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Mixing Vintage with Pleasure

Pinky Swear

The weather may be wet, but donít you fags fret! It is high time for you to hit Marc by Marc Jacobs and get those fancy rain boots that everyone has been wearing lately, cause girl, you have some places to go! I have been sniffing out some pretty hot shit around town these nasty winter days. If Raisin Bran had this many scoops, Kellogg would be bankrupt by now!

Lately it has been frenetic on the streets of the Castro. The neighborhood has been turned upside down as the sets of the major motion picture, Milk, return the streets to their former glory. An eerie reminder of the good old days is in the air, and everyone has different experiences to share.

The hot ticket: sightings of Sean Penn. He was spotted canoodling with a sexy gent at the 440 Castro, now miraculously transformed into Toad Hall. The location has been re-created in order to film the historical saloon that set the standard for so many gay bars to come. Was he doing research for his role as civil rights leader and San Francisco martyr Harvey Milk? That, I am sure, is what his publicist says.

When a certain artist friend of mine literally smacked into Penn on Castro Street, he retorted to Pennís apology with a, ďNo prob, Spicoli!Ē It seems that this was ill received. Rumor has it that this is a surefire way to piss off the Academy Award winner-come-new circuit queen. Sheís has an attitude that wonít fit into those Abercrombie 32 inchers she has been wearing around the hood. I say we all pull together and turn the Sanchez School into Ridgemont High, replete with Phoebe Cates tranny look-alikes! Sounds fun to me, but why donít you be the judge.

The news of a major celebrity in our midst hasnít made all the divas cool their collective drama. At the celebrated Bus Station Johnís newest disco romp, Man-Quake, which takes place every last Saturday of the month at the Gangway, there was a supreme tranny smack-down. Two ferocious tenderloin divas couldnít agree on who had the better weave or which one was hogging the estrogen pills or whatever. Sources told me that there was so much glitter and dignity sloughing off that some of the meeker queens (did I say effeminate?) high-tailed it right out, probably to the safer havens of the Flower Blouse Power House. When the lights came up at the end of the night, chunks of Paris Hiltonís Dream Catchers hair extensions could be seen throughout the saloon. Reminds me why I ALWAYS leave before last call.

Star sightings and tranny smack-downs aside, there is seldom more on the gay plate then right now. The weekend of the 15th is sure to be the buffet of the social off season. Porn stars will be preying upon our watering holes before, during, and after the ever-popular GayVN Awards on the 16th at the Gift Center Pavilion. In fact, for a mere $100 you can be amazed by the ďwitĒ of hosts Derek Hartley and Romaine Patterson. When not fending off salacious claims or being compared to houseplants, the two actually have something going for them. But itís definitely not their looks; or their personalities. Hmmm, what is it about them that people are drawn to? Who cares, as the real pleasure is sure to be spotting your favorite cocks behind the trousers of the tiny men who make up the gay porn community. You never know if youíll see a phallus or a fallacy.

If the porn Oscars isnít up your alley, fear not. Kathy Griffin will be across town at the Castro Theatre entertaining the megatons of Bears that will be hibernating at the Ninth Street Holiday Inn for the 14th Annual International Bear Rendezvous. There are assorted Bear events taking over all weekend, so mark your calendars accordingly. I will be swinging by the Eagle for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Bear Bust on the 17th, that is, if I can fit through the door.

I could tell you more about Sean Pennís alleged penchant for penis, ChiChi LaRueís bouts with Barebackers, or what type(s) of alcohol Lady Bunny will be promoting in her surefire full-tilt boogie of an awards show appearance. Unfortunately I have been sworn to secrecy, and I never break a pinkyswear.