I thought the show went pretty well. I was really, really spooked before I went on, terrified I'd have nothing to say... but of course, once I got on the air, I couldn't shut up! I blabbered about all of the scadalous details of my life, I talked about K and our crazy theme cakes, and I got to rant about my mortal enemies, Zach De la Rocha and Jenna Elfman. I thought the show was pretty funny, or at least we laughed a lot. Hopefully the audience got some chuckles out of it, too. This one twerpy guy called up and said Dan should go back to playing music, but Dan said that this same guy ALWAYS calls to whine whenever Dan does a "talky" show. Well, phooey on that - I love the talky shows, they're always my favorite ones. I used to love it when all the crazies would call in to Dan's show back when he was on his old station. Since he moved to the new station, he can't take calls on the air, and while it's still a great show, the dynamic has changed. It's more music-y, and Dan doesn't go off into as many of those great, 45-minute psychotic interludes. Without anybody to talk to, he can't do as much rambling. Well, I was glad to have the chance to get him rambling again. Dan told me that after I left one guy called in and said this show reminded him of the crazy, talky shows from the old days, and that was exactly what I would have hoped to hear. I think Dan should make me his regular co-host. I could be his Robin Quivers!

Now of course I'm totally full of myself, and I think i should be hosting The Tonight Show or something, but I gotta keep in mind that I got lucky on this appearance; I could have just as easily panicked and completely clammed up on the air. That's one of the most frustrating things about being me; I can never predict what the hell I'm going to do, or how I'm going to react to things. Sometimes I'll be confronted with some big scary event - like being the sole guest on a radio show for a couple of hours - and for some reason I won't be nervous at all, and I'll have a great time. And then other times I'll have to do some silly everyday thing, like calling to order a pizza or something, and I'll completely spazz out & turn into Crispin Glover. "Hi... do you have... pizza? I mean, I know you... have it. Ha ha. But I want to order... I... want one. A pizza." (Those who know me well will know that I am barely exaggerating.) 

I've got two people living inside me, the gregarious young  social butterfly and the bitter old hermit. These two want nothing to do with each other, but they're stuck being roomates in my brain. It's like a bad sitcom, and it's on all day, every day, in my skull.

1/24/2000, 1:45 a.m.
God, I'm so spooked. Tomorrow I'm going to drive out to Pasadena to work on a freelance writing job for a photographer who sells prints online. The guy is actually one of my dad's old pals, and the whole arrangement makes me kind of queasy. It's never a good idea to go into business with friends, relatives, or friends of relatives. On top of everything else, the guy has a seriously retarded adult son, so while we're trying to have this meeting the son is gonna be running around, doing adult retarded stuff and lying on the floor and yowling and all that. I've met the son before, and he's in REALLY bad shape. So, this meeting should be... memorable.

Oy vey. These are the times when an office job doesn't sound so bad after all.

1/25/2000, 1:30 a.m.
As it happened, the meeting with the photographer ended up going pretty much like I thought - his retarded son really was rolling around on the floor, barking and whooping - but it wasn't so bad. It wasn't a laugh riot or anything, but it didn't kill me. The photographer seems like a pretty nice guy, and it looks like this job is going to pay fairly well. It couldn't come at a better time, too! I could use the $$.

2/6/2000, 1:30 a.m.
The other night I had a little Club Makeup disaster. They were having their big, one-year anniversary wingding, and even though K was too tired out from her goddamned job to go, I decided that it'd simply been too long since I'd gotten prettied up and gone out, so I was going to go all by meself. Unfortunately, once I arrived at the club I was greeted by one of the longest lines I've ever seen, every freak in town had come out for this thing. I've waited in some absurd Makeup lines, but this one extended clear around the block... I never did find the end of it! So, I gave up, went home, scrubbed off my pretty face, and sulked in the tub. The end.

2/11/2000, 1:30 a.m.
For the last few weeks I'd been playing phone tag with a local queen named Misty, but last night we finally caught up with each other and we ended up yapping for hours. Misty's lived a pretty amazing life, she's been to heck and back, but despite everything she still seems like a really sweet person. She has one of the best girl voices I've ever heard! The first time I heard her on the phone, I thought I'd reached one of her girl friends or something. If you know she's not a regular girl you can KINDA tell her voice isn't "natural," but if you just called her up cold you'd never ever guess. We had so much fun talking that we both agreed we'd like to go club-hopping together soon. It'll probably be a while until it happens - K has a big vacation coming up, and of course once it starts I'll want to spend as much time as I can with her - but I'm serious about getting to know Misty better. That's my resolution for the new year!

2/23/2000, 1:40 a.m.
Well, it's been a pretty good couple of days. K has an entire month off from work (she EARNED it, believe me) and we're running around having adventures. Today we went over to the mall, and she bought me a corset from Frederick's and a couple of really cute bracelets! She'd already gotten me a fantasmic dress for Valentine's, but it didn't quite fit, so she got me this new stuff as a replacement. We hadn't shopped for months, and I had WAY TOO MUCH FUN on this trip. I even got to follow K into the dressing room at Robinson's and watch her try some stuff on! Hee hee! I probably would've tried some stuff on too, but I was too scared of getting caught.

We also visited The Museum of Death, but we didn't like it much. We'd kind of expected something a little more scholarly and classy, a place full of ghastly medieval artifacts and scary Mayan stuff, but instead it was full of big blow-ups photos of car wrecks and bad art by serial killers and all like that. We breezed through the whole place in about twelve minutes. I think we kinda hurt the feelings of the guy working the door. As we were taking off, he said, "You're leaving... already?" We felt guilty, but the museum's whole Faces of Death vibe just wasn't for us. 

