Panic! On the Dancefloor...Sigh

Keeping true to my vow, some the Scooby Gang made our merry way down to LA to one of our favorite spots: Oil Can Harrys. Ususally, our road trip adventures come off without a hitch, but this one had drama upon drama almost from the beginning. Who was coming, who was not coming, and who was NOT INVITED seemed to be major obstacles to it all. But once the seating arrrangements were taken care of, the three amigos were well on our way to the Honey Comb Hideout. Special thanks to Mr. Chris for bringing his Ipod along to keep the mood light but thoughtful. And another special thanks to Paul, for keeping the attention off of you know who. Let me be the first that I LOVE the drive up to LA, but I hate the drive back, but I will go into the details about that later.
We made it to Oil Can Harrys in good time, and had a blast taking in all the early birds and other sights of the bar before things got crazy. I was reluctant at first to wear the "HE LOVES THE COCK" t shirt (for fear of messing up before next week), but was thankful to Chris for talking me into trying them out.
We were the hit of the bar; we had people coming up to us the whole time asking about them and commenting on them. I was glad for one, because for the first time in a long time , it was good to see Chris truly happy and comfortable in his own skin. We definitely enjoyed ourselves and just being together, and there was no mention of the infamous Quilter. Just when things could not get any better, in walks Jesse from Bravo's Workout reality series. I spotted him right off the bat, but it was Chris that had the gumption to ask him to take pictures with us (as shown, Anya!).
I just did not want the night to end, but it had to.....The drive home was nice, and the conversation was amazing. But I have to admit, I have not completely got the hang of driving an SUV, and I am sure that made for some uncomfortable moments for both Chris and Paul. In the end, we all made it all home safe and sound and I could not have asked for a better group of guys to spend the night with (at least, with our clothes on..). Somethings do not last forever, but HELLFIRE does!!!

The Drama, the Intrigue, and the PUMPKIN!

It was the typical kind of Saturday night out, if you're gay in Bakersfield. Long periods of boredom, followed by valiant attempts by you and your friends to cobble enough coins together to get out of town and head down to LA. Last night was no different for my friends and I. After much talk and hope that we could do a road trip down to our favorite watering hole in LA (Oil Can Harry's), we were left with the grim prospect of a night out in Bakersfield. You have to understand, a night out in Bakersfield is like getting your gums scraped, or feeling like you're in that movie "Small Town Gay Bar", only those people were having a good time. I have to say, my best friend Chris and I took it all in stride. We did the usual pre-going out gay guy ritual of slathering on after shave, cologne, and the latest fashion (by Bakersfield standards) and made our way to the bar. Almost immediately, we were taken back the sheer numbers of lesbians, homo thugs, and other unfortunate creatures hanging out in the parking lot and smoking the wacky tobacky.

There was a time when gay people really dressed to go out, and you felt welcomed when you met up with your "tribe" to have a good time. These poor individuals were just menacing, rag tag, and had no sense of community with Chris and I. We hastily made our way into the bar and were bombarded by a wave of human funk, heat (beacuse they never turn on the air conditioning), and the same repetitive, craptastic, booty song of the day. I was also being eyed by this guy I'd messed with a while ago and his train wreck boyfriend he'd failed to tell me about. As you can tell , this outing was going to be one for the record books. We'd taken our position at a nearby table against the wall, and watched and commented on the parade of freaks, losers, and other miscreants on full display. As these human disasters came and went by, I was taken with this one unfortunate, whose burnt white-gold tresses could not possibly occur in nature. As she drew closer, I almost immediately recognized the vacant look and irritating timbre to her voice. It was PUMPKIN! Yes, Pumpkin (I-Spit-On-New- York) from Flavor of Love, and she was in the gay bar with a gaggle of trifling third tier queens who believe themselves to be the A-List gays of Bakersfield. Chris and I looked on in awe as little Miss Hot Mess made herself at home in the bar and threw caution to the wind.

I know that she had every right to be at the bar, but still it was unnerving to see her at THIS bar, doing her thing. Besides, I thought she was supposed to be on "I Love Money" this season ?

I guess she must have lost and got sent packing (again). But why spend your Saturday night in a sad gay bar in po-dunk Bako?

All I am saying is next time, we're going to LA....