Monday, January 5, 2009

Blind Alleys

I don't even feel like blogging because I'm so depressed because I can't register for classes at the community (pronounced cuh-moooo-nity) college until I have my transcript from my alma mater.  I went in there with my degree, like, "Uh, I have a bachelor's.  Can't you just naturally infer that I, at some point before I graduated, took English and Math 101 and sign me into this motherfucking advanced Chem class??????"

But didn't nobody want to help a sistah out today so now I'm just glumming around my room.  I even went to Borders with my 40% off coupon and bought Jack Kerouac's Wake Up: A Life of the Buddha but even that didn't cheer me up.  I think if I go to the gym and cry run on the treadmill I should perk up though.  

As you all know, La Henna and My Gay Husband paid me a lengthy visit this past week.  I'm too tired to write about all of it, but here is one of my favorite parts.  

My Gay Husband was dead-set on hitting the gay bars.  I tried to explain to him that people don't always go out in DC on Thursday nights that drop below 20 degrees, but he would not be persuaded.  I foolishly followed his direction for awhile  ... into what was obviously the wrong side of town.  Now, I am pretty irresponsible with my own safety adventurous so when I was clutching wildly at his coat (he may be gay, but he's buff) and begging him to get back on the Metro, you have to know it was a pretty rough area.  He finally dragged me to a horrible, horrible gay bar (for those of you in the DC - area: Apex).  I looooove gay bars so I am not using the word horrible lightly here.  There were about 19 people on the dance floor, which also happened to be their average age (18+ bars suck, as a general rule).  

But my favorite part of the night was on the Metro back into the VA suburbs when some guy asked if My Gay Husband was the hot gay and I was his fairy princess (which is nice for fag hag).  Afterwards, My Gay Husband turns to me and says, "I told you I'd get called hot before the night was over."  

To which I replied: "Uh, yeah, but that gay was a crackhead with a black eye and braces!!!"


  1. Oh. Em. Gee. Apex?!?! *gags* *falls over*

  2. I used to go to gay bars with my gay husband, but he was actually my boyfriend. I should have recognized the problem when he started taking me to gay bars. I'm none too swift.

  3. dear ace:

    i like your blog. i went to apex. there were a lot of braces. i noticed that the raised platform was where all the older men hung out. and the dance pit was where all the guys were shakin' it. cree-pee. i would up hanging out with a really fat lady bartender who could have passed for a wiccan priestess. my date was a really good dancer so he was vogue-ing all night in middle of the floor.

    next time tell your gay husband to go cruising in the park at dupont circle. walk around in a circle once and the stares alone will, well, be something to talk about at least.

    okay, bye now.