It’s 2013. Time stands still for no peeler. However if I had a time machine I would travel back to America of the 1930s so I could ogle some early-day burlesque shows. Oh my, an ankle! But I don’t so I take off to Fly for Dirty Sexy Party. It’s not even a week past NYE and the boys are restless . . . for flesh. While the gorgeousness of go-go guys dressed in barely-there western wear gets the dance floor packed, it’s what’s porn star Cody Wilder is packing that everyone is not-so-secretly eager to see. Hosts, Sofonda and Joe quench thirsts of the eager crowd by pouring cold shots down their hot wanting throats. It seems too that Sofonda has been partaking in what she has been serving. One for them, one for her. She’s clearly drunk and at times forgets she’s in drag. Watching the facial expressions of Joe who seems unsure what to do with his intoxicated partner in crime (or when would be a good point to take away her mic) is my new game tonight. Now? No. Now? No? Maybe when she’s about to fall off the stage? Maybe. Sofonda’s resolution may be to stop drinking tequila but tonight is obviously not the night.
It’s 2013. Time stands still for no queen. However if I had a time machine I’d travel back to Pre-War Germany to listen dreamily as Marlene Dietrich sings in some smoky cabaret. But I don’t, so I goose-step it to Crews to watch the nightly drag show. Replacing cabaret compositions are the cunty tunes preferred by Nikki Chin and Daytona Bitch. In the coming year watch as Nikki takes over. “My New Year’s resolution is to broaden my horizons and travel more to make Nikki Chin a bigger and better brand,” she says with confidence. With her polished craft, stunning good looks and mighty fine long legs, she’s sure to be strutting somewhere fierce. Daytona meanwhile, with her theatre arts background is sure to go on to big, big, huge things. I’ve said before that she reminds me of a younger, less intoxicated Georgie Girl. Tonight even more so. The place is packed as usual with drunk gay college kids. As DJ Relentless spins in The Zone, we sip drinks prepared by bartender Farley who is looking as fine as ever, even though he’s wearing pants. We’re so used to (and much appreciate) ogling his package as he works the bar in his customary tightie -whities. The only odd thing about tonight though (as with almost every night we cover an event at Crews), is that their security team seems to have no idea who or what FAB magazine is. It’s like we’re in some small hick town. In the '70s. Maybe we are in a time machine after-all.
It’s 2013. Time stands still for no man. However, if I had a time machine I’d travel back to 17th-century France and curtsy up to Louis XIV. But I don’t, so I’ll just hop the streetcar west and bounce to DJ Phil V as he spins for Tapette. Instead of a royal court amidst the gilded interiors of Versailles, plaid princes chat within the Henhouse’s walls, which are plastered with 1950s magazine ads. Cavorting with the crowd are Graydon Sheppard and Jason Krygier-Baum, two former Fab Deep Dish photographers who’ve done great. It’s less than a week after NYE and the men are restless. Luckily, instead of song requests, Phil gets compliments from gushing guys on the dancefloor. “My new year’s resolution is to buy more mesh clothing,” Phil says with a straight face. Um, that sounds like a shopping list. Will majestic mesh men be the big thing for 2013? Any opportunity to see more flesh is always appreciated. Dieu, merci!
It’s 2013. Time stands still for no twink. However, if I had a time machine I’d travel back to 18th-century Scotland Yard to plead my case. But I don’t, so I hop on the tube to investigate what sniffable doubleentendres I can get up to with host Matt Barker at Powder Room. Instead of the powdered wigs of Old World magistrates in stuffy courts of law, the top floor of Smith is packed with Ivy League blow-back cuts on guys who should always be prostrate. Face down, ass up. “My new year’s resolution is to understand myself,” says a semi-serious Matt. “And to be famous.” DJ Sumation slips on some Ke$ha (and I slip in some earplugs) before revealing that this year he wants to do more international gigs in Ho Chi Minh City, Brazil and New York City. Guest host Sofonda, meanwhile, is busy pretending to make phone calls on her gold, high-heeled shoe. “This year I wanna be more open to everything that comes my way,” she slurs. “And no tequila.” Dios, mio.
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