We eventually settled on Unity Church

Pre-Easter Saturday night was the birthday celebration of an Australian and Ligaly Blonde, (i.e, a night with the Long Island Gays).  I was worried that MicHELLe may not attend because she had some not-so-ancient history with the Aussie, but luckily she got over it and showed up.

 

I arrived at Barrage and was slightly overwhelmed by the combination of all the Long Island Gays and some of the Ivy League Crew et al all being in one place.  Luckily, there was a bar between the entrance and the throngs of acquaintances.  Hugs and double kisses all around. 

 

Basically, it was a great drinking time.  The biggest revelation was that Bologna had a boyfriend!  And I don’t just throw that term around; Dill Pickle showed me a recent text from Bologna that said “me and the BF” as proof (because I definitely didn’t believe when I heard). 

 

The Aussie was too considerate!  He somehow knew I was wearing orange (and for once, a tie), so he made sure a friend provided a flower to match me! 

And now you see why I don’t wear ties.

Around 1:30, everyone was headed to the Ritz.  The combination of committing to 10:15am for Easter Sunday service and the fact that I hate the gay music they play on Saturday resulted in my leaving the flock, including MicHELLe, who gulped down the rest of her drink and tagged along to the Ritz.

I texted a warning: Know what you’re doing.

MicHELLe replied: Stop it!!

Me: As. You. Wish. (The Princess Bride was on Bravo earlier that week.)

Happy Easter! 

For the rest of the post, "Sunday" is to be pronounced in the old-south fashion: "SUN-dee".

MicHELLe and I had discussed going to a black church for Easter since he wasn’t going home and since I didn’t feel like going to Queens or Long Island with the fam that early.  We eventually settled on Unity Church on the Upper West Side since it was very gay populated performers and artistic types. 

The website said that Sunday service starts at 11.  I figured it’d be crowded, so I suggested a 10:15 call time. 

Me on the 1 train: Running about 5-10 late.

Me walking in the doors: Are you here already?  Apparently service started at 10.  It wasn’t until just after I sent that text that I realized that she was probably too hung over to show appreciation for what Christ had done for her suffering jetlag from exploring the bush around Sydney.  A shame, too, because they performed one of her favorite songs: “Joyful Joyful” from Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit. 

After quite an enjoyable service that involved the domesticated bear pastor (gay, of course) saying, “And in the book of John, the story starts out with two Maries on their way to the tomb,”* (I didn’t get it til the queen behind me started laughing), I went home to change out of my suit and too small extremely stylish shoes and to start cooking some drumsticks for Ms. W’s Easter brunch.

Ms. W really isn’t the cooking type, so I didn’t quite know what to expect.  In fact, neither was TTT, and I didn’t know about the Hair (TTT’s high school friend). 

Upon arrival, MicHELLe was in the kitchen going to work on the (in)famous mac and cheese.  Why did this bitch put a block of cheese in my hand to start grating?  I can’t even eat mac and cheese: I’m. Lactose. Intolerant.  Then she handed me a second block.

“Bitch, did you not see me walk in here with 2 trays of chicken that I had cooked?  It’s damn near a half mile of walking from my place to the subway and from the subway to here!  Uh uh, my contribution is ready.  Ms W, can you make me another drink?” 

If memory serves me correctly, we had my chicken, MicHELLe’s mac and cheese (couldn’t eat), and mashed potatoes (also by MicHELLe, also couldn’t eat though they smelled lovely).  

I invited SoHo Crush, who ended up showing up about two hours late (probably because he was looking at places to move in Williamsburg because he’s selling his place in SoHo, but that’s a very painful subject which we won’t get into right now) before he insisted that we go to the Latin bar around the corner with the dollar jukebox.  All he had to say was “On me” to get the rest of the boys to sign on.

 

Of course, it was a straight bar.  And it was dead (on Easter afternoon? No!).  There were like 5 drunks at the bar who all stared as the 5 of us pranced in already well lubricated.  When SoHo Crush went to the jukebox, the one white guy was like, “Hey!  Man, I’ve been waiting a half hour to put some music on.”  But, he was nice enough to tell SoHo that he had left some credits on the machine if he wanted to put some songs on. 

10 minutes later, Beyoncé is blasting from the speakers.  Great.

After a drink and a few more equally gay songs, we took our leave for gayer pastures.  I suggested Küte, but we ended up deciding after we got off the train in Chelsea (sans SoHo Crush) that Greenhouse would be a much better (read: cheaper) option with their open bar. 

What exactly is appropriate for Greehouse on Easter?

I guess it was Passover(ish), too.  PS, The 10 Commandments is one of my fav movies ever.

This was an actual costumed person who roamed the party.

 She hit the flo'!  Probably because she was seen earlier at this table: 

Did I mention there’s always a burlesque show (Mrs. Robinson)?

 

Yeah.

*Back before most of us were born, gay men used to refer to each other as Mary, eg., “Look at that Mary over there!” or “Chill out, Mary; he’ll call you soon.”  

Click here to check out my first time at Greenhouse.

Note: you may find the "Topics of Discussion" (now on the right) and the Newly Updated Cast of Characters to be of help in navigating this blog.