could when I wa a senior. I AM different tho. History has made me different. Ignorance and small minds have painted a picture of me that will not easily be erased. My family gets it. Well I think most of it. My mother thought it was great that I got to travel to Europe on someone elses dime and meet celebrities and live the high life. I have three older brothers. The oldest is a teacher in a Christian school. I can't discuss the current president with him. I surely couldn't discuss who I share my bed with, OR GOD FORBID what "uniform" I wear to work. My brother Mark, a deer hunting, farm loving, beer drinking, "pull my finger" kind of guy not only loves me unconditionally, but respects me as well. Thats a tall order from a man who is a card carrying NRA member. Shawn, who is four years older than me has always been a closet hipster. He is a nurse, can turn it out in the kitchen making dishes that Martha Stewart would gag at, turned me on to the movies "Liquid Sky", "Rocky Horror", and "Harold and Maude". He is complicated and sensitive and hysterically funny. He has a sarcasm that could keep many a drag queen on their toes. Shawn is also the one in my family that has truly embraced my difference. I have often dreamed of what Shawn would have been if he had chosen to get away. He is fiercely creative, was a professional magician, an amazing artist who always wins best Halloween costume. If he lived in a big city, he would be a full fledged metro-sexual. The sad truth is..Shawn has always been a lady killer. He went thru girlfriends like underwear when we were teenagers. He has all those sensitive qualities that a woman rarely finds in a guy, but I guess can really deliver the goods when it comes to rolling in the sack. I guess it runs in the family!!!! LOL

When I started this BLOG, I sent out a mass email inviting people to click on it. Shawns email address was amongst the ones that recieved my invitation. I got a phone call from Sahwn last night informing me that he and his daughter in law had viewed my blog and how much he enjoyed it. His daughter in law was taken aback by my comments about camisoles and nursing brassiers, but overall she got a kick out of it as well. So much of my life has been lived without my family to witness. I have shared alot of who I am and what my life has become, but of course with them living in another state, I can hightlight was I feel is palatable and leave out some of the reality that I think they might not seem to get. Well, once again the jig is up. This blog serves as a way of me to open up thoughts and ideas. A way of making people think about things they may have never given alot of thought to. It is my life and my words. It's public for the world to see. I somehow feel as if Shirley Bassey's "This is My Life" should be underscoring this post. I hope what I choose to write about DOES make u think, DOES make you question, DOES make you a bit braver, DOES let u know you are not alone. We only have so much time on this planet. I says taste, touch and smell as much as you can. There are no promises for tomorrow.

Love
SWEETIE

Living Within My Means or Champagne Taste and a Beer Bottle Pocketbook UGHHH!!

2005-09-30T06:19:00.000-04:00

I have been wrestling for almost 3 weeks over the purchase of a handbag I have absolutely fallen in love with. I know what you must be thinking. Just a stupid handbag right? The bag consumes my thoughts. I visit the bag in it's current 5th avenue reatil home on a regular basis and I know it is crying out for me to take it to MY home and love it. I would have owned the bag the first day I laid eyes on it, HOWEVER my midwestern upbringing keeps whispering in my ear to "live within my means". Ok, ok, the fucking bag is $5 shy of $1500.00. I know that sounds a bit absurd to many people. I just keep asking myself tho, what price do you put on happiness? Would I go without food if I bought the bag? NO. Would I be able to pay my bills and rent if I bought the bag? YES. My issue is, even tho I lead the glamorous life of a New York City nightlife celebrity, that nagging voice keeps telling me that it's too extravagant of a purchase. My line of work calls for me to present myself in a certain way. I deserve that bag. Oh who the hell am I kidding. I WANT THAT BAG!
You see I am the child of parents who made their way out of nothing. My father grew up on a coal mining camp in Kentucky, and my mothers people also from the south were in the tobacco business, BUT worked right alongside their farm hands to make sure the work got done. My mother's side of the family were definitely more genteel, but still knew what hard work was and certainly were not frivolous with their spending. Both my parents also came out of the depression. Those days really never fade for alot of people of a certain age. My father made our family a very comfortable living, but was never extravagant with anything but automobiles (being in the auto industry) and jewelry for my mother. We never vacationed in exotic places or even went to Disneyland. I am not complaining, just giving facts. I believe my parents lived as if they may not have a dime tomorrow because of the way the were raised. My father to this day, retired on what I am sure is a very nice pension from General Motors loves to say he is on a fixed income. My brothers and I have to laugh, knowing he is far from broke.
I like to live my life as if I may not be here tomorrow. I am single with no children, have an affordable rent, make good money, and love the feeling of instant gratification. I have a girlfriend who can save money better than anyone I know. She saves soooo well tho, that it actually is painful to be out with her. Forever dodging chipping in for a taxi, or constantly having to be reminded to leave her fair share on a check at a restaurant. She denies herself simple luxuries in life to save what in the end is a few measly dollars. She is a television addict BUT will not break down and get cable. I simply cannot live like that. It has taken me several years to get the hang of it, but I actually can be proud to say I can save money now. I have to say I owe her alot of credit it making me see that a nest egg is very important, especially in the line of work I make my living. It is peace of mind after many years of living hand to mouth in New York City. Could I use the extra $1500.00 that I want to spend on a luxury item for a rainy day? You betcha. I guess I am just confident and have enough trust in the universe that I will always be taken care. That what I truly need will be there. This logic hasn't failed me so far, so I have to trust that it's the right way for ME to live MY life. The sun is rising and I can almost taste the supple leather of my obsession. I long to feel it grazing against my thigh as I carry it. Like a new lover I can't seem to keep my hands off. Do I march over to Gucci and claim what's rightfully mine? Do I heed the advice of my forefathers and lead a modest life in hopes of a comfortable, wealthy old age? Hmmm I wonder just how to live a modest life in skyscraper hair and sequinned gowns ? Anyone wishing to gift me with my Gucci lover will save me the agony of this inner struggle. Make a queen happy before the staff at Gucci takes out a restraining order on me. I am sure to be arrested for fondling leather goods in an inappropriate manner.

