I'm still finding fucking glitter in my hair. You wash and you condition, you even repeat and yet no effort can rid you of the golden, glossy reminders of a drunken night. The Gold La May party at Berlin, to be specific. Thank you, Shayna for the golden chapeau and Carol, I trust you'll approve of my coverage now, eh?
Now for a moment I like to call 'What The Fuck Do I Do This All For?' I go to take a picture of a tableful of twinks at Crew. They go into a hot tizzy when I offer to take their picture. And as I position my camera and ready the shot, I overhear one whisper to another, 'What the fuck is Nightspots magazine?' Thanks for reading, kids.
Friday night, after protesting sleep with all the fire in my belly, I somehow found myself at The Eagle, cheering on my friend, #3, in the Full Moon Contest. For the hottest picture of a hole you've ever seen, flip to page 23 ( that's OK, I'll wait ) .
Now in suburban news: enormous ups to Tonik Bar & Grill for kicking off a spectacular new Sunday tea dance in their spacious beer garden. The weather was splendid, the boys were delicious and the drinks were cheap. Why, a neighbor even sent flowers to welcome the event. Check it out each Sunday.
Gentleman, start your lubin'. Next weekend kicks off the queerest summer Chicago will have ever seen. It all starts with our Memorial Day classic salute to gay culture and history, International Mr. Leather, now in its 27th year. Check out the Leather Market at the Palmer House, see the contest at the Chicago Theatre or just bum around in the bars.
Also, stop into any one of many Bear Weekend events around town. I tell ya, it's enough to choke a gay horse.