Beige Must Die (part 2)

Eventually, we left for Loosifer’s place so I could pick up my bag and change.  Nix the shirt, change into white underwear, voila.  After Loosifur’s dog damn near bit my leg off (luckily, the bitch isn't quite as racist as her dog), Syndrome and I peaced out to meet up with Bitter Commie Grad Student before heading downtown to Pieces.  We rally the troops there for a quick drink, and guess who shows up with a car?

6 people pile into Don Juan from San Juan’s Honda Civic (luckily, I had shotgun), and we head east to the venue in question.  As soon as we get to the right block, they all jump out to "hold a place in line".  I, on the other hand, stick with my girl so she doesn't have to find a parking spot alone.

After a 5 minute panic search for Don Juan’s license (which she didn’t find until the next day), we join the others in line.  Bottomless Pitt is pissed because she's “sobering up” and because she has to pee.  She storms over to Dtox on 2^nd ave to down a Long Island and relieve herself.  Meanwhile, one of the doors to B-bar (the venue where Beige is held) is painted a beautiful dark blue, so I get Urban Sprawl to take a picture of me in front of it (I have a thing for taking pictures in front of vivid solid backgrounds). 

I get the news that Dill Pickle is about 20 feet ahead of us, so I go up to say hi.  Apparently, the rest of the Long Island Gays couldn’t deal, so they ditched for Pieces.  She informed me that the line hadn’t moved for 20 mintues.  Even the “VIP” line was growing to a swarm at the door ( I’m guessing it’s the fire marshal’s fault).  Bottomless Pitt, sporting her Hot As Hell pink tank top above a pink-and-black cheetah design tank, added her two cents: “That’s the VIP line?  Just a bunch of useless, tragic people who think they’re more important than us?  Yet look where they are: outside, just like us!”  Well said, Pitt.  Rather loud, but well said.

Then it starts to rain.  As Missy said, “Chill, I got my umbrella.”  What she didn’t say was that I got it from Duane Reade, and the bitch has a diameter of about 4 feet.  Sorry, guys.  Around about 11:45, we give up and go to Dtox, which turned out to be an actual gay bar (not a gay night at a straight bar).  Cute venue, but kinda boring (then again, it was Tuesday… and I’m sure having the Cock on one side and Urge on the other didn’t help). 

Did I mention I was still sick and left for home around 12:15 (so I missed Britney Houston's performance)?  Yeah.

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