Can I Get An AMEN????

2005-09-29T02:23:00.000-04:00

Being a plus sized lady, I know whats it's like to have to cover a multitude of sins through smart wardrobe choices, proper patterns and the almighty art of fierce draping. IT CAN BE DONE. I am constantly amazed when I walk down the streets of Manhattan and witness BEASTLY woman after beastly woman on the arms of some really good looking men. It's not just the chubettes I am speaking about. It is every shape and size of fashionably challenged women I have to endure 7 days a week in a city that is known for fashion sense and fierce taste. I cannot believe for a moment that many men love to look at a woman rocking a beer belly and midriff top. I DON'T CARE if you are wearing Blahniks and have a precious designer bag stuffed under your sweaty arm, NOT EVERYONE should wear Carrie Bradshaw fashions. The other day I was on 9th Ave with my girlfriend Ashley and we saw a woman that had to be pushing 50 in dangerously high heels and a dress that looked like it came from the juniors department at Sluts R Us. She was outside a restaurant, huffing on a ciggie in a pose that should only be done by streetwalkers suffering from M.S. It also irks me when a woman thinks she is pulling off a fresh fucked Pamela Anderson hair do when she doesn't have 15 hairs on her head, and whats there is fried and over processed. Wadding your hair up on the top of your head and throwing in a few bobby pins is NOT sexy. It gives most women that "new to Ellis Island" look. You know the "I have been on a ship for 5 months and I forgot to pack my brush, because I was fleeing the country" look. Pamela's hair is a "FALL" girls!!! Real women do not grow hair thick enough to knit a sweater with. I think to myself "my God, if that fine looking man doesn't mind a beer belly, thin hair and sweaty pits, surely he wouldn't mind if their was a cock attatched as well". But then I wake up and remember that there is great power in the ownership of a vagina. Belive me I am NOT a woman hater. I adore women. I just wished some would take a few tips from their "Penile Sisters" and learn how to put it together.
I really think alot of guys get into Queen's beacause we do pay special attention to detail. I know not all "special" ladies dress fabulously, BUT I think the majority DO have a handle on their look. Believe me I believe if you've got it FLAUNT IT, but know what you have before you serve it up on a platter. Camisoles, jeans, and stiletto's are not for everyone. I say if you have ever worn a nursing brassiere you should NOT wear a camisole unless it's under your damned blouse. I also think if you are going to wear darling little strappy sandals with heels that could double as chop sticks, get your feet taken care of. Crusty toes, callouses, and chipped toenail polish is never pretty, even if it is crammed into a $500 pair of shoes. Why wear a shoe if you have to show the world a medicated bandage as an accessory. If you do dare to wear heels as casual attire, PLEASE know how to walk in them!!! Trundling around like a truck driver or having to hold on to trees, fire hydrants, walls and other people is hardly worth the fashion effort. I HATE seeing those girls with that helpless look in their eye as they try to manuveur on a crowded sidewalk and I know their feet are HOLLERING. I want to grab them and scream "If my big ol' buxom self can stand for 6 hours in a club in 4 inch heels, your crackish, puny ass can walk down this street like a lady!!!"
I want to start posting signs like "Baby T's are for babies bitch!". Or how about implimenting a weight limit warning on the side of Jimmy Choo shoe boxes? I also think the city of New York should issue a operating permit for heels over 3 inches . If you cannot walk in them, you CANNOT own them! My God if people would just let me run their lives, it would be a much better place.

Love
SWEETIE

"Fresh Air.....Times Square"

2005-09-28T03:52:00.000-04:00

I have returned officially from the "Isle o' Fire" and am finally settling back into city life. After 3 months on the beach, Manhattan seems like an old friend as well as nemesis. I ADORE New York City. I wanted to make this my home for as long as I can remember. At a very tender age, watching "Midnight Cowboy" served as a lure to the grit, grime and bright lights of this big, bad city. Sept. 20 marked my 20th anniversary living in NYC, and although I have not found a place I would rather live, I feel like New York has changed so much that my love affair with the city is starting to lose it's spark. I love the idea of being able to walk out my front door and literally have 1000 options any time of the day or night. I have to say tho, the solace I found living full time next to the ocean also had it's magic. To take my baby Jasper to the beach at daybreak or sunset and watch him run as far as he could, only to turn around and run even faster back to me did my ol' jaded heart alot of good. The sound of the water and the smell of salt air and lush greenery is a good thing when you compare it to stale urine and overflowing trash cans.
September is always a melancholy month for me. The end of summer, the first smell of autumn, the imprint in my mind of new school clothes, burning leaves and seeing my breath outside. I am SUCH a creature of habit, and September is always a month of change. I have promised myself I am going to re-discover the New York I fell in love with so many years ago. If you know anything about this city that I may have not tasted, touched or smelled, PLEASE let me know. Now excuse me while I turn up "New York State of Mind" and curl up with my copy of "Looking for Mr. Goodbar".

Love,
Sweetie

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SweetieSays is BORN!!!!

2005-09-28T01:46:00.000-04:00

Dear God, I am a "Blogger"! It's so hard to type with these glamour legnth nails, but I solemnly vow to keep the children abreast of the life and times of New York City's "BIG TITTED HONKY SOUL MOMMA"!!!!! Let the blogging begin...........

Love,
Sweetie