Recovery is a bitch. Fuzion
shakes up its popular FML Mondays
by throwing an industry night, and I rush to attend. “We wanted to give something back to everyone who worked so hard over Pride Week,” owner Jimmy G
says, noting that each guest who RSVP’ed is given two complimentary drink tickets. While surveying the packed patio populated with plenty of skinny pretties, and one table of beefy bears, I spot many Church St employees. DJ Ecstasy
sips on a short cocktail while chatting up a tall drink of water. Mahogany Browne
and Devine Darlin
are both out of drag, with Devine waddling around on crutches, thanks to performing one too many splits over Pride. Kim Momma Kopyl
relaxes with her sexy gal pal Sandra
, a member of the brand new Canadian Lingerie Football League. “Surprisingly, there haven’t been any wardrobe malfunctions that I know of,” Sandra says, flaunting her heaving bosom. But it’s Lexi
, with DJ Mark Kenneth Woods
in tow, who quickly makes friends by flashing her perfectly perky boobs to anyone who looks her way, proving silicone can seduce.
, that glam little spot with the big tree out front, hosts a hopping Mile-High Tuesday
. It is the perfect opportunity to try out my tree-climbing Louboutins. I am distracted from climbing, as the martinis come fast and furious and I really don’t like nature all that much. The patio is filled with shiny gays in bright shorts and expensive sandals. I, however, end up chatting with the filthiest straight people I have ever met. Something about a threesome in a hot tub is mentioned. I wander off and find myself in the safe embraces of Alan Thomas
, of Push Models management, and makeup artist Amy Pearl
. Inside, DJ daVinci
spins an unreleased Kesha track called “Fuck Him (He’s the DJ).” Sure he’s got a boyfriend, but he’s the one who chose that track. Trying to impress the crowd, I climb the tree but lose my footing.
Suddenly, I find myself in a dancefloor coma, reliving a time before rainbows and parades. The Power Plant Art Gallery
holds the 13th Power Ball Gala: The Thirteenth Floor
, a perfect opportunity to wear my finger-painted tuxedo. More than 1,700 attendees (most of whom paid at least $165 to get in) cram the gallery. They include bubbly designer Nick Sean
and randy realtor Shane Carslake
, first-timers who mingle with seasoned party pros, including Hoax Couture
designers Chris Tyrell
and Jim Searle
. Flash forward. Remington’s
celebrates its 18th Anniversary
, a perfect excuse to try out my new lap-dance bib. The dancers tonight are (shockingly) pretty stunning. The banter between them and guests, though, is still the same. “Hey, blah, blah, blah. Would you like a private dance?” They ply their charms well, like seasoned pros hoping to twist my rubber arm, which is extended with a fist full of fives. Flash forward. At the 2011 MMVAs
, a green-haired, Versace-wearing Lady Gaga
enters the press room post-performance. “I am just a part of the voice. It is never wrong to speak up in the defence of love,” she says when I ask her to address ridiculous criticisms of her “taking-over” the gay rights movement. Flash forward.
Suddenly, I find myself at the fifth annual Boys’ Night Out
charity gala, hosted by Lifford Wine Agency
and presented by Harry Rosen
. It has three things I adore: men, wine and fashion. At the spacious Audi dealership, the smell of cigars and shoe polish greets as men sample Cubans and have their loafers shined. Inside, a live auction is in progress and numerous silent auction items, like a yet-to-be-snatched-up Rick Mercer
entertainment package, add to the cash being raised for prostate cancer research. The goal tonight is $75,000. Wine stations abound and guests stroll the aisles, sampling, while enjoying brochettes, pulled pork, spare ribs and gourmet subs. I haven’t seen this much meat since Pride Day. “I wonder if we could get drunk if we drink all the batter,” two men joke as they feast on burgers and beer-battered onion rings. I’d like to watch them find out.