Randy bears, straight up Rye Rye, and Tribal Haus
As everyone knew, it was Pride weekend and we at WYWS are still recovering. Big shouts this week to all of our LGBT readers who got to officially tie the knot.
Let’s get down to it.
As I write this through a slight film of weed-induced cataracts, it occurs to me that Friday was already a blur by Sunday. But I think I kicked off Pride weekend by stopping by the Metro Gallery to see CP contributor and drag darling Mike Farley (aka Ellen Degenerate) and his crew at the Glitter Thighs Pool party. Then headed over to Red Maple for the annual Wienies and Martinis party. Wait. Did I also head to EVilla for Onyx Entertainment’s Pride Kick-off party where the fashions were OFF THE WALL.? Yeah. I vaguely recall that. Oh yeah, the upstairs was a crush of beautiful people who were one part wasted and one part happy. I recall getting hit on by a fab drag queen. Though straight, I’ll take what I can get looking like I do. If you think this night was vague and a blur, wait to I get to…
Saturday night Rye, coke buns, and some weird dude in white face.
If you were looking for all the young dudes, they were milling around the Current Gallery compound eagerly awaiting the appearance of Rye Rye (top). Man, was Rooster anxious to see Rye. Though he broke out a few signature moves to local rapper DDm, who had a serious command of a crowd, he couldn’t wait to get down to the queen of Bmore hip-hop.
It has to be said that I was sure she wasn’t going to show, but boy did I eat my words as well as a delicious pot brownie passed off by a designer friend of mine who has a serious penchant for Mother Nature. At first Rooster wasn’t impressed, but it didn’t take long for my favorite cocksman to get down in the pit with the serious dancers. Watching Rooster dance makes all other straight man envious. He moves like dem limbs were rubber. Rye wore nothing special. It was like she was performing for friends. I think this was the best Rye Rye show I’ve ever seen.
Myself, Rooster, the designer and a new cast member, “Editor” were headed to a sure thing. All evening, Editor was barking about a high-end party a gay couple was hosting at their swank Mt. Vernon digs. “They’ll be boobs and coke!,” Editor said raising his red cup in salute to perfection. “My friend [Bear, not his real name] loves boobs. He’s a gay man, but he loves doing coke off of naked boobs! I don’t know why, but man is that awesome.”
At the building we were met with….a phone message. And silence. “Heyyy, it’s cool,” said a liquored up Editor, who was giving Rudolph a run for his money in the red nose department. “I’m sure they’ll let us up.” No one ever picked up the phone. About an hour later, we were let in by a kind heart who took pity on men looking to see the spectacle of an illicit substance being consumed from the upper parts of the female anatomy.
Santa. Meeting that lover in Venice. That perfect vacation where it never rains. These are things that live only in the mind. So is, apparently, the site of a bacchanal of naked women, blow and beer.
We did get to meet Bear though. He was coming back from the store as we were staggering down the steps with heavy heart. I had to ask him though, “Hey Bear, Editor says you guys like to do coke off of women’s boobs.”
“Well,” Bear said taking a long swig from his Boh, “I don’t know about boobs, but I love to snort coke off someone’s ass. I’ll snort it off yours if you’re down.”
The whispers on the wind took us from a randy bear to a party at a secluded home deep in Waverly. This was Tribal Haus. First, what’s with these kids and their “hauses?’ Brick Haus, Soft House, Tribal Haus…Guys. Pick a new name.
I don’t remember much of Tribal Haus..it was about 4 a.m. and Rooster’s legs had calmed down and I walked into the main house to see a group of kids churning and yelling as a kid in white face (bottom) screamed back at him from the “stage.” This was all too much. Back out with the olds who were passing around weed and sitting on the makeshift porch of an RV. The morning came and we headed out with the RV, white face killer, and the old hippies behind. Bless you Tribal Haus.
Nightlife app of the week: In honor of Editor and the friends who made the pot brownies, I give you the Android-only app, Virtual Weed Smoking. This “fun’ little app lets you, well virtually smoke weed from your phone. According to the developer you “simply place the ‘virtual weed’ in the pipe, press for the lighter and inhale through your microphone.” Ok. Someone has to get this and let me try it. Rooster, are you listening?