Right across the street from the death museum we discovered the L. Ron Hubbard museum, and that place made the whole trip worthwhile. God, these people have TOO MUCH MONEY! John Travolta must have some deep pockets. The museum was this bizarre, multi-media shrine to Hubbard's life & work, with lasers and robots and all the bells & whistles. To celebrate some cowboy movie serial Hubbard wrote, they had this life-size, cardboard movie house, with a big video screen in the box office showing black & white clips of cowboys and Indians chasing each other around. They also had animatronic robots acting out scenes from L. Ron's  cheezy sci-fi novels, and huge walls that opened up like a storybook to reveal the thousands and thousands of awards Hubbard won in his lifetime. Our tour guide was this (deceptively) charming little Dr. Ruth lady. She was all smiles, until she found out I was a journalist, and then she turned the charm OFF, ftt, just like that. Right before she started up a big display that featured two evil robot-men in a starship cockpit planning the Earth's destruction, she told us, "You should pay attention to this... It's what's happening today!" I knew the Scientologists were kooky, but really, I had no idea. We had fun, but the whole time we were kinda worried that the Scientologists were gonna clomp us on the back of the head, drag us backstage and begin the brainwashing process. Thankfully, they settled for just trying to sell us a copy of Battlefield Earth on the way out the door.

(Now I just gotta keep my fingers crossed and pray that everything I just wrote doesn't get me sued.)

2/28/2000, 12:45 a.m.
Grr. It's been a dopey day. Long story short: my
parents are moving, so I spent the day helping them
schlep matresses and crates and stuff. Then we all met
up with my Aunt, who had a nasty cold... I have no
immune system at all, so now I'll probably get to be
SICK for a few weeks of K's vacation. My folks
are planning to break up this move into several
weekend trips, so I'm looking at giving up the next
five or six Saturdays to haul stuff. This hauling is
murder on my back, I'll have spasms for days... but if
I tell my parents I can't help, I'll perish from the guilt.
Next Saturday is Club Makeup, our first drag excursion
in MONTHS, but if I spend the day hauling stuff I'll
be much, much too sore to go out in the evening. I wanna crawl into a hole and come out when this is all over.

I'm trying to think of what lie I could tell my folks so I can weasel out of helping them move this weekend. I'll help them move NEXT weekend, but for now I need a good excuse, one of those "My grandma just died, and I have to fly to Wallah Wallah for the funeral" kind of excuses. Unfortunately, I don't think my folks would buy it if I told them my grandma just died.

Well, so much for keeping a long story short. I say again: GRRR.

3/4/2000, 2:20 a.m.
I apologize in advance for this particularly underwhelming entry. This evening was very not good. It was the night of Club Makeup, and we were looking forward to it so much that of course it ended up being a complete disaster. We waited in a long long line, in the freezing cold, in the goddam RAIN, and then when we got up to the door the security guard turned us away because K's I.D. had expired. (She'd grabbed the wrong one on the way out.) We thought about going home, grabbing the I.D. and then coming back, but with the rain the round trip probably would have taken an hour, and THEN we woulda had to wait in the damn line again. So, we just gave up & went home… where I scrubbed off my pretty face, and went to soak in the tub. The end.

3/12/2000, 4:45 a.m.
Dragstrip 66! I don't think either of us ever thought we'd go back to that club (it's become so gay and so queen-unfriendly that some very non-P.C. folks have taken to calling it Fagstrip) but we missed Makeup last weekend, and this was the only game in town. It ended up being one strange night. It started off pretty badly. It's not like anything went that wrong, we just weren't into it to start with. We were kind of bored, and since it had been several months since we'd been able to go to a club, it was kind of scary to feel bored. It made me wonder if we'd just outgrown clubhopping or something, and now it wasn't going to be any fun anymore. I must admit, after over two years of drag clubs, some of the novelty HAS worn off. Besides, since that last birthday, I've started to hear those stupid little voices in my head that say I'm too old to be runnin' around in night clubs wearing a dress. It's silly, because the average age at most glam/drag/fetish clubs is about ten years older than I am, but I still manage to worry about it anyhow.

So, the evening had an iffy start, but then at some point things somehow turned around, everything clicked, and we wound up having a great time. We even got to horse around for a while, and it reminded me how very much I've missed getting groped in public. Ohh, it'd been much, MUCH too long since that happened!

Dragstrip was having another silly theme night: Cowboys & Injuns. Of course, K was all over that theme because it gave her the chance to dress up like a cute l'il cowpoke, but the theme didn't exactly set me aflame; it was so butch.  I think the club is trying to butch up their themes now, to keep all the homo boys happy. Well, I did manage to pull together a kinda dancehall girl outfit that just kind of suggested dance hall girlness without being too different from what I'd normally wear.  It was pretty goth really, with a corset and petticoats and opera gloves & all that. You could mainly tell I was a dancehall girl because I was with this little cowpoke. I thought I looked cute-ish, and got some nice compliments. At one point, when K was off visiting the little boy's room, I was GROSSLY manhandled by a little cluster of guys who all looked just like slimmed-down Andy Richters. They didn't have big Andy Richter bodies, but they all had big Andy Richter heads. The ringleader had a line he must have been practicing all night; "Do you have a match? No? Well, you've got everything else..." A regular girl would have laughed in his face, but of course I'm so desperate for approval that I just cooed, "Why thank you". I was never any good at giving lines, and now I'm not much better at getting them. 

Manhandling can be fun, but this was a bit much, these guys were putting their mitts in places they weren't supposed to go. I wasn't scared for my life, but it was kinda gross.
(Although I have to admit, if these guys had been CUTE, I probably would've had a very different take on the whole thing!)

K's vacation is winding down, and I'm really really gonna miss her when she's back at work. I can hardly imagine her going back to all those nights when she got home at 11 p.m. I'm gonna miss her so bad... I've grown too used to having her underfoot!